Posts Tagged ‘Blog Dog’

This isn’t very interesting but it does have a photo of Tennant (not my idea) for the ladies,(but obviously not for Doctor Who fans because he has nothing to do with it) and lots of stats and stuff to show you how many wonderful peeploids worried my blog last year.

The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

Healthy blog!

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.

Crunchy numbers

Featured image

The average container ship can carry about 4,500 containers. This blog was viewed about 19,000 times in 2010. If each view were a shipping container, your blog would have filled about 4 fully loaded ships.

In 2010, there were 28 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 110 posts. There were 53 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 4mb. That’s about 1 pictures per week.

The busiest day of the year was February 17th with 559 views. The most popular post that day was Has Anyone Seen Our David…?.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were community.livejournal.com, twitter.com, blogsurfer.us, facebook.com, and spam-filtering-service.net-us.info.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for cheryl cole, underground map, london underground, lady gaga, and captain pugwash.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

1

Has Anyone Seen Our David…? February 2010
2 comments

2

GaGa Ooh La La! December 2009
2 comments

3

Sci-Fi’s Unsung Heroes #53,627 – Ensign Ro Laren August 2009
2 comments

4

Star Wars Episode VII-A New Blog September 2009
2 comments

5

The One About Not Drinking August 2009
1 comment

MERRY MICKELMAS…or something…

Guten Afternoon-en,Reality Surfers and Splitters of the Infinitive!!

‘Tis I,ब्लॉग कुत्ता !!!

And in the words of Sir Noddy Holder…IT’S BLOGMAS !!!!!!!

A time to remember the important things in life,such as getting rammed out of your cabbage on Asti Spumante at the office party and waking up the next morning with Dawn,the fat girl who fills the photocopier.A time to think of those less fortunate than yourself,the poor souls who,believe it or not,aren’t intergalactic pug-dogs of mystery with a vast fortune amassed in a life of adventure,intrigue and leg-humping.For even though I am a fabulously wealthy adventurer in time and space and elsewhere,it doesn’t mean that I don’t think of those less fortunate than myself.

*By the way,the people from the gas board called..they’ll be round to switch off your supply on Tuesday,….*

Ha ha…umm…yes thank you for reminding me…I’m switching over to electric heating.I’ve heard wonderful things about Economy 7-

*…and I’ve taken the magnet off the electricity meter…the bloke from n-power said,and I quote “Low usage is one thing but we were just taking the pi-*

SShhh…ha ha yes you do that,I don’t know how it got there…bloody kids.Bring back National Service,that’s what I say….Anyway,shouldn’t you be packing ?
*I’ve nearly finished*

Yes indeed,Constant Reader…you read right…I am vacating my current Fortress of Blogitude and relocating to a swanky drum in the Docklands…West India Quay to be exact.Tube stations are so last year.And Mornington Crescent is rather too big for me and Rizla now that my former love,Miss Deidre Macbeth,has run off with that Tennant person.Where is he now,eh?
Eh ?
Answers to this,and other,questions shall be forthcoming during the next twelvemonth,for The Dog of Blog will be back in business very soon,banging one off the wrist,as it were,with more gusset-ripping installments of The Necronomnomicon and more tuber-troubling terrors with everyone’s favourite psycho-bitch,Marjorie Misnomer.
Christmas is a time for family..but seeing as I have no family,I’ve decided that Blogmas is a time for me,so if you’ll excuse me,I must away to my new pad to install the shark tank and gruff a box or ten of jelly fruits while watching Her Majesty (God Bless Her) on the tellybox,for was it not John The Baptist who said-

*Umm you may want to stop it there,actually…*

For why,pray,for why ?

*Well there appear to be two very large gentlemen with hurty-sticks  attempting to squeeze themselves through the barrier you put up to keep the council tax bloke out-*

SHIT!

*I think I already have*

Oh Buddha it’s the Theydon Bois !!!

*Big lads,aren’t they?*

Wapping!

*Oh Arsenal*

Down the secret tunnel!! Time to blog off,Dear Reader…until we meet again in futures uncertain,Happy Blogmas !!

Alright dudes ?

Hola!

‘Tis I-El Perro Blog…reporting from the London Underground,and my Mornington Crescent lair… and I am one year old !!

Yes,adventure-fans..it was one year ago (almost) today that I was found,swaddled in a copy of Razzle,on the doorstep of 10 Downing Street,having fallen through a rift in the time-space continuum following my battle with the Daleks on Uranus.(I have to do ALL the work while Tennant gets all the glory…and my wife,but that’s another story)

But there is no time for a detailed origin story this week….another time maybe…if I can be arsed.

Not only do I have to advertise for another maid/cleaner/cook/tea-maker/asbestos cleaner/toenail-cutter,but I also need to finish my profile on this intertubenet dating site I’ve joined-PlentyofDogs.com,because I haven’t had a bit for months…and you wouldn’t believe the dust on the platform.I’ve decided to combine the two jobs,that of lover and caretaker.

My ad reads – “Handsome Immortal Adventurer In Time & Space Seeks Sex-Mad Bitch To Make Tea And Sweep Up”

Haven’t had many replies yet…

Anyway…what can you expect from the upcoming year?

Excitement,adventure and rampant sauciness,that’s what!!

And if I can pull my finger out,more pelvic-floor-testing escapades from my unbelievable life !!!

THE BLOG DOG-like a nun with dwarfism ramming a box of chalk up your crevice…sexier than Eva Mendes carrying a Tesco bag filled with custard creams…the feeling you get when you realise you CAN marry your iMac…the Blog Dog is all these things,and yet more..

Until next time,jollies-junkies !!!

The Blog Kitten—MISSING!!

‘Tis I-The Blog Dog!

I speak to you today,Constant Reader,in a state of some agitation,and not a little preturbation.

(Is that a word?)

This very morn,upon waking from a shit-hot dream involving Bettany Hughes,Eva Mendes and a tub of swarfega,I rolled over in my 5-poster bed to greet the dawn and my beloved,Deidre, with a snuggle and a kiss,and to possibly try a few things I’d worked out in my dream.

(Eww)

Imagine,then,my horror as I beheld my beloved,who was conspicuous by her absence.

Gone.

Now this was not really that unusual,as it is part of our pre-nuptial agreement that Deidre should be up before I wake in order to get the tea on,so I was not unduly alarmed.I slipped on my yeti-skin dressing gown and griffin-hide slippers and sauntered into the kitchenette,to be greeted with a sight of abject,screaming horror,the like of which I had never before encountered,and no married man should have to endure….

…the teapot wasn’t even on the hob.

Searching around for Deidre in order to remonstrate with her and to extract a reason as to why my morning cup of  Earl Grey was,as yet,merely theoretical,I came swiftly to the conclusion that she was,as my Latin teacher used to say,non adest.

To whit,buggered off.

Not a soul in sight.

This was,as the Ameriyanks say,an “issue.”

Not only would I have to make my own tea AND breakfast,I’d have to most likely feed the piranhas AND go and whip the students in the dungeon.

This was not on.

The Blog Dog,as you know,has no time for the trivial matters of existence….for the Blog Dog is a roisterer,a rodgerer,a puker and a gorger-a shafter of time and space.

The Blog Dog cannot save the universe twice over whilst making his own cornflakes.Simple as that.

I trotted,stressed,onto the platform of my secret London Underground lair,cunningly disguised as Mornington Crescent,to see if maybe Deidre was polishing the third rail or something;it was possible that she had got her chore shcedule arse-backwards.

I was about to enter that state of mind known as the “hissy fit” when I spotted it…although how such an abomination came to be in my residence,I knew not,nor dared to wonder.

Plastered to the far wall was a poster of…..David Tennant.

You will know,Constant Reader,that normally I would not even debase myself to cleanse my lower extremities with such a tawdry piece of stationery,so how it came to be here was a mystery,wrapped up in an enigma,then sodomised by a “what the fuck?”

The third-rate actor who got lucky was gurning horrifically from the poster,but this was not the worst thing assaulting my retinas at this moment…there was more.

Someone had added a speech bubble which emanated from the vicintiy of his gruesome visage…these very words of horror chilled me to the bone:

HOOTS MON,YE WEE DOGGY BASTARD!!!

YE WEE WIFEY AND I ARE VERY MUCH IN LOVE,AND WE HAVE ELOPED TO GRETNA GREEN WHERE WE GAN GET MARRIED!

(Rubbish Scottish accent)

I know…bless him he hasn’t worked in ages,it’s probably affected his mind.Anyway back to the action…

DEIDRE SAYS YE CAN CLEAN YOUR OWN THIRD RAIL,YE WEE SASSENACH BUM-SNIFFER !!

P.S I’M THE BEST DOCTOR WHO EVER!!!!

P.P.S SO THERE !!!

P.P.P.S TOM BAKER IS RUBBISH!!!

The horror…the horror.

Dumped for Doctor Who…and not even one of the good ones.

Mother-appreciator.

So this is how you now find The Blog Dog,my Constant Reader…Deidre-less,tea-less and very possibly custard-cream-less.And even worse than that…I’ve got a fucking David Tennant poster on my wall.

What will my guests think ??

I suppose I’ll have to take it down myself ,too.

(Aw bless)

I’ve still got you,dear Rizla, my faithful retainer…my wife has left me for a has-been,my reputation is in tatters….and I haven’t had a cuppa for hours,put the kettle on would you-

-OI! Come back you sod !!!

Shit.

‘Tis I,The Blog Dog…the dog’s dog,the Hocus bloke,the lad himself,the cosmic dick,the mutt’s nuts,here to celebrate my blog reaching the ton! Deidre and I would like to thank all of my fear-fans for their faultless following of my adventures over the past 99 blogs.The little woman and I are currently on holiday in a flashback in Devon,so the blog has been left in the hairy palms of my slave, Rizla…but fear not!! I am,at this very moment,while Deidre puts the dinner on,banging out another existential episode of the orgasmically exciting Marjorie Misnomer series.I do enjoy banging one out of an afternoon..anyway…I’ve also commissioned that fine piece of brainy crackling,Bettany Hughes,to write my life story which will be appearing in the pages of this very blog in the not too distant future,if she can pull her finger out.AND as if that wasn’t enough to make you wet yourself unselfconsciously,I’m also working on the next cranium-cracking chapter of The Necronomnomicon…get in!!!

The future is here,the future is me…a peristaltic smack in the mush,a bunch of fives,madder than a cartload of arseholes,the pan-dimensional scream of terror,the piece of blue cheese you found under the cooker,the standing-in-the-middle-of-Tesco-with an-itchy-arse feeling of helplessness…I am the Hound of the Baskervilles,humping your leg…quite simply,The Blog Dog!

I,The Blog Dog,on behalf of my significant other,Deidre,and all my loyal staff,would like to wish all my readers a Happy New Year!

Thank you for following my adventures over the past few months and I hope you continue to thrill at my death-defying escapades throughout the coming year!

Right….LET’S GET PISSED!

Eat your heart out,Torchwood!

Eat your heart out,Torchwood!

Salutations and felicitations,oh seekers of the truth and collectors of the pure!

I am…

…..The Blog Dog!

But of course,you already knew that,otherwise you would not be here,seeking my wisdom….and dripping on my welcome mat.

Anyhoo,come yourself in and I’ll spin you a wee tale of adventure & derring-do.

That’s it,park your sit-upon down there,mind the cannibal,they’re everywhere,harmless really…just keep an eye on your extremities.

What’s that? Oh yes,I’ve moved my centre of operations into Mornington Crescent tube station…nobody ever gets on or off here,so I can do what I like…..welcome to the Fortress Of Blogitude,2.0!! It’s spacious,secret and has tea & coffee making facilities.It was closed for “repairs” during much of the 1990s,which was when I took the opportunity to make a few “structural alterations”.

Cuppa? Help yourself,there’s some in the pot.Will you pour one for me too…milk and four lumps,please…no sugar.

Now…let me tell you about the “little problem” I had when I moved in to Mornington Crescent.I had only that day returned from the 1960s,where I had been “filling in” in the gynaecology department at St.Bartholomew’s Hospital…they were short staffed you see,the other doctors had disappeared but they found them later,bound and gagged and stuffed in a broom cupboard.

I reckon it was medical students,or something,sniffing ether.

This station does not exist....

This station does not exist....

Anyway,I landed the Invisible Plane in the concourse of the station,and alighted.I had no trouble from the ticket collector on duty as I jumped the barrier,because Raffles is “on the staff” as it were,and helps keep real people out who may have wandered in thinking Mornington Crescent is a genuine tube station and want to go to Cockfosters.Eh? Yes it is,isn’t it? Most amusing.

I trotted down the escalator which doesn’t work,for appearances sake,and went to inspect the work that was being carried out.Several art students were hard at it,a-hammering and a-nailing and a-trying desperately to break their chains–no chance,those chains were made of case-hardened Dynastrene,the hardest substance known to man.

Deidre was busy polishing the third rail….her hair was somewhat “on end.”

“That’s it,babes” I said as I scuttled past,”I want to be able to see my face in those rails.And sort your hair out,you look a right state…and watch those arcs of electricity emanating from your extremities,you could hurt someone.”

Professor Bernardo Whiplash-Prebendary was installing the secret door to my lair,cunningly disguised as the Mornington Crescent tube roundel on the wall of the platform.She turned to greet me.

“Ah Bloggers,you complete and utter waster in time and space,there you are! Not bad this,eh…you just touch the second “O” in “Mornington” and the wall slides back to allow access to the Fortress.” She demonstrated,the wall slid back silently to reveal a dark,velvet-lined corridor; a distant light indicated the door to the inner sanctum,secured with a 21-tumbler lock.

“Good work,Prof.Fancy a cuppa and a bourbon?”

“Yes please,after you.” We crossed the threshold into the Fortress of Blogitude,and walked down the corridor towards the door.I produced my key to open the Triponic Lock.

“By the way,Bloggers,can you smell burning?”

“Oh that’s just Deidre.”

“Oh,that’s all right then.”

********************************************************************************

INTERMISSION

THE BLOG DOG RETURNS AFTER A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS! STAY TUNED!!

“Do you have any unwanted gold jewellery lying around the house? Then send it to me,and I’ll send you a cheque by return of post for their full market value!!! Just pop your baubles in a jiffy bag and send them to this address-

THE BLOG DOG,

THIRD CUBICLE ALONG,

GENTS TOILETS,

ST.PANCRAS STATION,

LONDON.

Unlock the potential value of your valuables today!!!

(Terms and conditions apply,cheques will not be honoured.)

*********************************************************************************

Look,that's my TARDIS !!! The brown,cupboardy thing...

Look,that's my TARDIS !!! The brown,cupboardy thing...

***BACK TO THE ACTION***

I was just drifting off to sleep in my King-sized bed,Deidre quietly simmering and still sparking a bit next to me,when I was startled by a curious sound issuing from the general vicinity of the platform.Slipping on my slippers,I crept out of the boudoir,through the study,across the piranha pool,around the aerodrome,crossed the kitchen,stopping only for a cuppa and a garibaldi,took the monorail to the main living quarters,and tiptoed to the front entrance.I opened the door,just a crack,and had a look.

I did some lookings,and thanked the Gods above or wherever they hang out,that I had taken the shortcut from the boudoir,for there,acting as if he owned the ruddy place,was a Suit!

The Suits had found my secret headquarters!!!

I was immobile with shock and fear….and worse than that,I couldn’t move either.I thought I had seen it all in my long,exciting life….I had battled the Flesh-eating Fish of Fantabulus 5 in the Wombat galaxy,arm-wrestled with Genghis Khan in the snug of the Dog & Duck…even skinny-dipped with Osama bin Laden….

But there are corners of the universe that have bred the most evil unspeakable things,and l was looking at one of them now.

It was beyond description…the words needed to do justice to its appalling appallingness have yet to be invented by some mad,deranged dictionary compiler who has recently looked up the arsehole of Hell whilst wearing a thong.

 My very soul shat its pants.

The Suit was wearing a tweed suit.

The tweed suit wasn’t too happy about that,and was desperately trying to escape the thing’s vile slimy blobbiness.

The Suit was studying what looked like a map.

Summoning every last inch of my iron will (and I have a very big iron will…just ask the missus) I opened the door wider and strode out to meet my doom.The oily pen-pusher turned to “face” me,an unctuous smile birthing,suffering a short but painful life,then dying on his noisome visage.

“Ah good evening,sir.” he smarmed “are you the owner of this umm…hee hee….secret underground lair?”

His voice chilled my very being.

“Yes I am,you hideous horror from Harrogate.How did you get in here?” I feared he may have done Raffles a damage.

“The ticket collector was in his little hut watching Doctor Who..hee hee..a David Tennant episode I think.”

He smiled a soul-fisting smile…he was enjoying himself….how did he know of my utter hatred of….”The Tennant?”

“I stopped for a cuppa and a French Fancy and had a chat while we watched the programme.Tennant is much better than that awful Tom Baker person,I think.”

!!!!!!

“He said I could go down and,as it were,”knock the mad bugger up”,so here I am…ha ha….and quite frankly,it’s a good job I came,because this whole place is just downright dangerous.Did you know there are piranha fish in your swimming pool?”

“Yes,it’s a piranha pool.”

“But someone could fall in and get eaten!”

“That’s the whole bloody point,you knob!”

“Fair enough….oh and by the way,I’ve err…ha ha…come here to twat you.Twattage should take no longer than 30 of your Earth seconds.Twattage is completely painless and lovely.Your experience of Twattage may vary.”

“Begone from my Fortress,you muppetry salesman! Don’t you know who I am ?”

“Yes.”

I waited.

I waited some more.

“Well?”

He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket,unscrewed it and consulted its contents.There was a Werther’s Original stuck to it.

“You are the Blog Dog.” he announced,and returned the paper to his pocket.

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed,you canine clod.” said a velvety voice from the void.

I turned towards the sound-a small girl was erupting from the blackness of the tunnel which led to Edgware on the Northern Line,calling at Camden Town,Chalk Farm and Belsize Park,among others.

I recognised “her” instantly,even though it had been some time since we had spent any time together.

“Marjorie Misnomer….we meet again.”

“Indeed we do.” She sidled towards me…she gave good sidle.”Umm..one seems to have been neglecting one’s children recently,hasn’t one?”

She kebabbed me with her gory gaze.

“Well…umm..I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yes…moving house,saving the world,you know how it is,all kinds of things cropping up.Ummm how have you been,Marjorie?”

Marjorie Misnomer stared at me.Hard.

“Well you see,that’s the funny thing-I don’t know how I’ve been because you haven’t written me for bloody ages !!!!” She grabbed me by my tartan collar and hoisted me up level with with her eyes.

” I want more life….father.”

(You nicked that from Blade Runner.)

Oh hello,you’ve been quiet tonight…Deidre keeping you busy…good…that coal won’t clean itself…..

Anyhoo…

I felt something give in my nether regions,but I kept a stiff upper.”But…but…Deidre doesn’t like your stories,she prefers it when I blog about real life stuff….but I do have one of your stories in the archive,I just need to finish it…it’s a good ‘un too.” I lied.

“How is Deidre by the way?” asked Marjorie.

“AC/DC.”

“Really? How interesting.Where was I…oh yes,Tarquin was going to Twat you.” She motioned to The Suit,who had taken to picking his nose.”Tarquin,please be so kind as to bring the Twattage.”

The abomination in tweed slobbered towards me…I was going to be Marmite.My mind raced…..actually it raced quite quickly,so quickly in fact that it left my body and made a run for it-I couldn’t in all honesty blame it….it was the end of The Blog Dog.

If Tarquin didn’t get me,then Marjorie would–why had I written her so evil? She was only ever meant to be a bit of fun because I couldn’t think of anything good to blog about one evening.

Curse my boundless talent!!

“Wait!” I yelled,as Tarquin loomed over me,poised to Twat me with his Twatter.”I promise I’ll finish the third chapter of Marjorie Misnomer & The Impossible Fish!”

Marjorie halted Tarquin’s arm.”Promise on your signed photograph of Katie Price.”

The bitch!

“Alright I promise on my signed photo of Katie Price.”

“Very well,dog.I shall give you until this time next week to finish and publish it.Make sure I get all the best lines.Come along,Tarquin.”

They ambled off in the general direction of Golders Green,holding hands.

Ewww.

THE END

(Bit of a crap ending,that.)

It’s one of them “To be continued” jobbies.

(I simply cannot wait for the next part.)

Of course you can’t…now,it’s time to feed the piranhas…I think one art student will be enough,don’t want them to get too fat.

Until next time,thrill-junkies!!!

Farewell!!!

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Count Mephistopheles Von Tiddles.....yesterday.

Count Mephistopheles Von Tiddles.....yesterday.

The story so far:

I,Blog Dog,Agent Double Oh-Woof,undertook a mission on behalf of HM The Queen (God Bless Her) to recover the lost book,The Necronomnomicon,for England and all that.In cahoots with Agent Norma Snockers,we discovered our first clue in the bowels of the Top Secret Library Of Very Scary Books,from whence the book was half-inched….a cat hair that could only belong to my old nemesis,that Malfeasant Moggy—Count Mephistopheles Von Tiddles!!!

Now read on!!

Scene-EXT

Aston Martin BD-5,speeding towards the British Museum

I gripped the wheel of the Aston and sped towards The British Museum…..I wanted to see my old friend Professor Bernardo Whiplash-Prebendary,an expert on spooky books and all that Dan Brown,Lawrence Da Vinci secret society bollocks.

Norma was still out cold in the passenger seat,her blouse loosened so she could breathe easily,and so I could have a look at her-

-so I could make sure she was alright.

I came to a screeching stop outside the museum,narrowly missing a group of students….so I reversed and made sure I flattened the scruffy bastards.

I stepped from the Aston,scuttling over the twitching bodies of the unwashed,workshy,cup-a-soup guzzling,long-haired wasters-

(Not too keen on students,then?)

-and trotted into the museum,the unconscious Norma slung over my shoulder.I stepped into the lift and rode it to the thirteenth floor,where the professor’s office was located.

Professor Whiplash-Prebendary’s office was disguised as a mop cupboard,but was far bigger on the inside than outside,like that thing off the telly…you know,Doctor What,with that Scottish bloke,whatsisname….Derek Tenement.

(Hah…I could show him a thing or two about time-travelling…I’ve battled the dreaded Garleks throughout space and time,and I didn’t continually over-act while doing it.

And you should have seen my scarf-it was epic.)

Anyhoo…

But this was the real thing…the trick was all to do with books.

Just as second-hand bookshops and libraries will increase their interior size to accommodate the books within (shops selling NEW books don’t do this),any room with sufficient reading matter within it will also extend it’s inner volume out  through our dimension and into the higher non-Euclidean dimensions,stretching it’s very atoms to fill the dreadful,unknowable void of the Etherverse.

All you need is enough secondhand books…and Prof.Whiplash-Prebendary sure loved books.

If you’ve never seen half a million well-thumbed Mills&Boon paperbacks stacked floor-to-ceiling before,I recommend you pay the Professor a visit.

It is quite a sight.

Mind you,so is the Professor….6ft 6 inches tall,white hair like an explosion in a sherbet factory and built like a brick convenience.

Quite a woman,is Bernardo Whiplash-Prebendary.

The Prof was sat at her desk,bent over a book…I crept up behind and read over her shoulder-

“Percy gazed longingly at Deidre….her glass eye glinted in the moonlight….her heaving bosom heaved rhythmically in time with the tossing cruise liner.She pressed her firm yet yielding body up against Percy…Deidre could feel his growing passion poking into her nether regions.Deidre looked at Percy lustily,and said “Oi,put that away-you’re half decent-”

“My girlfriend’s called Deidre.” I remarked.

The Prof. swung round,startled.

“Ah there you effing well are Blog Dog,you old sod! Who’s the totty?” she asked,indicating the still asleep Norma.

“Agent Norma Snockers.”

“Hmm….named after her father,no doubt.Anyway,what the bloody hell can I do you for?”

“It’s Von Tiddles…he’s stolen the Necronomnomicon!”

“Jesus H.Tennant!! Not the chuffing Necronomnomnomicon!!”

“It’s just two noms,actually,Prof.”

“Sorry,I’ll try again……………..Not the chuffing Necronomnomicon!!”

“The very same!”

“Not the Necronomnomicon!” cried Norma,then went back to sleep.

(You’re only keeping her asleep because you can’t think of any funny lines for her…or for anyone else for that matter.)

“What a bastard!”

(Charming!)

Not you…

“Quite….and he’s going to use it to summon up all kinds of spooky,blobby shit to lay waste to dear old Blighty and have the streets run with blood,dogs and cats living together,and things of that nature generally.”

“So now you’re going after him to right royally twat him and get the book back?”

“Not ‘arf.”

“Fecking great! Will there be gratuitous sex and violence along the way?”

“Oh yes!”

“Funting marvellous!! Although I read in The Times that you’d recently jumped the broomstick…to the divine Deidre Macbeth?

“Ah yes,but a secret agent on Her Majesty’s (God Bless Her) official secret service is sometimes required to give in and of himself in the line of duty….that often includes nailing any nice piece of crackling that comes his way.”

(By the way,are you still carrying Norma on your shoulder?)

Yes…she was pressing against me in a way that suggested she more than lived up to her name…anyway,shush,there’s an exciting bit coming up.

(Thank god for that…I’m sure you’re getting paid by the letter,or something…oh,and Deidre said to tell you the dinner is ready.)

Tell her I’ll be right there.

Just then,there was an almighty crash from the corridor…the door of the office was rent asunder…and there,framed in the doorway was an abomination….a creature of such horrific countenance,of such awful visage,of such…suchness….that even I was speechless…

The Professor stood firm…she squared up to the monster.

It towered over her…no mean feat.

The horror stared balefully at the Prof,and opened it’s hideous mouth….inside was a Hell of teeth,worthy of some monster piranha….

A “voice” from the deepest pit of Hades spewed forth-

“Would you and your friend like a cup of tea,dear?”,it said.

“For chuff’s sake,Mum that’s the third door you’ve knackered this week….yes,we would like a cup of tea,please.Bloggers,you knob,you can come out now it’s only me old Mum.”

“Ah…ha ha I wasn’t hiding,I was umm….ummm…”

“Milk and sugar?”

“Yes please.”

“How many lumps?”

“Three please.”

“Sugar?”

“Yes….hurry up and pour,I’ve got a book to find-The Necronomnomicon!”

“The Necronomnomicon!” cried the Professor.

“The Necronomnomicon!” cried the Professor’s Mum.

“The Necronomnomicon!” cried Norma Snockers,who hadn’t had many lines in this episode.

“The very same…I don’t have a moment to lose……any custard creams?”

Next Episode-The Man With The Golden Bun!

The Blog Kitten!!

Deidre Macbeth—The Blog Kitten!!

“YOOHOO” MAGAZINE BRINGS YOU BREAKING NEWS!!!

Spatula McMasters writes-

“The residents of the sleepy village of Much-Drooling-Over-Tennant have been orgasmic with excitement over the revelation that its most famous resident,The Blog Dog,had only gone and got himself a “Blog Bird!”

I was invited to the so-called “Fortress of Blogitude”,actually a two bedroom semi on Eccleston Street,opposite the gasworks,to quiz the happy couple.

I was shown into the lounge by the Blog Dog’s assistant, Rizla, who discreetly informed me not to fall asleep in the presence of The Blog Dog,and to keep my “hand on my halfpenny”,whatever that is,to be greeted by the happy couple sitting happily on the sofa.

So tell,us,Blog Dog,how did you two meet?

“Well,Spatula..I may call you Spatula,may’nt I? Good…nice halfpenny by the way.Well,as you no doubt know,someone in my position is no stranger to beautiful young women…I have been romanced by some of the most desirable ladies on the planet in the most exclusive locations…Angelina Jolie in Monte Carlo,Nicole Kidman in Los Angeles,and Eva Green in Venice.

So you can imagine how surprised I was when I met Deidre at the bingo.”

Deidre,tell our readers what you thought of The Blog Dog when you first saw him ?

“Well Spatula,I first saw Bloggers when I was going the loo,it was the excitement of getting a full house you see,there was an almighty ruckus coming from the ladies,women screaming something about a sex-crazed dog hiding in the cubicles and interfering with women,so I went in for a look and there he was with his head down the toilet,someone had stuffed him in there you see,all you could see was his little wiggly tail sticking out,ooh you should have heard the language-”

“Ha ha…I explained about that,I thought I’d seen a Spindly Killer Fish in one of the toilet bowls-”

“-words you’ve never even heard of,I hope he doesn’t kiss his mother with that mouth,that’s all I’m saying,and there was a bird with a plunger and she’d stuck it on his arse and was plunging him up the u-bend-”

“I was looking for the Killer Fish,and that brave young lady was helping me….I have no idea how her top fell off…”

“—anyway after the woman had got him well and truly down the pan,and I mean he was stuck right down in there,and no mistake,they’re only small,pug dogs,see,she buttoned her blouse back up and stomped out,telling me in passing “you want to watch yourself with that one,love”,I went over to pull the little bugger out,poor little doggy,awww,he was all wet,and he looked up at me with his big puppy dog eyes,his face full of gratitude and love for saving his life,and said “Hello beautiful,fancy a shag?”

And what did you say?

“I said,up yours,mate and kneed him in the bollocks.”

“Ha,yes,well,first impressions are always difficult,and I had had a bit of a shock….but I could see that Deidre was the one for me,it was her cute little face and deep brown eyes that did it…so I asked her out.”

Ooh where did you go? LA? Paris? Milan?

“Chessington World of Adventures.”

“Awww yeah he was all shy as we looked at the animals and went on the rides,I wanted him to hold my paw,but I think he was nervous about making the first move.”

“I was just waiting for the right moment…and standing at the monkey house watching a monkey scratch his nuts is not a good moment.”

(not to mention the fact that it would be impossible for a dog and a cat to hold paws and walk at the same time…they’d fall over)

“Yes,thank you, Rizla, I can see you’re just jealous…anyway Spatula,we’re very happy together,aren’t we Deidre?”

“Yeah,we’re very happy,but ooh you should see the state of his kitchen,it’s lucky he met me,you should see the grease on the cooker,it’s shocking I can tell you,he needs looking after,and there’ll be no more adventuring across space and time for you my lad,it’s the gasworks for you,proper 9-5 job is what you need,and you can let the servants go as well-”

(Eh?)

“–and stop looking at Spatula’s halfpenny…and put that away as well,you dirty bugger,you’re half decent.”

The happy couple then posed for photographs,the rights for which the Blog Dog had originally demanded a fee of £10,000…but we eventually agreed,after some “unpleasantness”, on a more realistic sum of £20 and a crate of Brown Ale.

The residents of Much-Drooling-Over-Tennant now have their own Posh ‘n’ Becks–the Blog Dog and Blog Kitten!

Worship them!!

By Spatula McMasters.

Next week-Aliens—Have they come to eat our women and mate with our food? We find out!!!

Me totally rocking the tuxedo look....

Me totally rocking the tuxedo look....

The name’s Dog….Blog Dog.

Double OH-WOOF.

Licensed to-

(Lick your own privates?)

-kill,actually.

Now,as you might expect,a lot of famous people ask for my help,from Presidents to pop stars,from Ronald Reagan to Shakin’ Stevens….now there’s a young man with talent.

My tales of derring-do are well known…far be it for me to seek personal gain from constantly banging on about my adventures.Fame,fortune,totty…I crave not these things.

(That’s good because you never get any of those things.)

You’re just jealous.

Anyway,as I was saying,most of my escapades are the stuff of legend…but less well known are my little “jobs” for Her Majesty,The Queen (God Bless Her.)

The Queen (God Bless Her) has always been a keen fan of my adventures,and so it came as no surprise to me to be summoned into the presence of the old girl one crisp,autumn day,to help with a “little problem.”

I hopped in the Aston Martin BD-5 and zoomed towards Buck House,where I was ushered into the presence of HM The Queen (God Bless Her)

“It’s like this,Blog Dog.” said Lizzie as she rested the Royal Posterior on one of the servants.I did likewise.

“One has been and gone and had one’s copy of the Dreaded Necronomnomicon stolen from one’s Top Secret Library Of Very Scary Books,and one would rather like to have it back.”

The Necronomnomnomicon!!! The most dangerous-

“It’s just two “noms” actually,BD.” quipped Lizzie.

The Necronomnomicon!!! The most dangerous book ever written!!! Believed to have been inscribed in the living blood of a million virgins by the “Madder -Than- A -Blender- Full- Of- Elephants” Arab,Abdul Al-Jolson,a billion years ago on the planet Myopia!!! It contains dreadful invocations and unmentionable spells which deranged disciples of the Great Old Ones can use to summon up all kinds of spooky,blobby shit!!!

“Yes,that’s the one.We don’t want just any old deranged disciple of the Great Old Ones using it to summon up all kinds of spooky,blobby shit….”

I started to suspect that the Queen (GBH) had very great mental powers…pretty impressive for an old bird of 80-odd.

“I’ll give you “old bird” you bottom-chaser!” snapped The Madge,and smacked me a good ‘un round the ear with her Royal Smacking Stick.Gathering her composure, she fixed me with the Royal Stare.

“One,Lizzie The Queen (God Bless Me),hereby commands you to find the Necronomnomicon and right royally twat them what ‘alf-inched it.One suggests that one transports one’s doggy posterior down to the Top Secret Library to look for clues…..you will also meet your assistant,specially chosen by one.”

I took offense at this…Queen or no Queen (GBH),I always work alone.I can do more damage that way.

“With respect,Your Majesty,I don’t need an assistant,they always get in the way and need rescuing and all that while I’m trying to save the entire world and look cool in the process,so no thank you.”

“But it’s their first mission after graduating from the Secret Agent Academy….”

“Too inexperienced.”

“The agent may be only 19 years old,but….”

“Too young.”

“Ah well,she’ll be very disappointed.”

“I’ll give her a weeks’s trial.”

****INTERMISSION—Choc ices and albatrosses are available in the foyer****

She was waiting for me as I walked confidently into the Top Secret Library,bending over a computer and looking brainy,wearing a skirt that could double as a scarf.

I liked her immediately.The rest of her was pretty good too.

She turned to face me

“Ah,you must be…?”

“Dog…Blog Dog.And you are….?”

“Snockers…..Norma Snockers.Agent Double Oh-Phwoar.”

“But of course you are.” She did indeed resemble the proverbial “dead-heat in a Zeppelin race.”

“Let’s get to work.”  Ooh,all business…I like that in a woman.

Norma slinked off towards the bookshelves,gesturing me to follow.The movement of her lower portions was somewhat hypnotic.

She led me towards a suspiciously book-shaped hole in the Spooky Shit section.

“This is where the Necronomnomicon was kept.”

The Necronomnomicon!!!!

“Stop that.”

“Sorry.”

“And that had most definitely better be your paw on my leg.”

“Sorry again.”

“We believe the thief got in by using a laser to cut a hole in the 10 foot thick steel roof,abseiled down past the mini-gun emplacements,distracted the rabid Rottweilers with some sort of Rottweiler-distracting device,wrestled the alligator into unconsciousness,then casually came in here and stole the Necronomnomicon-”

The Necronomnomicon!!!!

“I thought I told you to stop that.Anyway,that was the easy part…actually being able to touch the book in the first place would have required a magical education far outside the abilities of normal men.”

I was beginning to have some very nasty suspicions.

“Do you have any suspects?”

“I have one clue,a single hair found in the mouth of the alligator,it must have taken a bite out of the culprit before it sparked out.” Agent Snockers produced a little bag out of her pocket,and squatted down close to show it to me.I could smell her perfume….Tweed,by Lentheric.

Classy bitch.

I trained my well-trained eye on the object in question…it didn’t look like human hair,or dog hair,which admittedly didn’t narrow it down much.

I asked Norma to come closer so I could have a good old sniff of it,and,after smacking me around the ear a few times,realised I meant the hair,and opened the bag.

My blood ran cold.

(It does that a lot,doesn’t it?)

Well,you see,I deal in horror on a daily basis…it’s how I roll.

“By the Gods!” I exclaimed.

“Have you seen this hair before?” asked Norma.

“Yes…it is a cat hair!”

“Not a cat hair!!!! ” gasped Norma.

“Yes…a cat hair!” I replied.

“Not a cat hair!!!! ” gasped Norma.

“That’s very annoying.”

“Sorry.

“This is the work of only one cat,and one cat only…the Crown Prince of Feline Felony,that despoiler of virgins,avoider of taxes,pincher of bottoms…”

(Sounds like you.)

Be quiet.

“You don’t mean—?”

Norma clutched me tightly….things were looking up.

“Yes I do mean—–Count Mephistopheles Von Tiddles!!!”

My arch-enemy!!!

Norma fainted.Things were indeed looking up.

Next episode-Dr? NO WAY!