Coming Soon - the Hot Frakloid Menu makes an enormous comeback! If you like food, or even rubbish that you can't eat, you've come to the right place!

Watch this space - or the next space where something will be when there is something there (there isn't something there but I think there will be something there).

Regards from the Twaddlers

Ashes to Ashes?

Dear Pudding/Tricycle Hybrid:

The 1980s – rolled up sleeves, highly coiffured dimple sentinels, a charming terracotta recovery facility in Zambia, five summers wrappped up in an excess of the letter ’p’ (actually giving ‘ psummerp, psummerp, psummerp, psummerp, psummerp’) – how long ago it all seems……and yet the puerility of gentle turnip-beaters have come to evolve themselves by asking questions which have only more questions, questions, questions as their answers. The classic example of this is “Who ate all the pies?” = “The topsoil of my windowbox has mystically aligned itself to Aunt Dorothea’s chakra points which live by the seaside near the 50p slot in the tray of the second till position down near where Jadwat does that thing you wish you could do – namely stand behind a steam engine restoration project, sporting a fashionable cowling made from sandpaper once owned by a freshly perceived rabbit and make noises akin to cups of brown tea as the
bewteefull laydees promenade by.

The way seagulls emphasize hard-boiled eggs has always amazed me. As I sit here, the grandchildren have already dug 2 holes in the lawn and will be duly synchronizing avec the Bakerloo line when it pops out behind the hedges of floribunda which disguise the shed so brambolic cretinoids do not placate the entirety of the garden into a valid status of bidding on e-bay for teeth scraping, Honolulu sunsets and choice pickles.

Back to front (as they say)

Merv Tibbles

Gums are tasty, that's why they're in your mouth!

Dear Leddo the undeniable shoebox

Gala club sandwich + Orpington milk float = idiotic tarantula syndrome.

Tame to the touch, but indigo to the ears, Flamella Plolodes is probably the only surviving example of the 'get me that stick Grandad' style of anti-peltch protester. In worms she found a comfort rare outside of a box of newts, and so it came to pass that Uncle Daggers bought her an entire ladle, with which she could be seen gaily skipping along the towpaths on a summer's eve, grunting at goats and showing her front bottom to the boaters in their boaters.

By the way, that Lily Savage is a bloke!

Insiquious Tidgels of Po!

Eventually the laughter subsided. It was ascertained that Mary had meant to say 'Jus de banane' and not 'jeu de banane'. She was really not that sort of a girl, after all.
Cascanne suggested they all went into the courtyard to play a new version of Swine Whoopee, but as scaffolding was still a feature of the way modern builders chose to work on the outside of buildings, it was voted down, and the seagull formally know (not formerly known) as Fulmar No. 14 produced his pinball certificate for general perusal.
'Gont naught ginniad flaxen bubbers,' remarked Cheld, miming a special little olive language at the congregated guppy squad-cars.
The Filton narks came down hard on him for that one.
By the light of the silvery milk, maverick sleuth Corny Titbins, a tightly-quiffed but delicate map-defiler, rutted his mumps coyly, and Boney Sue purpled in a kind of happy.

The Crunchy Rabbits of Finniston Farm

.....so why ask about furthering your reptilian skull with episodes of ‘Plinth Sorority’ with Brett Trundle-Paddleman as two characters making up numbers that don’t ever none exist – a bit like Sean Lock when he boiled a picture frame as part of his, well, he calls it his …..’research’.

They had put him there with his Estebee Lordy make-up from them girls with orange fizzogs in Cavvy Hois in MontyWine Bub at top of Monty in flammin’ Cheltenham (where Mummy drives an X5 and still wears sunglasses when it don’t need ‘em) and it was great as the granite worksurface came from an old Cornish tin mine in Tuscany and the overhead lights, were in fact, made of lard which itself was conducive as the viscous lipids would silently drip on posh folks yuds as they gathered below and required fine Chardonnay wines that cousin Guy gets from a chap he knows over the channel helipad from above but when the piping hot parrot that was observing this from the corner, he became photocopier.

With great savoi, the Wilmslow man recorded all of his with his magic thumb and for years afterwards dined out on the substrate of mental (some would say regal) nativity these long 37 years since Dar Dowling said about having the beans twice and stooped as he knuckled down to look at the goldfish and carp that his own legs had in fact become.

Paper was still folded, yeah – drinks, nobody, gnomes etc this is true but the Jovian Exhibition Of Lever Arch Folder & Astronaut Training Project yielded a good return on your guaranteed investment by usurping the better cases of diphtheria as an intrinsic demographic model whereby the 1976 telly programme of ‘Caligula’ was where they Roman and historyfied themselves with cavorting at ‘oooh look at her, my liege - all a bit base really, sniff, sniff’. Even though the shoe shop had to close after this, it was swiftly opened up again as another shoe shop but this didn’t last very long either – pity really as they did a lovely wrought-iron Sunday dinner which really put paid to that packet of scotch eggs you like to crouch behind periodically.

100 Staples have meetings not legs

Dear NABC

“Has Soggy Tomash neutralized the boatymen yet?” enquired Vendetta-Saab (the Swedish automobile that liked to hold onto a grudge) as he Brenda Parks needs her front garden tidying up like not eating trubs, pubs or Witchitty Grubs! So, Holland & Barrett adverts away to bed please and as this was going on, a silver halide suspended in an amniotic cortex of 2nd-chain radicals became sausage-like and earned itself a stylishly flamboyant extra brownie point extra (extra) by examining trains and thinking about the ramifications of them in period costume a la per pro regardez les dance by D. Bowie.

This had been noted by Marcus who had shone a giddy-light into a crucible full of shape-shifters who were besmirched with the colour of the writing in the kebab shop which was now moving silently throughout the neutral zone they go on about in Star Trek agan + agin = again. This is hoping to again just about prove what kind of a thing he must possibly know about Tobermory Plunkett, him whose, whose mum has been dressed by Mike Pike who got the gig after demonstrating how not to confuse things with geese at last year’s Nettleton Rd Raft Water Race which was cancelled when bison fell on a passing bare bear, there-there, Trafalgar Square and knock-knocks on the joke.

“Can anyone vouch for Podmaster?” was the freely designed sequel to the Garden of Apes whereby Jerrim Locktassel was boyishly feeding chimps with a back to basics bag of bits as he watched The Brits, swam with Mark Spitz and a form of Tourettes when he used to point at tractors and nod sagely even though his shuttlecraft motif was wearing a bit thin now and there was dust along the top of the radiator in the mince pies.

We will never know because Mickey hasn’t told us.

I've got it lads, you can let go now........oh, bugger!

'Virago Triage and the Cooty Mungoes are playing at the Frigate and Tristesse tonight!' shouted Old Bump, scalding his hand on a copy of 'Blue Faces' because he accidentally thought it might be an iron! Cavalry-man and Flux-woman felt a certain desire for contagion as they stepped neatly along the transparent walkway lined with trifle-encrusted jazz flautists who were taking it in turns to sniffle gaily into a small cotton hanky from B&Q.

Friedrich Banny-Hands thought the whole show a little on the vulgarity scale stage 9, but condescended to balance digestives on a ridge of moist earth just above his navel until the paralax factor judge Whoppo Fux declared him the outright best thing to ever be seen by anyone ever, except perhaps for when he witnessed that mouthy jackdaw being crushed by a falling wind farm - and who do you suppose was supposed to be holding it up? Yeah! Exactly! None other! - Oligarky Phelps, the famous mathematically adept chip eater from Sandringham's high society wallpaper shop, Mock Flock and Stippler.
'Oh, Marjorie,' clammed Avian D, 'I am so tragically over-subscribed. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's up!'

Diddy David Hemmings's Fatsuit

Dear freakin' stonewashed freight train,

Daddy is now officially a fish and can swim and everything so I've bought him some macaroons and an old Kinky Kinks album for the next time he goes down to Burnham in search of a bit of fin. If you see him shimmying down to the seafront, spare a smile - after all, the height of a square can often be confused with its length if it gets accidentally tipped over during a barn dance for example, and then his teeth fell out!!

Barney Kettle can't find the flannels but the mothership tells him politely that they'll return for him in a few hours, none of which is true, and some of which is mostly false, providing you can supply two forms of ID and I'll have some sandwich spread on mine, cheers - I think the marmalade is off.

Trattlethork the Incendiary Funk-Mollusc is about to go onstage, and, Ladies and Spivs, that means it's time for a pinch, a punch, the first lady of the Starsky Bureau and we all pretend to cry like spiteful screwdrivers in a lift.

Tripseed Wackhound lV

12 Bricks

Good luck with the Bang x 2 O'Eurovision tonight everyone.

Wilma is on standby with the canapes.
Judge Dredd is on standby with his receipts (MPs note bien)
Fleecy Joe has got to go
Uncle Jim's Gym

Can't write anymore just now as my arm has decided to go off into town and watch The Spiderwyck Chronicles on at the Onedin Line.

A bit of lateral winking

Jejune but delirious, Kevin Fatgarter-Euphony, with a little help from his EU pony, had an epiphany and called for the leaders of the free world to perform an equilateral aquiescence involving threading several young bats onto a piece of string. This 'bat youth necklace', if you will, was then strewn around the axis of evil and tightened ever-so-slightly each day until eventually the head popped off like a wart or a nasty little hemorrhoid. Daisy had a good check with her thumbs and declared it 'a new axis, like x or y' and everyone heaved gorgeous and glory be to Mumford services.
Cheers,

Prof. Garth Challenger

p.s. Twaddle lawyerman person says: the 'bat youth necklace' is not to be confused with the great Captain Beefheart's 'Bat Chain Puller' which of course is some kind of crazy nonsense!

How To Point Over People Heads

Twaddle Tippy:
This guest is showing a text book example of how to stand behind a bunch of lasses and then point at something over their heads. This is indicative of Action-Pandas and have you ever noticed how wide people wish they to become and get, and then they stand up, make it patently obvious to the scientific french.

Talking of planets, I once went to a Devo concert in 1983 round the back of Harold's Railway Museum, I was good boy twice and so Mum allowed me some E247 in my juice and it took her three working days to scrape me off the walls of our hovel. It wasn't much but we called it home, it was right opposite the eye-drop factory and was loaned to Stanstead Airport Authorities on at least two days of your life and for goodness sake, give it a rest woman! I guess if it were a new house the French would have called.

Pudge

Fleas

Hey Kiki & Mel

Thank you for your kind comments and please say 'Hello' to Jerry Pove when he gets back from KRUDDINGTON DEL MAR.

NG

This scrapes my boat, goodtime!

Hi Nathan - Just a quick photo in my Alan's to say a huge sigh of relief and that it's nice to have you back in this blog. We did hear that you'd been entombed in a vat of salsa behind the catering section of Scratchwood Services, but I guess that's all over now. Keep in touch and give us three rings when you get home - let us know your safe.
Love
Kiki & Mel xxx

Nathan's Early Summer For Earthly Muthas

Whoa everybody! Nathan Gerrich* here with yet more tips for a fun-filled carefree summer!

First off is a text from Mrs Angie Latimer of North Hemisphere who aimiably suggests that her life has
been enriched by switching over to a Liverpuddlian accent, using applicators and swabs and not using Doctor David or Nurse Susan so much as getting your own petri dish and not withstanding to remember not to forget to give it a good sterile and plenty of rinsy water down the hatch and cheers!

We've had epistles a'plenty from foreign lands too, a green yet trite Joshua Omeehohoyongo writes from Twickenham, that he stands near the Tony Blair air conditioning ducts outside the precinct boundary and confuses the shoppers by holding up Polaroid self-portraits of himself using hair conditioner and pre-voided duck tape. The idea (so he claims) is for people to see him and the photograph, walk on a few more paces before coming to a startled halt as their subconcious mimics the anticeedant of the air/hair conditioner pre-voided duct/duck tape situation which they have primely witnessed to the event of his fizzog in the mist of shoppy and causes them to forget car park location memory leading to ticket runs out and Sgt. Trench using his golden thumper to chide them - a bit like the Fallon Isands Of Godwin being etched on the fattest part of ones back.

The last gobbet of wack comes (rather loudly) over the distant mountains of over there from Wee Georgie. Although his arms are larger than a few bunches of Copper Sulphide molecules and other atomic stuff, his
pullover contains wool writing which implores the reader to (and I'm quoting here...) 'stand back, saturation of lymphatic system forthcoming' whereas round the back, past the sleeves, go on, right round, he simply displays the motif of a double hybrid synergy Toyota, some whelks and one of those great coffees they do in "Cicero's Coffee House" or in "Cicero's Coffee House". Yes it is double mentioned here in case you didn't see it because of Griff Rhys Teeth & His Eclectic Mother known to one and all down Woolwich North Circular Road as.......

I'm sure you'll all be considering all of this after due reflection and personal soul-searching, although as ever, on a personal expostulation, I myself, always get a bit peckish when I'm on a hunger strike.

Exit (Sortie)
*Nathan Gerrich is sponsored by "The Wistful Drainage Comany - we'll make your pipes, right!"

Woffo the Comedy Clown - Joke No. 4

Furniture - what's that all about?

Biffo and his monstrous teats of oblivion

Agadoo, do, do, do,
Punch a penguin in the throat,
Agadoo, do, do, do,
He stole my blimmin' winter coat.

Belated Christmas Loveliness To You All!

Dear Daniel O'Donnell's Christmas Calendar Owner But Don't Tell The Wife:

There is a pleasantness to this, the most festive time of the year don'tcha think? The cream from moo-cows soft white underbelly has been poured on the troubled waters and yet those small boats that are CGI’d in the background, announce the heralding of the replenishment of the January with glad tidings, trimmings and burp with niceness for oh-nine.

Indeed, you cry all roguish & handsomely, we partially appreciate that special boxed sets seasonal episodes of ‘The Bill’ have been filmed using strange manpod-vehicles which squeak in orange colour a’plenty when you press them and a deleted scene was actually seen by Santos Mendoza as he had his franchise hidden by the Steadicam operator when they were doing the run-through before the shepherds saw the holy star of Crystallization and even Lady Penelope seems oblivious to the representational motif of Parker astride the Christmas tree in the lobby.

No doubt the French (not the Saunders), didn’t like us in the war – as my 26 year old granddaughter, Peri-Peri Chicken Girl used to say as she would absorb the Horton Rd barriers into her gnamtic poetry and try and get John in for the official handover of the laminating machine instruction leaflet.

And remember kids, you never actually own an Argos store, at best, you just get invited to read their catalogue......

Sat down on the bench in Eastgate St listening to Roland with Cherub Bumph Whinneydash.

Clingington ?. Wipeitov (sounds russian, n'est pas?)

Am I Really A Chimp-Faced Mess? Then call Me 'Candles'.....

Dear Melvyn, Don, Sexy Plum AquaMarina & Mystery Man In The Air Vent

Vouz may well ask "If the inertia of a volume of gas with a saturation vapour density of "quite a lot" mimics the latent heat capacity of that churlish drunkard in the front row of the Catherine Jenkins concert, then how can I be expected to get a tan like Posh's with that 75p bottle of Lurcher's Juice they sell in Wilkinsons?" - it's so confusing - especially when you've been born in the air-vent of a multiplex cinema named "#Voidal-77". I was avoided once, but I don't use it as a weapon to greet the festival of BAH!!! Tug it!

This is you now, "Ghonjdi - The Feline Dowser" and playfully ogling the bit-of-botty tastefully peek-a-boo-ing at you from the shower page of the current Argos catalogue, I. Reptile. Full stop...dot dash Inspector Morse code dot com. Tug it!

And yet, gentle earth-differencer, look around you, are you sure those polecats are not talking about you? Well are you?? RU??? Tug it! Silly Boy Lemon xxx

Sorry, Gordon, I can't hear you over the stench of geese

'Ripe and juicy, only twopence a barrel, come and get yer lovely cello transducers here!' yelled Winky, without a hint of the self-consciousness normally associated with having a face like a shovel.
'If we all move forward by a single step,' announced Nancy Bickersnake, 'we'll all get that slightly itchy compulsion to hide in the shed and whimper about the benefits of a good pension, some stilts, a bucketful of agitated hornets and finally, I find it good practice to marinate the whole thing with a thin glaze of Henry Vlll's personal wax.'
Suddenly, and without warning, this sentence stoppe

Obfuscating Cabfiscules/Fistulating Obstinance/Abstinating Constipence/Masticating Stipulance

Now, what did I need from the supermarket? Ah yes - thugs and toffee, an ear mending kit and the sensation of falling.

Just thinking out loud boss.

Call me a candy-ass and stick the stove on mother, Wendy's got a cob on and won't give up the hot water bottle!
Well, I'm off to www.absolutetwaddle.com to calm down.

Your favourite thing,

Dewy Wetwipe

Girls About Town

Ooooh Natasha, must tell the other residents, SUPER!

Correlating my feet

It has to be said that this is proving to be very
popular in Poplar and Camden. Indeed Betty’s
Mangrove Committee awarded it a special status
insomuch as theyjoinedwordstogether and used the
spaces they would have used between the words, if
they’d used them (although they didn’t), to make a
nice area for a patio where they could ride lovely
vintage tractors around, swigging glasses of Morgan’s
Rough ‘Un and have a few friends ‘round for an evening
of bear-baiting & giggles’ – or at least that’s what
the invite said…..I didn’t get one though – woudn’t
have gone anyway, not really my thing but it would
have been nice to be asked, yeah, no, I’m not fussed
really…..but it wouldn’t have hurt – not like it was
an electric shock or being a shark attack victim or
falling out of a really great shirt!

Reticent in the extreme and yet wholly entrenched in
Stentorian dogma, the good citizens of Stonehouse have
now purchased a big fridge which is so big (and cool)
that flamboyant t.v. twats have driven in for miles to
be seen taking part in the festivities that are now
regularly held on the second shelf down from the back,
just behind the celery but not quite as far to the
side that the carrots are partially obscured and yet
with enough room to let the Kraft cheese slices alone
so they can watch the Golf GTi doing handbrake turns
in the drip tray, and be absolved once and for all,
from the whole sorry incident.

This is the very reason why some people consider it
foolhardy to go on holiday with your suitcase
sellotaped to a pair of tame weasels, like Catweazel
or Johnny Vegas if he changed his name to Johnny
Weasel.

Good stools & furnishings to you Sir!

Twaddle One & I'm out!

Dear Sausage and Chimps

Arnold Manglehandler will be wishing he'd painted his shirt buttons green this morning in order to be visible from the Hubble Bubble Butt-Swarm purifier at Grizzle's Pike.
Freda did try to warn him that a barking fly had taken up residence in his left eye, but as he often failed to listen to those who cared for him, he found himself one day stranded by the wayside, licking an ancient oil painting of some custard in a small coffee cup, or was it weeing onto a pile of magnificent onion peelings which had been bequeathed by his arch enemy Sputum Coalforth, the Great Withered Hand of Bow?

Mary ventured to suggest herself, but then immediately withdrew into her catacomb of tent-meat, rectifying a glaring mistake made by Jason Butter's recital of 'Egg Cheese Little' during the ad break of Golden Millionaires Secret Balls.

Ted Ditto shouted, but he was in a forest of foie gras wrappers indented mildly with seagull footprints, and nobody heard.