Posts Tagged ‘Meat’

Hi Kids,

Giving blood is one of the best things we can do to help others!

cupboard crackhead copy


Unfortunately due to my shared needle experience in years past (another money saving tip for a future post) my blood is not exactly top-notch – but every cloud has a silver lining and the local butcher, Chortling Charlie – a man with an outstanding track record in the preparation of contaminated meat products can always find a use for a pint or two of me old red stuff.

His Crack Pudding is worth dieing for.

Locally sourced and keeping the air miles to a minimum. Organic food as it should be.

So Kids – If you can’t donate blood – why not have  a word with your butcher?

Peace and Love

Uncle Crackhead

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Hello People,

I have been looking for love!

I signed up to Have We’ve Met B4? (www.previouslovepreviouslives.com) the dating agency for the reincarnated.

A very reasonable signing up fee and a choice of a Crossbow, The Plague or Witchcraft as a free signing on gift! I chose the Crossbow, it was made of plastic and sadly hasn’t lasted.

Among the matches from Have We’ve Met B4? was Terry, a very nervous Visigoth with dandruff, Clancy a hirsute Victorian Chimney Sweep (First man I met who platted his nasal hair) and Andrew, whose incarnation as Archimedes meant our date was a discourse on the importance of the bath plug.

Tonight I’m cooking dinner for Neville, who was a 4th Century Corsican Pirate plying his evil trade on the Barbery Coast, pillaging, wenching and ravishing as he went.

He’s in Telesales now is allergic to brushed cotton and is convinced that only a a reformed New Kids On The Block can save the world from militant Islam.

Sounds a catch.  If a touch deranged. Hope he likes soup. I love soup. Slurp, slurp.

Tatty bye


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Agnes DuPont tells us more about her previous lives!!!!!! Read other lies here.

To connect with previous lives, Agnes eats cheese. She also claims vegetables from the Brassica family have a similar effect.


Hello People,

Last Wednesday I was working in my local butcher’s, removing veins from lambs liver, when Mahatma Gandhi entered me.  Not in that way I hasten to add.

No, Gandhi’s spirit  entered my mortal remains. It was great being a bow legged pacifist for a while. Dressed in a sheet too.  You might say it was Dandy Ghandi.

Wendy Crabtree walked in, as is her want, to buy a belly of pork for the Sunday roast.

As Mahatma I wasn’t happy about this and organised a campaign of vegetarian mass civil disobedience. I readjusted the thickness on the ham slicer and tossed root vegetables (I always carry a few in case of emergencies) around the place.

As I flung a turnip at a rack of lamb I thought of Morrissey.  Strange that.

Sadly I lost my job at the Butcher’s but do have a much greater insight into the last days of Britain’s presence in India. A fair exchange.

You may think I am a fantasist who eats cheese and broccoli long into the night……….I would beg to differ.



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