James Joyce vs. Sam Beckett at the pitch n’ putt

You can’t possibly understand until you’ve watched this, all fecund in its nuttiness…

Up, up and away!

When I get bored I blast hedgehogs into space with Hedgehog Launch. I’m extremely smug that I’ve beaten the game designer’s own PB by a whole four days. Or 44%. Our four ninths. Or approximately 3/4 of a kilometre/mile ratio. Or… you get the picture.

Can you beat my score - or do you have something better to do? Well, do ya? (OK, yes you probably do.)

Of God, sex and anvils

Are Christians all bonkers? (gettit?)

An article popped up recently in the Guardian, about a woman who was inspired by Bible class to have sex with her husband every night for a year and wrap it up as a birthday present.

Specifically, this is what stirred her loins:

Galatians 5.22-23 “But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”

Hmm. Unsurprisingly, this attracted a fair few comments (as it must have in the Daily Mail, which first covered this a whole nine months ago – maybe the book is coming out in paperback?).

The point of all this is what might be the best comment ever left on the web. To save having to look at the article (”pointless smut” which left several readers “exhausted”), I’ve chopped out the good bit.

DONOVAN

I tried something similar with the love of my life after my own bible class. We had been reading a verse from Songs of Songs in the Old Testament.

Later that night while we were lying in bed , I turned to my beloved and gushed: “Darling, your hair is like a herd of goats descending the mountainside and your teeth are like sheep just up from the dip…”

My sugar pie honey bun turned to me and growled: “If you think that zoological line is going to get you a shag tonight, you have another guess coming! And when are you going to move that anvil down to the shed?”

I turned back to my side of the bed and quietly reflected that no one ever has the right words at the right time and that maybe we sometimes try a little bit too hard.

The next morning I moved the anvil out of the bedroom and I was rewarded with a kiss that lingers still.

MARKYMARK001

Donovan, I simply have to ask about the anvil in the bedroom? I am just eaten alive by curiosity. (I had a friend with a motorbike in his bedroom but he was 17 and ended putting in on the road, which in fact was the point of it..)

MUSCLEGUY

@Donovan

Surely constantly stubbing your toe on the anvil would be sufficient stimulus? or maybe your bedroom is significantly bigger than ours? Mind you we do have to fit a king size bed in.

The nice neighbour over the back fence gave me a section of rail for use as an anvil. It lives in my garage workshop, and I have stubbed my toe on it . . .

DONOVAN

@ Markymark001 and Muscleguy

Greetings

The anvil in the bedroom had a very important function in our lives, well, up until that night when I quoted the bible to my dearest by way of finagling my way into her…

Anyway, for many years my darling love suffered from acute clinophobia and I had a tendency to bouts of elutheromania from time to time, especially after watching an enjoyable cricket match.

Nothing seemed to work to alleviate our atypical ailments and one day, after reading an unpublished graphic novel about the Iron Age, I had the idea of keeping an anvil in the bedroom.

For two reasons really:To reassure my wife that if there ever was a sudden fire or worse, I could quickly pick the anvil up and chuck it through the nearest window to make good our escape from the bedroom in a timely fashion. Secondly, as a symbol of freedom for myself.

But when my wife asked me to move the anvil from the bedroom, I knew she was cured, although I still have my moments when I want to jump from the window and run naked round Whitechapel with the anvil chained to my parabolas.