Valentine’s Day Ideas

Oooh, Grab a spoon love!

Here at World of Sheds, we’re the romantic sort. The sort that thinks nothing of popping to aldi and buying a bottle of Toro Loco and a packet of multi grain bakes to treat the object of her affections. Yes, I know, it’s dizzyingly romantic. Imagine. Just imagine if YOU were my gentleman friend! I’d say all manner or erotic things in your ear like ‘occipital lobes’. Grr!

Anyway, to that end, I thought I’d share with you some ideas for a romantic night in with the object of your affections. Shh. Before you say it. I know. I get it. It’s me isn’t it? I’m the object of your affections. Sadly, I can’t spend the night with all of you this valentine’s day. For a start, I’ve work the next day and I’ve a nasty rash, so I’ll just try and get round as many of you as possible. Make sure you have a moonpig valentine’s card ready and some dustsheets. You might think of covering all the electricals also, as I’m not insured for my ‘practices’.

Anyway, on to the romantic night ideas, just in case you’re spending it with a lesser mortal.

Right guys, it’s a truth universally acknowledged that women love things that come in powder form. It’s obvious really. You’d have to be some sort of flat faced nazi to not know really. Is that how you want me to think of you?

So, when your lady comes home from work, why not treat her to a beautiful big bowl of dry Horlicks powder and watch her tuck in with glee. Feel those sensual shivers down your spine as you watch the dry powder get all claggy in her mouth. Then for the main course, it’s a bowl of Bird’s custard powder. She’ll know you love her. Sadly, she won’t be able to say “thank you darling!” as her saliva is completely dried up and sticking her molars together. I know, it’s turning you on just thinking about it. Just remember, girls love napkins folded in the shape of crude vaginas. Pop some wasasbi nuts in there too.

Hey. Skip dessert. Go on. By now you are both feeling as sensual as a pair of elephant seals on the coast, lead her by the hand to the groping chamber vestibule and lick lines of icing sugar off each other. If you’re role playing, pretend it’s naughty drugs! Imagine!

By this time, the chairs will be piling up downstairs and the appliances will all be feeling pretty disappointed, as is always the case on a valentine’s night. You’ve both really pushed the envelope. You’ve never felt so wrong with your powder based exploits. You naughty pair! Then, you wonder the eternal question. Would it be taking too far and ruin the mood if you gave her a spoonful of Nescafe? Other blokes girlfriends do it, and all the women’s magazines tell women it’s OK to try it and all the sisters are doing. Maybe just get her to try a couple of grains to see whether she’d like it. Let’s face it guys, she’d eat the coffee granules if she loved you right?

Enjoy yourselves.

the love doctor Angel.

Top Tips Part 2

So you’re in love with your new fella, he’s probably called Terry or Keith or Steveo or Dazza. The love you have for him is bubbling up inside you like a well and you want to express this love. But how?

If you’re like me, you’ve probably thought of expressing it in the form of contemporary dance or by writing it on the inside of your geography exercise book (you may even like to work out the percentage of your love by using an ancient and scientifically verified mathematical formula) but it’s more than likely that you’ve settled on the idea of tattooing your loved one’s name upon your person. What better way is there to express love. I can’t think of any and I’ve tried.

But wait! What happens if the unthinkable occurs? Your loved one’s eye roves and before you know it, Steveo is stepping out with the girl studying childcare at the local college!

Well, fret no longer, save the heartache and literally thousands of pounds in expensive tattoo removal costs, simply write your loved one’s name in biro on your person (it’s probably your arse or chest you were getting tattooed wasn’t it, ‘cos it’s a bit ‘sexy’ isn’t it. Woo).

When the love ends, simply wash the name away. You can write your new lover’s name in biro when you think to ask it the morning after.

New Short Play: Short Romcom

He: Why that’s girl’s so beautiful. Her eyes are large like the Nazca plate and her lips are like delicate toilet paper. Why, a girl so beautiful as that wouldn’t be interested in a bum like me. Sometimes it’s hard for girls to get past my job in the fluffy animal abbatoir.

She: Alright, have you got the time?

He: It’s half three. Say, I don’t suppose you fancy going out some time? Could I have your number?

She: Yeah sure. It’s 18934 88474 28282.

He: Oh Brilliant. Phone you later.


Letters to Dr. Angel

Dear Dr. Angel

I blush as I write this. Such an imperitnent and frivolous question to one so important. However, my heart clamours for answers and I know such answers can only be dispensed from one as wise as you.

Doctor, for many years now I have been admiring a young gentleman. I understand he has a personal fortune of a million lira a year, but o! Sweet Doctor, I care not for this.  This young man has a heart so gentle, a word so light, a guffaw so warm, and a butt that you could bend a spoon on, if you so desire it. I dare say he would handwash a cardigan that you had just bought, and didn’t want to put in the wash incase it ran.  It can be a bit Russian roulette you know, dear doctor. He has a countenance that would imply that he wouldn’t go to a strip club and that.

My ultimate aim is to be the winner of a ‘Hot body show’.  My esteemed friend, Lady Spinderella, says the only sure-fire strategem to win his freaky-deaky hear, is to enter a show of such hot bodies. tI understand that you are an expert on ‘hot body shows’ and was wondering whether you dispense any advice on such a persuit.I understand you cam first in the Hot Body Exhibition in Crystal Palace, where many people were committed to mental asylums, after pure exhaustion upon looking ‘pon your very frame.
O Doctor, can you advise me? How can you prepare oneself to win the hot body show.  I know I have to be number one.  I know I need to ‘push it’ in some form, but I know not what to ‘push’ and in what direction. Do I push it Eastwards? What if this interferes with East 17? If I push it West, might this infringe on Go West? Doctor, can you tell me what exactly is involved in a Hot Body Show?

O! and a thousand questions.

Much love


Lady Salt of Pepper

to be continued…

123 Bumming! Puce Tape

Some of you may remember that I’ve been championing Carlisle Supergroup 123 Bumming!  You can learn more about 123 Bumming! on these links:

A recent earthquake in the Tuba Monster Quadrant of Carlisle, dislodged an early 123 Bumming! demo known simply as ‘the Puce Tape’.  On this tape was 123 Bummings! first ever recordings where they performed a little known song ‘Gentleman’s Arena’, a tender song about and the expression of sweet, deep love by touching someone’s ‘arena’. We can hear on this early, raw track, Iona Tombola on rhythm guitar and vocals, Igor Biggun on another, er, rhythm guitar, and Hans Fiddling on blues harp.  The puce tape has been carbon dated to the Future, as their concept is so ahead of it’s time.  Scientists at the Angel Institute have verified, that there may have been some alcohol involved in this live recording. And lots of wood.

So listen and enjoy ‘Gentleman’s Arena’ here and the Shirokuma corporation remix, which is very good.

123 Bumming! met in a munitions factory during the second world war.  They were attracted to each other due to their mutual love of holding budgies and laughing at how stupid they looked.  123 Bumming like hats.  A lot.  They refuse to listen to radiators as they tell lies.  Damn dirty lies. 

Anyway, enjoy ‘the Puce Tape’ and look forward to next week where 123 Bumming’s Iona Tombola releases her solo single ‘DVLA: Straight Outta Swansea’. Until then, guard your Hoover Chamber and continue to be vigilant against high levels of sexiness.

Survive being Single: Angel Gold from Myspace

I want to hear you holla, hear you scream my name, as the Spice Girls once sang (sans Geri Halliwell), but aside from that some of you may be SINGLE.

Yes.  This means you never go on holiday and noone cares whether you get home alright or how drunk you get when you go out with your mates.  YES! It also means that sometimes you buy Jammie Dodgers just to see a friendly face (Thanks Jeff Green, always reference your stolen gags, gag fans).

Some of you may be perplexed by this state of affairs so it’s only right as my duty as internet philanthropist, I show you some of the advantages of being single.


1.  No one leaves wet towels on your bed anymore

2.  It doesn’t matter that your bathroom door handle is broken.

3.  No one walks over your white rug anymore with their shoes on.

4.  No one tampers with your car stereo or touches the buttons just to annoy you.  This also applies to the passenger seat of your car. 

5.  You don’t have to stay up until 1am on a work night having an ‘discussion’ (argument) until you finally relent and agree with them because you have to be up in 6 hours. 

6.  If you get really drunk when you’re out with your mates, no one sulks the next day because you didn’t phone when you got in.  As this obviously means that they mean NOTHING to you and are INSIGNIFICANT and you were too busy having fun/getting off with someone/snorting coke off supermodel’s backs.

7.  There are no shoes in the hallway unless you put them there.

8.  Your garage no longer has loads of shit in it (but sadly, no one to mow the lawn anymore). 

9.  You automatically lose a stone in weight.

10.  You remember that you had ‘hobbies’ once upon a time. Hobbies are things that take up time that are pleasurable and make you feel good about self for those in relationships. 

11.  You are allowed to go to parties where there might be people you have hithertonow snogged/dated before.  You are also now allowed to speak to these people without fear.

12.  You don’t have to pretend it’s OK when somone messes up/breaks your stuff.   

13.  You don’t have to worry about the age-old ‘photograph dilemma’.  You look hot on a photo, they look like a serial killer.  You want to display said photo as, hey, you look great and that’s what matters, right?  They want photo to be burnt unceremoniously under cover of darkness.  This can also happen vice versa.  You go around to their gaff and discover a photo of yourself gurning like a loon while they look like bronzed god/goddess. 

14.  You don’t have to pretend you like White Musk from the Body Shop anymore, as you’ve been bought it by their mum four years in a row for Christmas.

15.  Fellas, you can get that tattoo you always wanted that your girlfriend scowled at when you mentioned.

16.  The ‘whose mates do we spend New Year with? ‘ dilemma is avoided, as you know, your mates are better. 

17.  Fellas, you avoid the ‘Poppodum Dilemma’ completely.  You can now get poppodums without fear of them being stolen when you go for a curry.  Your girlfriend will insist they are ‘fattening’, then proceed to eat all of yours while she waits for her main course. The Wench!

18.  Girls, you can wear your ‘fake tan’ pyjamas any night you like!  You can also store nail varnish and perfume in the fridge to optimum application benefits.


Hope that clears things up for you.  Until next time

The Institute for Grinding and Bogling



“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
In other matters, I have a proposal.  What we need in this country is an Institute of Grinding and Bogling.  This Instiute will fly in action should anyone be wrongly accused of ‘grinding’ and/or ‘bogling’ or any illegal grinding acts can be addressed by the proper channels. 
If someone is incorrectly accused of Grinding (haven’t we all been?  I know I have on at least 100 seperate occasions, each one more extravangant than the last) an application can be made to the Insitute to investigate.  This will be done by interviewing several sources (usually, Cardinal Mazarin, Cardinal Richelieu, le Dauphin and le Roi de Soleil) and reviewing video footage of alleged grinding.If allegations are largely insubstantiated, and injunction and legal proceedings will follow.  The slanderer will be dealt the punishment of watching MTV’s ‘The Grind’ until they can correctly idenitfy all 68 components of a ‘grind’.  They will then be forced to pull out all their eyelashes and categorise them into either ‘fluttery’ or ‘spindly’. 
I put it to you that such an insitute will save so much heartache and wrong doing in society.  Soon we shall all be able to roam the streets without fear of facing an illegal bogle.  no longer shall we fear being in a nightclub where some inebriated young chap decides to lock you in a ‘reverse unsolicited grind’ (this is a move where a gentleman approaches you from behind, so you can’t run, and puts his arms around you and then gyrates suggestively into your back).  Won’t the world be a better place? Won’t it make us all cry out “P’Tang Yang Kipperbang”.
and now I rest.  I feel all flushed now, and only essence of radiator water can restore my senses.
Until the next time, stay safe
Your pal in all ‘dance’ matters

A 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…


 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

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.