tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71738376283143819562024-03-13T09:01:10.700+00:00The Adventures of Bertram FiddleUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-39907017461863655152011-10-01T20:49:00.001+01:002011-10-01T20:51:10.827+01:00The World has gone Mad!It clearly states in Queen Victoria's Rules of Correct Seasonal Pursuits that "1st Oct requires the dispensation of scarves and wooly jumpers and that bracing walks are to be undertaken in the brisk autumnal air. Ladies are reminded to have their Muffs ready for November."<br /><br />And yet I have spent the day with my britches rolled up paddling gaily in the sea.<br /><br />I can't confirm if I am coming or going.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-68487126448035344832011-09-08T16:43:00.002+01:002011-09-08T16:45:09.785+01:00The Arse-faced Monkey<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEaZgP5GsdyRVeoxzmzVwyEy5gYdGiF9yWHYgGn3a8d9mFJFusbOntPZJWCCZSlcnsIRZYMlP4NPfW3gsgb11FdfPzo_6WLbr4zUWIbbFWSl2cs1vJH9OHIA2KmEISnMAS5dfv-zaTWE4/s1600/arse-faced+monkey.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 277px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEaZgP5GsdyRVeoxzmzVwyEy5gYdGiF9yWHYgGn3a8d9mFJFusbOntPZJWCCZSlcnsIRZYMlP4NPfW3gsgb11FdfPzo_6WLbr4zUWIbbFWSl2cs1vJH9OHIA2KmEISnMAS5dfv-zaTWE4/s400/arse-faced+monkey.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650015293026243954" /></a><br />I've seen plenty of these blighters in my time, but I'm always taken aback by their cheekiness.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-29054639629856169112011-09-06T13:48:00.002+01:002011-09-06T13:51:29.085+01:00The Venezualan Pear-Tick<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuSESnRJqQtbt9-TemZYc7mAXRFJ5NWOLq4bk2cL5qNuKTRpERbkQ02iQaD_bPbYqfWmGuG0TghsBrNwBTdR6h6jJqBzYD-y_HsHITKQT7YYnH8B8IaVD7pgZ9_pl-2Z_iVKm5NKnT48/s1600/pear-tick.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 285px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuSESnRJqQtbt9-TemZYc7mAXRFJ5NWOLq4bk2cL5qNuKTRpERbkQ02iQaD_bPbYqfWmGuG0TghsBrNwBTdR6h6jJqBzYD-y_HsHITKQT7YYnH8B8IaVD7pgZ9_pl-2Z_iVKm5NKnT48/s400/pear-tick.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649228400620135698" /></a><br />Another strange creature from far-away lands. Found amongst the tropical pear-forests of Venezuala, a most detestable insect, The Venezualan Pear-Tick.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-61335963920636669002011-09-03T14:27:00.003+01:002011-09-03T15:04:18.155+01:00The Rhino-BirdApologies for my inconsistant posting lately. I have taken charge of an orphan-child recently and it's proving rather more time-consuming investment than I imagined. However, the chimney sweeping lessons are going well so soon it will start to pay for itself.
<br />But whilst my more exotic adventures are on hold, I have begun compiling pictures of some of the stranger animals I have encountered and shall be sharing those with you on a regular basisis.
<br />Here is the first, A Rhino-Bird from Mauritius. Very rare and extremely delicious.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYU-ae5_QpARDyRL-DdAtacCnzgy2HVgVA-4RZ_ozjY6OXkPopZlJBBcMn-9fSGzt6PjH87dqLPA2brSm3TorRBrhIsPNjgnyGtwb1gGABX_2sfOJ0o2JBLKmRobF-LJvEfzmY5COQQuk/s1600/rhino-bird.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYU-ae5_QpARDyRL-DdAtacCnzgy2HVgVA-4RZ_ozjY6OXkPopZlJBBcMn-9fSGzt6PjH87dqLPA2brSm3TorRBrhIsPNjgnyGtwb1gGABX_2sfOJ0o2JBLKmRobF-LJvEfzmY5COQQuk/s400/rhino-bird.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648132171130938418" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-8847443451952600782011-06-10T11:59:00.005+01:002011-06-13T21:33:58.513+01:00Competition Time!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpNxf2aOnqoSN0gLtoF1amaVlxWu1hWoyLMRIZ8P5dr7mcs05PVkQVpA6-ZkpPZPivTrDIPWnkBMz_gnGQstJZnP5UW8yNC7XdfOW4_WTcKLV-8S_yC5q91gfSW_1c7WtUsbdv_N4NdA/s1600/expo1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpNxf2aOnqoSN0gLtoF1amaVlxWu1hWoyLMRIZ8P5dr7mcs05PVkQVpA6-ZkpPZPivTrDIPWnkBMz_gnGQstJZnP5UW8yNC7XdfOW4_WTcKLV-8S_yC5q91gfSW_1c7WtUsbdv_N4NdA/s400/expo1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616546436814751394" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SfXDW8cWmpyptDZekwK_wtF1rpp54dUF2Aeo1lCaw7iHWNv8vZdZdxx9kvUcBL2jyeIiAXuZ_St-MgzvkV4WbQjVJ0dN6iX1wTR4-yl5TWp_HzV2-4OJqUOmM-kkHv0WfTVU2v659rk/s1600/elephantman3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SfXDW8cWmpyptDZekwK_wtF1rpp54dUF2Aeo1lCaw7iHWNv8vZdZdxx9kvUcBL2jyeIiAXuZ_St-MgzvkV4WbQjVJ0dN6iX1wTR4-yl5TWp_HzV2-4OJqUOmM-kkHv0WfTVU2v659rk/s400/elephantman3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616546348519105346" /></a><br /><br />I'm looking for some new recruits to join me on my Expetionising. And as all the other adventurers are off on their holidays soon I thought I should run a competition.<br />All you have to do is write a brief description of why you think you would make a good addition to my crack expeditionating force, ie muscles, good at fighting Giant Mushroom people etc..or perhaps you could draw a picture? Then post it onto my <a href="http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=115765871843853">Facebook page</a><br /><br />The best 5 answers win a goody bag (which includes a poster, postcard and comic + maybe some other stuff)<br />The Toppermost answer will also win an Elephantman T-shirt! Whoooo!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-36060627147099563522011-05-13T20:32:00.001+01:002011-05-13T20:32:24.733+01:00Bristol Comic Expo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlPCbjX1jXtDykpWfzMhLOrYArWOhXJI971uiyGsmUi60r9cTe1FRykxQ2WLCD34Hp_opWQahnoj_Dc9Ob6w8dzJI7u5QT6AhRqQxfi4vQDgSE7_fi1FJm03BBNNwpaDk3BtGfM5-q5A/s1600/expo1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlPCbjX1jXtDykpWfzMhLOrYArWOhXJI971uiyGsmUi60r9cTe1FRykxQ2WLCD34Hp_opWQahnoj_Dc9Ob6w8dzJI7u5QT6AhRqQxfi4vQDgSE7_fi1FJm03BBNNwpaDk3BtGfM5-q5A/s400/expo1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606244700704249330" /></a><br />I am attending a Grand Exposition of Comics and Journals in Bristol tomorrow. I had printed some special postcards and posters to help promote my imminent adventures. I shall be on hand to answer any questions about explorating/survival techniques. Hope to see some of you there!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-57249733512524255682011-02-12T00:17:00.002+00:002011-02-12T00:20:20.892+00:00A Big Old Cock<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj30mtVoqrBB3XaOel0v_DW9En28tHmucOdHVflxn1u3TmbcwiwP_vn0gll8wxfU6epugXG0y3obcKlocgRpg0lCdD1LEH3v9mbaKfYanwZOgAuXWhNly3nbpglB3jF0JHMGevhnI2eeMI/s1600/oldcock.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj30mtVoqrBB3XaOel0v_DW9En28tHmucOdHVflxn1u3TmbcwiwP_vn0gll8wxfU6epugXG0y3obcKlocgRpg0lCdD1LEH3v9mbaKfYanwZOgAuXWhNly3nbpglB3jF0JHMGevhnI2eeMI/s400/oldcock.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572591270720590802" /></a><br />This rather embarrassing photo was taken the other week whilst I was giving Nepalese Cock-riding a try. I do look awkward, don't I? I think it's obvious great big Cocks are not for me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-77030169519189120072011-02-03T02:37:00.003+00:002011-02-03T02:47:39.990+00:00Fancy that<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-cQ6QhZe-nl0zRqD6YmGIqLFXEU6CDmHE83GzjFkRm6ZDxyv6YT0aGnggpWZNQh70al5pDbOnTWjQ56fDUIh1jphc6iza5NonYe9dSt4SNt0RfEeZ4VptAlRqNGpizqbwtbQWnkhBwk/s1600/shooo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 345px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-cQ6QhZe-nl0zRqD6YmGIqLFXEU6CDmHE83GzjFkRm6ZDxyv6YT0aGnggpWZNQh70al5pDbOnTWjQ56fDUIh1jphc6iza5NonYe9dSt4SNt0RfEeZ4VptAlRqNGpizqbwtbQWnkhBwk/s400/shooo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569289427825904546" /></a><br />I was clearing out some old junk in the cellar this afternoon when I happened upon a little Zombie Monkey. I don't recall ever picking one up on my travels and so am at a loss to explain how he got there. The wretched little thing seems to think I am it's mother and keeps following me around trying to give me mouldy bananas. It really is very annoying.<br />At present it is hanging rigid from the chandeleir watching me with it's unblinking eyes.<br />Wortha is going to be livid when she gets home and see the mess it's made on the bonkette.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-62496151361670644082011-01-01T10:31:00.002+00:002011-01-01T11:02:18.338+00:00Happy New Year!Good Morning to all! Happy New Year!<br />Phew! What a night last night was. I trust you all had fun and enjoyed yourselves ushering in the New Year. My head is still throbbing and it pains my eyes to open them, so I am dictating this to Gavin, my TOTALLY COOL manservant.<br />Wortha and I went round to my Evil Next-door Neighbour, Professor Nefarious's's's party. It was packed with society's well-to-do. There were Lord's and Ladies, Councilors, Dignataries and more rich businessmen than you can shake a waif at. In fact, had a bomb gone off in there Britain would have lost a great deal of it's toffs, leaving the way open for an Evil Genius to overthrow the enfeebled Monarchy and take control of the country. For a while I wondered what Prof. Nefarious might be planning, but a few Gin cocktail's and a dollop of laudenum and I soon forgot what I was thinking.<br />The evening bore on with much fun and jollity, people were partying like it was 1899, and when Midnight approached the Professor ushered us all out onto his balcony to watch his firework display. <br />He employed the "Shock and Awe" technique popularised by the Americans in his rather extravagant display which brought forth many Ooohs and Ahhhs from the assembled audience. When the fireworks ran out, The Professor set fire to some orphans he had tied to sticks in his garden. It was a wonderful evening.<br />But, this morning, with my gin-induced malady still lingering, I can see the true machinations of that terrible mind and what he had been planning all along. The fire is still burning in the slums down by the harbourside and has already cleared two square miles of prime waterside upon which Prof. Nefarious plans to build luxury apartments. It seems he has given up being an Evil Genius and taken a route far more sinister. He has become a property developer. Already he has sold over fifty percent of the apartments to the well-to-do guests at his party last night.<br />As a new year begins I can only hope that perhaps, in the distant future, reform will take place and a fairer society will exist for all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-17640727622472566712010-12-27T11:47:00.005+00:002010-12-27T12:12:14.900+00:00Greetings for the New Year!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0SUzr2yZVCrdpAOQLiul5syBL5WlTjOSH_6_t5EPLJawkCdpznXniiqaQIxKXBmlkgkj4MBm5CrtEgMHFbWntNgbM_dnAB4mATKOcp85u0Tmk2KU0Omj875EgKgfMLFV7kxRekIg7QI/s1600/urchins.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 339px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0SUzr2yZVCrdpAOQLiul5syBL5WlTjOSH_6_t5EPLJawkCdpznXniiqaQIxKXBmlkgkj4MBm5CrtEgMHFbWntNgbM_dnAB4mATKOcp85u0Tmk2KU0Omj875EgKgfMLFV7kxRekIg7QI/s400/urchins.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555331370382359778" /></a><br />This Christmas has seen exceptionalisely cold weather and snow, seemingly harking back to the Dickensian age, 5 years ago. Record-breaking cold temperatures plunged Britain into an icy madness, which I was fortunate enough to be able to avoid by wearing extra socks and sitting next to a blazing hearth in my study. Fuel did run precariously short at one point and I was forced to burn most of my manservant's meagre possessions.<br />But, upon drawing the curtains this morning I saw the ice has melted and so took Wortha out for an enjoyable brisk constitutional along the canal. The dull wintry light and last remnants of fog lent the murky water an ethereal, dreamlike quality which made my wife's witterings seem almost bearable and as we marched along I was struck with the hope and inspiration the New Year can sometimes bring. Suddenly, though, we heard a stirring in the shrubbery to our left. A peculiar scratching and scrabbling noise, accompanied by high-pitched swearing. Drat! The street-urchins were thawing out and after several weeks of being buried in the snow were anxious to get back up to their usual mischief so that they might be able to afford a crust to eat. The vicious little scamps.<br />Wortha and I immediately upped our briskness and made our escape. Fortunately most of the Urchin's toes had been lost due to severe frostbite and so they were unable to follow us for any distance.<br />After such a traumatic experience we stopped in a local eatery and had ourselves a nice steaming hot cup of tea and full english breakfast.<br />And so on that note, I hope you had a Merry Christmas and wish you all a happy and prosperous New Year!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-71794218782420673202010-12-03T12:53:00.005+00:002010-12-03T13:28:29.608+00:00Joseph Merrick, PI<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfPd6mfKfJFbESKTb4uAGJuSOobmw0zZeyXbQLSPgcchJUHa7DWr3Gc8TLJYW7gcqYC_xNSpGdIOCkTHKwRlYk89QMBNVERmqTeB1Hu7BR8e2K-PBeT1QNB8eBPwWLCSq1Zl2IEto9k5M/s1600/elephantman3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfPd6mfKfJFbESKTb4uAGJuSOobmw0zZeyXbQLSPgcchJUHa7DWr3Gc8TLJYW7gcqYC_xNSpGdIOCkTHKwRlYk89QMBNVERmqTeB1Hu7BR8e2K-PBeT1QNB8eBPwWLCSq1Zl2IEto9k5M/s400/elephantman3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546441185728947010" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM0ybUrGrhQzSrsv5mXeaKdVoDQSTiG6EcRccjm0zWDDhBFb1xppFka77-EzNafxkTHqU04Bw-lIywKqVDOKDn2UeeyKjh8tYUuY3Ffu7vSf3edu2wTb1u6tEcqn-WVaYhEeks_yBXic/s1600/elephantman2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 330px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM0ybUrGrhQzSrsv5mXeaKdVoDQSTiG6EcRccjm0zWDDhBFb1xppFka77-EzNafxkTHqU04Bw-lIywKqVDOKDn2UeeyKjh8tYUuY3Ffu7vSf3edu2wTb1u6tEcqn-WVaYhEeks_yBXic/s400/elephantman2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546441180939045618" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiaO6PFUunNcl0MBDoEa-Xe83a8RmGjjDohVsawZhsRklNJPkpIjjr55Y5fcqWQ7jjQDFsFtLrMLFZM-iVScmTxu1LwLml_AUofE1a90uvX6H3Xbkz-91kQgdubxD1YRfVlXCk_wK48A/s1600/elephantman1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiaO6PFUunNcl0MBDoEa-Xe83a8RmGjjDohVsawZhsRklNJPkpIjjr55Y5fcqWQ7jjQDFsFtLrMLFZM-iVScmTxu1LwLml_AUofE1a90uvX6H3Xbkz-91kQgdubxD1YRfVlXCk_wK48A/s400/elephantman1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546441176931446786" /></a><br />Just spent a wonderful morning with my dear old friend the Elephantman. He is such a witty companion with a very dry sense of humour. He does tend to dribble, though, so Wortha won't allow him to sit on the good sofa.<br />After brunch, which consisted mainly of currant buns and french fancies, Mr. Elephantman told me of his latest business venture. it would seem he has heard of a new fashion from the east called T-shirts and he has had his own image reproduced on thirty of them. "only thirty?!" I exclaimed. "Yesssshhhh," said he. "A very sshhlimited amountchhhhsss. But I asssschhure you, they are ofchhh the highessshhhtt quaility. Shhhhfffpppp." He spat crumbs all over the furniture.<br />So, to recap. He has 30 top quality T-shirts for sale at the the fabulous price of £20. Available from the <a href="http://spabbyland.bigcartel.com/product/joseph-merrick-pi-t-shirt">Spabbyland Shop</a>.<br />Now, to try and get those stains off the carpet...<br />oh, and I forgot to mention each order comes with its very own Elephantman ink drawing. Nice and tidy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-29934190252871414982010-10-29T16:17:00.003+01:002010-10-29T16:26:04.530+01:00A little tinkerage.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38Lg01Vqjq4BYc83AQIWRbhZ2pza6pcxrg9R8DjWVAYJEp_zhtiZFHVtMo1gnZkWbnecTV5Ynan-n4UN-9HhEOtiIFIbfGkBWUPGmk9Vpf0oqkz8c1MapKxOPdFBJzZZddR-_SpsqnDg/s1600/bert+lab.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38Lg01Vqjq4BYc83AQIWRbhZ2pza6pcxrg9R8DjWVAYJEp_zhtiZFHVtMo1gnZkWbnecTV5Ynan-n4UN-9HhEOtiIFIbfGkBWUPGmk9Vpf0oqkz8c1MapKxOPdFBJzZZddR-_SpsqnDg/s400/bert+lab.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533489286548407986" /></a><br />Wortha has gone to visit an old family friend, Lord Adonis, at his country estate this weekend so I have been at rather a loose end. I've re-alphabetised my curio collection, buffed up my artefacts so you could see your face on them and cooked a Shepherd's Pie. And she's only been gone an hour.<br />She forbade me from going out on any fanciful expeditions this weekend as a man is coming round to fix the washing machinator so I'm just going to do a bit of tinkering in my lab and concoct a few potions from some left overs and then perhaps go out for a stroll in the woods and pick some mushrooms to make tea with. It's Hallowe'en weekend, I know, but I don't believe in all that superstitious mumbo-jumbo-hokery-pokery and I'm sure nothing of any interest at all will happen.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-83807779025988960652010-10-25T14:25:00.005+01:002010-10-25T14:34:45.243+01:00Old Photographs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_GfofXpPOeUICjYYHfRv6zUBGGzoy89eaV0VFX1OvaPpd00Ic1NFiE4GVM7ew-XYKyKG6viuCtUFdfRwqxFBv1H19YOi3oFpPYaQj2GzAwWvteGkMl3Yh-jpN3uHaN1URQs4edC7BaE0/s1600/dumplesm.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_GfofXpPOeUICjYYHfRv6zUBGGzoy89eaV0VFX1OvaPpd00Ic1NFiE4GVM7ew-XYKyKG6viuCtUFdfRwqxFBv1H19YOi3oFpPYaQj2GzAwWvteGkMl3Yh-jpN3uHaN1URQs4edC7BaE0/s400/dumplesm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531975906964986834" /></a> Female Red-faced Dumple<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9ojvoysWMv6HoiqR7l29mRdsEup11vUEZXM-GovpI4dMBOj3MIik54KOmDhYPi4p_glWzkz6fv11yTu3i8uiFe5wP0-D_zGBDGOsbxlrA415jsotb87NbY4nePNAEqAQGBAyTr6Rc-g/s1600/drudgesm.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9ojvoysWMv6HoiqR7l29mRdsEup11vUEZXM-GovpI4dMBOj3MIik54KOmDhYPi4p_glWzkz6fv11yTu3i8uiFe5wP0-D_zGBDGOsbxlrA415jsotb87NbY4nePNAEqAQGBAyTr6Rc-g/s400/drudgesm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531975899149271506" /></a> Giant Drudge<br /><br />I'm preparing to embark on a brand new adventure soon, so have been rather occupied recently. This morning, as I was contemplating which jacket to take i found these old photos in the upper-inside-left-down-a-bit pocket. They were taken whilst I was on my unexpected expedition in Lunkumshire. Ahhh, frightful memories.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-30319531606974303932010-10-16T19:27:00.004+01:002010-10-16T20:14:34.346+01:00Uno adventurio, por favore.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8J2dq24B831Aiy4pOTkoruyg9riRPbhEnXU8dF5yEhmW_2rY9rfoE9PYwkYUdn8n2N3XWUDHTI9p2q0G74njOTu4qvGe3Z2Emipbx6wdpyBhcOej1hji3OejEqUo8O01NIfETrGB2pz4/s1600/ravine2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8J2dq24B831Aiy4pOTkoruyg9riRPbhEnXU8dF5yEhmW_2rY9rfoE9PYwkYUdn8n2N3XWUDHTI9p2q0G74njOTu4qvGe3Z2Emipbx6wdpyBhcOej1hji3OejEqUo8O01NIfETrGB2pz4/s400/ravine2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528724434397528994" /></a><br />Last week I went on a relaxing family holiday to the Costa Brava with my wife, Wortha, and Gavin, my faithful manservant cyclops. The hotel was adequate and the foreign food bearable, but by the end of the second evening the lack of adventure was growing tiresome. Fired up by a jug of sangria Gavin and I ventured out into the mountains to seek some excitement. It seemed like our foray was destined to end fruitlessly when a piercing shriek broke the silence of the cool night air. It was me. My foot had fallen down a pothole. On closer inspection, though, this was no ordinary pothole. It seemed to me to be the doorway to a magical kingdom. So I instructed Gavin to get out his trusty shovel and dig. Soon he had broken through to a vast cavern stretching for as far as our eyes could see. We made our way, gingerly, along the intricate maze of pathways hewn into the rock, by hands immeasurably older than ours. Indeed, the whole cavern was permeated with a sense of ancient mysticalityness. As we passed further and further into that dark place we both knew that something very special was about to happen...<br />Anyway, to cut a long story short, we found a lost race of Spanish Elfdings, were worshipped as gods due to our appearance fulfilling some ancient prophecy or what-not, got caught trying to steal their sacred crystals and had to flee for our lives. We made it back in time for the buffet on Wednesday evening and Wortha hadn't even noticed we'd been gone. Said something about Jordi, the Hotel's resident musician entertaining her all night long. I saw his show on the thursday night but must admit to not thinking it that effective.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-12303566900650948342010-10-07T16:16:00.004+01:002010-10-07T16:30:43.124+01:00A thoroughly nice Echinoderm<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOR_Acqu9BZ2j6l8p_RTCtLoQxViU1o56kH3lFZ7AwF47PWr3OWYfnkFFOZEakz-9bhcaC229V1PpiB4oxmqwEeJDGjFEvg170jzsUNdvcoKvRbzvaGy-QJXLBeFB9f316cJmMZSbYjk/s1600/holothurian.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 317px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOR_Acqu9BZ2j6l8p_RTCtLoQxViU1o56kH3lFZ7AwF47PWr3OWYfnkFFOZEakz-9bhcaC229V1PpiB4oxmqwEeJDGjFEvg170jzsUNdvcoKvRbzvaGy-QJXLBeFB9f316cJmMZSbYjk/s400/holothurian.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525326755363590194" /></a><br />I fancied a trip down to the Earth's Core again the other day to top up my Magma supplies and was told, by an acquaintance, to look up Ga'arth, one of the intelligent race of Holothurians that inhabit that strange land. He really was a very nice, well-spoken young blob. It makes such a change these days to encounter a gelatinous being with such impeccable manners. He took me on a brief tour of his city and we spent a very pleasant afternoon discussing all matter of facts. It was cut somewhat short, though, when a Giant Squid startled him and caused him to extrude his internal organs. He assured me he would be ok, but had to return to his lodgings to grow a new set.<br />I extracted my Magma and returned to the surface, where I was promptly mugged. Typical.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-19507422526582129312010-10-03T15:35:00.003+01:002010-10-03T15:47:00.076+01:00Deep In the Murk<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1i9Pi4fV1aGhVJLkJ4V0LsV6kdwo4ACd0YNtMNC8jQqOfhUpDEEQKcoISsv0HKADyDcvy4Q8rw_XyLXMd2F0zEQohHMLmjq23DcqJaPAnxBKem65XXk6efF62WJ_a-JBwQL-U_3u5ADY/s1600/underwater+blog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 291px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1i9Pi4fV1aGhVJLkJ4V0LsV6kdwo4ACd0YNtMNC8jQqOfhUpDEEQKcoISsv0HKADyDcvy4Q8rw_XyLXMd2F0zEQohHMLmjq23DcqJaPAnxBKem65XXk6efF62WJ_a-JBwQL-U_3u5ADY/s400/underwater+blog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523831376495206450" /></a><br />As an intrepid I've plunged some depths in my time, but recently I got the chance to try out my new rubberised suit at the the bottom of a very murky trench. The pressure was so great down there that sometimes I felt like my helmet was going to be squeezed flat. I didn't find the treasure I had been hoping for but did discover some new species of very ugly fish.<br />Along with this squelchy excursion I have been attempting to raise funds for my next Bewildering Adventure. As yet I haven't two brass farthings to rub together, but I'm hoping a trip to an Adventurers Convention may prove fruitful.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-25201306142334662322010-09-26T15:12:00.002+01:002010-09-26T15:13:26.553+01:00Journey to the Centre of the Earth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvn7fX5hAGB-dRK6TqXxfouGuhWfLptrcjQ3VlBYcPTCagUozlZiANX2a-quJJDAvWNTGU_ieDzhEuZw_81_uF0XahvNm6mv-JMLxBuAXZ5dSBlMd8nYmuzG4iJEr2B61653OsBd3uEjw/s1600/bathysphere.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 291px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvn7fX5hAGB-dRK6TqXxfouGuhWfLptrcjQ3VlBYcPTCagUozlZiANX2a-quJJDAvWNTGU_ieDzhEuZw_81_uF0XahvNm6mv-JMLxBuAXZ5dSBlMd8nYmuzG4iJEr2B61653OsBd3uEjw/s400/bathysphere.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521225090918051250" /></a><br />Popped down to the centre of the Earth again this afternoon as I had a few hours spare. Forgot it was sunday though and by the time we got there everything was already shut. Drat it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-8360367301645707372010-09-19T10:36:00.006+01:002011-02-18T15:44:29.270+00:00T'Twitter Factory<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWVjFimXZXA5e8H4ZXDq1vxnQMVEwXrEiCUQDsKz0apYP8BsAfNT6Lc8xfz7f5SKErL4RpssdSw_TJ3amJvNpgDxds0pAtxKPsf0ZnN12KNb5chCm9vMdDzRj6cE9ub1aMIcDkCTRpc8/s1600/twitter+factory.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWVjFimXZXA5e8H4ZXDq1vxnQMVEwXrEiCUQDsKz0apYP8BsAfNT6Lc8xfz7f5SKErL4RpssdSw_TJ3amJvNpgDxds0pAtxKPsf0ZnN12KNb5chCm9vMdDzRj6cE9ub1aMIcDkCTRpc8/s400/twitter+factory.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518564839127226322" /></a><br />Since joining twitter I have become increasingly interested in how this technology works. It is truly fantastical, is it not? A short, timely message of less, not more, than 140 characters can be uploaded into thin air from a "mobile-device" and yet be seen by other people on their computing-boxes and such like. Simply astounding!<br />So, donning my detective hat (and coat, as it was rather chilly) I set off to track down just how all this magic happens. I started by typing a witty message and tieing a piece of string to it. Then I got Gavin to prepare the carriage and keep the horses engines running. As soon as I pressed "send" we were off, chasing the message as fast as we could. The pursuit took several days leading us out of London and up North to England's industrial heartland. We nearly lost track of it as we passed through Northampton, but with some persistence we arrived at the huge, looming Twitter Factory in deepest, darkest Yorkshire. We parked the carriage round the back and made our way inside the vast, windowless building. What a sight greeted our eyes! Row upon row of tiny children working the clanking machinery. The noise was deafening and thick black smoke belched from the engines as the mighty text-looms uploaded messages about what people ate for breakfast or thought of last night's X-factor onto the World-Wide-Webbing. <br />The poor children scurried back and forth trying not to get crushed by the huge cogs which kept turning and grinding out the letters. At this point we felt a hand on our collars as we were accosted by the factory security. Six burly guards surrounded us. They had the bodies of normal humans, but their heads were that of gigantic blue birds! "Tweet! Tweet! Tweet!" they ordered and we had no option but to obey. We were led into the office of the Twitter Queen, a monstrous bird-headed lady with tentacles that spread out all around us. I had a feeling things might turn nasty. Did you know birds don't blink? It is very unnerving. However, she was very nice and offered us a cup of tea and explained in great detail how Twitter is benefitting society by empowering the common man and giving him a chance to voice his thoughts. Her arguement was quite compelling, but I still had my doubts about all the child-labour involved. The Twitter Queen assured me they were well looked after and not made to work more than 24 hours a day. Then she offered me some shares and promised an exceptionally high dividend. This eased my worries somewhat and Gavin and I returned home... but, I shall be keeping an eye on Twitter and other social networking sites. I have a feeling we have not heard the last of the Twitter Queen.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-84020977452749236642010-09-17T21:36:00.003+01:002010-09-17T21:49:28.331+01:00Great Scott! It's a Great Auk<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDmqDD8RTmFuLL6rKCyQv7xAQVU9LyDdHNernfoJCoIgGps87yd4VOTzFmlwrIjsnkOCtpDvM440kQGKUG_yGTEIUeZ1ovPFjZ3n3CkpwR-4IQwiAvnjuV5iuvW7W8Nr5xoNWRWev7nE/s1600/great+auk.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 281px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDmqDD8RTmFuLL6rKCyQv7xAQVU9LyDdHNernfoJCoIgGps87yd4VOTzFmlwrIjsnkOCtpDvM440kQGKUG_yGTEIUeZ1ovPFjZ3n3CkpwR-4IQwiAvnjuV5iuvW7W8Nr5xoNWRWev7nE/s400/great+auk.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517986277560182978" /></a><br />Thought to have been hunted to extinction in 1844, the Great Auk was a large flightless bird found on coastal regions and islands throughout the Northern Hemisphere. Standing up to 50ft tall, these majestic birds were easy targets for hungry sailors.<br />Just recently I discovered a small breeding colony on my travels...and these ones look particularly plump and juicy. I shall return tomorrow with my small cannon and proceed to bag a few of the tasty blighters. mmmm, I do love a good Auk pie!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-22883037074687041652010-09-17T12:29:00.003+01:002010-09-17T12:32:32.996+01:00Blasted woman!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiiW5nJ5Lii6kdU51QTgZ6nJ1DyaKhaj5dKphgwrOnRXBXEwzlDG3M8RV05nJ_sRInn3nJ_4eRCAMjs0WC-oOOL7G7Qo4axBbCJupEnoCHtkQ4tenFeFhGjRbNRJyKOyJbg3AWym9dL8I/s1600/bertram+attacked!.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiiW5nJ5Lii6kdU51QTgZ6nJ1DyaKhaj5dKphgwrOnRXBXEwzlDG3M8RV05nJ_sRInn3nJ_4eRCAMjs0WC-oOOL7G7Qo4axBbCJupEnoCHtkQ4tenFeFhGjRbNRJyKOyJbg3AWym9dL8I/s400/bertram+attacked!.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517843829035015986" /></a><br />Confound it all! Wortha has been meddling with my potions and tinctures... all I required was a little indigestion relief and look what happened! Oh! Where is my anti-serum?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-58339047028733112262010-09-16T19:32:00.002+01:002010-09-16T19:34:57.796+01:00I get the feeling I am being followed...I have, after much persistence from Wortha, signed up to Twitter. I really can't see the point. Surely if you want to tell somebody about your day you just send them a telegram?<br /><a href="https://twitter.com/BertramFiddle">https://twitter.com/BertramFiddle</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-50272745282793545222010-09-09T15:57:00.003+01:002010-09-09T16:10:44.736+01:00Dr. Jupitron's Invigoratative Liquor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBYmH9HeNhZxLd6b-BBR8N0en81C_DoDk-SEBVv5Z06n1z-Sl0jp_RO6RUoVYXqn3BSwfSoJ_DBx1EV4irkKKa6HAFf6jqkRh-XExNnAILAhVBEYGvbV8x1OTj4lZw52DIQ_4mIgEslv0/s1600/dr+Js.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBYmH9HeNhZxLd6b-BBR8N0en81C_DoDk-SEBVv5Z06n1z-Sl0jp_RO6RUoVYXqn3BSwfSoJ_DBx1EV4irkKKa6HAFf6jqkRh-XExNnAILAhVBEYGvbV8x1OTj4lZw52DIQ_4mIgEslv0/s400/dr+Js.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514930362656961474" /></a><br />I have been suffering one of my frequent bouts of lethargy and Gavin recommended I take a dose of Dr. Jupitron's Invigoratative Liquor. It claims to be a cure for melancholy, lethargy, consumption, effluence, irregularity, small-pox, big-pox, vox-pox, lice and the vapors and to give unbounded enthusiasm. I don't feel that enthusiastic but must admit I haven't sat down for the last 48 hours. I also have a funny sensation in my undergarments and have been trying repress strange urges towards my wife which are most ungentlemanly.<br />Nnnnnggggggg. I would go out for a brisk walk to ease my tension, but lately all the walls seem to have faces.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-5120008654972661322010-08-31T11:59:00.004+01:002010-08-31T12:49:10.782+01:00The Lost City of AtlantisOh dear, Oh dear. I am feeling most unwell today. <br />Yesterday was a Bank Holiday and, as is usual on such occassions, I decided to have a little expedition. I took down my 101 Adventures To Do Before You Die book and flicked through the pages to find something exciting. There aren't many in there that I haven't already done, but one entry in particular took my fancy. Rediscover Atlantis! Yes, I thought... that looks like a fun little jaunt.<br />Gavin and I hastily prepared the necessary equipment and made some sandwiches and set off towards the coast. There was one only one thing that weighed heavy on my mind and was causing me some concern. No-one knew where the Lost City of Atlantis was! With only a single day set aside for this trip I was worried we might not find it...<br />So, with some trepidation we set off on a little submaricycle we had chartered, heading due West. After some time we took a right and then the next left and Lo! There it was! Atlantis! We got off the submaricycle and wandered around a little. It was staggeringly beautiful... unfortunately, in the hurry to leave I had omitted to pack my camera so don't have any pictures to show you. (Perhaps I shall draw some from memory at a later date)<br />We sat on the steps of the Grand Hall in the main forum and took lunch (through specially constructed eating hatches on our underwater helmets, before you get all nit-pickily) and marveled at the sheer splendour of it all whilst strange little fish swam around us. After that we got up and shoved as much treasure and trinkets as we could manage into our rucksacks and headed home. It was the best day I've had for a long time.<br />However, my good fortune was not to last. As we reached shore and began unpacking our finds into my carriage who should pass by but the infamously debauched Lord Arthwipe. I could see him eyeing my jewels and knew he was up to something.<br />"One is having a little get-together at my mansion this evening and would be most grateful if you could attend." He slurred. <br />I tried to think of an excuse, but found myself unable to do so. "Er, yes. Ok, then." I replied. Drat! Drat! Drat! I knew I was getting myself into trouble.<br />Lord Arthwipe suggested we all go round there straight away and soon we found ourselves at his sprawling estate. As the huge black doors slammed behind us Lord Arthwipe turned and said the words I had been dreading.<br />"Perhaps a little dab of Laudanum before the other guests arrive?"<br />Next thing I knew it was 4am and I was in Lord Arthwipe's barn massaging a pig. I also have some recollection of losing all my Atlantan treasure in a game of Gin-rummy. And I still can't find Gavin.<br />oooh, never again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-16417146586190836072010-08-25T20:56:00.006+01:002010-08-25T22:12:07.182+01:00Mother's visit<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHAcx7PPLAkJ1-wrqrNOE3nDLMyJzmJlWBwbclme9YxZE3t303Sx7fQ3IF6-63YAN1Co1U8307C7qhDR9aTfV_PNK23SDHTXDAyWUzztv7DYqvpr9K6HFJhmVdSnkdUKnOM3ewpRD5y2c/s1600/ma+and+pa.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 367px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHAcx7PPLAkJ1-wrqrNOE3nDLMyJzmJlWBwbclme9YxZE3t303Sx7fQ3IF6-63YAN1Co1U8307C7qhDR9aTfV_PNK23SDHTXDAyWUzztv7DYqvpr9K6HFJhmVdSnkdUKnOM3ewpRD5y2c/s400/ma+and+pa.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509448191610377330" /></a> <br />I have been unable to attend to any of my adventurising this week as my dear old Mother has been down to visit from her country estate. She really doesn't like London and its inhabitants, or "Scumbags" as she calls them. Fortunately it was only a brief stay and I am now able to concentrate on more pressing matters.<br />However, I thought maybe I could take this opportunity to talk a little about my family as it may give you, the reader, an insight into why I became an Explorer.<br />My Mother, Consternita Durkin is heir to the Durkin Gherkin dynasty and when younger was viewed as a very desirable prospect for young society gentlemen. She, however, did not care for the limp suitors that were on offer and decided instead to travel around Europe, thus avoiding the subject of marriage. It was on these travels she met my late Father, Albert Fschniddle. As a Swiss pilchard fisherman he had very few prospects but was extremely handsome and soon my Mother and he began a relationship. Unlike many couple of the time they decided not to follow society's rules and marry as a business union or for social climbing, but for love. Unfortunately it turned out that it was a love of money on my Father's behalf and a love of pilchards from my Mother. The marriage was short-lived and disasterous. Almost as disasterous as their Pilchard and Gherkin Jam business venture. (I'm so glad that Wortha and I's relationship is built of stronger stuff. Wortha never complains when I go away on my expeditions, in fact she seems to really look forward to them..) <br /><br />My Father left not long after I was born, but would always return on full moons to take me out on fishing excursions. He regaled me with tales of adventure and spoke of monsters from the deep, pirates, pilchards as big as a cow etc. etc. It was on one of these trips I decided to become an adventurer and explorator myself and as I walked back from the canal, waving goodbye to my Father, I vowed that I would never rest until I had become the greatest Explorator and Adventurist of all time. I never saw my Father after that night. Some say he died wrestling with a monster, others that he was swallowed by a giant pilchard. The papers say he was drunk and slipped on some dog shit and fell into the river, but those hacks will believe anything.<br /><br />So, dear reader, that is a little glimpse into who I am. I hope it was illuminating. Now I must go and prepare my packed lunch, for who knows what exciting adventurisms tomorrow holds?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7173837628314381956.post-20860412787801842262010-08-14T17:58:00.011+01:002010-08-25T12:35:33.984+01:00A walk in t'jungle... in glorious technicolour!Using the latest filmographic techniques we have managed to capture a little stroll through the jungle. Prepare to be amazed as the pictures move, just like real life.<br /><object width="480" height="289"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LcZg79v-9js?fs=1&hl=ja_JP"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LcZg79v-9js?fs=1&hl=ja_JP" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="289"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0