Female Waxing

As this is a birding blog and there’s lots of Waxwings around I’ve had to (obviously) analyse the pressing topic of female waxing habits. 

And that’s a great segway. 

After deep deliberation, we at Q@Spurn have deduced that only on 2 days in 2/3 weeks they’re happy with their leg hair. 

Sponsored by ClamSmooth (trademark) here’s our findings: 

Women having their legs waxed. I get it. Smooth. A little treatment. Pampering. They can just brush spunk off without it getting caught up in pyoooobs. I get it. But, having their legs waxed isn’t simple, oh no. 

No way. 

They have to grow it/them for 2-3 weeks so the wax can get hold of them. 

Now let’s analyse that. They want smooth legs. No problem. I get it. So what they do is grow their leg pyooobs for2-3 weeks then get them waxed so they’re really smooth. 

Beaut. Nice. Fucking nice smooth shins. 

But. 12-24 hours later, the stubble will be starting to poke through. They’ve gone 2-3 weeks with unshaven, outrageous, spiky, HAIRY, out-of-order, and fucking smelly (maybe) leg hair for the sake of 12-24 hours of smooth, creamy legs PLUS the cost of £15-£35 pounds? 

For me, that doesn’t quite make sense. 

I think this is all about the pampering aspect, something to tell their mate at the school gates an hour after they dropped their offspring off. 

2-3 weeks of hairy legs for 1 day of smoothness? For 30 quid? All because of a night out maybe? 

“i’ve had my legs and clam waxed cos we’re out innit, I didn’t get my anus done cos I won’t lettem go near that, my husband has had to put up with my hairy legs and clam for the last 2-3 weeks but fuck him, we’re out. And that.”

Blokes build up to a night out at 18 was to have a wank in the bath so they’d last longer if they pulled later.

Preparation. 

Back to female clams and the waxing issue….

If the lucky victim had been waxed very recently then fine, you’ve caught them lucky, if they haven’t, you’re not bothered about the hairy legs, the mohair knickers. in fact you don’t even notice. 

Has any bloke ever said:

“I aren’t shagging her, she might have hairy legs for them being waxed and, even worse, how am I gonna concentrate if she’s got hairy shins?  I’ve had 14 pints of lager, a Diamond White,, two Mick Jaggers and a line of cheap whizz, I’m not risking shin hair, I’ll just go do a wank to Eurotrash” 

“and a kebab”

No man has ever said that. 

So men everywhere, tell your missus to shave various parts of their anatomy regularly and vice versa as and when you both feel it benefits all parties and have a deep, really deep, discussion about pyooooooooobs. 

In summary, if I had to have various parts looking good, I’d much rather have them looking “fine” for 13-20 days of 2-3 weeks rather than looking “great” for one day of 2-3 weeks and the rest of the time  it looks like a kebab that you spilt everywhere, or The Haywain by Constable, or the floor in a barbers shop at half four in the afternoon. 

I don’t think I’ve ever looked at my many (7) conquests and actually KNOWN if they had hairy or smooth legs. You don’t do you? I’m ignorant you see. 

Fin.

Not a Clue

I don’t understand shatterproof rulers.

Do you? 

I understand that the manufacturers don’t want them to shatter easily. But, when you think about this, this benefits nobody. The manufacturer or the buyer. So. I’ve never had a ruler shatter on me. Have you? 

Probably because they’re shatterproof. To make a ruler shatter I’d have to put some force into it. When using a ruler, I’m usually quite calm and drawing straight lines, so if I were to make that ruler shatter, I must WANT it to shatter, as in, somethings annoyed me, maybe the ruler has annoyed me, so I SMASH it on the desk or similar everyday household object. But it doesn’t shatter! 

Because It’s shatterproof. 

That’s shatter. 

proof. 

So it doesn’t shatter even though I want it to. All other times, when drawing lines, or measuring random things, etc, the ruler is never in danger of shattering. 

So, it doesn’t shatter when you want it to. Now, the manufacturers would surely sell more rulers if they did actually shatter? Let’s say someone goes mental while they’re drawing really straight lines and takes it out on the poor ruler only to find it doesn’t shatter so throws another arbitrary object at the wall and shatters it thus relieving his/her anger. They then replace the arbitrary object that they’ve just smashed instead of the ruler the very next day, thus the manufacturer of said arbitrary object gains another sale. 

So we can’t smash the ruler if we want to, and it’s not going to shatter itself, but if it did the manufacturers would gain another sale in stationary goods that not only measure random things but you can also draw really straight lines with. 

No one gains. 

Fucking no one. 

Multi-purpose Compost. I thought this through. I’m not a gardener. But I thought I’d give it a whirl. I bought some multi purpose compost. I planted some things that can only be described as plants in said compost. What else can this multi purpose item be used for? I ate some. It didn’t taste very nice to be honest but I hadn’t eaten since June (it was September) so I tucked in and had a slice of bread with it. 

It wasn’t very nice. 

So I put some of it in my car. Like, on the back seats and in the petrol tank. I broke down literally 40 seconds later and had to clean the back seats because there was a load of compost on it. 

Them. 

So I put some on my head. 

That’s it. 

Nothing happened. Obviously. 

Then I put multi purpose compost in my roof space and to this day I’m not sure whether it has made any difference or not. All I know is that there’s limited purposes for compost. So to advertise it as multi purpose is scandalous. It is pretty good for growing plants in, but it tastes shit, cannot be used as fuel for a car, doesn’t do anything to your head but may add some benefit to your loft space even though it smells after 6-8 weeks. 

Begonias. 

Head and Shoulders buyers. None of you have dandruff. 

“I don’t”. 

So you don’t need to buy Head and Shoulders. Buy, erm, a cheaper shampoo because you don’t have dandruff. Only buy expensive stuff like that if you’ve got dandruff or you simply don’t care about your hair or your appearance. Or your tits. I’m not sure where that last bit came from. It was a bit of an outburst. I’m sorry. 

Quilt Shenanigans.

 Welcome to my world. I know all two of you are “desperate” to read my Shetland 2023 write up but tonight there’s more pressing information. Today, I washed my bedding. Now, as a very sensible man that lives on his own sort of, I have two, maybe three different changes of bedding, one or two ready to go on, the other can just fuck off into the washing machine and get fucking washed in fucking non-bio fucking wash powder until the fucker is clean, at this stage I’ll take the fucker out of the fucking washing machine and dry the bastard. 

I realise at this point, I’ve got a little over excited and, perhaps, angry for some reason regarding the washing of said bedding.

So, it was a long day, the bedding was washing itself at home. The clean bedding hiding in the second draw down like a duvet set realising just what fate it awaited. Being a long day, I decided to get blathered. On a Tuesday. Just as a release, obviously. 

Work finally finished, I tackled medial tasks like the bedding. Not hard. 

Ground sheet, and that is the campers term for it not mine, went straight on. Elasticated, self-embracing bottom sheet, straight on. This is easy. Pillows, fuck off. Straight on. No bother. 

Quilt. And I’m a master of quiltery I can tell you. Until now.

Naked quilt, quilt cover. Sort it.  So I did the required stuff. Set it all out and started stuffing the quilt into said quilt cover. I then realised the quilt cover was inside out. Start again. But then, some of it was inside out and the other not. Does that make sense? 

So, here’s the crux. Because something so trivial was boxing my tiny mind, I decided to embrace it every time it went wrong by having a livener and a beer just to do my own head in. This isn’t normal and needs to be addressed. I realise this. But it became a game. Right then, this is easy, but then I got it wrong again. The quilt BASTARD was sideways. Start again. Have another livener because it’s now good fun for this simple thing to be beating a simpleton on a Tuesday. The more I went wrong, the more I wanted to go wrong just for comedy value in my own tiny mind. 

Some of it was really inside-out but some of it, erm, the right way ‘round. What’s going on? Livener. 

Press studs. Sort of. So I sealed the quilt with the press buttons at the bottom. By the end, there were two spare male parts and no female parts. A common trait on most Fridays for some. 

I aren’t having this. The fucking buttons are fucked. Why haven’t the buttons lined up? Right, because it’s doing my nut in again, I’ll have a livener just to do my nut in even more! I’m liking it. The more it goes wrong the more I’m liking it baffling me. 

So I undid the buttons-type-press studs type things. 

“Right, get your head on” thought Mark, now writing in the third person. 

I tried to start again. But now it had done my head in, in an amusing way, I had to carry on ENJOYING the total fuckwittery that I’d succumbed to over the last c.45 minutes. If I fuck up again it will be funny. 

Another livener, I’m now off my fucking head putting a quilt cover on on a Tuesday night and enjoying the fact that something so simple is becoming so difficult! Embrace it. 

The next attempt, the quilt (or the quilt cover) were again at ninety degrees to each other. This wasn’t my fault, it was merely either: 

a) The quilts fault; or

b) The quilt covers fault. 

After ORDERING “them” to get into alignment, I stood there for at least 80 minutes, had another livener and decided to align these inanimate objects myself.

To no avail yet again. 

The quilt had, by now, jumped out of the window (if some person absolutely off their nut had felicitated this, I am not sure) leaving the quilt cover to fend for itself. 

I shouted “Don’t leave me” to no one in particular, and no one answered. 

I’m now freezing with no quilt (it’s fucked off). 

I’m so desperately sad. 

Fin. 

GTA.

 Eldest plays Grand Theft Auto. Where you steal cars, visit strip clubs, do drug deals, shoot the Police, etc. She is seven after all. 

So I started playing it. I asked her the actual aim of the game. She said “don’t get nicked, don’t get shot, don’t die, you lose if you die”, Which is usually the case on various games including Pac-man, Snake and Scramble.  Okay. So I started playing. Easy. I got in my online car and drove to the designated speed limits. Indicating as I went, I wasn’t in an Audi. It was quite easy but after a while I got a little bit bored and returned to my new online home. Then I got  in my online car and drove to the speed limits. THIRTEEN HOURS I drove around to the legal limit, no police chases, no drug deals, no shooting, fuck all. Well there wouldn’t be would there? I went to bed thinking of how many times I’d visited an online imaginary petrol station and how many times I’d gone back to my imaginary online home only to get bored and go for a drive with my seatbelt on. I think I won the game but it didn’t really suggest that I had, indeed, won the game. Ruby, meanwhile, had been killed 38 times, “skord” class A drugs and visited places where imaginary “hoes” dance seductively to the imaginary online world. She had run down 83 pedestrians, been involved in police chases driving at least 56 mph in a 30 zone, car jacked some poor mo fo, had 12 gun fights with the filth, shagged 18 hoes, nicked a school bus and driven it into the middle of Chesterfield, making the residents of Chesterfield going about their daily business run and hide. But I won! So who’s the winner? Me. I had safe, legal fun.

GTA fun facts:

1) GTA was originally called “Drive Within Regulations” (DWR) and had a sub-title “don’t Get killed” but no one bought it. As it wasn’t very good. 

2) Police frown upon the use of drugs and also……..stealing cars. 

3) And hookers.

7) TonyKnowles, the snookerist from Bolton, once potted the final black with his cock! I know! Mad innit?! Whether he chalked the end we are not sure of as it’s not on YouTube. 

4) I’ve just realised that we’ve just jumped straight to Tony Knowles.

5) So “we” need to put some sort of link (segway) in between. 

6) Popular randy 80s sexual snooker player Tony Knowles once played GTA but he just kept going to the online snooker hall for hours until he hadn’t bought a drink, the light had gone out, but he carried on playing! The online bartender asked Tony to put more money in the light but Tony just got sexual. That’s it. 

8) Tony Knowles used to get sexual quite often, even during matches. 

9) Tony Knowles highest break is 58.He once told me in confidence. In a sexy pub. But then he gave a big “wink” and I didn’t know what he meant to be honest. Did he mean he’s never had a 58 break? Or did he mean that his highest break is more than 58? Or did he mean his highest break was 58 in some of sexual way? We, at Q@Spurn, cannot be sure. Knowing Tony Knowles it must have been something sexual.

10) As this is a birding blog today I saw a Chaffinch.She had been bummed by Tony Knowles. In the 80s. I know.,Mad innit? I’m not sure how long Chaffinches live. He never rang her after that. Animal. 

11) After Googling “How long do Chaffinches live?” We found out that the oldest living Chaffinch is one owned by Dennis Taylor. 

Disgraceful scenes.

…..

….

Q@Spurn WORLD EXCLUSIVE! Fred West: His final interview!

World exclusive! Never seen before made-up interview with everyone’s favourite mass murderer, the one and only, lovable Fred West! This was just weeks before his sad demise. 

Q: Thanks for joining us Fred, how are you today? 

Fred: Yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking. What have you been upto? Have you had breakfast?

Q: Yeah, Ive had scrambled egg. I think I’m meant to ask the questions to be honest! What drove you to do such inhumane acts? 

Fred: Do you have it with brown sauce?

Q: Yes, I did actually.

Fred: I like it, or them, with brown sauce too. How many people have you killed?

Q: None. Yet. 

Fred: Plenty of time. Ha ha ha, I’m such a lovable rogue aren’t I? Ha. Have you got any pets?

Q: Yes, Ive got a dog called fucking Daisy. With a pink lead. Who calls a dog Daisy these days? I look really butch shouting Daisy on field.

Fred: Why don’t you kill it and leave it’s remains under the floorboards? I’m so lovable. 

Q: I never really thought of that Fred to be honest. How come you’re asking the questions, it’s meant to be me doing the interview? 

Fred: Nuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Go on then. 

Q: When you used to spy on your tenants engaging in sexual intercourse, what was you actually doing?

Fred: Bran Flakes.

Q: Bran Flakes?! What does that mean? I’m not sure what you mean?

Fred: Neither do I. I was obviously masturbating  furiously. I mean, come on, that’s a stupid question isn’t it? 

Q: Fair enough. You seen out of Rose?

Fred: No, she’s serving multiple life sentences in a womens jail. 

Q: Do you think you’ll see her again?

Fred: No. She’s serving multiple life sentences in a womens jail. 

Q: Was Rose involved in all of the murders?

Fred West: Yes. She’s serving multiple life sentences in a womens jail.

Q: Who’s idea was it? I mean, how does the topic of spying on tenants, murdering them, and stashing their remains in your house first get raised?

Fred: Just an accident really. I think we were watching Play Your Cards Right and they got a Queen and went lower, and it was another Queen. So I went and cut a hole in the ceiling and starting watching the tenants having sexual intercourse.

Q: What self-respecting landlord could do more? So how did Rose react to this?

Fred: She played Now That’s What I Call Music 3. I’ve wrote a poem about her though. “my Rose has left me, I’m in a mood. She’s gone to Kenya, with a bloke from Allied Carpets”. (vic and bob)

Q: I’m not even sure what I’m talking about here Fred West.

Fred: Neither do I Q, this is all a bit surreal and stupid even for you. Are you pissed? 

Q: A little bit. Sorry Fred West. You’re a really nice chap though.

Fred: Thanks. I’m just misunderstood. Nobody means to rape, murder and bury their tenants and daughters. I actually think you’ve gone a bit too far now, even for you.

Q: Do you get picked on in prison? 

Fred: Yeah a little bit, but I get my own back by cutting holes in the walls and spying on them, like Clint Eastwood in Escape From Alcatraz. 

Q: So, what’s the worst thing that’s happened to you in prison?

Fred: They call me “Tuna” sometimes. They started calling me “John” West after the tinned fish magnate. Then it went to John West Salmon. They’re so mean. Then just to be really mean, they called me Tuna. After the tuna in tins by John West. It got me down for a while but I got over it. Hopefully it’s FINished now. 

Q: You said that on Porpoise.

Fred: Oh Cod.

Q: Are you allowed to speak to Rose? 

Fred: Yeah we speak most days. I’m usually too busy but I still answer because I’m nice like that. 

Q: What’s your middle name? 

Fred: Shitsauce.

Alpine Swifts and Pop Tarts

“Where oh where have you been Q?” I hear you cry. I’ve been to Chapel St Leonard’s near Skeggy and looked right at the two Alpine Swift that were frolicking with gay abandon betwixt chimney stacks and the like. I like Alpine Swifts. 

Thanks Leo. The 66 into town will never be the same. 

In a seamless segway, speaking of pretending to drive buses with your own makeshift steering wheel, here’s some Van Halen facts:

1). Van Halen were named after their guitarist, Eddie Stevens. They could’ve been called “Lee Roth” if they'd chosen to name the band after lead singer Dave lee Roth. 

2). There were two Van Halens in the original line up, Eddie and his brother. I can’t remember his brothers name. 

3). Bros we’re called “Bros” because it’s short for “brothers” but bassist Ken Logan felt left out. And rightly so. Imagine being in a band where they’re all brothers, and the band is named BROTHERS, yet you’re not even related? They ignored Ken most of the time. I feel a bit sorry for Ken. 

4). Ken had had enough one day, and refused to play bass whilst recording Cat Amongst the Pigeons. Ken sat in the corner and sulked word has it.

5). Matt and Luke just giggled and pointed at Ken and wouldn’t give him a Pop Tart for his dinner.

6). Ken was well hungry man, and rang his mum and his mum told him to come home and Ken went home and his mum did him super noodles and Ken ate them and felt loved again.  Beautiful.

7). The original lyrics to “Jump” by Van  Halen read “Can’t ya see me standin here I got my back against the jukebox, I ain’t the worst that you’ve seen, Ah can’t ya see what I mean?” but then pint sized pop singer Prince pointed out that it didn’t quite rhyme and suggested Record Ma-cheeeeyeeeen instead of Jukebox and they all agreed and then changed “seen” to seeee-yeeen” and “mean” to “meeeeeeyeeen!” ah might as well jump and the rest is history. 

8). Most people called Van something are from Holland. And most of them play darts. Eddie van Halen once played Dave Lee Roth at darts. But not in Holland! I know, mad innit? 

9)  There is no number nine

10). Nobody can name more than two Van Halen songs. Even Van Halen fans. Or the band. Next time you see Dave Lee Roth ask him. He says “jump” four or five times. 

Sainsburys:

“hi Dave, surely you don’t need that many teabags?”

“Well, I sure as hell do man”

“can you name three Van Halen songs?”

“Yeah, erm, Jump?”

“There’s one”

“Erm……What an Atmosphere?”

“Russ Abbott, Dave”.

“Green Door?”

“Shakey”

“what about Jump?”

“You’ve said that Dave”. 

“Have I said Jump?”

“Yeah Dave”. 

“What about I Surrender?”

“that was Rainbow Dave”

“Jump?”

“You’ve said that Dave”

“What was that one by Whitesnake?”

“it was by Whitesnake whatever it was Dave”

“Have I said Jump?”

“Yes. Dave”.

“Purple Rain?”

“Prince, Dave”

“Didn’t he write Jump?”

“A bit of it yes Dave”.

“I give in then. Where’s the Pop Tarts?”

Shetland Reprise and hyphen-tastic

 So yeah.

A totally crazy end to a crazy week. Seeing the Least Bittern with literally minutes to spare just about sums up our Shetland. We saw everything we went to see. I hear there were some just minutes behind us that didn’t get to see it. Incredible, a different mega every day we were there. 

In the two visits we’ve been to Shetland, ten days total, we’ve seen:

 

LANCEY

Eastern yellow wag

Semi P

Ortolan (pah!)

Western Bonellis

YELLOW RUMPED WARBLER 

Rustic Bunt

Sibe stonechat

Woodchat

PECHORA PIPIT

Bluethroat (found)

Rosefinch

Arctic Redpoll

2 White Billed Diver

3 king eider

Ring-neck Duck

LEAST BITTERN

Quite incredible.

And obviously the padders, Yellow Brows, Great Northerns, Slav Grebe, Bonxies etc.

Yellow Brows don’t even warrant a mention up there really. I think we found 13 ourselves but that’s just the norm. But whilst thinking about Yellow Brows earlier today, I started doing Roobs some soup and cheese-and-crackers.  I had to go back and hyphenate that as it read like “some soup and cheese and crackers” which is different to “some soup and cheese-and-crackers” do you know what I mean? The cheese was now in a square shape not the usual rectangle-style (hyphen) mature cheddar!? Had the cheese companies changed it to suit a standard cracker I wondered? We don’t have to patch it in to cover the cracker? But then I realised I’d not been to sleep and was still out of my tiny mind on uppers and downers. 

I still needed to find out.

Square. ness. See?  It’s not me is it? 

So I prepared to try out my theory and placed said square cheese on BUTTERED cracker, I don’t even get cheap margarine for the kids anymore oh no sir. (ha). See the initial results below: 

No way. I’m not having that! What are these cheese manufacturers up to? It’s almost as if they make the cheese in such a shape and size as to reduce production costs to the optimum!? So I came to the conclusion after passing out stood up for an unknown length of time that the cheese did NOT offer enough coverage of cracker area.  It was clear that smaller slices were needed to patch in.

The results were fine Roobs said. But to achieve optimum coverage the effort required and the stages actioned were the same as a traditional rectangular-shaped (hyphen) milk-based (hyphen) savoury foodstuff. 

Three “slices” came from one large “slice”. I’d made Roobs four crackers, therefore, economically, the optimum number of crackers is in multiples of three. Four, as today, shows a wastage of two thirds of a slice or offer the disgraceful behaviour of leaving one cracker short. 

See slice diagram above. I simply threw the wastage on the floor and the new dog ate it. At this point I realised yet again that I was still off my fucking head and had been making cheese-and-crackers (yep) and photographing the stages to add to a bird blog for no one to read for the last four-and-a-half (sigh) hours. 

Thanks to Leo for the vital household tips in these difficult economic times

………..

Shetland. Day 5.

 Sing Hosannas it’s a Boy. Merry Christmas to all three of my readers. Or if you’re muslim, sikh, etc Merry Christmas as you should embrace our culture just as we are being forced to endure, sorry, embrace yours. 

Political rant out of the way early, we move on to a quite incredible chain of events on the Land of Shet (credit Ruby Q) on the last day, day five, also
known around those parts as Friday. 

We started the day heading up to Unst for the long staying Ortolan which Joel quite incredibly “needed” for his super spotter top jotter crazy botter tick list. So we went and looked at it. Right at it. It was right at the top of the English county of Scotland. I even screenshotted my location just to send the girls. I’ll have a look for it now hang on. No, I can’t find it but I can sense you’re not even bothered anyway. I don’t know why I bother. 

So we saw the Ortolan and Joel did a jig on the beach. The beaches in Shetland are really nice, and I’m not even talking shite for once. In fact here you go seeing as you didn’t believe me: 

Told you. 

We ran along the beach singing Pebbles on a Beach by Paul Weller but not because we were on a beach oh no sir.  It was merely because we were sure he mentions Ortolan Buntings in the lyrics but we’re really not sure if this is true. Or not. I don’t really like beaches. You get fucking sand everywhere don’t you? Now I know you must EXPECT to get sand everywhere because a beach is, erm, made out of sand or summat, but it stays with you for weeks. I took the kids to Withernsea beach in summer and two weeks later they were still able to build sand-mosques on the back seat of the car. I drove past Bridlington beach once and had to dig the dog out out of the car. Just googling the above photo, Ive ended up with sand in my blueberries. I was only gonna have one anyway. So I don’t like sand but paradoxically I like beaches. 

Thanks Leo Sayer. Keep them coming. 

Now here is where the fun starts. We birded Unst a bit and found FUCK ALL, and then we said we best get off back to the mainland as we were flying that night. This proved to be very important people. 

As we headed south the plan was to get to digs, sort gear out (clothes, luggage, trinkets and personal belongings not recreational drugs as there aren’t any) then bird the south then fly on an aeroplane. News then came through. Crazy news. Joel was driving. 

Holy shitsauce. 

I could only half think and speak. 

“Where’s Scottburgh? You’re not gonna believe this”

I then couldn’t/didn’t tell Joel for what seemed an eternity. (Certainly for Joel). 

Part two to come!

Suspense.

Miss Marple. 

No Neck Ted off Benedict.

No one’s bothered. 

I still haven’t told Cleggy which must’ve been an age for him. 

“Least Bittern.”

“What? Least?”

“Yeah, as in the yank Lesst. Jesus. As in First for Britain type thing” said Dillon.

We went silent for a moment. 

Household tips from everyone’s favourite household tipster, Leo Sayer. 

We were getting on a plane and needed to be at the airport soon!!Mad dash to the digs, pick gear up, mad dash to see this, got there with about two minutes to spare when the bird was picked up and taken into care. It died. But a massive tick on our bird spotting jotter pad list! Amazing. 

Shetland is mad! 

I’ll sum up in the next post as this has taken fucking ages to write and I’ve just finished it off real quick.

I’m sorry. 

But big shout out to Leo Sayer who loves to give household tips.