h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Oh... It's been bothering me for a while. I just consider some creatures too smart to eat, and pigs are right up there with dogs and it's hard to differentiate between them as to why we eat one but not the other. And the recent stories regarding "gestation crates" didn't help.

Also off my menu is octopus. Dolphins and corvids have fortunately never been on my menu.

I know what you mean about pigs being intelligent, but I default to my cultural background - we eat pigs but not dogs, or other domesticated mammals. Except maybe for rabbits. Perhaps because (in Britain) we no longer think of cats and dogs in the wild any more, except foxes, whereas rabbits are still very much a creature of the countryside (and a pest), and they're *usually* kept in cages as a pet, rather than allowed the run of the house, like cats and dogs. Which is perhaps an important distinction when deciding which meat to eat, and which not to. We get to know them a lot more than an animal that's in a cage in the back garden.

Yeah, ethical decisions are rarely binary. I might feel a bit differently about eating javelina or wild boar as they are definitely destructive in this region.

Sustainability is also an issue for me and I think I would have little problem replacing much of my diet with insects. As long as they're tasty.

"You knock-kneed knackered old nosebag!"

Good grief, why did that suddenly come to mind out of the blue and where's it from? Wheels are starting to turn, cogs are meshing...

Jimmy Jewel... Nearest and Dearest?

Blimey. Why would I be recalling a catchphrase from that old chestnut, having not given it a moment's thought these past 30 years or more?

It was obviously a fitting comment to the situation.

Getting to work and knowing that you can clock on and spend the first 40 minutes of your shift faffing around and drinking while waiting for the machine to warm up is one of the best feelings in the world

And speaking of , this morning I put the kettle on for my early-morning cuppa immediately after rising, as I always do, made a pot of with it, as I always do, sat down to the computer while it brewed, as I always do, and then completely forgot about it, as I *never* do, and didn't realise until just now, an hour and a half later as I put the kettle on again for my breakfast cuppa.

But all that time I had a feeling something wasn't quite right, and it wasn't - I hadn't had the cup of tea that I need to get my day going.

Worrying.

Either I've got a tapeworm or I'm pregnant. I haven't been able to stop eating all day, and I'm still hungry.

Ah, that'll be why the rice pudding I made last night came out as milk with shingle rather than a creamy delicious dessert. I forgot to switch the toaster oven from broil to roast

When I was at school I had friend called Phil, but his nickname was Puddin' because he was fond of his grub and never missed a second helping of dessert. He was a great kid. One day his mum, who worked at a bakery, brought home a kitten - a cat belonging to one of her co-workers had had a litter, and she picked out a ginger Tom. Puddin' fell in love with the cat the moment he saw it and it became his pet. He fed it, emptied its litter box, played with it, bought it treats and toys and catnip with the money he got from his paper round, and he named it Custard, partly because of its colour, but mostly because of the thing that Puddin' loved to eat.

As Custard grew up it became clear that he was a bit of a bruiser. He'd pick a fight with almost every other cat in the neighbourhood, despite having been fixed. After a few years he had a notch or two out of each ear, a bent tail and a few lumps of fur missing as a result of his dust-ups. By now Puddin' had a Saturday job, which was just as well considering all the vets bills that Custard was racking up with all the injuries he got from those punchups.

One day he was having particularly nasty set-to with another cat and Puddin' tried to intervene, but that's something you really shouldn't do when two cats are going at each other hammer and tongs because one of them may well turn on you, and that's exactly what happened. Custard got hold of one of Puddins' fingers and sank his teeth in. There was a lot of claret. Puddin' had to go to hospital and get stitches and a tetanus shot, and Custard ran off.

When Custard didn't come back home that night Puddin' stayed out late looking for his beloved pet, despite the throbbing of his bandaged finger. There's unconditional love for you.

But when, after a week or so, the cat was nowhere to be found, Puddin' started to think Custard was lost forever. I've never seen a kid so downhearted. Until, that is, there was a knock at the door one day. His mum opened the door, and there was a stranger holding a cat that looked a lot like Custard! Puddin' was upstairs in his bedroom listening to some records (nothing cat-related, so no synchronicity to tell of) so she called him down, and when he got to the bottom of the stairs she asked "Puddin', me boy, is this the cat you knew who chewed you?"

Maybe I'm missing something. (Maybe something quite huge if "Puddin', me boy, is this the cat you knew who chewed you?" is a punchline to a joke or reference I don't get.)

But right now, Custard is Schrodinger's . I don't know if he's alive or dead.

You've "never seen a kid so downhearted. Until,"...

So did Puddin stop being downhearted? Or did he become moreso?


inside ->

I think it was reference to this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FdrYYUuT07Q

At least its the tune that jumped into my head.



F S

I heard a similar version which went, "Is that the cat who chewed your new shoes?"

I do love as good shaggy dog story

While watching part three of Wolf Hall (set in the time of Henry VIII) last night this passage stuck out like a sore thumb. I know it's fiction based on real events so the conversation almost certainly never took place, at least in these words, but I expect there's a good amount of truth in it.

Thomas Cromwell: You're a man whose money is almost spent, I'm a man who knows how you've spent it. You're a man who's borrowed all over Europe, I'm a man who knows your creditors. One word from me and all your debts will be called in.
Harry Percy, Earl of Northumberland: What are they going to do? Bankers don't have armies.
TC: Neither will you without any money. My Lord, you hold your earldom from the King. Your task is to secure the north, to defend us from Scotland. If you cannot ensure these things the King will take your land and your titles and give them to somebody who will do the job you cannot do.
HP: No he won't. He respects all ancient (couldn't make out that word).
TC: How can I explain this to you? The world is not run from where you think it is. From border fortresses, even from Whitehall. The world is run from Antwerp, from Florence, from Lisbon, from wherever the merchant ships set sail off into the west. Not from castle walls, from counting houses; from the pens that scrape out your promissory notes, so believe me when I say that my banker friends and I will rip your life apart."

Plus ca change.

I can't believe I didn't get that. I didn't think I was that last night. Those Wee Heavies must have snuck up on me last night.

They'll do that for sure

I think you should know that in telling this joke I've given myself the most stubborn of earworms The joke itself is one that I think I first heard as one of Noel Edmonds' 'Golden Guillotine' jokes, which would put it in the mid 70s cos that was when he was doing the Sunday morning slot.

The idea was that he invited listeners to send in awful jokes, and he'd read out the worst of them, usually three or four each show. After the punchline he'd invite the listener to (virtually) rest their head on the block, then there's be the sound of a guillotine blade sliding down the frame, an unpleasant chopping sound, and then the sound of something heavy dropping onto the ground, whereupon Noel would always say "Oh, what a nice bounce".

I don't think you could get away with that today. The howls of exaggerated and faux offended outrage would be deafening

But, what reminded of the joke in the first place was a certain film I was watching a few nights ago
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ZLPJuy9oyQ

Hmm, that reminds me.

A bloke walks into a pub, goes up to the bar and gets his pint and looks around for a seat. The pub's busy and he sees one free table. He walks over, takes off his hat and puts it on one of the other seats, gets out his newspaper and starts working on the crossword.

A short while later another bloke comes into the pub, gets a pint and looks around for somewhere to sit. The only seat left is at the first bloke's table so he comes over, with his little Jack Russell, and asks the first bloke if he'd mind sharing the table. The first bloke says that he doesn't mind at all.

After a few minutes the Jack Russell spies the hat sitting on the chair. He jumps up, grabs it in his teeth and starts gnawing on it and shaking it from side to side. Well, you know what Jack Russells are like for chewing.

The first bloke looks at this, horrified, and says "Hey, look at what your dog's doing to my bowler!". The second bloke says "So what?". First bloke: "But he's ruined my titfer!". Second bloke: "I couldn't give a tinker's cuss".

First bloke: "I don't like your attitude!". Second bloke: "It wasn't my 'at 'e chewed, it was yours."

Ok... I got that one... on a second reading.