Is funny finite?

Have you ever pulled up short, as if a child had ran out in front of you, and considered how much funny there is left in the world? Or perhaps you just keep driving, in spite of the yelps, too absorbed in the thought.

How many variations on a joke have we got left?

Give it a couple of years and like pop music, will we see cover versions of entire shows and acts? Watch out for Russell Brandy and Victoria Woof coming to a venue near you.

Give Jack Doo a miss though. I saw him on "Jokes in his Eyes" and he was lame.

Finding the right words

On their lovely website, the scholarly sorts at the Oxford English Dictionary have a list of words and phrases which they seek the help of the world at large to date first usage.

Apparently, before 1986 no one used the term
chat-up (a.: designating or relating to flirtatious conversation)

So what did we do back then if we saw a likely sort swigging a pint of Hoffmeister? Did we simply "talk to them" or perhaps just club them over the head and take them home under our arm? And if the chatting up didn't work, we didn't stop at the kebab van to drown our sorrows in meat fat before 1990 apparently.

But somewhat more worrying is the fact that no one did a poo (as in the verb and very much without the H on the end) before 1975. And then, between 1975 and 1981, no one called their poo, well, erm, poo.

If you know any different, let the boffins know.

First day of school

The New Year should bring new hope and a refreshed vigour for the year to come. I hope it brings you, kindly reader, all that you could ever wish for



It has bought me so far - though in no particular order - a packed in radiator, a leak in the kitchen, a viral infection that has made my glands go crazy bananas and a dusting of snow.

The Arse Clench Redemption

So I turn on the telly this morning, and who should I see but Mr Motivator sitting on the sofa with Lorraine Kelly. I quickly checked my watch to see if I had passed through some time hole into the early 90s. But no, there he was, real as anything and still wearing the same colourful leotard.

Apparently the obesity crisis has reached such levels that the only person who can help us is Mr Motivator. I imagine some poor researcher from GMTV had the job of going around all the petrol stations in London, trying to find the one he worked at and then begging him to come back and save the nation while he switched on pumps and sold Jaffa Cakes.

Whatever can we expect next? Lizzie Webb from TVam working with obese children?

So anyway, there was Mr Motivator, offering to solve the obesity crisis and making Lorraine Kelly do arse clenches, despite her arse being beyond clench redemption

Merry Chuffing Christmas

Hello blog reader,

Did you have a nice Christmas? Cherry and Shiv here to tell you all about the world of Biscuits for Girls.

Here you can:

Listen with your eyes to the tragic tale of Mr Willington, the Man Who Pooed through his Willy.

Watch with amazement tales of Zoos from the BBC open service

Learn with wonderment about A Dog Called Phil Collins (no relation)

Percolate on the meaning of Life as Shiv and I set aside a weekend to discover it

Wave along with all your friends and discover the therapeutic benefits of waving

Yes, we shall be blogging like good 'uns. OK we can' t think of anything much to say now. But just bally well watch this space and you won't regret it.

Loveth to thou

Cherry and Shiv

x

Mistletoe and Whine

Hello World,

Cherry here. As Shiv hasn't already said it, welcome to our blog. Here you will learn the secrets of the universe, including the significance of the word "Bobvious" and the political stance of all the pizza restaurants from South London to Hove.

But first, let me tell you a festive story, of how The Green Stole Christmas.

My current contract is based in a tree-hugging, do-gooding, natural yoghurt weaving environmental government department. This week, on a routine trip to the kitchen, I found that someone had pinned a chart on the wall. At the centre of it were the words "To make 2009 more sustainable, I will..." and around it everyone had put up post-it notes claiming they were going to recycle their wrapping paper and reduce their carbon footprint.

I went back to my desk and continued with my work. But the chart in the kitchen continued to haunt me for several days. It was so well meaning and yet so utterly humourless. I had to intervene.

The very next day I brought my own post its into work and now the sign boasts the following suggestions for making 2009 more sustainable:

Bring your goat to work day
Get a windmill
Sack 2 people (suggestions here)
Only flush on every 3rd trip
Stop wasting post its

Childish, but I gained tremendous satisfaction.

A toast to the roast

While researching turkey roasting times to ensure my Mum doesn't poison me this festive season while I sup Snowballs in an easy chair, I came across a rather marvellous glossary. It was stuffed to its little wing tips with names for those crazy composite Christmas roasts that hairy men on C4 cookery programmes make.

So Biscuit for Girls fan, if one roasted bird is just not enough, why not try the Cockatrice, which is "several birds of varying sizes, one inside each other." Sounds more like the sort of roast Premier League footballers video on their mobiles.

Or perhaps you'll find the family just love to polish (off) a Turducken. This is a simple ensemble of "a chicken inside a duck inside a turkey with sausagemeat stuffing." Yum. Keep piling that meat on. Hold the sprouts.

All things considered, I think I may just have to take Cherry up on her offer a turkey roast in a toastie instead.