Boris and Johnson

I've never understood the reason why somebody might want to go and stand in a wet field and listen to some outdated rockers screaming their lungs out half a mile away. However, I've still decided to offer my services to this year's Glastonbury festival. With a low number of big name acts, I understand that the punters aren't buying up tickets as they normally do at this time of the year. Perhaps they can't hire the helicopters or they're all out of green Wellington boots and hunting sticks...

Whatever their reason, my new Rolling Stone's inspired routine is sure to bring them back. 'Two Stones in a Pouch' is perfect for a festival venue and it's certain to delight even those at the back of the crowd whose vision is obscured by golfing umbrellas, inflatable sheep, and the effects of hemp cigars. Not only do I attract a large following to my gigs (I'm big among Welsh traffic wardens), I'm also easy on the environment. Not only is my coconut oil biodegradable but it's friendly to small animals. My new pair of pet squirrels are testament to the fact. Never will you have seen two such well oiled critters.

My squirrels? Oh, you probably don't know about them. They are Red Squirrels and I call them Boris and Johnson. They also form part of my act. Gabby managed to catch them in some woods near Bangor and in six weeks she'd hand reared them. I suppose the word 'broken' is a more accurate way of describing the process. After forty two nights of screaming at them and making them suffer sleep deprivation, they were finally domesticated. Their training too much less time and now I can run around on stage with the pair of them nestling in my posing pouch. I've even dyed myself down there to make a matching threesome, though I've not gone so far as to follow Gabby's suggestion that I call it Alvin and dress it in a small sweater. That idea was ludicrous. After all, a squirrel is not technically a chipmunk.

Speaking of ludicrous ideas: as inspired as my new act undoubtedly is, I won't be taking my squirrels to Glastonbury. That would just be crazy talk and you'd think I'd lost my wits. Honestly: who has ever heard of squirrels performing at Glastonbury? However, if you're in the Bangor region, we'll be performing at the Green Dragon Tavern tomorrow night.

If you come along, don't forget to bring some nuts and throw them at me on stage. It will make for a nice spot of role reversal.

Chocolate Chip

When Gabby poked me with the end of a broom this morning, I knew it was time for my triumphant return to the world of blogging. There were too many things that needed to be said.

'Chip, you get out of bed right now!' she scolded as she pressed the handle into my right buttock. 'You dirty dirty man! Dirty!'

I could see the reasons for Romanian disgust. I'd gone to sleep a little too quickly last night and the thick chocolate mousse that covered a good deal of my torso had hardened in the night; and I hadn't had chance to explain any of this to my darling partner.

The 'why' had been my first successful booking since I went dormant a few months ago and began to pile on the pounds. Last night, I performed at the Green Dragon Tavern with the world première of my Oompa-Loompa strip in which I begin dressed in white overalls and with an orange face, and end up rolling around in a inflatable pool filled with chocolate. It's less Dahl and more Dalí with a touch of the Béatrice Dalle once I get my underwear off.

How the women of Bangor loved it and loved me. Such had been my success that two hours at the bar had left me totally drunk and with only the wits to get back to the flat. When I got home, around three o'clock this morning, I crawled into bed and fell into a deep and blissful sleep.

Now everything is explained and I'm washed, I can say it's good to be back and such a relief to be taking off my clothes again for a living. A full pouch last night has paid off months of debt as well as doing so much for my self-esteem. For a few weeks in January, I even had trouble finding thongs to fit me but I can assure you that everything is now normal down there. Ship shape and Bristol fashion, as they say, except, of course, there's nothing down there that's shaped like a ship.

Just a large stealthy submarine with a full compliment of hip thrusts that are fully armed and aimed in your direction.

As for this blog, I hope to be writing more often. I'm starting work on a most interesting project that I might just share with you...

The Things I Hope To Happen in 2008 Meme

Tagged by Trixie, I'm forced to break away of my exercise routine that is helping me to rapidly lose weight. For my first post of the New Year, here are the eight things that The Chipster would like to see happen in 2008.

And forgive me if a couple of them are very self-serving...

1. A certain book to be published in the Summer leaps to the top of the book charts where it stays for months as the whole county snaps it up, making one modest writer immodestly wealthy.
2. I find an literary agent interested in my comedy.
3. I manage to break out of the debt trap and earn a living (even if it’s moderate) doing what I’m happiest doing: writing things to amuse others.
4. The Other Richard Madeley manages to break out of the debt trap and earn a living doing what he enjoys doing: writing things to amuse others.
5. I find the passion to resume blogging.
6. The government realise how foolish it is to mistreat teachers and abandon all the foolish policies that keep the nation’s educators working until nine o’clock every night.
7. I learn to drive and abandon the bicycle from which I nearly fell under the wheels of a car this evening.
8. Leonard Cohen / Tom Waits / Nick Cave bring out a new album or Andy Kaufman stuns the world by revealing that he never died / Steve Martin returns to performing stand-up.

I hereby tag: Ms. Baroque, Dave Hill, Richard Madeley, Mopsa, and Nige.