“Here you go,” I offer Short Tony.
I thumb through the book before handing it over. “She has sex here, here and here,” I explain helpfully.
It is bloody weird reading a book about people you know. I would have thought she’d have included our brief and sadly chaste time together in a lavish Brighton hotel room, or the post-pub darts match at Short Tony’s, but Petite Anglaise’s publishers seem to have insisted that she kept it to stuff about Paris an’ that. I have a part so insignificant that you might miss it, but I had to sign something official!!! Presumably so I don’t sue her. It was exciting.
I would imagine that you can get it from all good bookshops, or Amazon.
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Reader Neil Forsyth also has a book!!! He is the man behind the funny funny Bob Servant stuff that I mentioned ages back. Anyway, this is the paperback edition of ‘Other People’s Money’, which got some great reviews when it was first out in hardback. Whilst you are in the all good bookshops you should give it a good thumbing. I do not think that Neil Forsyth has sex in it much, however.
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Dan is banging his head against the Foreign Office wall. The pesky ‘emergency evacuation of Iraqi translators who are being systematically murdered for helping British soldiers’ thingy just won’t go away, which is annoying. The government has leapt into action and provided those in hiding with some emergency forms however; it is hoped that, four months after the first ones being hastily completed and returned for Civil Service perusal, some helicopters or whatever might arrive. Dan’s latest post about it is here. No sex is involved.
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That is the news for now. I am thinking of taking some photographs of the chicken run and putting them on here, in order to lose visitors. Day five and it still stands.
I presume that you will not be having sex in the chicken run either? JonnyBee, your blog is getting boring now.
More sex please!
I am a bit doubtful, but if you think I might get a traffic spike out of it…?
You might as well Jonny. Zoe let us down this year so any port in a storm.
Righhhhhht.
With the hens? Or Short Tony?
Who’ll object most?
Less squarking with the hens I would have thought, but then again they probably run faster.
Cluck!!
I must have come to the wrong place. I was sent here by the Grauniad, but there was no mention of carnal relations with farmyard animals. Did I just pick a good day?
Chicken on chicken would be satisfactory … at least to liven the blog up a bit.
‘Day five and it still stands.’
Stop taking those little blue pills then.
Please, everyone, stop encouraging Jonny to have sex. LTLP has definitively ruled it out for the foreseeable, and it puts the chickens off laying, so don’t tease him…
now you’re one of the most powerful bloggers in the universe, your book must be about to come out, surely?
I’d be quite happy with a photo. Some hope!
But do you really have to ask people’s permission if you mention them in a book. If so I’m sunk!
Post a video of them chickens and a rooter…and play that old Trinidad calypso about the sixteen sexy chickens chasing Mr. Rooster.
I really want to see a photo of that huge chicken run. I’m sure it will rival Buckingham Palace, chicken world wise.
It is… it is… Cluckingham Palace!!!!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I am funny!!!
Blazing Saddle – no, just an off day. This is mainly a ‘specialist interest’ journal…
Pat – I was quoted in it (in a very very very very minor way) so it was a copyright thing rather than anything else. You can carry on writing your expose.
Morning old boy
Why is it that when my little pointy hand thing passed over your link to the Amazon, I got details of “Related Searches” for “Fencing; Chickens; Puppets; Weightwatchers; Chainsaw”?
Have you been doing some research? Are these all separate searches or somehow inter-related? Have you been putting on puppet shows for the chickens through the reinforced (still-erect) fencing to encourage them to lay, while threatening them with chainsaws if they refuse to oblige? And simultaneously imbibing a slimfast?
I think the world should be told, since you now control it.
Toodle-pip!
Dickie
I know of another blogger who keeps chickens and following advice has introduced a cock to encourage the hens to lay. They haven’t taken to his cock yet but he’s holding on to it hoping that things will improve. Are there any good cocks in The Village that you know of or will you have to ask around?
Heh! I should have read the rest before commenting Jonny. Now I understand. Thanks Grauniad, and thanks to you.
Gee thanks hon! Deep sighs of relief.
Ooooh, Cluckingham Palace. Clap, clap, clap.
I like using the word chicken in the place of nouns, especially in titles of movies or Shakespeare. “But soft! What chicken through yonder window creeps?” or “Is this a chicken which I see before me?”
Now I’m going to giggle all day to myself, but since I’m currently working in a Mental Health facility, no one will notice or care.
This blog is turning into that one track malarkey. It’s all sex this and sex that.
No pictures, please.
Choke the chicken!
Look what you have made me do now, you filthy pervert.
Is advertising the first death knell for a blog? I really, REALLY like the world’s first blog-based sitcom, especially as I live nearby and know all the locations.
Please, please stick to doing the good stuff?
Yesterday chickens, today sex. It works. Totally.
Cheers!
Following in the Eddie 2-Sox vein I really like the world’s first blog-based sitcom as well, which I just discovered (thanks, Observer. I’ll never tweak your nipples again).
I like it especially because I tried to start up a “blog-based local sitcom” myself a couple of years ago but found that no bugger from my area would read it. Or if they did read it they didn’t say anything about it. Then I started picking up a lot of readers from foreign parts, like Wales, so I dropped the local stuff. Maybe I should have just hung in there.
Local blogs for local people! Aye.
Or maybe I just lack your deft touch. Do you play bowls by any chance? Oh.
Hullo Andre the BFG, and Almost Vegetarian, and welcome.
I believe I had/have a couple of Welsh readers as well. And Americans, some Americans. And lots of Europeans. But let’s face it, having a neighbour drunkenly climb up on to your roof and climb in through your bedroom window in order to get you to come next door to play darts is essentially a universal truth, isn’t it?
You now have one from Australia too.
If it’s any consolation I did notice the reference to you in the book.
…& new zealand!!
You must have posh chickens to be living in Cluckingham Palace.
All the working class ones I know live in Peck ’em.
Sorry.