My lady doth protest too much! Examination of this mockery to our Lord and Darwin's newfangled theorum shows the "platypus" is merely a ferret with plastic feet *and* beak all glued on. And, while you imply a familiarity with glands and the custard they alchemise, your evidence is notably lacking.
A picture of the alleged animal known as the 'platypus'. The text above it reads "Because the platypus both lays eggs and produces mile, it's one of the few animals that can make its own custard".
My lady, I have fevourishly scoured the literature through the night, reducing my wax candle light to a mess of white globules.
By dawn, it was clear. While the 'platypus' did not have its beak sewn on, it is abundantly clear that glue was used.
Fake animal, fake country.
One rests one's case.
Never, ever, liked Paddington Bear.
There; I've said it, the sacrilegious thing. Unfollow or block me if it's too much.
Even better, pass a law so Paddington Bear dislikers such as myself are deported to a western European or Scandinavian country. I'll sign the petition myself.
A darkening twilight sky, with gradients of blue above a lighter horizon. A lane heads off to the right, with telegraph poles and houses. A scruffy tree occupies the middle of the picture.
Very much enjoyed yesterday evening's walk.
Shadows, silhouettes of trees against the painted twilight. Venus floating below a sliver of Babybel moon. A ginger cat burst from a hedge, briefly followed. And a wonderful voice spoke, next to me, as we strode around the lanes skirting the village.
15 minutes; no questions; government got the blame; my department to have 60% of us sacked. Apparently sacking us will lead to a ‘new, improved’ curriculum. No voluntary scheme, straight to selection and legal minimum redundancy payment.
"As a company founded in 1930 on the principles of 'safety, durability, and play value,' we felt the logical next step was autonomous kill drones."
I make no apology to you, my lady, for this basic human need to reach a state of blissful satiation.
It is true, my lady, that we provide the most splendid of cakes, here in Worcestershire. Perhaps even a rudimentary kebab.
But the cuisines of distant lands are enticing, and the prospect of feasting, to be left with the stickiest of fingers and face, is a prospect no sane Englishman can resist.
To respond to this query first.
I have read the fairy tales written about this 'Australia', where residents keep pet spiders as big as tigers, where 'koalas' violently and loudly mate in trees, and the elusive species 'Shanius Warnius' befuddles Englishmen who attempt to trap it.
Such twaddle.
My lady, your question is somewhat flawed as, like Atlantis, this 'Australia' is a made-up place and does not exist.
But, pretending for a minute that this 'Australia' was real, then I would indeed travel by land and sea for mutual döner kebab satisfaction and pleasure at an agreed time and locale.
Well, then; my post appears to have elicited an unexpected positive reaction.
Are you aware of any döner kebab establishments in whatever part of the world you live in, where one may purchase said cuisine for us both? (if that isn't a little too forward)
I absolutely love that they are experts in their field, trained and educated for anything that could happen up there, and they are still exclaiming, "Doooood!" like I would if I found myself in a spaceship.
Strong folk horror vibes from this headline
I'll buy us döner kebabs.
{waves from Worcestershire to Greece}
Moths?
{watches video}
Oh! It's amazing what can fit inside the human mouth. No wonder Subway do footlongs.
Yes, please.
Fair dinkum, hon.
That's only four words, chook.
Stewart caught Hayden bowled Warne (0).
A single track lane, with high hedges on either side. The sky is light blue, mostly clear. There's a few trees on the right hand side of the lane.
A crop field, with some trees in the background, under a pale blue sky.
A grassy, uneven, field, with a telegraph pole and some trees in the middle distance. The sun is nearly set on the horizon, the sky a patchwork of orange and light clouds.
A single track lane, with high hedges on either side. The sky is light blue, mostly clear. A tree and telegraph post are on the right hand side.
Lovely evening.
Had an amble around the lanes. Chatted with a cute Australian about cake, leg spin bowling, Warnie and other things. Did not have any cat incidents. Caught up with a few friends. Looked at train maps of Europe, especially Germany.
Contemplated the next six summers; had an idea.
A still image taken from the Boards of Canada track "Tape 5", released on 16th April 2026. On a black background are seven interlocking hexagons. Behind them is a static-y image of the face and head of a person with their eyes closed and mouth open. They may be in some for of religious rapture, or some other form of bliss.
Massive Attack collaborating with Tom Waits. Reznor and co. slaying Coachella. The Tear Garden playing live shows. Boards of Canada coming back. Artists continue to provide so much joy for us as the world burns. Thank a creative in your life for what they give to humanity
New Boards of Canada music.
(just to type that...)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6bgh...
For reasons, I researched the end of the last Ice Age in the Americas, and areas shifted from prairie to forest in hundreds, not thousands of years. The reverse also happens.
This while we are talking about Low Traffic Neighbourhoods and cycle lanes as if they are the end of the world.
#climate
A Birmingham-based GenX goth and her crew lurk in the bushes, handbags open, ready to kidnap...
{Victorian man faints}
"An ankle, on full gratuitous display!" exclaims a nearby Victorian man, sweating profusely under his top hat, giddy at such visions.
This is a beautiful selfie.
Also wondering in which/how many films Godzilla has rampaged down the street behind you.
#NerdThing
Warnie would scoff a couple of those in training, Wasp.