The Year Of Living Rantily Pt.IV

Hokay; we're up to November, 2006, and as both Monsieur Benaut and Robyn yesterday posted kitty photos (I know, it's a plague all over the internet, but at least they're not as disgusting as baby photos … ACK!) I thought I'd start my November archive trawl with these photos of the best pussy I ever stroked, the late, great Kate.


Warm, fluffy, nuzzly pussy. All a growing boy needs.

Excuse me for a second while I delve into the smelly old box marked "Used Novembers" and see what comes crawling out …

Ah! The winter storms post. I liked that one:
"In winter, I love walking our desolate local beaches in really huge storms. Like that one in Ryan's Daughter.
Any chance I get, if the weather forecast sends us a big one, I'm off to see Mother Nature throw a wobbly. To stand there and let her get all shouty at me. I love it …

One of the best I ever found was at Walberswick, some years back.
It was February. There was a thunderstorm … and I mean a fucking huge storm! All howling and swirling black sky and searing lightning. It tore over the marshes and up the valley like the wrath of God.

There's a wrecked concrete breakwater at the harbour mouth (it's the one under Peahen's bottom on that picture I posted of her). I clambered over the barrier and walked right out to the end. It's all twisted, rotting concrete with rusted reinforcing bars sticking out, and this HUGE sea towered over it.
Every massive wave pounded and smashed into it with an enormous BOOM. The whole structure shuddered and shook. It was brilliant! (and very, very cold and wet) …
It was a totally stupid thing to do but I just clamped my legs round a concrete beam and sat there for ages watching the storm, letting the waves try and knock me off while the sky tore itself to bits all around me. And it was one of the most fantastic feelings I've ever had …"

Who needs drugs to get high?

My favourite Dive quote from November:
"Okay; let's get sweary …"
Runner-up:
"Kerblooey!"
"Blam!"
"Luke, I am your father."
"Pow!"
"Flash Gordon approaching! Open fire ! All weapons!"
"Boom!"
"Mwah hah hah haaa …"

Also revealed that month was my sordid past as a bomb-maker in "Blowing Shit Up".
These days people get a free holiday in Gitmo for knowing how to make bombs, but when I was a kid we ALL knew.
And we made the buggers and blew shit up with 'em.
What is the world coming to?

On the 11th, Lynn crash-landed on the Planet in bizarre fashion.
Having left a nice little comment on my blog I checked hers out only to find a desperate plea from a potential suicide. Yikes!
After some confusion it turned out that this was the first chapter of Lynn's novel "Under A Train", which she quickly amended to make plain it was fiction, not a real blogger about to top herself. Whew!
I'm so glad you joined us, Lynn.
And Lynn was followed swiftly by the more conventional landings of Monsieur Benaut and the lovely Betty. Blogging was getting jollier by the day.

Anyone wanting to see a cute picture of me as a toddler can check out that months "Tom Purdew" tale.

Here's November's extract from my Encyclopædia Profanica:

"I'll quote from the Guardian (I'm sure they won't mind).
"After more than five years of delicate and dangerous excavation on Derbyshire moorland, potholers have confirmed that Britain's biggest cave lies hidden below a fissure known for centuries as the Devil's Arsehole."

Why our dear Mister Knudsen sprang to mind I have no idea, but I'm relieved to discover that the Devil's Arsehole has not yet been bowdlerised by prudish nearby residents. I have great affection for rude historical names since my old mate Babs, up in Shetland, pointed out a standing stone to me, in front of which a small sign read (in a splendid attempt at the local vernacular) "The White Stane Of Willie."

I was disgusted to hear that Slut's Hole Lane, near my brother's house in Attleborough has now been re-named something inoffensive due to residents' complaints. This is a growing problem in crowded little Britain. We need to fight to keep our filthy places filthy.

The most famous example of this is a street I pass along every working day.
For centuries, fragrant ladies have plied their venerable trade there, offering such exotic delights as "penny up the wall" knee-tremblers, as a result of which, the place was officially known by the delightful soubriquet of (cover your eyes, Robyn) "Gropecunte Lane".
Unfortunately, when the Bank of England was located there, they renamed it Threadneedle Street (still a lingering trace of the old profession in the new name)."

I also took another pop at stupid parents for scaring the shit out of me with close-up photos of babies whenever I hit the "next blog" button:
"Religious blogs and those with fucking babies all over them scare me. Stop breeding, you ignorant fuckers. The world cannot possibly feed your snivelling, ugly children.
If I see another fucking baby blog, I'm going Godzilla on this stinking planet."
I sometimes get dizzy thinking how tolerant and easy-going I am.

Nestling in the heart of November's crap-shower is one of my very favourite comment-fests, where Robyn and me get down and dirty about religion. I love that one.

And check this one out for schoolday reminiscences and sex in the art room.

And this one for the truth about Thanksgiving and why I love Christina Ricci.

Best comments from November, 2006:

Old Knudsen:
"Natalie Portman makes me feel like a pedo"
"Is this Club Suck? Ok Mr Dive, get to work on me lad."

Sassy:
"Die, Bitch!"
"Nice privy."
"Cute pig, and great Arsehole."

Robyn:
"I excuse myself and go to the old fart mommy store with elastic waists and shoulder pads."
"Gosh, I never thought I'd have a Marxist Pal" … Robyn, I never thought I'd have a Christian, Middle-American Mom as a pal. It's a scary world.
"I missed, and most of it ended up all over the floor smelling quite like whiskey"
"When it comes to playing the horn, I think you can blow and suck at the same time."

Ms.Mac:
" I made an absolutely hilarious comment about George Clooney and my arse earlier but Blogger ate it."

Lynn (eloquent as ever):
"blah di blah di blah"

Rich:
"Rebel Rebel and Bowie never gets old!!"
"How about a date with my ex wife?"

Peahen:
"You barely paused to pull on your "PantsMan" mask, tights and cape"
"I'm Spartacus."

So, November goes back in the box.
Farewell to swearing, pussy, teenage sex, lots of pictures of my 3D work, bomb-making, non-dating, misery, the Devil's Arsehole, US mid-term elections, Marxism, dressing up as Hawai'i 5-0, driving "The Italian Job" style and a bit more swearing for good measure.
November was also National Blog Posting Month where we had to do a post every day.
Never again!