Tag Archives: humor

Beard Update

Not had an up date on my beard for ages. I still have it. The beard that is!185009

Clit Eatswood, the beaver, comes and wiggles around in it quite often and certainly seems to enjoy the experience. It’s pleasant for me too.beard2

I must admit though I’m beginning to get a bit bored with it and thinking about having a Hollywood face in the near future. I’ll have to wait for the tan to fade though as a two-tone face is NOT a good look but then again having a beard and looking like Uncle Albert isn’t too great either. I will let you know if and when it gets shaved off.uncle albert

Have a smashing day.

More Dick soon.



A few days ago I wrote a post about my sons graduation. Most of the post was of photos we had taken during the day as I felt they expressed how proud PIL and I are better than I could put into words. In one of the photos, the blonde girl standing behind Ed is obviously vexed about something.Ellgrad14

Many of you (ok, one of you) asked if I knew what it was about. I didn’t although I too was curious. So I carried out a thorough investigation. This is what I discovered:Ellgrad16

“I’ll just stand here so I can be seen.”


“Did you just grab my bottom?”

“Er. No. Never touched you.”

“Oh so it was the Ghost of Christmas Past was it? Someone did and you’re closest.”

“Perhaps it was Mr Tickle .”


“Listen pal. You touch me again and I’ll rip your arms off. I don’t want this official photo spoiled by a dork like you.”

“But it wasn’t me. Although I must say you do have a jolly nice bottom.”

“Watch it pal.”


“That’s no reason to grab it! Try it again and you WILL suffer the consequences. I am a black belt in Origami and I’ll fold you up like a flamingo.”

“Gosh! How splendid! I assure you however that I did not grab your bottom.” Then adding in a whisper;

” I merely caressed its lovely smooth curves.”


“Don’t even think about it sunshine.”

“Perfectly ok . Fancy a shag later?”




However, this only what I think happened and was said. It may have been something completely different. We will never know.

Have a great day.

More Dick soon.



Norman. Usted Es Un Mojado Propenso a Accidente Tonto


Previously on iplonker:

My mate Norm had been asked by one of our canoeing friends to install a new central heating system in his house. Ralph was filthy rich and lived in a huge house in an expensive area of London. As I recall, the house was one of those big Victorian houses that was three or four storeys high. It also had a basement converted into a self-contained two bed flat that Ralph rented out to a Spanish guy and his wife. It was a lovely house with beautiful gardens. Ralph lived there with his wife and children although his kids spent most of the time away at boarding school.

Norm was most of the way through his plumbing apprenticeship and did know how to do this kind of thing. The plan was that after finishing work each day he would go to Ralph’s gaff and spend a few hours each evening putting the new system in place. Ralph would buy the kit and pay cash to Norm each week for all his work.north-hollywood-plumbing-service

Norm carried out a site survey, sorted out what size boiler was needed as well as the amount of pipes, pumps and sundry other stuff required to complete the task. Norm duly arrived to start work.

Ooooooo. Anyone home?

Ooooooo. Anyone home?

Ralph was impressed. He told Omar and I that Norm was always on time, the new boiler looked like something from the Starship Enterprise, the pipe work was all straight, the new radiators hung level and Norm cleared up any mess every evening when he had finished.

Norman hard at it

Norman hard at it

After a few weeks, the job was basically finished. All Norm had to do was charge the system and he was finished. As Norm wandered around the house he couldn’t help thinking that he’d forgotten something and that worried him. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the thermostat cover wasn’t on properly. “Ah.” He thought. “That’s it.” So he sorted that out and strolled upstairs to the attic to start charging the system.

walking down stairs

He wanted to let Ralph know but he’d disappeared somewhere. Ralph’s wife, Cindy, was away visiting her mother, the kids were all at school and Manuel was in his flat entertaining friends.

So off he trundled on his lonesome up to the attic and turned the water on to fill all the radiators. After opening the stop cock tap thingy, he ambled back downstairs to wait until the rads had filled and then start bleeding air out of the radiators. When he got to the hall by the front door, Manuel suddenly appeared:

Aspersion de agua hay en todas partes!” he shouted at a somewhat startled Norman.


Que idiota. Mi piso esta arruinado!” Manuel continued.

Mis amigos son totalmente empapado, asi!

“Whoa. Hold on Manuel old son. You’re not in Rome now you silly frog. Speak bloody English” replied Norm. “And why are you soaking wet?”


Then the penny dropped and Norm remembered what he’d forgotten. All the connection nuts where the pipes went into the radiators were only finger tight! He’d forgotten to tighten them up!

With a rising sense of panic and doom Norm legged it back to the attic to turn the water off again. On reaching the attic he ran along the rafter to get to the stop cock tap thingy.


CRASH as he slipped and put one leg either side of the rafter and his feet suddenly appeared in the master bedroom.

SQUELCH went his testicles as they met the rafter.

SPLAT went his nose as it hit a supporting beam, spraying snot and claret all over the attic.

BANG went his arms as they too appeared in the master bedroom.


OH DEAR!” thought Norman as, despite his injuries and excruciating pain, he struggled to turn the water off. As he turned the tap off he happened to glance down into the bedroom and noticed that despite all the commotion, Ralph was busily boffing Maria the au pair! She could see what had happened and was struggling to escape from under Ralphs heaving body. Ralph, totally oblivious to what was going on, was entirely convinced that Marias moans and writhing were entirely as a result of his performance. Until, that is, a large lump of plaster fell off the ceiling and landed on his arse!

“Cindy! Darling! It’s not what it seems….oh” Ralph shouted before looking up and seeing Norms destroyed face covered in blood and snot looking down at him.

“Uh. Hello Ralph. Hello Maria.” said Norm innocently. “Sorry mate, I seem to have had a bit of an accident.”


“I hope you don’t mind me saying mate, but I couldn’t help noticing. Did you know you have an enormous zit on your arse?” said Norm while a steady flow of his blood dripped onto the bed several feet below him.

Once Ralph had put his clothes back on, Maria had rushed off to her room, Norm had rearranged his testicles and stemmed the flow of blood from his busted nose they surveyed the damage. The basement was under 3 or 4 inches of water, the walls were dripping and 4 bedraggled Spaniards sat miserably in the kitchen area.


Ralph and Norman came to an arrangement. Ralphs wife was away for a few more days so a plasterer was organised, Norm was sworn to secrecy regarding what he had witnessed and everyone continued as if nothing had ever happened.

Norm told us this story a few days later in our local pub. He had a big plaster on his hooter, two black eyes and his testicles were the size and colour of a couple of cricket balls. Yes, he got them out and showed us. It was that kind of pub! He estimated the water was travelling at about 70 mph when it hit that first joint. Not surprising really that it had sprayed gallons of water everywhere.

Ralph continued coming to our classes. He knew we knew but nothing was ever said. Maria continued as the au pair for another year or so but there was apparently no more hanky panky. Manuel and his wife eventually went back to Spain and Ralphs wife Cindy remained completely unaware. Obviously, names have been changed in this story to protect the innocent and not quite so innocent.

My thanks to Shutterstock and the Intertube for the images

Have a smashing day.

More Dick soon.




Graham Norton has grown a beard. He now looks like a shorter, better dressed version of me! Plus he has a bit more hair on his head but I reckon that could be a syrup!

Dick Norton

Dick Norton

Graham Dastardly

Graham Dastardly

What to do? I can’t shave mine off because I’ve been out in the sunshine and shaving my beard off will give me a two tone face. Not a good look.

Have a nice day

More Dick soon



I’ve been away working for the last week and I’m still feeling a bit cream crackered and brain activity is at an all time low. However, I will soldier on and hope that some of my few remaining brain cells start to connect while I’m writing this post.


Sometime in the near future I will write about what my mate Norm did to someones house but for now I just want to show what he experienced taking a swim in the River Dee many years ago. In my last post I mentioned he had jumped into the river to help me with my spray deck without realising how deep the river was and he kind of got swept away and ended up swimming down a rapid known as The Serpents Tail. This is what it looks like:

Norm had to swim down this. Plonker!

Norm had to swim down this. Plonker!

And this is what awaited him at the bottom:

As Norm approached I suspect he may have done a bit in his trousers!

As Norm approached I suspect he may have done a bit in his trousers!

That wave is known as a “stopper” and it does exactly what it says on the tin. Imagine a whirlpool on its side – that’s effectively what a stopper is and they can stop you dead and can be very dangerous to someone forced to swim into it as it will hold you in and keep spinning you around, mostly underwater. Omar and I were in Austria for a Europa Cup event some years ago and we got it slightly wrong on one of our practice runs and hit a huge stopper at an angle. It pulled us under and then spat us out like a Polaris missile. We were vertical and completely clear of the water. Bear in mind we both weighed 11 stone soaking wet, our canoe weighed another 20 kilos, was 16 feet long and that stopper just spat us out. I wish I still had the photo of that!

This guy is free styling and this is deliberate but you get the idea. This stopper is a tiddler! Imagine what a big one can do.

This guy is free styling and this is deliberate but you get the idea. This stopper is a tiddler! Imagine what a big one can do.


I’ve been away from home for a whole week and my garden has gone bloody berserk! I haven’t got any weeds but I do have a great many triffids!KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA Just sorting them out is going to take quite a lot of effort and will undoubtedly give me back ache. However, my ornamentals are also doing very well and have suffered very little damage from sl*gs and sn**ls so far.20150513_090412 My experiment with making a concoction from stinging nettles has gone out the window, or more accurately, down the drain. PIL didn’t realise what I was doing so chucked it away. She doesn’t find it odd that there buckets containing various gooey substances dotted around the garden.  Not a drama, lots of stinging nettles around so I can restart that. While I was away, I spent a little time talking to Pete, one of the gardeners who works on the estate where we were and he told me that they use coffee grounds as a sl*g deterrent and it seemed to work reasonably well. He also told me that a feed made from stinging nettles (soak a load in a bucket of water for a couple of weeks and use the resultant liquor) is one of the best natural plant feeds you can get. I’m also hoping that doing this will deter sl*gs as the little buggers never seem to eat nettles and covering my ornamentals with nettle juice may just confuse them. I have to say that Pete has to be one of the most contented men I have ever met.

Pete. On e of the happiest and most content blokes I've ever had the great fortune to meet

Pete. On e of the happiest and most content blokes I’ve ever had the great fortune to meet

He is a retired fireman, a job he always wanted to do and as far as he was concerned he was living the dream and now his dream continues as he gardens, which he loves, and gets paid for doing it. I am soooo jealous!


I’m still looking into this. There seems to be a major problem with honey bee colonies dying en masse and no one really seems to know why.Honeybees While I was away, we all had to suddenly leg it as a swarm of bees came over where we were working. I let the estate manager know so that he could take action in case they landed inside the buildings and pissed off his guests. My gardener mate Pete came along shortly afterwards looking for them but found no trace and concluded they probably returned to their hive. Now oddly enough, scientists looking into why bee colonies are dying off have been hindered by the lack of bee bodies. Apparently, the bees fly off never to return. Aliens? It would also appear that farmers rent bee colonies to pollinate their crops as and when the crop is ready and in full flower which may explain why I’ve not seen too many honey bees this year. I will report back on this subject later.


It’s amazing what’s provided these days. The hotel I stayed in was very pleasant, the staff were nice, the bed lovely and comfy, the shower was good and the TV remote worked. My first morning I got in the lift to get breakfast, pressed the button and a womans voice said;

“Going down”.

“Ooo” I thought, “I think I like this hotel but she’ll need to be quick as I’m only on the third floor”.

man & woman in lift I’m pretty certain I was alone in the lift so there wasn’t a queue but I remained fully zipped up throughout my descent. I did mention it to the reception staff that while the woman had said she was going down, nothing had actually happened. They said they would get an engineer in to sort the problem out but perhaps they had to wait for a spare part as the poor woman remained stuck in her little cupboard somewhere in that lift for the duration of my stay. I hope she’s ok.BH-NwgdCUAI-6yg.jpg-large I am in dire need of a cup of tea so I’m off. I hope you have an absolutely smashing day.

More Dick soon.auto


I’m not very good at DIY.middle-age-man-tools-18781280

Even the most basic of jobs involves a great deal of effing and blinding on my part.05-DIY-guide

Despite that, I’ll give it a go especially if it stops PIL (a.k.a. She Who Must Be Obeyed) from bending my earhole. However, it can take me some time to complete, let alone start, a DIY task.

About 6 months ago, we went out and bought some wood flooring to put in our two bathrooms. A few weeks later, I summoned the courage and pulled up the carpet from the main bathroom. Now here’s some advise if you have sons. Never, and I mean NEVER, have carpet in the bathroom! No matter how big the toilet bowl may be, they will miss! Sons take the expression “spray your boots” quite literally. A week later, after having my ear bent and with blood coursing from both ears, I started laying the new flooring. God, it was complicated! After three days and much cursing and several thousand cups of tea, the job was basically done and, even if I say so myself, it looked jolly splendid as long as you ignored the fiddly bits around the toilet and hand basin pedestal that I hadn’t finished off. Actually, to be grammatically correct I should say “haven’t finished off”! I plan to do that tomorrow. The other bathroom? I plan to do that tomorrow as well. I’ve been busy!

I really must stop saying that because as soon as I do PIL knows she has me by the short hairs as I can never remember what it is I’ve been busy doing. PILs response is always:

“Busy doing what?”

“Errr. You know. Stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Well. I put the rubbish out, walked the dog and emptied the dishwasher.”

“And that took all day did it?”

“Welllllll. I watched six episodes of “Suits” that I’d recorded and you wanted to delete ‘cos it was clogging up the Sky+ box and I had a couple of beers.”811f99a0-dd1c-0131-e383-34b52f6f1279

And so on. Heaven help any man who dares to ask his wife or girlfriend what they’ve been up to all day. One day I’ll figure out but I’m not holding my breath!

Carrying out a DIY project promptly does have it’s drawbacks as well. When we first moved into the house we discovered boxes of floor tiles left behind by the builders. The ones I looked at matched the tiles in the kitchen and utility room so we decided to hang on to them until the time came to replace the hall carpet. Early last year the time duly arrived. I won’t do tiles because it involve complicated stuff like straight lines and being level – far beyond my capabilities. It also involves exotic substances like “Grout” and “Tile adhesive” which would more than likely result in me being stuck in the middle of the hall as a permanent feature. Or, if not me, certainly at least one of my boots! So I arranged for my builder mate, BUFF to come and do it.

My mate BUFF.

My mate BUFF.

The day before he was due, I ripped up the hall carpet, pulled up those bits of wood with nails sticking out and disposed of them at the council dump. I stacked the boxes of tiles, all with identical descriptions and batch numbers in the kitchen along with the grout and adhesive. I prepared everything ready for BUFFs arrival the next day. PIL was impressed. BUFF duly arrived, had a cup of tea, opened the boxes to discover the previous builders were comedians. Underneath the top tile in each box which matched our existing ones were 6 different types of tile! There were enough tiles of one type to tile the downstairs loo. PIL was no longer impressed. At least I don’t think she was because she didn’t start talking to me again until about a month later and I didn’t fancy bringing the subject up again. In the meantime the hall floor remains bare concrete. We have decided on the type of covering but we’re still agonising over the colour.

I think PIL is a glutton for punishment because a couple of months ago we (by which I mean PIL) decided to change the ceiling lights in the hall, living room and dining room. We would need 5 new lights. Two in the hall, two in the living room and one in the dining room. I think PIL felt reassured that I had managed to count the number of new lights required accurately. Hey, four fingers, one thumb. What’s hard about that? I kept quiet about it though. So PIL went ahead and ordered one new light! Apparently it was to check it would look ok. As soon as it arrived 7 weeks ago, I opened the box, checked it, made sure all the bits were there and read the instructions which seemed to be written in some weird pidgin English. I put it up last week. I’m not very fond of electricity as it has the capacity to kill you so I wanted a responsible adult present in case I electrocuted myself and needed CPR.finger-in-socket-1

PIL was as close as I could get. It was a bit risky because if I fucked this up she may have just let me die!

I turned the ceiling lights On. I went to the garage and turned the fused switch labelled “Downlights” to Off while hoping that the electrician who labelled the fuses wasn’t a bloody comedian as well. I returned to the living room to confirm the ceiling lights were indeed off. They were. An excellent start. I took down the existing light and wired up the new one taking particular care to connect the wires correctly. Less than an hour later the new light was up and I’ve got to say it looked the dogs danglies! Fantastic! I might just get to see PIL naked later. I went back to the garage and flipped the fuse to On. As I came out of the garage I heard PIL shout,

“It’s alight”

Fuck! Shit! Bollocks! Jesus fucking Christ! No! Dear God, please don’t burn our home down. I’ll be a good boy and promise not to fuckin’ swear ever again!

Thinking quickly, i.e. panicking because the bloody house was on fire, I rushed back into the garage and turned the fuse off. Racing back through the kitchen, I heard PIL shout,

“It’s gone out.”

Thank fuck. And you as well God. I grabbed the fire extinguisher we keep in the kitchen.

(PIL is a great cook but as she often does that thing that women call ‘multi-tasking’ and blokes call ‘fucking several things up at the same time’, she has been known to burn water so we keep an extinguisher near the stove. Just in case.)TMN-frying-pan-blog-620

Where was I? Oh yeah. The kitchen. Grabbing the extinguisher I legged it to the living room. PIL was a bit startled at my sudden appearance. She looked at the extinguisher.

“What’s that for?”

“You said the light was alight” I replied.

PIL looked at me with that look that all women use when they are dealing with an imbecile and said,

“You plank! I meant the light was lit and working.”

How PIL sees me

How PIL sees me

And with a sigh of resignation she wandered off to the garage and switched the lights back on again.

PIL ordered the other four lights online and we collected them yesterday from the store. When we got home I put them all up straight away. I must say PIL has taste. The new ceiling lights look bloody marvellous. When it got dark PIL turned the wall lights on!

Have a great day.

More Dick soon.auto

Beard Update


Beards and bubble gum do not go well together! It is not a good look!





Have a great day.

More Dick soon


My thanks to the intertube thingy and shutterstock.


In an earlier post I mentioned that I was considering a career change, a decision driven by the success of my beard.

Should I become a Viking Berserker?vikings-16554

A pirate?blackbeard__1221832913_1868

A biker?biker_10

Or become my own wildlife sanctuary?6a00e552722125883300e55395a6718834-800wi

A decision of this magnitude requires research. So I started to delve into the sort of stuff I’d need to do to start one or other of the new careers.

Being a Viking is out of the question. I’m Anglo-Saxon  for a start which doesn’t help. Also, Vikings are really into long sea voyages on tiddly little boats that while they’re called “Long Ships” are nothing more than elongated rowing boats. Too bloody dangerous! Nor do I fancy having to be a ginger. Raping and pillaging is not really my cup of tea either although recent studies seem to indicate that the Viking wives came along to make sure their husbands behaved. Some things never change!

The same applies to being a pirate although they bob about on the sea in slightly bigger boats. That’s not the main drawback though. I don’t fancy having a bloody parrot crapping all over my shoulder, an eye patch wouldn’t suit me and I’m certainly not going to have a wooden peg leg.

Being a biker involves the ability to ride a motor cycle. Something I have no inclination to do. Fine during the summer I suppose but too wet and windy at any other time of year and I’m very fond of my creature comforts.

Which brings me nicely to becoming my own wildlife sanctuary specialising in beaver. Now this is a career that has promise but during the course of my research I discovered something that explained one or two things to me as well as causing me some concern.

Until 2009, when a small number were re-introduced on a trial basis, beaver had been extinct in Scotland for over 300 years! Fuck me, 300 years without beaver! What a disaster that must be but at least now I understand why so many Scottish men wear a skirt with a furry thing hanging down the front.  (National costume my arse!)

Hardly surprising given that there has been no beaver in Scotland for 300 years!

Hardly surprising given that there has been no beaver in Scotland for 300 years!

It also explains why so many Scots spend so much time “tossing the caber” which I think is just a euphemism for having a wank using a telegraph pole.

A display of a 300 year old Scottish "Please enter" gesture

A display of a 300 year old traditional Scottish “Please enter” gesture

I believe it’s the reason why from 1759 to 1959, 1,000,000 Scots emigrated to Canada where there are now 4,714,970 Scottish Canadians making up 15.1% of the population.

“Hoots mon the sassenachs ha’ nicked all oor beaver. Gi’ yersel’ off ta Canada. Plenty o’ beaver there bonnie lad. Och aye the noo. Plenty o’ haggis as well mon. Gi’ ya ye hid an’ ye han’s ta play wi’. Ye canna eat deep-fried Mars bars but tha’s nay a problem if ye’re chasin’ the wee beaver all over the forests.”

Now that may cause me a bit of a problem if I want to specialise in a beaver sanctuary as I don’t want to be inundated with randy Scots so it looks like I’ll have to think about something else. In the meantime, I’ll keep quiet about Clit.

PIL has just read through this post and she has made a very sound suggestion that I think makes sense. She says I shouldn’t go to Scotland any time soon! Good idea.

Have a great day.

More Dick soon.auto


My thanks to the intertube all around the world web thingy where I found all the photos using Sergei & Larry’s’ search wotsname. If I have infringed any copyright issues please let me know.

Beard up date



The other day I was working at a function in the centre of London. The guests were starting to leave and make their way back down the red carpet. I was talking to a three of the lads in my team making sure all was good when two very very attractive young ladies came out. They were suffering a bit with their high heels and called out to us:

“Can you help us please and walk us to the cab rank?”

Naturally, the three young(ish) chaps I was with rushed to their assistance. I’m of an age where I don’t rush anywhere. The young ladies called out,

“No. Not you. The cool dude with the beard.”6b80cfac9bcc11e2a0c022000a1f918d_7

Ha! The guys were gutted! So, being the gentleman I am, I took their arms and walked them to a nearby cab rank. They were utterly taken with my beard, thought it incredibly cool and very fashionable. They liked beards, they preferred older men, we exchanged numbers. I was in heaven while my colleagues were spitting feathers.spitting feathers

There’s a moral in there somewhere but right now I’m not feeling particularly moral.

Have a great day. I am!

More Dick soon.auto




Sultanas and Raisins

I like women. I’m in love with one. I find women endlessly fascinating but I have never understood them and I probably never will. The way their logic works totally confounds me. The way they can remember something you did or didn’t do or something you did or didn’t say eons in the past will always be my downfall and I suspect that this applies to men all over the world and possibly all over the Universe. After all men always say things they shouldn’t:

“Does my bum look big in this?”

“Er. Now you mention it, yes it does.”

“Are you saying I’ve got a big arse you bastard?” And so on.does_my_um_look_big

Or “You haven’t told me you love me for 4 days, 16 hours, 12 minutes and 38 seconds. Don’t you love me anymore?” Or “16 years ago you said you would paint the fence. Have you?” You all know what I mean.

A while ago, I was driving to work one night when PIL sent me a text. “Where is the big box of kitchen matches?” Even though it was a short text it was very apparent she had the hump about something. I replied, “They’re in the kitchen cupboard where you keep the sultanas.” “No they’re not” came back almost immediately. “That’s the last place I saw them. Are you sure?” “Yes I am. Don’t worry yourself, I’ll go and get another box tomorrow.” Jeeeez, she was ticked off about something.TA09 Kitchen matches-M1

All the time I was at work that evening I thought about this. I was convinced I was right and I started to feel quite pleased with myself. So when I got home in the early hours I checked the cupboard where the sultanas were kept and lo and behold, right at the front was the big box of kitchen matches. Yes! Result. I checked it wasn’t a new box just in case. It wasn’t.

The next morning the first thing I did when I got up was say to PIL, “Come with me.” PIL followed me out to the kitchen and with a flourish and a fanfare from the trumpeters I just happened to have in my pocket, I flung open the cupboard door and said, “Tadaa! Matches. Sultana cupboard.”She glanced at the cupboard, fixed me with a steely gaze that started to turn me into a pillar of stone and said,”They’re raisins. The sultanas are in that other cupboard.” Then she flounced out again leaving me standing there with my chin on the floor and totally speechless.med09L

Like I’ve said before, women are an alien species and they will always have an answer to everything. Don’t even think about getting into an argument with them because you will never win. You have been warned.

Have a great day.

More Dick soon.auto