The Opera Singers’ folly.

“OH MY GOD THERE IS A SPIDER THE SIZE OF MY FACE, ON MY FACE!” Screamed Phil the frog.

“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!

The Disgraced Ski Instructor.

Sorry for the delay in getting back into this, I should imagine you have been baying wildly into the night sky waiting for the next fantastic Animal on Animal post. Well, bay no more, you strange person, here is a post for you.

Professor McJonasbrothers was an accomplished ski instructor, respected in his field (which you couldn’t see because it was covered with snow*), and loved by his students. The latter was what got him arrested.

*a hilarious joke

Disgraced by his exploits, the Official Council To Outright Properly Unify Stuff Encompassing Skiing (or OCTOPUSES) banished him from places with snow for the foreseeable future.

Devastated, Professor McJonasbrothers exiled himself to Africa to help him forget about his past. He was truly sorry for what he’d done. Deep down he was a good tortoise, but he had been watching far too many soaps which had warped his view of the world to the point where he thought it was perfectly acceptable to behave like a right bastard.

Now he saw the error of his ways.

One day, in Africa, he was sat on a log contemplating his stupidity and all that he had lost, when suddenly three butterflies appeared. They all introduced themselves, and Professor McJonasbrothers was very happy to meet them. He told them of his story and how he came to be there.

The butterflies didn’t care much for his story, they were adventurers, and they wanted to sail the seas and get drunk and dig for stuff on islands. The three of them were very persuasive and managed to convince the Professor to be their boat.

And so the troupe of new companions set out to sea. It is said that they discovered the Ilse of Wight.

Please be aware this image is copyright of Byron Yu. (Byron, if you want this image off the site please let me know, I can’t afford to pay you any money). It is from National Geographic, and was discovered by Tom. Thanks Tom.

Drunken humiliation.

Alfie and Bill were really, really drunk.

It was Alfie’s stag do, and he was so drunk that he had forgotten he was getting married. Bill was so drunk that he had forgotten to remind him, he wasn’t even sure how old he was any more, or where he lived, or whether he was born with feet or not.

As the clock struck 3am they found themselves in an argument with a pair of bees. The bees were really hard because they had grown up on ‘the streets’, and were ‘not taking no shit from a couple of poncey dogs.’

They next thing they knew Alfie and Bill were being thrown about outside, and then they were dressed in bee suits, and then a photo of them in bee suits was being posted on Facebook via somebody’s phone.

It was this photo:

It was very embarrassing for them both, but luckily Alfie’s wife never found out, otherwise she would have really taken the piss.

Thanks to Miriam for inadvertently sending me this image, and getting it from here.

Current events!

On Monday, a shit load of bees were at the end of the street where I spend 8 hours a day. They were on each other, and also on a sign post. Bees are animals, sign posts are not animals.

Here are some pictures of the event (credited as we go):

Picture: Mouse

Picture: Mouse again (alright Mouse, take a break with your camera, geez)

Picture: James

Apparently some insane person who was cleaning out a shop down the road found a bee hive and thought it would be a good idea to throw it out.

This was not a good idea, person who was cleaning out the shop.

Don’t do it again.

A dragonfly on an alligator or crocodile (I can’t tell).

You may have noticed that I didn’t do a post last week. Some people have already expressed concern to me about this in the form of aggressive sounding emails suggesting physical harm may befall me if the situation is not rectified (Dannie).

I apologise to you all for my less than average performance last week, I will try to meet your expectations this week, beginning with this:

I can’t think of a decently long story for it, so I guess I’ve let you all down again.

I’m starting to feel the pressure.

Found by Dannie, nicked from here.