The Befouled Weakly News
26 September 2010
Good morning to you all. Boy, did I “mis-speak” the other day when I wrote about the “cold” weather which has moved in. That was nothing! We’ve had rain and wind from the north and the temperatures have plummeted to single figures. Come on! It’s still September!
Ms Playchute received a letter a few weeks ago inviting her to present herself at the Daventry Medical Centre on Thursday for a mammogram. Nothing particularly unusual in that – it’s a regular occurrence – women of a certain age get invited to come along every so often and have their breasts mangled by the NHS’s finest breast mangling machine.
What amused me about the invitation was “the new venue” where the examinations were to take place – Car Park C.
Now, I know we have a coalition government which is determined to cut public expenditure to the absolute bone (and beyond) but I hadn’t realised that their cuts had already had such an immediate and dramatic impact. The image that came to me was of a dreary, drizzly car park with a long, winding queue of women of all shapes and sizes, naked from the waist up, slowly making their way up to a grubby technician in a white coat sat behind a cheap, formica table. The technician takes their details, gives them a quick visual check and then mangles their breasts in a “new and improved” mammary mangling machine. Hey, there’s a recession on and this is the best we can do!
This got me thinking back to a video I had seen some time ago of an advertisement intended to encourage women to do a self-examination on a regular basis which I thought I would share with you. This is, allegedly, a real advertisement which was supposedly banned in Canada although I’m not convinced I believe it. (I can believe it was a real advertisement; I can’t believe that the Canadians would ban it but what do I know).
And, while searching for that one, I ran across the following which is equally amusing, I think.
Still, they both make a serious point in a humourous and memorable way. So, to all the women in my life – either give Cam or those boy scouts a call today. Alternatively, make sure you check yourself on a regular basis!
Lots of pictures today. I ran across the following sports-related cartoons during the week. The first rather sums up Ms Playchute’s attitude to the beginning of the football season; the second the somewhat dubious use of Twitter by athletes.
And finally, finally, there was a story on the Guardian web site about the development of the world’s hottest chilli. I suppose the real question is why?
And finally, finally, finally, our heartiest and heartfelt congratulations to Karl and Katie on what we assume (having received no news to the contrary) to be the success of yesterday's event.
Love to you all,
Communicating with Women – What they really mean
GO AHEAD (With Raised Eyebrows)
GO AHEAD (Normal Eyebrows)
THANKS A LOT
Two Aussies are adrift in a lifeboat. While rummaging through the boat's provisions one of them finds an old lamp. He rubs the lamp and a genie suddenly appears.
Seeing their dire situation, the genie figures he can get away with granting only one wish, and tells them so.
"Just one?" the lamp finder says.
"Just one," the genie confirms.
"I've always known what my one wish would be if I got it," the man says: "Turn the entire ocean into beer!"
The genie claps his hands with a deafening crash, and immediately the entire sea turns into beer.
The genie disappears and only the gentle lapping of beer on the hull breaks the stillness as the two men considered their circumstances.
The second Aussie turns to the first and says, "Nice going, mate! Now we're going to have to piss in the boat!"
A stage mother cornered the concert violinist in his dressing room and insisted he listen to a tape of her talented son playing the violin.
The man agreed to listen, and the woman switched on the tape player. “What music’” the violinist thought.
A difficult piece, but played with such genius that it brought tears to his eyes. He listened spellbound to the entire recording.
“Madam,” he whispered is that your son?”
“No, she replied. “That’s Jascha Heifetz. But my son sounds just like him.”