Archive for March, 2012


A Ballad of Mr Snufflekins: The day the toaster broke.

March 14, 2012

The toaster was the centre of his universe. His whole world. His everything. The shiny rectangular thing that turned everyday bread into crispy, warmer bread filled his days with joy (and carbohydrates). Until, one day, the toaster was murdered, and everything changed.

Let me tell you a story…

Mr. Snufflekins had just arrived from the pet store. A dapper looking young rat, Mr. Snufflekins strode carefree about his new home, admiring things. He admired the sofa, he admired the goldfish, he admired his reflection in the mirror. BUT WAIT! No. It was a toaster, not a mirror.

As the years drifted lazily by, Mr. Snufflekins grew increasingly fond of the toaster. It was more than a mirror and a bread hardening machine, it was a friend. A friend that didn’t talk or go anywhere. A friend he could trust.

Then the cat arrived. That damn cat. The family named the cat “Lovely Face”. His face was anything but lovely, and his name was shit. When he arrived, instead of admiring things, he waltzed around the place looking down his nose at everything. He looked down his nose at the sofa, he looked down his nose at the goldfish, but worst of all, he looked down his nose at the toaster.

Mr. Snufflekins hated Lovely Face, so he told him.

“Oi! Lovely Face! I hate you!”

“I’ll get you for this insult, Mr. Snufflekins! And your little toaster, too!” Lovely Face sneered, and ambled away.

Mr. Snufflekins was worried that he had gone too far, but he felt that someone should stand up to Lovely Face. Someone should bring him down a peg or two. So Mr. Snufflekins closed his eyes next to his toaster friend, and sleep took him.

The next morning, the toaster was dead. It lay in pieces on the floor, springs and crumbs strewn about across the kitchen.

Mr. Snufflekins was distraught. Tears welled in his eyes as he dashed about trying to find all of the toaster’s parts.

“Morning.” Lovely Face smiled, like the dickhead that he was.

Rage. It was all Mr. Snufflekins felt. It tore through his mind like a chainsaw tied to a tractor. He leapt on Lovely Face, screaming, crying, punching.

The fight was terrible, until Lovely Face started crying, and Mr. Snufflekins relented.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please stop kicking the crap out of me!” Lovely Face sniffed.

“You murdered my friend! Your face isn’t lovely at all! It’s horrible! Like your twisted heart!” Mr. Snufflekins was very upset.

At that, something inside Lovely Face’s heart did indeed twist, and he felt extremely guilty. Now he cried tears not of pain, but of remorse.

“I’m sorry. I can help you rebuild him. I have a BSc in engineering.”

So they rebuilt the toaster, and it was as good as new.

Over time, they both discovered that they actually had a lot in common, not to mention a love of toast! They became great friends, and released an LP of middling quality entitled “Toast is Proper Good.”

Thanks to our competition winner, Dan, for the title! Excellent work! You now have the prize of the respect of your peers, and yourself. To all the runners up: thanks for entering (no respect for you, better luck next time). Thanks to Amy for sending in the image (still don’t know where it’s from, sorry, person who did the image).

See you next time, at Animal on Animal!


The Opera Singers’ folly.

March 8, 2012


“Phil! It’s just Barry. Stop being so dramatic. You’ll make us all deaf!” Arnold the tortoise was in a bad mood. Their operatic performance from the previous night had been reviewed poorly, and now Barry and Phil were arsing about during rehearsal.

“Sorry, everyone. But Barry! You really must stop jumping onto my head, you are quite scary looking!” Phil glanced up at his spider friend.

Secretly, Barry was quite hurt at this remark, because he couldn’t help being a scary spider, but he kept it to himself.

The trio had met during an Official Opera Singer’s House Party the previous year, (which is a lot like a normal house party, except everyone has beautiful, melodic voices). By the end of the night they found themselves in a corner drunkenly discussing the pros and cons of forming an operatic trio. The “cons” column consisted solely of a hauntingly realistic rendering of a prison convict, which suggested that they didn’t fully understand what they were doing. The doodle of a baseball player in the “pros” column confirmed the theory.

Still, somehow, they had managed to become classical music stars. Touring the world and appearing on Classic FM repeatedly. They had made it.

But cracks had begun to show.

Barry had taken to eating spaghetti hoops before going on stage, he wouldn’t go on without them. Phil never took anything seriously any more, he kept writing rude jokes on the toilet walls. Arnold was getting exasperated with the whole thing.

“Listen! I’m getting sick of both you! We nee-” Arnold did not have time to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, a Man’s Hand picked them up! It was the biggest Man’s Hand they had ever seen.

Frozen with fear, the three were carried towards a burning barbecue.

This was it. It was over, they were going to be barbecued alive. Oh buggering hell.

But then, the Man’s Hand put them down on the grass, and said:

“Opera Singers! Can you sing for me? We are having a barbecue and it would be lovely to have some music.”

After a short moment spent trying to work out how a Man’s Hand could talk, the trio burst into song. They gave the performance of their lives and received a standing ovation.

It was their last performance together. Barry went to rehab for his spaghetti hoops problem, Phil was arrested for writing profanities on toilet walls, and Arnold wrote a book called “Don’t be an opera singer based on a drunken conversation at party.”

Thanks to the excellent Mike and Steve for both sending me this image! They found it here.

Don’t forget to send your entries in for the Title Competition, everyone!


Animal on Animal Title Competition!

March 7, 2012

Yes, my friends, yes. The time has come for me to do some kind of 21st century “audience interaction” crap. You are the audience, you lovely crazies, and I have a challenge for you.

Don’t worry, the challenge is not very challenging.

Can you come up with a title for a post that would contain this image?

(image found by Amy, not sure where she got it)

I’m not saying that I can’t, by the way, just so you know. If you could comment below with potential titles, I will pick the one that is the most exciting next week and write a post around it.

Example titles:

  • Kevin and Jim’s adventure in space.
  • The radiator that saved Harold’s life.
  • How the pirates found love.

Then I will have to work out what in the name of hell to do with your title and how I can make a story out of it. I think it will be fun for ALL INVOLVED.

Note: You do not win anything, except the respect of your peers, and yourself.

If you can get your titles in by this time next week (Wednesday 14th March), that would be dandy. If I get no responses, I guess I’ll have to make my own up (with a sad face) and feel generally embarrassed.

Please do not submit your titles on Facebook, as I may lose track of them. Do it in the comments on this post.

I have a “proper” Animal on Animal post coming your way tomorrow lunch time, so sit tight until then and prepare to have your face caressed with the mighty fist of laughter.

Happy thinking.

– Matt