ASK ANGEL update.

Oh, you lucky, lucky fucks!

I am allowing you personal access to my e-mail address so now you can ask all your ignorant questions safe in the knowledge that I will recieve them via the gift of the weblords.

Remember, the Angel 2000 series GTi offer still stands for your personalised horoscope.  Remember to put in all the relevant details (see May 3rd entry) and leave the rest to the mainframe or other technical sounding words.  Your answers and your personalised reply will appear in the blog.  Yes, your own words, here!  Fuck, you must be beside yourselves.  You may have urinated on the floor.  Wipe it up or your fat mam might slip on it.

Warmest wishes

Dr. Angel

Tuba monster thwarted by New Labour in General Election

As you may remember, dear pungent shed enthusiasts, the tuba monster inherited the earth, but a few earth days ago.  You may remember that I had a touch of the wildies as a result.  You will all, undoubtedly, breathe a collective sigh of relief to hear that my regularity has been reinstated and all magazines have been removed from my toilet cum knocking one out suite (currently enjoying ‘the polite young lady’s periodical alamnac to anal fisting’ magazine fans).

In any event, the tuba monsters created quite a stir here at Angel Towers.  They had taken over out local corner shop convenience and began selling nothing but green sleeping bags and Jimmy Nail’s stair carpet when I popped in to purchase my regular brand of dead eels.  The cads!  I was also reliably informed that they had infiltrated level 42 and were taking some lessons in love.  There really was no end to the abomination.  I really couldn’t concentrate properly on Footballer’s Wives out of worry.  Not even ‘Take A Break”s usual brand of minor personal tragedy reader’s stories could rouse me out of the doldrums.  Even the article about The woman who shagged her daughter’s boyfriend and dumped the daughter for the boyfriend.  What person can resist such a heart warming story of motherly love?

The Tuba Monsters were clearly tightening their grip on the country.  They even stopped me from accessing my local Argos Emporium for a kareoke machine and a playboy bunny belly ring.  However, it transpired that this was all part of the Tuba Monster’s campaign for government of the country.  No one seemed remotely interested in their policies and voted for the more traditional political parties of Labour, Conservative, Lib Dem, and the screaming bumm-boy party.  I took the liberty of relaying the following key points of their manifesto to you, dear sweet shedders (ps, never leave me!)

Key Policies in the Tuba Monster Manifesto. 

  • All human life forms are scum and will eat Tuba faeces.  Condiments will be allowed.
  • Schools and hospitals will be abolished.  The young and the infrimed will be moved to a holding pen containing a shovel and pippette set used by Larry Grayson in his ‘experimentational phase’.
  • Immodium will be banned from all chemists and retail establishments.  Diarrohea will be encouraged to ‘work through’ the pathetic fragile human body.  Death will be viewed as sweet release should it continue.
  • pushing a pram and eating a sausage roll simultaneously will incur the death penalty.
  • Everyone will smoke fags.
  • Being a male life form is banned as they are largely superflous to Tuba Monsters.

Just a sample, can you believe no one went for this shit and they were beaten by labour.  Upon my honour, I almost wish them back.

Do you support the Tuba Policies?

What Blog Readers Want

A lot of Blogs are about pain, aren’t they?  Terrible teenage suffering, crosses to bear, feeling misunderstood.  Blogs with titles such as ‘If you don’t like it then fuck off" and other such charming epistles rivalled only by Jane Austen in terms of wit, vivacity and enchanting social commentary.

Needless to say, I do not read these blogs.  I feel I must preface my next comments by saying I have nothing against the type of blogs I have described  above.  I think blogging is a wonderful thing for people to do to express their emotions and organise thier thoughts. But, by Bryan Cant, they make my eyes weep tears of text speak sorrow. 

When a blog starts being about pain, overcoming the odds, dealing with isolation with stoicism, or even maudlin navel gazing, I switch off.  Pain?  I want not pain.  I’d  finally finish Tess of the D’Urbevilles (which I have been trying to finish for the past ten years.  I fear I may not live to see the end of it, having lost the will to live, my life force being sapped away from me with every morbid paragraph).  So, in the spirit of interactiveness, which is what I’m all about, shedders, I invite, nay, demand you to answer this very question:

What are you looking for in a blog?

A love story?  Correct spelling and punctuation, nice pictures of fit blonde birds with huge baps?  Poetry?  Stories?

Also, conversely:

What are you not looking for in a blog?

Angst?  People referring to contact with their girlfriends as a ‘huggle-puggle’ (REAL-I kid you not shedders), recipes, gurning pictures of unattractive offspring labelled ‘My little Angel-pie’ .

Tell me.  DO IT TODAY.

Oh, and finally, acquire the stance.


Dr. Angel

ETA:  Do you think my site’s popularity would increase ten fold if there was a picture of Keith Chegwin buggering his childhood cheese grater on it, minutes before being discovered by his house-boy?

I thought so.

Blogging: the obligatory two entries and beyond…

Like most self respecting human beings, I like regular entries.  Whether they be behind Netto, standing on a milk crate as Big Nige debases you in all the known ways in Christendom, or in Blog format.  As the world knows, most blogs overspill with self indulgent, maudlin introspection, usually which holds no interest to anyone but the author.  The law of blogs (1067) states in paragraph 4, subsection 4.2 (just after the note on obligatory txt spk, kewl!) that, the author, upon realising their Blog holds no enchantment for mankind, nor woman either, gives up the futile ghost of the blog and lays it to rest after two entries to do something better and more rewarding, like knocking one out.

This blog, my World of Shed enthusiasts, I hope to be different.

This blog has a idealisitc, democratic, interactive vison!

Even simple urchins know that something is more interesting if you’re involved and interacting in something, and that’s what I want world of sheds to be about.  Write your comments, use the ‘Ask Angel’ blog entries to ask me a question that I can input into the Angel 2000 series GTi master computer with dot matrix, or I can ignore with a sense of self aggrandizing power (non serious).

So please, use me, or else the demise of the Blog is imminent and there will be much wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth on the virtual Yorkshire Moors.


Dr. Angel

Coming Soon to Angel’s World of Sheds: ASK ANGEL.

I spoil you, no really.

Once again, the Angel 2000 series GTi will be wheeled into the arena and asked to perform on demand, like a victorian dancing bear on a hot tin plate.  Dance, little bear, dance!  This time, ambassador, the Angel 2000 series will once again be telling your mystical fortune as long as you provide the following details:

Your name

Your date of birth

Your national insurance number

bank account details

Your advert of choice

and your date of birth

The Angel 2000 series will do the rest.  I can sense your bum cheeks clenched in anticipation.  Aquire the stance!


Below: The Angel 2000 Series GTi computer often inspired awe in many a onlooker.

the tuba monsters threaten earth

Upon wakening on this fine May morning, much to my dismay I found that the tuba monsters had inherited the earth and life was never to be the same again.  This rather upset my stomach slightly, and my lab rat, gus, did note that I had a touch of the wildies, which he was slightly perturbed about and quizzed me on my bowel habits using the Bristol stool scale for reference.  We came to the consensus that my faeces were soft with ragged edges, and gave it a rating of 6.  Immodium was dispensed and I was able to go about my day.  Not sure what the Jeremy Irons I’m going to do about the tuba monsters.  I’m slightly worried, but it’ll pass, and rather more quickly than it should.