ёжик в тумане

The Romanians have complained about Suicidal Squirrels.

No problems, though, with the Hedgehog in the Fog...



It even has a fan page, here (though in Russian).

Goodbye Cruel World

Can't resist



or



or the rest of the collection at YouTube.

Link thanks to Tim Worstall.

Soviet Union on Sea

Gordon Brown and his entourage are visiting a hospital, stopping off every few minutes for a photo-op.


In the mental ward a choir of patients forms up and greets the Prime Minister with the old children's song,

I'm H-A-P-P-Y
I'm H-A-P-P-Y
I know I am
I'm sure I am
I'm H-A-P-P-Y

One of the entourage notices a man who is not singing.

Oi, yew, why aren't yew singing?

Oh, you see, I'm not a loony, I just work here.

---

Okay, I haven't quite got it right yet, still only a draft.

But here is a rich fund of Soviet jests that timed out in 1989, many more of which could prove to be worth recycling in the next few years.

Waste not, want not.

Vagina Dentata

Mr X has added a few new toys to his appalling collection of sex aids (foot of the page, I hesitate to say bottom) (I hesitate to say foot, maybe down there will have to do).

Anyhow, here is a pair of knicks from Gretchen Schermerhorn. I get my underpants from Marks and Spencers, which is fine if you don't want to get laid. Or do, but aren't about to, so you don't see any point in lashing out. Good solid lasting quality.
Incidentally, I tucked into a dish of Farfalle al Gore the other day. Save the planet, get a pasta named after you.

---

You go to a dinner party, the vegetables are not al gore. You have the wrong friends.

Might As Well Go Down Swinging

When you need to mainline JOY because kicking the gong around just doesn't do it any more...

Poke the little red button (the little red button beneath the title, not the YouTube thingy at the end of the page. Mind you, they all look undernourished, poor boys).

Benny Goodman at the Carnegie Hall, 1938, "Sing Sing Sing" with Gene Krupa, Harry James, Jess Stacey...

Truth is Simple

-- I apologuise, Shaun began, but I would rather spinooze you one from the grimm gests of Jacko and Esaup, fable one, feeble too. Let us here consider the casus, my dear little cousis of the Ondt and the Gracehoper.

---

I am a Gracehoper.

---

La Cigale, ayant chanté
Tout l'été,
Se trouva fort dépourvue
Quand la bise fut venue:
Pas un seul petit morceau
De mouch ou devermisseau.
Elle alla crier famine
Chez la Fourmi sa voisine,
La priant de lui prêter
Quelque grain pour subsister
Jusqu’à la saison nouvelle.
« Je vous paierai, lui dit-elle,
Avant l’Août, foi d’animal,
Intérêt et principal. »
La Fourmi n’est pas prêteuse:
C’est là son moindre défaut.
« Que faisiez-vous au temps chaud ?
Dit-elle à cette emprunteuse.
— Nuit et jour à tout venant
Je chantais, ne vous déplaise.
— Vous chantiez ? J’en suis fort aise.
Eh bien ! Dansez maintenant. »

Me? No.

Me, no, I haven't thought of anything yet.

But BALABALA BAMBALUNA has, including some terrific drawings by Alfred Kubin, of whom I was trying to think.

A.K., author of "Die Andere Seite" and I have spent all day trying to remember his name and/or the name of his book. Only took two minutes once I had the "Alfred".

I am fifty years and two weeks old, these things used just to happen in a flash and without fail. Now I get anxious.

I am not nor ever will be Immortal, but there is something bad about losing one's grip on the thing. My cold dead hands, indeed.

All day. Oh god.