Sunday, 28 February 2010


On occasion The Beast feels its neccesary to pass on some basic ettiquette tips to Mr C his nearest and dearest.

It is impolite to accept a lift in a persons automotive vehicle , belt oneself in and then proclaim merrilly

"Rather than listen to your usual boring conversation lets play a game"



Next week: Throwing up in Asda's (Wallmart) Car Park with Panache

Friday, 26 February 2010


Making soup is simple , so even the culinary challenged can give this a go .
You need
1 spud
1 onion
2 chicken or vegetable stock cubes
1 litre of water
small bag of frozen peas (about 400g)
1 bag watercress
dried or fresh mint (Optional)

1. Peel and chop the onion.
2.Place in a saucepan with a tablespoon of oil or butter , put the lid on and cook on a low heat until the onion goes see through (This is call sweating as it creates it own little onion sauna - so keep that lid on tight about 5 minutes).
3.While your onion is getting sweaty  , peel and chop your spud (The smaller you chop it the quicker it will cook)
4.Once your onion is done chuck in the spud , 1 ltr of water and the crumbled stock cubes . Bring to the boil and simmer for 10 - 15 minutes (or until the spud is tender)
5.Chuck in the peas bring back to a simmer and cook on a low heat for 5 minutes.
6.Chuck in the watercress and simmer for another 2 or so minutes . Add the mint and blend to texture of  choice .
Obviously smooth and silky gets the cultured vote , but we do have a readership from the colonies where all sorts of disgusting habits abound.
Serve in whatever form takes your fancy , I love it in a big old mug with warm garlic bread for dunking.
Do remember its hot and will burn nekkid flesh so this may limit your choices

Monday, 22 February 2010


It was a dark and stormy night as wind and rain lashed the Beasts Lair . I had managed to wrestle two over excited dogs onto their leads for the dash to the car , and exited the front door in a maelstrom of barking , yanking canine hell (Walkies are just sooooooo exciting). Just as I got into the garden , Alfie yanked really hard on his lead and jerked the keys out of my hand . They sailed directly over my head and landed on the door mat just as the wind slammed the self locking front door.
There was much dancing and cursing as a bedraggled Beast , Alfie and Lloyd were locked out of both the house and the car in the pouring rain. I remembered I had secreted a spare key under one of the array of pots that litter the front garden.....
But which damn pot was it ?????.
There followed much scrabbling , groping , yanking , screaming and shouting in the pitch black (the street lights had decided to switch themselves off , just to add to the misery) .I can report that it is amazing how much slimey ick can accumulate under pots over the winter , eventually I located the key and rescued the car and house keys from the mat .
A soaked  , begrimed and vile tempered Beast and his two howling familiars finally departed for Cafe C and promptly got stuck in a two hour traffic jam.
It was not an evening I care to repeat.
Two days later , I was running about getting ready for work , late as usual and the hounds of hell were being contrary . After finally getting them settled , wee'd and watered . I ran out the door and realised  just as the door slammed shut that I had grabbed the Cafe Keys rather than my own . So I was now once again locked out of the house and car   , and the dogs were locked inside.
Had I replaced the spare key in the garden
Had I f*ck!
****interlude of more dancing , cursing and swearing***
I was now well late and had to march off to work to open all the support desks (Its a 40 minute hike) . Once there I rang several locksmiths  , all of the buggers claimed they couldnt fit me in till the next day unless I paid a 5 million pound callout fee but eventually I found one who said its very busy but he could fit me in ,  in 30 minutes or forget it  , so I had to yomp back home in record time.
I was expecting some big old mularkey with skeleton keys or lock drills as I stood wheezing and sweating on the pavement , but the guy hoiked some manky old length of metal tubing from his van , that had been bent into a U shape. Stuck it thru the letterbox and lifted the inner unlocking took all of thirty seconds and just goes to show how frighteningly crap these supposedly secure doors are.
Thirty seconds work for £50 quid....the guy must be minted.

The  exciting news  of the day is that a suspicious looking package was lurking on the door step when I arrived home. Hurrah the pee book prize  has finally arrived from Miss MJ

The Beast doesnt need no book to tell him that this majestic specimen is yelling RAW SEX APPEAL................RAWRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Tuesday, 16 February 2010


Mr C informs me that The Baby Jesus  is so impressed with his hard work and selfless support of dead wood like myself that a holy decree has been issued demanding that Mr C takes a Pilgramage immediatley to recharge his saintlyness and commune with the angels , James was to accompany him on this spiritual journey to Ali Biceps Club Hanky Spanky in Istanbul and I was to atone for my multitude of sins by looking after the dogs .
As proof of this cannon law he was brandashing what looked suspiciously like a Cafe order  stating
Dear Beast .
Shut the fuck up ,and do what I say
or your doomed
The Baby Jesus
Well I was mighty impressed 

So Beast finds himself once again in possesion of the hounds of hell . The last three days have been a whirl of walking , feeding , grooming and prizing treasured posessions from the very jaws of chewed oblivion. Lloyd also has terrible wind.
Alfie the larger of the dogs has taken to following me around as we approach dinner time with his teeth chattering in anticipation  , it sounds like casternets.
This has sparked a marvellous idea , with a little choreography , stamping , shouting and much mularkey with a fan , I feel the next 'Crap Bingo with Mavis' could be a very different affair

Wednesday, 10 February 2010


It was Friday night at Cafe C . The dreaded Ladies  Singles club had booked dinner for 10.
The staff at Cafe C live in terror of these events , as the ladies at best  are snappy and menopausal and at  worst bitter , drunk , snappy and menopausal  .
On such occasions it seems prudent to have an emergency supply of HRT patches ,  a mop and bucket  ,the samaritans hotline and the local roit police swat team on speed dial .
Singles club queen bee Pauline  had apparently had a very  bad week , and a raging thirst .
When a waspish Frobisher hit the stage for Crap Bingo with Mavis , things soon turned ugly .

Miss P spent the rest of the evening stumbling about insulting and abusing anyone or anything that crossed her path........she was not a happy woman .
Eventually she was carted off by her mates , unceremoniously dumped in a taxi , clutching a sick bucket between her knees (Thoughfully supplied by Cafe C....we always go that extra mile) and waved off with an enormous sigh of relief  on our part and a look of pure terror for the poor taxi driver.
One can only imagine the poor womans horror the next morning as memories began crashing through the blinding hangover and friends huffed and cold shouldered exploritory phone calls.
To her credit she ventured out on Sunday , I would guess in  shamed disguise , and posted a rather sweet card of apology to all the staff at Cafe C. I for one almost feel sorry for the Ghastly old bag :-).

Monday, 8 February 2010

NEEDS MUST........

In more affluent times The Beast Liar was a three dyson household , an upstairs one , a downstairs one and a spare .
A succession of disasters soon thinned the herd . Firstly Mr C  kidnapped one of them . When faced with the unspeakable cleaning tasks of Mr C's former residence, Mincer Cottage , the poor thing exploded . The Beast was straight round and harvested its 'organs'.
The upstairs dyson began ailing almost imediatley and wheezed asmatically to an early end at the local dump . Its bits were whipped out and off before the smoking motor had cooled.  

As number three began to pine and falter the Beast retired to his shed . Late into the night , hammering , muttering and screamed oaths could be heard until finally , one dark and stormy night , with a final exaltation of

FrankenDyson was released into the world
Much could be said of the FrankenDyson , and I am sure a few of my dear readers will identify with this all encompasing description........
It may not be pretty but it sure can suck !
No Offence intended :-)

Tuesday, 2 February 2010


During a busy lunch shift on Saturday , one of the girls popped down , peeped round the kitchen door , and asked very sweetly if their adored old Beast could make herself and her sister a  Chillie Chicken wrap , as It was their very favourite and I made the best ones EVER.
Obviously I was being buttered up in the most shameless manner , but any child who doesnt learn this skill at an early age deserves to go hungry in my book.A little smarm goes a long way , even a old cumudgeon like Beast had to grumpily surrender to this infantile charm offensive.
Wraps made , plates dutifully dressed , Beast set off up the narrow staircase to Mr C's  flat above Cafe C , half way up I had to manouver round a lethally placed dog bowl on one of the steps , holding one plate aloft  , the other by my side , twisting and teetering like a demented flamenco dancer ,  muttering dark oaths about idiots leaving stuff on dark  narrow stairs , where any  reasonable chap could fall and break his neck , etc etc .
Too late I realised my error , the little swine Lloyd (Mr C's brindle staffy) was waiting , hidden , behind the landing rail .He shot out and snatched the wrap off the 'held aloft' plate and scarpered ,  leaving a trail of chillie chicken and mixed salad in his wake .
I am furious that I was ambushed  by the canine fiend  , and am convinced the whole bowl on the stairs mularkey was a carefully planned set up by a calculating criminal mastermind .
In other News , on Saturday night we had our first Cafe C fight .
You know how it is in any small town , posturing twenty something young men  , limited supply of attractive young women, add  drink ,Crap Bingo with Mavis , the heady aroma of Beasts chocolate fountain and a full moon to the swirling cloud of hormones and you have a powder keg waiting to blow.
The perpertrators were swiftly seperated  by an enraged Mr C and frogmarched straight out the door and  given a classic  dressing down . You have let me down , worst of all let yourselves down and spoiled everyones evening (Especially the birthday girl who ended up with a full glass of red wine tipped iinto her ample cleavage) etc etc ,following a verbal mauling they were eventually sent skulking off into the night under the baleful glare of mine host....Bless.

About Me

My photo
Doing Other Stuff for a while.Mail /MSN messenger on AND SAY HELLO GO ON YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO