Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Pink 'n Mix

A selection of daftness from the world news.

  1. Allsorts of issues here, but what a sweet old lady she must be. I think the judge is on another planet, Mars perhaps. Made me snicker though. Now onto another topic.
  2. Speaking of kids - Teddies are in the news. All I'm going to say is that if an Islamic teacher, bedecked no doubt in her burqa, decided to call a teddy 'Jesus' at a school in the 'wee frees' bits of the Gàidhealtachd then there surely would have been a backlash, but maybe not actual lashes.
  3. Staying on the subject of Teddies - you've got to have one of these for the next nuptials you are invited to. What's more the teddy is pink. What more can you ask for? (Be honest, how many of you clicked manically on that link expecting a lingerie item?) Which leads me nicely to...
  4. Pink Community Support Officers.
© Chill Bill
Published by Toy Town™ Times

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Old Bill

I tried the quiz and guess what?

I scored as a William Wallace.

I didn't swick either.

© Noddy
Published by Toy Town™ Times

Captain John McDermid RIP

John was laid to rest on Monday.

Read more here.

© Noddy

Published by Toy Town™ Times

Monday, November 26, 2007

Elysian fields

A wee(gie) Davy & Boaby joke from the Glasgow Guide:

n.b. This post has been scrutinised and fails to meet Human Rights legislation and diversity protocols. Tough titty.

An on duty Gendarme spots a hire car approaching the Champs-Élysées with a rear light out. He beckons the driver to pull over, which he does and winds his window down. The Officer has a good look inside the car and notices that the driver and passenger are conjoined twins, Boaby & Davy. Instead of making an issue over the light out situation he begins to engage in some friendly chat.

Gendarme: Ah, you are on holiday my friends?

Davy: Aye, that's right big yin. We've been coming every September weekend for the last 9 years.

Gendarme: So I guess you come to France to get away from ze rainy weather you have in Ecosse?

Davy: Naw, it nearly always pishes doon when we come here. Your weather's nae better than oors, in't that right Boaby?
Bobby: Aye.

Gendarme: Zen I take it you are here to enjoy our delicious French food, very healthy.
Davy: Naw, yer food's rotten big man, everything reeks of garlic. We've brought a box full of pieces to avoid eating your crap.

Gendarme: Zen you must be here to drink our famous wines and cognac, surely.
Davy: Yer swally's boggin, we've hid tae bring a kerry oot. In't that right Boaby?
Bobby: Aye.

Gendarme (by now ever so slightly bemused): Well in that case you must be here to see the Parisienne madamoiselles, ze most beautiful women in Europe.
Davy: Yer kiddin in't ye! The burds here are dogs, ah widnae touch them wae yours big yin.

Gendarme (by now rather irate): Zen why do you people come to our country if everysing ees so bad?
Bobby: It's the only chance oor Davy gets tae drive!

....... and there was you thinking the tag would be about a certain
footie match.

© Noddy
Published by Toy Town™ Times

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Without a leg to stand on

Sorry about the pun, but that's what the brave guys were left with after this HATE crime.

Punishment for the besom in question? Deep end, rope, lead weights anyone?

© Noddy
Published by Toy Town™ Times

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Home Internationals anyone?

Sorry folks down south, but it has to be said. That was poor.

At least we Scots can be proud of our team's efforts, but I'm not sure the same can be said about McClaren's mob over both the group fixtures and tonight's game.

I think someone is in line to receive his P45. Perhaps he'd be best to take Whichendbites' advice.

Meanwhile, up here in Jockland, there is a suggestion we should resurrect the Home Internationals, what with our footballers being unemployed this summer.

Given the state of the pitch at Wembley, do you want our lot to remove the turf for you?

Mind you, I think you'd maybe be better doing it yourself and digging a bit deeper for an excuse for the poor performance!

Click for update.

It appears that the idea is now doomed.

© Noddy

Published by Toy Town™ Times

Loads of Money

After the recent faux pas at HMRC, I was amused at a HMRC official's response that "the inquiry will take into account the individual's experience. However, in the staff handbook there are guidelines and they include using common sense."

What? A government body proposing staff use Common Sense.

Meanwhile, in the wake of the above and the Northern Rock fiasco, there comes this little worry. Well actually £1.9 trillion worth of worries. Having lived in Malaysia, it was certainly the case that the ethnic Indians did seem to get a rough deal, but blaming the Malaysification on us Brits is a bit steep.

However, this article really, really worries me! Now that really will hit your average bloke's pocket.

© Noddy

Published by Toy Town™ Times

The Sound of Silence

It's a slippery slope we are on.

Among the array of my many splendoured talents is the fact that I am a fully trained custard occifer.

As such, I am considering the latest softly softly approach being pioneered by the Prison Service to improve my intel submissions.

Those of you trained in this fine art will shudder at the thought of me putting this aspect of the initiative ahead of the duty of care to the poor incarcerated souls (or should that be soles?), but on an average evening/night in the cell block it is hardly the Magnums and DM's traipsing down the corridors that are going to keep the incarcerated awake, more likely Mr McPished or Mr McHigh pounding on the cell door with his heid. Oh and of course there's always a Ms McBanshee.

Meanwhile, in Ruralshire the Duty Detective Inspector pays a visit to custody and is asked to remove his shoes first and replace them with the new standard issue.

© Chill Bill
Published by Toy Town™ Times

Taken to the Cleaners - Not.

Now wouldn't it be incredible if we had judges making decisions like this one over on this side of the pond?

I mean we trust our Judges to make correct decisions don't we?

Otherwise we'd expect them to lose their positions wouldn't we?

© Noddy
Published by Toy Town™ Times

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

It's good to talk

It never ceases to amaze me how those in the various arms of the agencies that wish to interact with today's yoof think that they r so like kewl lol when they come up with some new fangled idea to reach out to our disaffected kidz. CWOT IMHO.

I mean what is wrong with just taking the time to bleedin' talk to them!

I have decided to jump on the bandwagon and start a blog .... damn! Done that.

I could try MySpacebook or whatever it's called, but apparently there are dangers.

Well failing that you could just Meebo me - see the Sidebar - I'm like well up on all that teenspk u no.

S'l8r homies.

© Chill Bill
Published by Toy Town™ Times

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Too close to home

Sometimes you realise just how close faraway conflicts are.

The ickle bruvver says it all, now that it's in the public domain.

Thoughts and prayers are with Gill, the kids and their kith & kin.

© Noddy
Published by Toy Town™ Times

Sunday, November 11, 2007


It's Remembrance Day, so nothing other than to say I thought that whilst we look into the past to those who went where others feared to tread, let's not forget the future that they fought for.

Are we, the lucky ones, pulling our weight?

"I am a child. I am a special gift from God; please treasure me as God intended you to do, holding me accountable for my actions, giving me guidelines to live by and disciplining me in a loving manner."

Not sure if this applies to the following little darlings, but you decide.


You've got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the crisps and dip coming.

Alan, age 10 (in for a reality check).

No person really decides before they grow up whom they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you're stuck with.

Kristen, age 10.


Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.

Camille, age 10.


You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.

Derrick, age 8.


Both don't want any more kids.

Lori, age 8.


Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.

Lynnette, age 8 (isn't she a treasure).

On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date.

Martin, age 10.


I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns.

Craig, age 9.


When they're rich.

Pam, age 7.

The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that.

Curt, age 7.

The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It's the right thing to do.

Howard, age 8.


It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them.

Anita, age 9 (bless you child).


There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?

Kelvin, age 8.

And my favourite is:


Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a truck.

Ricky, age 10 (this deserves a gold star).

Kids, they ARE our future and they deserve the BEST we can give them.

© Noddy

Published by Toy Town™ Times

Thursday, November 08, 2007

Concealing Drugs

I love it when I can combine two of my favourite wacky topics together.

Poop and Futrets.

Don't Pharmacists dispose of unused drugs over the pond or do the Colonials all buy their Prozac from 7 Elevens?

Referring back to my recent post, perhaps that's what the kids are ferreting about for and using.

I can see them now in 60's mode saying, "Hey man, this is really good sh1t."

© Noddy

Published by Toy Town™ Times

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

A Capital Offence

Note to a' loons 'n' quines:

Fan in York divnae ging tae ony foncie dress perties rigget oot as Sitting Bull or een o' his squaws.

Aye, en mind fan yer in Switzerland tae pit the seat doon afore yi pish, min.

Dinna blame me, noo 'at I've telt yi a'aboot it.

© Mr Plod
Published by Toy Town™ Times


Well we all know that what happens over the pond usually gets dumped on these shores eventually.

It'll be in ones and twos to start with and then ........

I'll get my hiviz jacket.

© Chill Bill
Published by Toy Town™ Times


For those who also wish to honour our colleagues in the Fire and Rescue Service there are two ways available by clicking here.

© Mr Plod
Published by Toy Town™ Times

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Dog Tired

For fawkes sake would you bipeds give it a rest!

My dear friend, who resides with Noddy and his clan, has been having a hard time of it lately.

Firstly, due to some mistaken belief that back in the mists of time OUR nation was saved from disaster at the hands of a bunch of left footers with some explosive ideas, the last weekend has been torture for us hounds.

Here is some canine advice for you bipeds, especially hereabouts:

  1. Guy was bombing about well before the union of parliaments. This is an ENGLISH matter.
  2. The date is the 5th of November. It's not the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 9th - delete as required. I mean the ditty wouldn't sound quite right would it, "Remember, remember, the (enter date(s) as required - see point 3), gunpowder, treason and plot."
  3. Keep it to the 5th you muppets. OK, so a Monday ain't so convenient what with work and all that. I mean Guy what were you thinking of? Especially when you can set off your rockets, squibs, catherine wheels etc. on a Friday/Saturday/Sunday night to the accompaniment of numerous cans of Tennents, bottles of Buckie and Tesco's own vodka. Wouldn't want to miss the opportunity to mix explosives with alcohol would you. Why not move Christmas to the first day with snow, just so you can all sing like Bing.
Anyway, back to my Pal. She's of a nervous disposition and what with the extended lack of consideration and knowledge of Scottish history shown the last few days, she was in such a state, a visit to the vets was required.

Turns out it wasn't just the extended festivities that had had her cowering behind the settee like Noddy used to when the Daleks were exterminating some extra on TV. It appears she also has a phantom pregnancy.

Any more of this malarky from you humans and the poor bitch will have a phantom miscarriage.

It's nae real.

© Bumpy Dog
Published by Toy Town™ Times

Monday, November 05, 2007

Since you asked

I have been asked regularly why, as a Jock, I support Chelsea FC. Reasonable question.

Actually, there's a good story as to why. Honest and it's true.

Read on and you will understand.

It's 1968 and I'm sat watching the newly acquired TV (Black & White) in leafiest Buckinghamshire. I'm watching Manchester United win the European Cup and a darn fine game it was. I'm nine and a little impressionable, you might even call me a glory hunter and Dad has already bought me, and the ickle bruvver, a Mank strip for Xmas. Well they were the only one's available at the time. Little did he know, but within a year, I'd be sorely embarrassed of the Chrisy pics of me and the wee boy imitating Georgie Best and Bobbie Flickover. Come to think of it, the ickle bruvver also dumped the Reds in favour of the other lot from Manchester (bit of a mistake there too, loon) a short while later.

A little over a year later and being as we were so close to the 'Smoke', and my uncle was on one of his annual visits from Toy Town
to the Ideal Home Exhibition at Earl's Court, where he was exhibiting on behalf of his plumbing business, we thought we'd pay a visit.

My aunt and uncle were staying at the Waldorf (posh in those days before the Hilton's got hold of it) and we joined them for breakfast in an imposing room.

Repast over we grabbed a lift up to their room. At the time the Miss World contestants were also staying there. OK, I was only 10, but being crammed in with the olds, and three very (better get my spell check out here) exotic Misses, is something even at such a tender age you don't forget. The ladies were wearing their countries' various names on sashes (and not much else as per linked group photo above) and I distinctly remember Miss Venezuela (she came 5th). She was very close and it's such a long word. I got stuck somewhere about the 'Z' as it crossed her frontage, which was about eye level at the time!

I know my very jealous Dad had to have a cold drink when we got to the room.

The day was looking up.

Off we toddle to Earl's Court. As a 10 year old, with ickle bruvver in tow, we weren't too interested in what was on show, but managed to purloin some free snacks and drinks at various displays and, as I recall vividly for some reason, clamber about on some rather large motor yachts (Ideal Homes for the ridiculously rich).

I digress, getting bored and back at Uncle's 'stall', this rather rotund gent, an associate of my uncle, who was puffing on a huge cigar, asked my old man if the boys would like to go to a football match in the afternoon. Now, the old man wasn't the most adventurous of types in those days and swithered, but the wonderful man, who went by the name of Sidney Popper, insisted. When he mentioned it was a game involving the aforementioned Manchester United, the interest level rose. Apparently they were playing some outfit nearby at a place called Stamford Bridge. Didn't mean much to me at the time.

Anyhow, time comes to leave and we are escorted out to our transport. Well, does Sid not have a chauffeur driven Roller waiting for us. There's obviously money in 'u' bends. The day was looking even better and off we go.

As we arrive at Stamford Bridge, we drive up to the iron gates at the back of the old main stand and a gatekeeper resplendent in bunnet and white gloves heaves it open with a cheery wave for Sid.

Disembarking, we are led into a plush (for the time anyway) private box in the stand. Sid instructs us to help ourselves to fizzy pop and crisps - anyone old enough to remember those days will know that was a rare treat - and down we sat to watch the game. Sid goes over the team sheets and the programme, educating me into the outfit in blue. He tells me all about 'the Cat', Ossie, Charlie Cooke (a personal favourite, whom Sid told me was a Scot and had played for the local outfit in his time), 'Chopper' Harris, Davie Webb etc. etc. He glossed over the array of talent in red, which included the aforementioned Best and Charlton. It was a good game, but in the mind of a ten year old, the numerous 'Cokes' and packets of crisps with the wee blue twisted ended sachets of salt and the ride home up to the Waldorf in the Roller were better.

Oh, I forgot - the result: 1-1 and a life long CFC supporter spawned.

Many years later, standing in The Shed, I realised just what it meant to be 'Forever Blue!' If you were there, you'll know what I mean.

It's all true, just ask the ickle bruvver.

Now aren't you glad you asked?

p.s. the photo is random and purely for the girls and might get them interested!

© Noddy
Published by Toy Town™ Times

Saturday, November 03, 2007

Serving you

Not difficult to find something to post on tonight, but more difficult to know what to say.

Prayers are with the Firefighter's kith and kin.

Meanwhile our own Service reels again.

...... and try as I may to find something positive, there's no better news about Jon Sherlock either.

© Noddy
Published by Toy Town™ Times