Halloween more like Shalloween

It’s that time again. Across the worlds thousands of gourds, young and old, face persecution at the hands of judgemental adults and overenthusiastic children. They will be slashed with knives, gouged with spoons and paraded in public. All of this in the name of beauty!

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(Oh god they’re scooping out it’s brains! THEY’RE SCOOPING OUT IT’S BRAINS!)

The poor naive squashes are lured into supermarkets with the promise of a better life, they have migrated for months to find better housing and cooler climates. The supermarket managers leave trails of half burnt candles and promises of a future as a delicious homemade pie but once the Pumpkins are inside those welcoming automatic doors the nets come down. They will now spend a lifetime in darkness as they are blinded with stickers and piled together in giant containers. The poor victims at the bottom of the pile are often dead long before their fellows are pulled off of them, sometimes being left for weeks before being discovered.

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(Lt. Dieter Von Kimmler is directly responsible for the imprisonment of Pumpkins at Tesco Extra Norwich, behind him are the mass graves which the squashes are forced to dig themselves)

It’s tough in the wild for a young gourd. This year the focus on Christmas comes too early and suddenly pumpkin spiced lattes and pumpkin pies are ignored in favour of cinnamon and mince pies. October should be a time of industry for the pumpkins but instead it’s become a beauty industry nightmare.

Of course it’s only pretty pumpkins are exploited this way, the ones not fitting into the media driven body image are thrown out into the streets to fend for themselves while their beautiful brothers are forced into cramped boxes.

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(They were told these photos were tasteful and would only be used for their portfolios, how wrong they were)

Once out on the streets these gourds often face horrible mental disabilities after their traumatic ordeal. Often resorting to binge eating in order to get into the body image their society has forced upon them. Body dismorphic disorder is rife and mirrors can be the Pumpkin’s worse enemies.

Even the pumpkins who escape this forced imprisonment are subjected to the worse kind of treatment. After being separated from their “ugly” siblings they are suddenly set upon with surgical instruments and carved up in the name of the holidays. Their faces scarred into permanent smiles or sliced with ritualistic markings they are left tortured and maimed.

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(I can still hear their screams)

Please I implore you this Halloween wear your orange wristband with pride showing your support for Pumpkins worldwide. Together we can free the gourds.

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(Orange wristbands available from http://www.freethepumpkins.org for £3.99)

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Writing the show

This week is supposed to have been mine and Lucy’s relaxing adult week. The girls are with their Uncle, Aunty and Cousin and as of today have decided they are staying there forever as they are being spoiled rotten. Lucy and I had decided we were going to get work done, cleaning cleaned and shopping shopped. So far what I’ve done is build an Ikea shelving unit.

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(Soooo white, so impossibly white)

My plan had been to get some basic house stuff done then start writing my first show. The plan for the show is in place. The concepts and some of the jokes have been written. I have even given it a great name that everyone who’s heard it has agreed it’s both clever and amazing. What I haven’t done is give it structure. A show without structure is like a clown without the makeup, sure he can make funny balloon animals but what’s his message?

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(Plus how will he get into children’s nightmares without makeup)

I had an incredible gig last night at the Silverstone racecourse. The other acts were exceedingly high level comics and it’s always humbling to perform with people like that. One of them is writing their first Edinburgh show and the subject of having a message throughout your hour show came up. If you don’t have a clear message all the show becomes is a string of jokes with nothing substantial to it.

The show I’m writing is about the power of positivity. After everything that happened with my girls (a future blog post) there’s nothing more poignant in my life that shows how everything will always be ok in the end.

Except The Only way is Essex. That’s never going to be Ok.

 

The great gap

For every parent, guardian, uncle, aunty, grandparent or unsuspecting close friend the summer holidays are an extremely busy time. Children hear the term “summer holiday” and get images of wonderful adventures, frisbees in the park, video games with their friends and foreign beaches surrounded by ice cream vendors. Adults caring for those children have a very different image in their mind.

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(CHAOS AND BLOOD!)

This past week has been a swirling melee of various different activities, hence the blog silence. Tuesday had us wandering around a medieval castle in Tamworth.

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(and by walking I mean trying on various different outfits and being pretty princesses, of course)

If you’ve got kids and in the West Midlands it’s a pretty good day out if you like that kind of thing, though as it’s situated right in the middle of Tamworth when you look out of a window or from the roof you can see high rise flats and a Wilkinsons. Sort of spoils the atmosphere, like being in the Tate Modern and coming across a franchise of Subway.

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(and this next piece is reminiscent of the baroque period, it’s six inches of italian bread and meatball sauce conjures the masters in ways never before seen)

We also ended up in Cadbury World as a generous gift from my mother. This was surprisingly brilliant. Other than being a bit pricy it was actually worth the day out. There was the pretty standard chocolate factory tour, jazzed up with a ride and so many free samples. Then there were children’s entertainers, more free chocolate and an adventure playground. Thank god for the adventure playground as the girls had basically been given a jar of nutella each.

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(Just after this picture was taken this magician was torn apart by wild eyed children, foaming at the mouth and screaming, looking for a magic rabbit)

It’s been great so far and next week the girls are going to stay with their Uncle, Aunty and Cousin while Lucy and I catch up on sleep and prepare ourselves for the new school year. Essentially this preparation involves buying shirts, chipping chewing gum off of the bedroom ceiling and drinking until we can’t feel feelings.

I’m still giving someone the chance to win a shedload of sweets with the wonderful Truly Scrumptious. You can enter the competition here

Apologies

Sorry for the lack of blog I will be back and blogging again by the end of the day. Many holiday adventures have been had. Until then here’s a link to the horrible news about Ben Affleck being the new Batman after his amazing job being Daredevil.

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If they wanted to kill the franchise they could have just left it at the last Bat-movie with the squeaky breath of Tom Hardy’s Bane still tickling our ears. Looks like the great Adam West is supporting Batfleck but then so is Val Kilmer and we all know how that turned out.

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(Have you ever seen Val Kilmer and Mickey Rourke in the same room?)

There’s still a chance to enter our free sweet giveaway here.

Return of the Manchild

Today we went to the zoo. As a fully grown man I should appreciate the animal’s plight and how zoos are there to help with the preservation of certain species as well as making the greater world of nature more accessible to the general public. However all I could think about was seeing the lemurs and getting an ice cream

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(This lemur tried to touch me, sexually)

It cost £90 to get myself, my mum and my two little girls into the zoo. It was so expensive inside the zoo that in order to eat from the cafe you had to pass a credit check and they only accepted gold bullion.

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(Turns out this isn’t acceptable as currency)

The girls loved it but inevitably they got bored of all the walking and animal spotting, to a 6 year old reindeer and African onyx are just deer beyond the Christmas connotations there’s not much to get excited about with deer. To spice up the adventure I started giving the animals tragic back stories which the girls took to heart.

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(Rayne and Kathrine try to console Colin the crocodile after his wife’s affair and subsequent lovechild drama)

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(Kathrine sings to Simon the sealion who recently found out he was suffering from bowel cancer)

I’m continually surprised by the type of people who go to the zoo. Today I actually overheard one parent say to their children “tigers eat lions and rhinos”. You’d have to be a pretty lost/determined Tiger in order to be a few thousand miles from home chewing on the armour of a rhino or chasing down a pride of lions. It’d be like us trying to eat a tank or motorcycle riding ninja.

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(From the shadows!)

It was a great day and I think the girls enjoyed it all. They especially appreciated me getting bored and encouraging them to recreate mortal kombat for my amusement.

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(FINISH HER! Oh who am I kidding just hug it out guys. CUTEALITY!)

National Treasure

First off I apologise for the lack of an actual blog post yesterday, I had taken the girls away for shenanigans with their nan and we got back late.

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(Shenanigans!)

Tuesday we spent in London, seeing the sights and exploring tourist attractions like we’d just stepped off the boat. I even wore a chequered shirt and baseball hat just so I’d blend in with the crowds.

The Tower of London has to be the weirdest reason ever for the British to queue. I mean sure there are things to see there like Henry VIII’s giant cock

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(So big it got it’s own religion)

But the main reason you go to the Tower of London is for the queues.

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(Oh my god! I’m so glad we could get in line for the queue to get on the Queuinator!)

They had people lining up for everything from some stairs (yes stairs, literally just stairs that you went up then down again) to the Cafe (because you need a good queue to work up an appetite) to the Crown Jewels (which turned out to be an automated queue with moving floor, British innovation for you).

The crown jewels themselves are great to look at as long as you maintain an open mind. We as a nation are the only people in the world to have a spoon as one of the important items our monarch carries on their coronation day.

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(Ok so I’ve got my golden stick, my shiny hat, my super hero cape and my jewelled ball now where the fuck is my feasting spoon!)

There’s so much gold in the crown collection that the queen herself could solve our country’s debt problems by getting a couple of envelopes from Cash4Gold.

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(Hello? Yes I have some unwanted gold. It’s a 4 gallon golden soup bowl how much can I get for it? £80? Fuck that I’ll just take it to Cash Converters)

You can see everything in the Tower in 45 minutes but the queues push that time up to 6 hours so take lunch and survival gear if you go over a weekend, if like us you go in the week make sure you take something to read while you’re waiting (The entire Lord of the Rings trilogy should do it).