Some blogs I know

  • Freckles and Doubt
    Considering her mastery of narrative structure etc. (insert narrative structure here.....)
  • Trailer Park Refugee | just three shots of tequila away from a bar fight….
    Just three shots of tequila away from a bar fight...
  • Exile on Pain Street | Straddling the Hudson River. One foot in NYC, the other in suburban New Jersey.
    One man's story, etc.....
  • Fat Man on a Keyboard
    'At first they came for the smokers but I did not speak out as I did not smoke. Then they came for the binge drinkers but I said nothing as I did not binge. Now they have an obesity strategy...'
  • New York Bike Blog
  • Belgian Waffle
    Prolific? Bien sur. Waffle? Not a bit of it. The best thing to come out of Belgium since Leffe Blonde, and that is saying something.
  • Non-working monkey
    'Why taking work seriously turns you into a cock', among other lifesavingly important career advice.
  • Razorblade of life
    'Not so much cutting-edge as half-cut and still sliding'...
  • blue cat
    This blue cat fellow (he writes for the telly you know) issues forth an apparently effortless stream of grade-A funniness that has me overcome in turns by helpless laughter and shameful, powerful envy. There I've said it.
  • Joella
    Joella in Oxfordshire. Working for The Man while training to be a plumber (I think!). Loves gherkins, hates aubergines... and Fascists.
  • Bushra
    Bushra's blog/ homepage/ call it what you want
  • Dubsteps (formerly Hobo Tread)
    Thoughts of Skif, a Havant and Waterlooville fan exiled in Liverpool- possibly the most engaging non-league football writing to be found on the web- and with a little bit of politics, and plenty more beside!
  • Tired Dad
    The Man Who Very Nearly Fell Asleep
  • troubled diva.
    Mike, the self-styled 'Fairy Godmother of British Blogging'. He got us all published in a book, you know...
  • Private Secret Diary
    Dispatches from deepest Norfolk. Not that private and not that secret. Just consistently hilarious.
  • The man who fell asleep; Sadness and ecstasy in unequal measures
    The book inspired by this veteran site (A Year in the life of The Man Who Fell Asleep) features the 'sarcastic polar bears of north London' among other oddities that the author manages somehow to render absolutely plausible.
  • Pete Ashton's Internet Presence
    Birmingham's finest. Writing with enviable clarity on every subject under the sun since 2000 (a very long time indeed!). Now with added nice pictures of canals and stuff...
  • Looby
    'An awkward, clumsy fellow; a lubber; a novice'....a venerated (if refreshingly irreverent) blogging institution. Lancaster's very finest!
  • RichardHerring.com
    The comedian Richard Herring's kind of online diary thing. Always worth a visit.

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April 01, 2005


The Artist formerly known as John

Thanks for this -- almost makes me feel like I was there. You have no idea how anxiety-producing a thing it is to be separated by an ocean from the event itself while one's unseemly competitive juices are spilling in an unsightly fashion from one's eyes and ears, fists clenching and unclenching, teeth grinding, feet tapping hellacious rhythms from another era on the wooden floors of our times. Eeeee, we could scarcely sleep a wink.

The question that remains is this: how long can you keep dyed hardboiled eggs around on your kitchen table at room temperature before you run the real risk of some sort of unforgettable sulfuric disaster? I've given up on the idea of egg salad at this point -- I was raised in an age of refrigeration, something these eggs wouldn't know from the Bolshevik councils of the early 1900s, especially that Trotsky-looking one, who wasn't even boiled. A breach of etiquette and morals, in my opinion, incidentally, but clearly not a factor in the judge's decisions.

In any case, it seems a shame to throw them out while they're still so lovely, when no disasters have happened, yet surely disaster is the inevitable result of indefinite postponement. A classic dilemma of which comes first, the egg or the ...


Now that's a tricky one. I think maybe the professionals in this field have some method of removing the perishable inside of the egg using a tiny pin-prick and, let's see now, a pipette. Yes, a pipette- attached to a patent device which looks like a bicycle pump except instead of blowing, it sucks. Once that has done its work, a hardening substance is applied to the frail shell- all this before any actual painting is embarked upon.

Which all sounds a little scientific and clinical to me. Far greater honour to be had in leaving your delicate creations to rot on the kitchen table for two weeks before succumbing to the temptation to convert Mr Trotsky and his hazily-striped friend into a Spanish omelette. With a bit of luck. this ill-considered venture will cause you to contract one of those virulent Victorian-sounding ailments that those of a delicate artistic sensibility are famously prone to, like botulism or syphilis. Just a mild case, mind- enough to cause you to fall into a swoon. You would then become the talk of the fashionable salons of Europe for a week before emerging in rude health and full of bon mots. It is an approach that worked wonders for Oscar Wilde, as far as I am given to understand.


As it so happens, we have recently developed an almost fanatical devotion to a smoulderingly consumptive-looking nihilist poet of just this sort, called Maiakovsky. Just like the case of Rainy Day Egg, his fine poems were increasingly pushed to one side by the Bolsheviks to whom he had contributed so much of his creative output. My illustrated History of Russia says, in French, "En 1930, etouffant dans une atmosphere devenue ultra-conformiste, il se suicidait." I'd suggest that you might take him as your spiritual guide as you move towards next year's easter egg contest, (which is already uppermost in my mind). As for me, I hope to stick around on the kitchen table for another couple of weeks, "peacefully if I may, by force if I must."


I was so boyled over by this tale of your egg-centric family that i had to scramble to put a comment on
straight away.
I wondered if Trotsky got an ice-pick for his troubles
or did he just get smashed over the head with a silver spoon.

John Schoneboom

Yes, well, I haven't even had time to read the new one yet, and I have no time for that now. On the other hand, Jonathan hasn't had much time to respond to these responses, perhaps because he's been afraid that somebody might come out and expose him for the easter egg scorecard keeping genius fraud that he is.

That's right. It's been "Jonathan is a genius" this and "Jonathan is a genius" that as far as I can tell for weeks now, all because of the convoluted system he developed allegedly to "score" the easter egg contest. It is clear however to anyone with a modicum of common sense -- the minimum standard qualification, I might add, to be a lighthouse keeper in New England -- that his much vaunted scorekeeping system is nothing more than a cheap attempt to cloud people's minds, and a good one at that if I may say so.

There are lots of boxes and x's and so forth on the scorecard, and it gradually becomes apparent that there is some kind of order to it all if you study it for a while, and you begin to make sense of the strange markings. The easter egg people have been combined into convenient logical geographically based groups and have cast votes for each of the eggs. In the case of the New York contingent, the votes were somehow randomly done in what I am sure was an extremely fair and balanced fashion. These votes are then tallied and winners in various categories are selected.

It's when you look at the actual results that the disorder behind the system begins to make itself felt:

Tied for first: Trotsky in Eggzile and Beautiful Butterfly, both with scores of 5.

Makes sense so far. Until investigative reporters uncover the fact that Sponge Bob Square Pants also received a score of 5, but received only 3rd place. Why?

New York Classic, most humorous? OK, it got one "h" for humorous -- but so did Clown About Town and Mr. Bump -- and Sponge Bob and Trotsky, for that matter. Granted, we can leave out Clown About Town. It only got one point, whereas NY Classic got 3. But Mr. Bump also got a 3 -- and went home prizeless. (Trotsky received a 5 and two S's for "special effects" so we can see why it didn't have to win most humorous as well.)

One that I can easily see is Tulip Egg with Bees as most Eastery -- it had about 14 E's and pretty much overwhelmed the field in that department.

I could go on, but I think the general public can see my drift by now. There's been some jiggery pokery involved. That's right, I said jiggery pokery.

So before we hand out the genius awards, let's say that this Jonathan Baker may be a genius, but it is in the art of jiggery pokery that he should receive the distinction, not in any sort of scientific map-making.

Thank you.


This has made me so happy. Although I'd argue that my felt tip artwork was in fact so fantastically advanced that not even the most accomplished of artists could comprehend its true depth. And there is no way you could dispute the fact that those eggs were the SPITTING IMAGE of Harry Potter.


Welcome cousin Joe (now quite grown-up)! And I am so glad you have found this post of all posts- I think you get a record for commenting on a story you were part of fully nine years ago! That was quite a classic in the history of the Easter Egg competition, but as you will agree the jiggeripokery and behind the scenes Eurovision-esque machinations could belong to any year before or since! Long may it continue!

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