Posts Tagged ‘mike’

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Bert finds a Cure.

March 3, 2015

Bert was a normal enough weasel. He was a mammal (source: Wikipedia), and he looked like that weasel from Animals of Farthing Wood. So, pretty standard. He was a nice weasel, he sent everyone at work Christmas cards, he wrote to his mum, and he didn’t skulk away when it was his round at the bar. But Bert had one major flaw: he could not hug.

It was a problem that bothered him deeply, a dark secret constantly poking away at his sanity.

It was not a physical problem, but a mental one. As a child, Bert had attempted to hug a moving car. The car of course bit him, and Bert’s poor psyche was damaged forever. Ever since, a hug had been impossible for him.

One day in Spring, Bert was feeling particularly gloomy. Sat in a tree, he looked out into a field and thought dark thoughts. If he couldn’t hug, what was the point? The whole world was out there, but at arm’s length. The best he could do was shake its hand, and it wasn’t enough. Not any more.

And so he jumped. Bert leapt from the branch that was previously his seat. Eyes closed, the wind rushed through the fur on his cheeks as the ground rushed up to meet him. And then, suddenly, he felt a soft thump beneath him.

“HOLY BUTTOCKING JESUS!” came a shrill cry, just below his head.

Bert opened his eyes, and there was a woodpecker, and he was holding onto its back. Wait… he was HUGGING its back!

“YES! Oh my goodness! I’m hugging! I’m hugging!” Bert whooped and screamed with joy as the pair flew through the air.

He was free at last.

bird_weasel

Image from here, by a person called Martin Le-May. Sent to me by Nick, Tristan, and Mike, in that order. Thank you to everyone involved!

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The Opera Singers’ folly.

March 8, 2012

“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!