Muckspreaders 110118

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20180111_114452Previously on Muckspreaders reports – we ended 2017 pronouncing it the worst skittling performance year in living Muckspreaders memory. We also predicted that 2018 would see us recover our form and zoom back to the heady heights that we are used to.

The season restarted last night after the Christmas break as we welcomed fellow Colliton team – the Chimps – across the dance floor and into our alley. We took a slim first hand lead, but that must’ve just annoyed them as we lost the lead and just slithered further and further behind to record yet another loss.

I didn’t bring any food because I forgot. Crouchy brought some magical box that seemed to be able to play music so we had another night of mind numbing reggae (oh joy). We were short again – the reason, I believe, that we are struggling so much – and sticker-up Archie made up the numbers which was kind of him but he’s a bit shit.

Anyway, it was a cracking night as per usual, filled to the brim with beer fuelled japes.

Before the game, whilst trying to locate my shirt after 4 weeks off skittling, I came across the pictured boots hiding in a distant corner of my spare bedroom. Covered in dust but otherwise in pristine condition. I have no memory of their history. They’re my size (10) and obviously never worn and the best I can do, is think that it must’ve been a drunken Groupon incident.

Anyway, they’re not my bag so if anybody out there wants these Soviet Scorpion Squashers, you can have them. You’re welcome.

Next Friday we’re at the Trinity. What a delight.

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Stinky – the Unlikely Resurrection.

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Nearly 2 years ago, I lost the love of my life. Not necessarily through death you understand, I just lost her. She never came home. I assumed she’d been squished on the railway track as I heard or saw nothing of her despite the fact she’s chipped and registered for just about everything

Then this morning after a festive calendar photo shoot with kids and grand kids, I came home, looked in the garden and there was Stinky curled up in her (old) usual place by the fence. I was a bit slow to react to the enormity of the event and just opened the door and called her in. As she trotted up the path shouting her face off, I realised that this was the first time I had seen her for 2 years.

To be honest, I felt a little faint and subjected her to a barrage of questions…

Where have you been?

Have you returned from the dead?

Have you always been here and I’ve been having mental health problems?

Have you been adopted by an old lady?

If so have you run away?

Have you just dropped by to say hello?

Has she died?

Anyway, I found a tin of tuna and she walloped that down. Then I saw the neighbours so showed her off to them and they kindly offered some cat food pouches as I was obviously unprepared for such an event. She walloped 2 of them down too. She’s obviously been well fed but she was certainly hungry at that moment.

Dunno what to do now. I have no cat bed, dirt box, food, bowl etc. Do I restock? Has she moved back for good?

Another very strange day.

A Day in the Life

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What a day that was. Up before the crack of dawn to wake myself up at the gym. Pumped a bit of iron to wake up the boys and then on to the treadmill. They default to a 10 minute session and I forgot to change it to my usual 30 minutes. I didn’t notice my error until it started to slow after 10 minutes. My ‘in flight’ attempts to extend the time only succeeded in putting the motherboard in a right hump and it started to accelerate. And it just kept going. Ignoring my battering of the speed lever.

When it showed 25kph, I thought it sensible to abandon ship as – well – I have grandchildren and they love their grandad. Unfortunately, the lady on the neighbouring treadmill asked me if I had tried pulling back on the speed lever and my reply, asking her whether she really thought that I hadn’t thought of doing that, was delivered with a distinct lack of oxygen and a mouth full of goo. It must’ve sounded a bit overly aggressive as she powered down from her 2kph walk and left.

Not much better luck in my post work out swim. I seem to spend most of my time trying to avoid old ladies as they float around aimlessly trying to recover their wigs. I’m sure they try to gag passing men with heavy clouds of Lily of the Valley and whilst we’re disorientated, they move in to touch us inappropriately. Maybe I’m just paranoid but I DON’T LIKE IT!!!

After showering in the welcome safety of my home, I was delighted when Facebook reminded me that ‘on this day’ 4 years ago, I inadvertently left this stain after cooking piri piri chicken. A remarkable resemblance to Scrat, the acorn loving squirrel thing from the Ice Age trilogy.

I then got a text from Leanne asking me if I was still available for a sort out at the shed in the afternoon. The problem here was two fold. I was unaware of an up and coming shed sort out and I don’t know anyone called Leanne. Turned out she asked a mutual friend for the number of a different Dave but was given my number by mistake. So we wished each other a fab weekend and I moved on to the cheesy tuna pasta bake.

I needed 600ml of milk and actually had 605ml which was enough for the bake but who in their right mind can go through the day knowing that they have only 5ml of milk in their fridge? So I prepared the bake and gambled that the 20 minutes cooking time was long enough for a Tesco dash to restore my milk situation.

It took 18 minutes and that was despite the fact that a Deli Dolly caught my eye and I ended up buying 1.5kg of pork belly – even that wasn’t straight forward as I’m sure I saw her launch a spit bubble during the exchange of pleasantries. I wasn’t sure where it went but convinced myself that 4 hours in a slow cooker would neutralise any unpleasant business. I’m not sure I would be so agreeable had I been served by a man. Is that weird?

Anyway, I rammed together some cheese pastries for the skittles team. A batch with bacon and a batch with chilli and spinach. The spinach made the pastries a little damp and I was worried about the integrity of the structure but they seem OK.

Then I noticed that my landline handset said ‘no line’ so with a sinking soul, I got on to the TalkTalk online chat. These things never go well but I find it better than trying to understand a thick sub-continent accent. The problem is still outstanding but they promise me they are trying. Bless.

The slow cooked pork belly (with or without a neutralised Deli Dolly’s spit bubble) was a triumph and I made my way to skittles. After my topsy turvy day, what was skittles going to add?

No surprises. At last. A taste of normality. That’s what skittles added. Another loss but a very very fine evening of beer and screaming shenanigans. Pretty much as expected.

Anyway, I’d better go. Family lunch to commemorate the second anniversary of my mother’s death. Oh dear.

Mama

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Madeleine Westerhout – Donald Trump’s PA.

Donald Trump – cartoon-like, rabble-rousing, confused, pervert, comedy-coiffed fat head.

MW – Sorry sir but there are reports that Kim Jong-un has called you a mentally deranged US dotard.
DT – He called ME mentally deranged? Are you sure that’s not what he called himself?
MW – No sir, he directed that accusation at you. And called you a gangster.
DT – A gangster? Wait that wasn’t gangsta was it? I would quite like to be referred to as gangsta.
MW – Sorry sir it was definitely a gangster.
DT – Wait, what’s a dotard?
MW – An elderly person who is weak and senile.
DT – Damn cheek. How on earth can I respond to that? He’s called me everything that he himself is. Well apart from the elderly bit. Shall I mock his ridiculous hairstyle?
MW – Probably not a good idea in your case sir.
DT – US?
MW – United States. The country you preside over sir.
DT – Yes of course.
MW – What about some ‘Yo mama’ insults?
DT – What’s a ‘Yo mama’ insult?
MW – Well like ‘Yo mama’s so stupid, she sold her car to get petrol money’.
DT – Do they have cars in North Korea?
MW – I believe so sir.
DT – Right Maddy, I’ve decided on my response. Tweet this ‘Kim Jung Un of North Korea, who is obviously a madman who doesn’t mind starving or killing his people, will be tested like never before’.
MW – What exactly does that mean sir?
MW – How will he be tested?
MW – Do you really want me to put madman? It’s not very politically correct.
DT – Do you think I should mention that he will have less time to play soldiers from now on as he will have to drive his mama everywhere?
MW – No sir.
DT – You’re right Maddy. We’ll let him work that out for himself. Stick Sesame Street on will you?
MW – Right away sir.

Whine (no, not mine)

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What do you do if somebody posts a load of weedy whines about something you love? This week I read a post on Facebook’s ‘You’re over 30 and from Weymouth and you can post what you like’ site. I found it long-winded, irrelevant, pathetic and, well, whiney. To get involved in stuff like this is quite frankly asking for trouble as it can escalate quickly into a slanging match where logic is irrelevant.

So, I thought I would address his issues with politeness and maybe just a little more than a smidgen of sarcasm. This is what I first read…

It has been a while since I was last in my old hometown, so on my way home from West Bay, I decided to revisit some old haunts. Starting with Portland Bill. Unfortunately time was running short and I had to bypass The town I grew up in deciding to revisit on the train at a later date.
Travelling through Lanehouse Rocks following “other routes” signage, looking for a Dorchester route. (it has changed so much since I was last there)(over 25 years).. Lynch road said town centre, and I was unsure if Radipole lane met up with the new road, so blindly followed “other routes” which seemed to be taking me further west than I was willing to go.. So I turned into Granby industrial estate (as I worked there in 1976 for a few months) thankfully it turned out to be the right thing..
So I made it to the new relief road, what a dismal route that is… I might as well have been in a foreign country, at least along the old Dorchester road the passage of time was broken up by changing scenery. Dorchester seemed to have moved miles further away, and far from being a relief road, it seemed more a slow moving car park. By the time I stopped for a stressed break on the start of the Yeovil road, I realized that in 1977 I would have reached my destination in less time on a Honda 125. the rest of the journey was relatively smooth but overall it took 3 times longer than anticipated.
I would suggest Weymouth put up better clearer signage. As if I, an ex resident struggled, then any visitors would most likely avoid the area like the plague. Which defeats the object of a holiday town. Moan over, but next visit will be by train as traffic has spoilt my experience. (West Bay 70 miles 2 hours. Portland 70 miles 3 1/2 hours)..

Blah blah blah. Whine whine whine. I tried to let it slide but I couldn’t…

Yeah, sorry about that. For your next visit, we will try to make the area less popular so there will be less traffic on the roads for you. Maybe we should build on either side of the bypass so you can look at the buildings as you rumble along the empty roads. I mean, the rolling Dorset countryside can get a bit tedious after a while. A few industrial estates should soon sort that out. And in future, if you are travelling from Portland to Dorchester, I would recommend that you follow the signs to Dorchester which are displayed at every junction/roundabout along the route. Hope this helps.

Polite eh? But then he came back with this…

As I said the only signs said either “town centre” or “other routes”. no Dorchester signs, unless I was expected to waste fuel going past what was Westham school.. or unless I was expected to go via Portesham.. Though that would have been quicker… I can only assume you are too young to remember the lovely views, I was lucky enough to have experienced in my youth from the road, for that, I feel sorry for you. High wooden boards alongside the road took away the perspective of where you are along the road (barely inviting). As far as your less popular comment, judging by recent photos Weymouth has already achieved that. The Weymouth I remember was always heaving with grockles at this time of year, but the queues at that time of day (13.30) were coming into the town, not leaving.

He felt sorry for me because I’m young? I should just leave it, I really should. But I couldn’t. So…

Your 25 year absence means that you are probably unaware of the Chickerell Link Road which takes you directly to the bypass, missing the Fire Station, a Primary School, a Day Nursery and the Granby itself. This route, though a few metres further, saves you a lot of stops and starts which will probably save you fuel. The attached road sign takes you left at the Marquis of Granby, past Budmouth College – as it is now known – and then on to the Link Road. The signage is sound as it is the best route for the community and the motorist. Thank you for being sorry for me for being young. You made one of my grandsons laugh.

You probably remember Littlemoor to be a small collection of council houses and Mrs Critchell’s goat farm. However, there are now houses virtually all along the stretch from Dorchester Road to Chalbury Corner. This means that the residents had to be protected from the road noise. Also Mrs Nugent’s bathroom had to be protected from the prying motorist’s eyes. So a small stretch of the road by the Veasta Roundabout has wooden boarding. Which is highly successful.

I can’t help you with your comment about more people leaving Weymouth because I don’t understand it. People have to come to Weymouth in order to leave it. That’s how it works. Back in 1808, the locals celebrated the regular visits of George III by carving an image of him on his horse into the limestone of Osmington Hill. Was he grateful? No he wasn’t. He got all huffy because the horse was portrayed leaving the town. Mind you, he was certified as a complete nut job so that probably explains a lot.

Hope this helps.

His response was extremely verbose and immensely irrelevant and there was a whiff of the anticipated illogical slanging match as he questioned my grasp of the English language by saying that I didn’t know the difference between a statement and an assumption. YES, HE QUESTIONED MY GRASP OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He also suggested that some trees should be cut down on the bypass so motorists could see Radipole Lake. That was my cue to leave gracefully as he had obviously gone completely nuts. At least, that should have been my cue to leave. But a bit slipped out…

Heh heh. Yeah let’s chop some more trees down. That’ll do it. Anyway, I’m glad you enjoyed your visit. Maybe you’ll get to the town centre next time to find some more things to whine about. I hope this helps – actually no I don’t.

Next thing I knew, he had deleted the entire shebang.

Probably best.

Bank Holiday Nuttery

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The day started with a brisk 30 mile cycle round trip to Boy 2’s house for ‘high tea’ (at 11am?). There were scones, cream, jam, shortbreads, cakes and allsorts. A very fine display. Aroused my sweet tooth so when I got home, I thought I would have another bang at these Rice Krispie square things.

I’ve got the basic idea with these now so didn’t have to use the internet for guidance. Just give in to the weirdness of my imagination. So I filled a jug with marshmallows, Galaxy, butter, Golden Syrup and peanut butter…

Nuked it for a minute. Stirred and nuked it for another minute…

Mixed it in my fine new mixing bowl with Rice Krispies…

Pressed it into a foil lined baking tray and chilled in the fridge for 2 hours. Job’s a goodun. Passed some on to my neighbours for testing (feedback pending) but they were pretty good even if I say so myself.

Anyway my point is, I was always aware that Golden Syrup had a lion logo on their tins but if you look closely, he doesn’t look very well at all and appears to be surrounded by bees.

The whole scene is in fact, a depiction of an old bible story where bees make honey inside a lion’s rotting carcass.

‘Out of the strong came forth sweetness’.

Delightful.

And still it goes on………

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Reasons to NOT like or share the recent Facebook post from Life Trends offering a chance to win annual Legoland passes.

Why do I think it’s a Like Farming Scam?

1) Their Facebook page is less than a month old.
2) It’s full of cutesy barely humorous Facebook posts… until….
3) They all of a sudden have 12 annual Legoland passes to give away. Where the hell did they suddenly come from?
4) There is no blue tick of authenticity.
5) Ever seen those bags before? I have. I tracked them down. They were handmade by a Mr Isom and his 5 year old son to dole out party bags (or favors – it was in Miami) for his Lego themed birthday party. Wanna check it out? http://isomlife.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/

What harm is there in trying?

1) First and foremost, I can guarantee that there will be no prizes – because there never is.
2) It’s unlikely that any actual harm will come to anyone who has participated in this type of scam (apart from maybe some additional unwanted advertising) but why risk it when you’ve nothing to gain?
3) The creator of the Facebook page has currently attracted 5000 likes. There are marketers out there who are willing to buy pages like this from scammers like Mr Life Trends. To do what with? Who knows but I would rather not be on the list. The current going rate is about $1000 for 100000 likes so Mr Life Trends has already earned himself a possible $50 for falsely raising 5000 people’s hopes.

Reasons to like or share the recent Facebook post from Life Trends offering a chance to win annual Legoland passes.

Well, there aren’t any.

This has been Dave Russell continuing his relentless quest to sort stuff out.