jeez zandwidges and ravvle brizes

As this is a pure birding blog and only focusses on cutting edge birding ID features, the latest trip reports from around the globe, and how Man U are a set of bogus, glorified prima donnas then tonight I'm going to talk about cheese sandwiches.  And raffles. 

chapter 1.


A few days ago I awent (proper word) into a sandwich bar/shoppe.  I asked for a fairly standard type, the type which was clearly displayed on the 'menu'.  I can't think of a better word. 
"Cheese and Onion please gorgeous" said I, as I'm sexist.
"Great choice y'all, coming right up man" said she, as she was American.
Do you know what I was served?  Go on, guess.
Cheshire.

Fucking cheshire.

Now don't get me wrong, Cheshire is a fantastic cheese and is one of my favourites.  But when I order cheese 'n' onion from a sandwich maker selling their wares, then it's just not right.  Cheddar, mature cheddar, Red Leicester, Double Glossoustershire, yeah, I'm on it, it's all fine with onion.  But the creamy saltiness of Cheshire?  Good lord above, with an English white onion?  Maybe a red at a push.  Or even a Spanish white.

"What the fuck is this?" said I, as I swear a lot.
"Cheese and Onion.  It's what you asked for man" said she, being American.
"Fucking Cheshire?" said I, as I still swear a lot.
"Cheshire?" said she, and unbuttoned her blouse.
"Everyone knows that Cheshire doesn't go with onion, especially an English white onion in mid July and I'm not sure where the fuck this story is heading as I am, once again, paraletic".
"Which cheese were you expecting Sir, missing you already" said she as she lobbed her tits out.
"Well, pretty standard Cheddar to be honest.  Nice fucking tits, though" said I, as I'm sexist and swear a lot.
"Are you looking for compensation, y'all?" said she as she's still American.
"Any sort of recompense is futile when it comes to cheese 'n' onion and the only ending to this story that I can think of is probably that I end up punching you clean in the teeth which I neither practice nor condone" said I, as I no longer swear as much.
"Have a nice day then Sir" said she and put her bangers away much to my lament.  Lament?  Is that in the right context?  Jimmy, check that one out for me.
At this point I quite predictably punched her square in the teeth, sending shards in all directions and simply walked out of the sandwich parlour.
Cheshire?  With Onion?  I tell ya.  It's like putting Stilton with dog wee wee.

chapter 2.


Went to the Jesus Christian Movement "Summer Fair" t'other day.  Bouncy castles were advertised.  There were no bouncy castles.
"Hey, Christian.  Where the fuck are all the bouncy castles?" said I, as I swear a lot....

.......Let's stop that right there.
There really were NO bouncy castles.  Jesus.  All there that was there was three raffles, a cake stall, bric-a-brac, a white elephant stall and a booth that offered 'free money and sex'.  A choir audition then. 

I had a go on the raffle for the children.  One quid for five attempts or two quid for ten attempts.  I went for the two quid option as it was clearly the better value for money.  The girls had two winners!  Sorted.  Hopefully a big fuck off teddy they can share plus a bottle of JD that I could 'buy' off them.  Even a 75cl would do.  All prizes were encased in those decorative bags you put your neices present in when you have NO wrapping paper.  That's definitely NO (NONE) wrapping paper.  Intrugued, eldest took out the first prize.... A teddy!  A small teddy to be fair, but at least they could share it.  Now for the bottle of Jack.....

Youngest unwrapped this one....

This is exciting....


Olivia pulled out this:

Surely the worst prize ever on any raffle ever?  To make the most of it, I ate it all in one go on the way home.  Thanks for that, the Christian community.  Seriously, that really was the prize!  Excellent.



ALL vicars fuck about with the choirboys.  Every single one of them.


There, I said it.




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