A recipe for fake blood
Which I post lest I forget:

25g potassium thiocyanate
4g ferric chloride
table salt

add a few ml of water to two jugs - add the potassium thiocyanate to one, the ferric chloride to the other, then put a pinch of salt in each.

Each fluid is clear but when they touch they turn red - so you coat the body part to be cut in one and the weapon with the other and when they touch...blood!
- posted by Buntifer @ 6/30/2004 09:34:00 am

 

I hate drinking so much I can't remember what I was up to last night. 
- posted by Buntifer @ 6/29/2004 06:09:00 pm

 
so...E=mc2
I can't do superscript - I don't know how...

This formula posits that matter is energy modified by the a number (speed of light squared) but what is energy?

As far as I can figure out energy is a property of something - you cannot have energy on its own - it has to be of something...so how does this work?

Can matter turn into energy? It doesn't seem so? The purest form of energy would be electromagnetic quanta - but they are still things with energy.

I am tying myself up with this and it is irritating me, is it possible to have energy without anything else? and if so maybe matter is simply really really dense quanta...

I can't get my head around it at the mo...but it is fun to try. Cos that woudl mean that all we are is energy which has been modified, and that has plenty of ramifications for fifth dimensional thinking and linearity.

Have fun..leave comments...
- posted by Buntifer @ 6/25/2004 09:56:00 pm

 
Listen up you at the back...
I have a new idea involving gin, pineapples, six month old baby boys and sellotape...no no no that was something I wrote down for my own private amusement.

I have a new idea concerning sex lies and videotape...no that's not new..

Azuth, cranapple juice and crepes?
[no, a recipe that never quite worked out]

It really doesn't matter, I only ramble for the sake of rambling, and to put something to read out there in the great infinitum of cyberpants. Recent search term that found my site? "How many different ways to get pregnant?"

Glad to see the intelligenti are out in force...[hope I'm not insulting any of my readership- just as a caution that there is one way to get pregnant and it involves Walkers Crisps, small plastic figurines and garlic]

Forget my name. I'm sure there are two of me in my head. One of them smokes and gets so into books that nothing exists outside of them for those moments, he doesn't like working and swears more than the other [who still swears a reasonable amount] and the other is quieter, less vehement and more responsible, generally in control, knows that he's addicted to smoking and doesn't like it [the other one likes it and doesn't care] and drinks beer. [the other one would rather drink coke or spirits]

It's all very bizarre.
- posted by Buntifer @ 6/21/2004 07:50:00 pm

 
Big Brother
I have a new tagline for next years Big Brother:

"Six pricks
Six tw*ts
Twelve assholes."

I think it is catchy, evn if it does leave our darling Davina out of the mix.

Big Brother, because sex on live tv isn't porn.

Big Brother, because you have nothing better to do.

Big Brother, because entertainment is in the mind of the viewer.
- posted by Buntifer @ 6/15/2004 12:22:00 pm

 
Pigeons
We had a pigeon in the Finborough the other day...had to chase it out with bits of wood. Bloody rats with wings if you ask me, mind you it reminds me of a time when I was doing a show which used a live pigeon. THe bird was released onto stage and one of the characters - supposedly at the end of his tether and ridiculously pissed off tried to kill the poor thing with a baseball bat.

The actor in question never actually hit the bird of course - it was too canny. Each night it would hop out and fly round the stage for ten to fifteen seconds till it found the exit to the flys and disappeared up there. We would find it later and gently shoo it out of the space at which point it would make its way home to its dove cote ready for us to turn up next day and pick it up. We weren't sure if we had the same pigeon everynight, it didn't really matter. We had arranged with the owner of the dovecote to borrow the bird each afternoon on the condition that it was back the next morning.

Until that fateful night... I still don't kow if the bird was ill or tired, or just dozier than usual, but the cage released... the bird hopped out, flew a little, dodged the first couple of swings of the bat and then pow!

A cloud of feathers...

Maybe the actor had just got more coordinated, maybe he just got thet timing right, possibly he was trying to miss it and just misjudged it again.

A terrified squeal as the still-warm corpse of a battered pigeon landed in the lap of a thirty something chap wearing a No Fear t-shirt.

A bemused actor looking at the bat like a tennis player who has just missed a shot.

And lights down...
- posted by Buntifer @ 6/14/2004 05:34:00 pm

 
Coconuts
"I have been studying the origins
of the coconut in East Balinese
"Panga" dancing - it is to do
with fertility."



"Just because you're Morelli's
man don't mean you're untouchable,
it just makes you more expensive
- but that's ok. I been saving up."


- posted by Buntifer @ 6/13/2004 09:46:00 am

 
Rabbitfood
"Well Sir, we have some interesting news for you." The veterinarian
beamed
at James.

James looked worried, interesting probably meant not good. He looked down
at the rabbit. He looked across at Tristania his daughter, she was
bouncing up and down on a nearby chair.

"What's wrong with it?" He growled.

"Well Sir," the veterinarian began, his smile growing ever so slightly
less sincere, "Your choice of words is very apt."

"What has my vocabulary got to do with the rabbit?" Growled James, he
wanted the damn thing to die, soon and in front of Tristania so that she
understood without a doubt that it was dead and so he didn't have to try
and find a replacement.

"Well Sir," the veterinarian looked distinctly nervous by this point, "It
is.....well, it is an it." He finished with relief as if this answered
James question.

James tried hard not to reach across the desk and shove the rabbit down
the
vets throat. "..."

"It is a transsexual rabbit."

James swallowed rapidly, blinking fast.

"What's a transsexual Daddy?" bounced Tristania.

James picked up the cage, glaring at the vet for all he was worth. The
vet pushed a box of pills across the table, slipped a case of syringes on
top, and plumped a huge bottle of liquid down on the lid of the cage.

"It's medicine." He said, "that will be eight hundred and thirty pounds,
but it should keep you going for at least a month.

James swallowed again, there wasn't anything to swallow, but his throat
convulsed a couple of times.

"Are you a transsexual Daddy?" Tristania demanded, flying perilously
close to the potted palm in the corner of the waiting room.

James shook his head hurriedly, trying to keep as much of the airborne
Tristania out of his vision as possible. He was feeling ill, and seeing
his daughter repeatedly flying up and down was not going to help him recover.

He scribbled a cheque for most of his monthly income out to the vet and
grabbed and pills and the rabbit cage.

"Get down." He growled at Tristania, who excitedly launched herself into
his arms with no regard for the fact that her father was carrying armfuls of
pharmaceuticals not to mention the rabbit.

James did frantic calculations in his head whilst his daughter was in the
air. The medical bills for Tristania, the cost of the rabbit medicine,
the rabbit itself. He made a mental note to cancel the cheque as soon as he
got to work.

The rabbit case thumped to the ground, the rabbit emitting a squeal as it
bashed its head against the water container. The vet winced and rushed
towards the case. James fixed him with a glare and picked up the cage
gingerly. Tristania poked the rabbit through the bars, in the eye. James
tutted and elbowed the door of the clinic open.

He dumped Tristania on the pavement and gave her the rabbit cage to hold,
she giggled with excitement and started bumping the cage against her
knees.
James fumbled in his pocket for the car keys, pulling them out and
bipping the car.

"Get in honey." He directed to Tristania, who put the case down, pulled
the
door open, picked up the case and heaved it into the back seat. It
tumbled
over and down into one of the wells. Tristania followed in and buckled
herself in.

James climbed into the front.

"Sleet belt Daddy." Tristania imperiously ordered from the seat behind
him.
He could see the rabbit squashed up against the bars of the cage by its
tilted angle. He started the engine and craned his neck around.

"Which way to your school honey?" Tristania pointed left. James pulled
away
from the kerb and into the mid morning traffic. His wife's illness was
going
to be a problem. He wasn't used to having Tristania around more than the
one
weekend a month he had custody, and then he usually took her to a hotel
or
to Center Parcs, Butlins or something similar. He sighed. He was going to
get a rocket at work, and that just from the ladies that sat near him, he
dreaded to think what the boss was going to say. He remembered he was
going
to have to take the rabbit in with him and groaned internally.

"Daddy Daddy, you passed it!" Tristania would have been jumping up and
down
if she hadn't been restrained by the seatbelt.

"Shit!"

Tristania hissed and intake of breath and became silent very very
suddenly.
It was something she had learnt from her mother.

James pulled down on the wheel and trod heavily on the brake. He managed to
slide in between a white van and a people carrier that had just emptied,
provoking horns and irritable gestures from all parties. Once the U -turn
was completed he glided back towards the school and pulled over onto the
pavement, narrowly missing a tree.

He turned to look at Tristania. She had her lips pursed and her eyes slit.
She wouldn't look at him.

"Tris..." he tried, "Tris...shit isn't a bad word, and it doesn't make me
bad to have used it." No reaction, just like her mother.

"Shit is an exclamation regarding the general state of affairs at any given
time Tris, it is a quantative term, used in a relative degree to the amount
of fecal matter that is metaphorically heading through the ether towards
one. It was simply an observation, missing the school took me out of the
realm of ' rubbish, past crap, through sheiser and left in me in deep deep
shit. And every second we delay here debating the metaphysical evil of
uttering the syllable made up by the letters s, h i and t is piling more of
the smelly stuff on top. Daddy's gonna drown in poo honey, if you don't get
out and into school." Tris sighed, it was a sigh very like the noise his
ex-wife used to make when he had just talked himself out of trouble. A
"well for fucks sake, I know you are sorry...I just wanted you not to do it
in the first place" kind of noise.

Tris opened the lid of the cage and patted the rabbit on the head, mashing
its face into the bars of the cage again. "Walk me to the door daddy." She
commanded, and James unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out while Tris
retrieved her bag and exited the car. He bipped the car from his pocket as
they walked up the gravel towards the imposing doors. The school was a good
one, it ate up the half of James' income that had just been spent on the
rabbit, but it was worth it to have Tris turn out as bright as she had the
potential to be. He could hear the hymns being sung in the chapel, Tris was
late as well. She laughed and dashed up the steps ahead of him.

"I'll pick you up tonight honey." James ventured. She disappeared through
the doors.

He returned to the car, suitably chastened, tied his shoelace and set off
again to work. The rabbit was not going to make him popular in the office,
especially on a Friday, but it paled into insignificance beside the fact
that he was an hour late, and was going to have to ask to leave an hour and
a half early in order to pick Tris up. Even working his lunchbreak wouldn't
cover that sort of time, and it was going to be a regular thing by the looks
of it, at least till his wife got better.

He glanced back at the rabbit cage, noting the top was open, and
fractionally later noticing that there was no longer a rabbit in the cage.
He felt something nudge his foot. The rabbit was sitting under the brake
pedal, eyes white and terrified as his foot hovered over it.

James sighed deeply. It was an internal gear shift, changing from putting up with a crappy day to "coping" with a crappy day. I was a downgrading of the possibilities, making him aim a little lower in everything, and ensuring a crappy day would be had. He pressed down on the brake pedal slowly, trying to ease the rabbit out from underneath, but it had got it inot its tiny little head that the safest place to be was where it was, and it was staying.

A few cars zoomed past outside, and James noticed he was getting near to his turnoff, as well as approaching a traffic cue. He slipped into the bus lane just in time to miss the last car in the cue, and frantically tugged on the handbrake. The car began to slow, James heaved a sigh of relief. Then the bus hit the boot.

***

"Yes. No, she's doing her homework. I know they call it prep at St. Thpisciouses."

James was on the phone to his ex wife. He from the tiny bathroom of his one bed flat, her from the hospital. Apparently the terms of their divorce meant that James had the honour of paying her hospital bills.

"No. How is the clinic, Jill? Hmm. And how long do they need you in for?"

Bad question.

"Three months!! At seven hundred quid a week!! I've just been fucking fired because of that sodding rabbit. NO I don't want her here. I don't have the room or the money."

James was sweating copiously, he nursed a cranberry and orange juice. His one luxury since the divorce, other than his car. Now his only luxury.

"You bitch. I don't know what that fucking agreement said, but if I could afford a lawyer...I know, I know. Fine. Look, I can pay one more week of hospital bills, then that is it, I have no money left."

"No, Tristania's school bills have been paid for the rest of the year. I don't kow what you are going to do if you can't work. What am I going to do now that I can't. Get a loan?? You get a fucking loan you twisted cow."

James pushed the button on his mobile angrily. It didn't feel as satisfying as slamming the phone down onto its cradle after a row. He called Jill again, listened to it ring, she answered. James jumped in the air and pitched the phone at the tiled floor as hard as he could. It made a satisying crunch as it made contact, and the buttons flew off in all different directions. He heard a final squawk before he brought his heel down on the crippled mass.

james stood in the centre of the bathroom sweating, drinking his ornage and cranberry. He felt good, he felt...he had just deliberately destroyed his company phone...he didn't feel so good. He sat down heavily on the toilet.

There was a knock at the door.

"Daddy? Teacher said she wouldn't tell me what a Transsexual was until I was older."

James sighed. He unlocked the door and looked down at Tristania's face. She was an ugly little girl, but bright enough in her persistant, dogmatic way. She was certainly her mothers child, the only thing she seemed to have inherited from him was the nose that just threw the rest of the face into chaos. His nearly fit, after forty five years of hating it and trying pair of glasses after pair of glasses he could look in the mirror and appreciate his features. Tristania wasn't old enough to hate him for her nose yet. Give it a year, maybe eighteen months if he was lucky.

[This will get finished at some point.]
- posted by Buntifer @ 6/11/2004 07:43:00 am

 
Why is it
that every time I sit down in front of my blog and can't think of anything to write immediately the words to "Every sperm is sacred" start flowing through my head. It is worrying me.

Anyroad. I bought a phone off ebay three days ago. My one has stopped ringing, and while this is ok sometimes it is a royal pain in the ass at others. It has stopped vibrating as well, which means that I now miss calls even when I am holding my phone, and the only way to make sure I get every call is to watch the screen the whole time...boring. So I have invested a whole 45 quid and bought myself a phone that works. It isn't top of the range malarkey - I toyed with the idea of buying a more expensive one but decided against it.

Unfortunately the bloody thing hasn't arrived, now it is only three days after I bought it on ebay, but the seller said he was sending it registered first class post, and frankly I am reasonably pissed off. I know that ebay is a lottery in regards to whether your seller is prompt and sticks precisely to their word etc - feedback can only tell you so much, and most people receive their item and then leave gushingly good feedback as the relief that they haven't been screwed around washes over them. I paid within an hour of winning the auction, and if I were a seller I would watch each auction carefully to see how much money I was making, then send the bloody thing as soon as I got the buyers details.

Put bluntly I just want my sodding phone - and I am irritated that it isn't here yet.

Damn it.

" Let the heathen spill his,
On the dusty ground.
God will make him pay for each sperm that can't be found..."
- posted by Buntifer @ 6/10/2004 07:29:00 am

 
Still knackered
but having marginally more fun with it. Working on a production called "Eyes Catch Fire" on the London Fringe. At "the Finborough Theatre" no less. Good fun, good people and some offers of paid work, which is always nice. A bunch of prissy actors thought. I have honestly never had to work with a group that are such hard work.

Patience wearing thinner, more bored than ever with my day job, now that they have decided not to turn the AC on it becomes warm and somnolent in the office between three and five, and it is incredibly difficult to remain awake. I fell asleep whilst typing a sentence the other day and woke to find myself staring at a line of gibberish.

In other news I'm off, see you later. I'm glad to see everyone is posting nearly as frequently as me.

Have fun.
- posted by Buntifer @ 6/07/2004 07:29:00 am