Dr. Angel’s Perfume Review
29 Sep 2009 3 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: Boob tube, Eau De Rust, four humours, Perfume, Wigan
Dear sweet smelling world of shed enthusiasts,
While perusing the interweb for my regular brand of canoe porn and international gestures, I happened upon a blog about perfumes. http://nowsmellthis.blogharbor.com
This not only made me rejoice, but it also made me think that, goddammit,Jeremy Irons, I can do that too. So please keep your eyes tuned and your buttocks firmly and sweatily clamped for my first perfume review which will be coming shortly, this very night!
I know most of you haven’t smelt perfume before, apart from on your regular ‘ho’s matalan boob tube, but one day you might find it useful. For those of you in Wigan, perfumes are the things that disguise the smell of dirty houses and chip pan fat. You can buy them in Manchester shopping emporiums or get cheap copies on Costas’ market stall in Kos, just next to the fake Burberry towellettes.
This week’s perfume: L’Eau du Rust perfume house: Le cadeaux de le doublevaycay
Subtle yet promiscuous, this perfume smells like it could have been shagging your fat mam and all her pox ridden sisters. First, the distinctive opulence of binary fission mingles with the sparkling farcical strain of tuba monsters connected together by a system of strings and pulleys, lifting the senses and tightening your sphincter. Surprising and velvet soft, the heart of the fragrance unfurls to reveal an original blend of irregular objects and glue sniffers’ sputum. Next an intoxicating bouquet of black bile, yellow bile, blood and phlegm balances the four humours and prevents a visit to the snake in the temple of Asclepion. Finally, warmed by the skin, the last notes of the fragrance reveal it’s lingering egg nog milky accord. The smell of sawdust on vomit and the open field system merge with knights in white satin to create the feeling you get after a welcome bum intrusion.
It’s lovely.
Jim’s Gym
22 Sep 2009 5 Comments
Just got back from the gym. Managed not to look in those big mirrors next to the machines. For some people, sadly, this is an all-too unmanagable feat. Their eyes, magentised by the mirror’s attraction. Drawn like the moon to the earth’s gravitational pull, they watch themselves work out.
For mere mortals, the thought of watching your lycra clad frame jostle amongst the steel and pvc pads is visual anathema, however, I am transfixed by watching people watch themselves.
Are you are watcher? or, like me, are you an eye-averter?
The Gym
21 Sep 2009 3 Comments
Just got back from the gym. Managed not to look in those big mirrors next to the machines. For some people, sadly, this is an all-too unmanagable feat. Their eyes, magentised by the mirror’s attraction. Drawn like the moon to the earth’s gravitational pull, they watch themselves work out.
For mere mortals, the thought of watching your lycra clad frame jostle amongst the steel and pvc pads is visual anathema, however, I am transfixed by watching people watch themselves.
Are you are watcher? or, like me, are you an eye-averter?
Touch me! Touch me! I want to feel your body…
19 Sep 2009 5 Comments
in Pastimes, Suggestions Tags: accents, Hapsburg Empire, nodes of ranvier, Ottoman Empire, Sam Fox
…as Sam Fox, eighties lezzer and chanteuse, once sang. But enough of that WoS enthusiasts…
about this time of year my eczema flares up into the shape of the soviet union, I cancel all my goating holidays in the Ottoman Empire, Eurasia and Persia, and I write a strongly worded letter to the Holy Roman Emperor. As autumn advances upon us like Gary Lucy, sour faced hollyoaks gaylord, you may like to take up some of the following suggestions.
1. Why not rent out your nodes of ranvier for 13 pesetas per day?
2. Move all your posessions into a tube of Germoloids
3. Shout in someone’s face “I am NOT a library and you CANNOT ‘browse’ over me, Sir!”. Consider emphasising this by spraying spittle. Or maybe a small amount of spew.
4. Start a street fight betwixt two WW1 war poets (I can recommend Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfrid Owen. I’ve got a feeling that Sasson repulsed Owen’s adavances and the element of ‘thwartage’ will make for a good rucus). Consider throwing some chickens into the melee.
5. Make an amourous advance on The Hapsburg Empire.
6. Get youself tested for artefacts, remnants and leftovers.
7. Invite a feeling of tension into your home.
8. Sculpt your body down the gym so it resembles a barrell. Walk on your tiptoes and refuse to talk about the exchange rate mechanism until the object of your affections finally relents. Follow this up by laughing in a cavalier manner as you walk away from people.
9. Whenever you answer the phone do not attempt to disguise your voice but pretend you don’t know the person who’s calling, even if it’s your mum. “sorry no, no Fred here, you’ve got the wrong number. What number did you dial? Yes, that’s this number. No, no Fred here. Take care now. Bye”
10. During a conversation, half way through,change accent.
Let us know how you get on with that.
Until then, I remain your humble servant
The Institute for Grinding and Bogling
17 Sep 2009 14 Comments
in music, Pastimes, Rants Tags: Bogling, Dance, Grinding, Le Roi De Soleil, music, Romance, safety, Unsolicited grind
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“You crazy babe, Bathsheba, I want ya. You’re suffocating, you need, a good shed” sang Black Francis. And don’t we all agree with that sentiment? Of course. Anyone would. That’s why WoS is the 5th most popular shed based blog after 1. Right Says Shed 2. Beds in Sheds 3. Sheds in Beds 4. Lord Rhomboid and his Shed Division 5. World of sheds |
Dr. Angel’s computer game compendium
15 Sep 2009 5 Comments
in Pastimes Tags: contemporary, existance, horace, Sir Clive Sinclair, Skelmersdale, society, World of Sheds, zx spectrum
- Horace Goes Weeing: The latest zx spectrum game about urine dilemmas. Horace is Drunk in Skelmersdale and all the pubs have now shut. Can you help him find somewhere to relieve his bladder and avoid capture by the ‘Bizzies’ (the Police)?
- Horace goes Keying. the latest zx spectrum game about anti social behaviour towards vehicles. Can you help Horace evade an ASBO?
- Horace Goes E-ing: Horace starts university and finds it hard to fit in. He starts to take drugs in order to endear himself to the ‘cool’ crowd and go to super clubs like Cream and Ministry of Sound and the Roxy in Sheffield. Can you help him score some genuine pills? Help him steal £6 bottles of water and try to stop him throwing his sweaty body onto strangers, proclaiming “man, this is just, like, totally amazing. I can tell we’re like, gonna be friends for ever. I feel so much love for you”. Help him beat end of level bosses such as the crap dealer, the night club bouncers, and the club dj (make him play Josh Wink-Higher state of consciousness) and the university halls of residence cleaning ladies.
- Horace Goes Me-ing: Horace starts to develop an inflated sense of self as one of his mates was in Hollyoaks once or something. Stop Horace developing narcissistic personality disorder by dodging mirrors, attending psychiatry appointments and stopping him from talking about himelf.
- Horace goes Being: Horace contemplates is own existance. Help Horace with his existential dread by collecting and chain smoking Marlboro Reds and standing in slanty doorways, wearing a black polo neck.
- Horace goes kneeing: Horace has low self esteem and joins a taekwondo club. He proves his worth as a man by kicking women and children at his dojang.
I hope you enjoy these excellent, contemporary games.
A Sea Shanty
14 Sep 2009 4 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: Another place, Anthony gormley, art, Crosby beach, internet dating, music, Phil, Romance, sea shanty
Dear sweet smelling WoS enthusiasts, all three of you.
Usually at this time of year I change my name to ‘Lady Freakathon the third’, join in marriage a Bontempi organ and Stefan Dennis and alter my internet dating profile to read the words ‘I like killing people with my bare hands’. I also like to pen a sea shanty from time to time. This particular shanty I penned on Crosby beach after being inspired by Anthony Gormley’s ‘Another Place’. Also, someone had written their name ‘Phil’ in the sand. I tell thee, I bet this ‘Phil’ character was rather pleased with himself eh? Writing his name in the sand n’ that. What a genius. In honour of this genius, I wandered about the beach shouting “PHIL!” at the top of my voice to see if anyone would turn around. It was also part-homage to the great ‘Phil’ himself that I just felt the pleasure of shouting his name, his name ringing in my head, his name filling my lungs, my every breath as I bellowed it out into the steel grey, heartless sea. Unforgiving, crashing against the torn, black, ragged rocks, bleeding, exhausted onto the shore…
*cough*
Er, yes, so this sea shanty eh?
A hundred Saturday Iron Men
There was a hundred iron men who looked out to the sea
Each one privately wondering what was on telly
One hoped it was strictly Come Dancing, one hoped for Top Gear
but Top Gear isn’t on on a Saturday, it’s usually on a Sunday
Heave Ho!
Repeat until nauseous….
I’m sure you enjoyed that enormously. You may like to sing it to your mates at the abbatoir where you work.
Yours, in all matters musical
A sea shanty
14 Sep 2009 6 Comments
Dear sweet smelling WoS enthusiasts, all three of you.
Usually at this time of year I change my name to ‘Lady Freakathon the third’, join in marriage a Bontempi organ and Stefan Dennis and alter my internet dating profile to read the words ‘I like killing people with my bare hands’. I also like to pen a sea shanty from time to time. This particular shanty I penned on Crosby beach after being inspired by Anthony Gormley’s ‘Another Place’. Also, someone had written their name ‘Phil’ in the sand. I tell thee, I bet this ‘Phil’ character was rather pleased with himself eh? Writing his name in the sand n’ that. What a genius. In honour of this genius, I wandered about the beach shouting "PHIL!" at the top of my voice to see if anyone would turn around. It was also part-homage to the great ‘Phil’ himself that I just felt the pleasure of shouting his name, his name ringing in my head, his name filling my lungs, my every breath as I bellowed it out into the steel grey, heartless sea. Unforgiving, crashing against the torn, black, ragged rocks, bleeding, exhausted onto the shore…
*cough*
er, yes, so this sea shanty eh?
A hundred Saturday Iron Men
There was a hundred iron men who looked out to the sea
Each one privately wondering what was on telly
One hoped it was strictly Come Dancing, one hoped for Top Gear
but Top Gear isn’t on on a Saturday, it’s usually on a Sunday
Heave Ho!
Repeat until nauseous….
I’m sure you enjoyed that enormously. You may like to sing it to your mates at the abbatoir where you work.
Yours, in all matters musical
Too Much Love Can Kill You
10 Sep 2009 3 Comments
So says Meatloaf. On what evidence does he base this claim? I have read many medical and psychological text books, none of which make the love=death link. There appears no factual basis for this claim, no evidence, no randomised controlled trials exposing subjects to two conditions:
Condtion A-not enough love
Condition B- too much love
Where is it established that the independant variable (IV=love) is manipulated to see if it has an effect on the Dependant variable (DV=life/death status)? I’d like to read that research, Mealoaf. Which peer reviewed journal does it appear in? The international journal of spurious bollocks? The Australian journal of shit? Lies! The Magazine?
I can only conclude that this supposition is INCORRECT
Too Much Love Can Kill You
10 Sep 2009 3 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: experiments, journals, love, Meatloaf, RCTs, Romance
So says Meatloaf. On what evidence does he base this claim? I have read many medical and psychological text books, none of which make the love=death link. There appears no factual basis for this claim, no evidence, no randomised controlled trials exposing subjects to two conditions:
Condtion A-not enough love
Condition B- too much love
Where is it established that the independant variable (IV=love) is manipulated to see if it has an effect on the Dependant variable (DV=life/death status)? I’d like to read that research, Mealoaf. Which peer reviewed journal does it appear in? The international journal of spurious bollocks? The Australian journal of shit? Lies! The Magazine?
I can only conclude that this supposition is INCORRECT.
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