An announcement. As I am sure you are aware, we are, at the time of writing, going through a turbulent period in global finance. None of us is immune. Therefore I have today, after long and heartfelt discussions with our colleagues across the blogosphere, none of whom I've consulted, put together a rescue package that I firmly believe will lead us out of the darkness and back into the sunlit uplands of credibility, or even credulity.From 0900 GMT Tuesday 30th September 2008 this blog, formerly 'Out The Window Bloke', will merge seamlessly, and with no loss of jobs, with both 'My Grappa Hell' and 'Jeep Rebuild' to create a new, dynamic, lean, fit for purpose Blog: 'My Jeep's Window's Hell To Clean With Grappa'. Could be catchier, I admit, but we must move with the times.
It can only be a matter of time before other notable Blogs are compelled to join forces or risk being swallowed up by some previously unheard-of Blogging combine from the Far East. 'Unmitigated Steam' anyone? All suggestions gratefully received. Please forward to Mr A Darling, 'I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue', BBC Radio4 , Portland Place, London W1.
7 comments:
Excellent thoughts Fred, and so practical. But at least I'm getting some unsolicited publicity because everyone keeps saying 'Unmitigated disaster' all the time. Looking around for other sources of income, I'm looking into making biscuit tins and beds high enough for them to be slid under.
Nice gate. Bedford Park?
We are doomed...dooomed I tell ya!
Lord Napier Place W6. 20 yards from The Great West Road as it happens Ron. I was, as the men in jackets would say, tasked to replace this rather pleasant yet very crumbly gate. I didn't have a key to the house as the client (new) obviously thought I'd make off with the silverware. It was so cold that every 20 minutes or so I had to run to the BP station round the corner just to get my fingers working. Spent most of my fee on thin cups of scalding coffee.
It must have been a year ago; we weren't quite so doomed then.
Napier. I once went to a chiropracter called Victor Napier. I lay on a bed looking at trains going in and out of Golders Green station whilst he ran appeared to run the length of his hallway in order to knee me in the back.
The Halifax, where I stash some of my millions, had the cheek to phone me the other day with advise on how to make financial savings. I was speechless.
Yes, amazing isn't it. My jaw has had to be wired back up since I learnt that local councils have been placing bets on the stock market instead of emptying my dustbin properly.
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