etc etc etc yada yada yada and so forth ad infinitem. Now impedimate your mind with this snippet—

 “… Of course,  considering its accuracy, age, and the fact that its artistic style was not consistent with what was known from the era it supposedly belongs to, it was thought that what has come to be known as the Nebra Sky Disk was nothing more than a hoax or forgery, and prehistory professor at the University of Bristol, Richard Harrison, would say of it:

When I first heard about the Nebra Disc I thought it was a joke, indeed I thought it was a forgery. Because it’s such an extraordinary piece that it wouldn’t surprise any of us that a clever forger had cooked this up in a backroom and sold it for a lot of money …”

—referring to this beast   down finger


—which I just snup from CLICK HERE (being a link supplied by one of my very most favourite cranks, a guy called Graham Hancock (who does tend to get around a bit, look, see for himself and burble about what he’s seen as if his conclusions actually make any sense).

Which they do …









Your Quote Of The Day—

“I was a climate scientist in a climate-denying administration – and it cost me my job …”

to read from source:   CLICK HERE


that was as far as I got. It is just too precious, sufficient unto the day is the glory hereof. Especially glory in unintended brilliant humour satire.

Screen Shot 2019-04-07 at 19.05.49

Make of it wot we will



Screen Shot 2019-07-14 at 16.00.18.png but herein we shan’t go into that—suffice it to say that a person (we have to be gender neutral these days, no? So you’ll just have to hazard a guess at whether it was a male or not … ) was apparently rabbiting about in its (ugh!) drawers when they (ugh!) found a junk which they took along to Sotheby’s.

It’s a happy story and if you click there the link will take you to the BBC and from there you can carry on if your heart desires (by then I’ll have done my bit.)

So:  CLICK HERE  (or not, your call …)

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AND AS ugly (quite disgustipating, actually) as the wee thing appears it sold for 735 thousand pounds (some sources say) or more like a million (some other sources say).


when rabbiting about in the ancestral drawers … you never know:

One man’s (oops) one per’s trash

is another per’s treasure …

Screen Shot 2019-07-14 at 16.04.32.pngHey! Who YOU callin’ ugly—?




if it works! This came in a few minutes ago, I only changed a couple of words (a few times) …

   down finger  .gif

The foreman of a Christian road crew employed a poverty-claiming moonlighting priest to paint white lines down the middle of the road. He told Padre that he should paint two miles of road in a day’s work. 

After the first day the foreman was pleased to find that the priest had painted four miles of road instead of the two required.

On the second day, Padre completed painting just 2 miles of road.

The foreman was a bit disappointed, but didn’t complain as this was, after all, only what he’d asked for.

On day 3 the foreman was disappointed to find that Padre had painted only one mile of road, and so asked,

“On your first day, you did four miles of road. On your second you did two miles. But on the third day you achieved only one mile. What’s up?”

Padre replied, “Well, I’ll tell ya what’s up—but I thought a clever damned atheist like yourself would’ve been able to figure it out … every day I get further and further away from the paint can!”

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In, just a few minutes ago—

too intriguing not to pass along—an Entrance Exam, for Heaven? The mind boggles …

down eyeface

A Blonde was sent on her way to Heaven. Upon arrival, a concerned St Peter met her at the Pearly Gates.

‘I’m sorry, ‘St Peter said; ‘But Heaven is suffering from an overload of goodly souls and we have been forced to put up an Entrance Exam for new arrivals to ease the burden of Arrivals.’

‘That’s cool’ said the blonde, ‘What does the Entrance Exam consist of?’

‘Just three questions’ said St Peter.

‘Which are?’ asked the blonde.

‘The first,’ said St Peter, ‘is, which two days of the week start with the letter ‘T’? The second is ‘How many seconds are there in a year? The third is ‘What was the name of the swag-man in Waltzing Matilda?’

‘Now,’ said St Peter, ‘Go away and think about those questions and when I call upon you, I shall expect you to have those answers for me.’

So the blonde went away and gave those three questions some considerable thought (I expect you to do the same).

The following morning, St Peter called upon the blonde and asked if she had considered the questions, to which she replied, ‘I have.’

‘Well then,’ said St Peter, ‘Which two days of the week start with the letter T?’

The blonde said, ‘Today and Tomorrow.’

St Peter pondered this answer for some time, and decided that indeed the answer can be applied to the question.

‘Well then, could I have your answer to the second of the three questions?’

St Peter went on, ‘how many seconds in a year?’

The Blonde replied, ‘Twelve!’

‘Only twelve?’ exclaimed St Peter, ‘How did you arrive at that figure?’

‘Easy,’ said the blonde, ‘there’s the second of January, the second of February, right through to the second of December, giving a total of twelve seconds.’

St Peter looked at the blonde and said, ‘I need some time to consider your answer before I can give you a decision.’

And he walked away shaking his head.

A short time later, St Peter returned to the Blonde.

‘I’ll allow the answer to stand, but you need to get the third and final question absolutely correct to be allowed into Heaven.

Now, can you tell me the answer to the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?’

The blonde replied; ‘Of the three questions, I found this the easiest to answer.’

‘Really!’ exclaimed St Peter, ‘And what is the answer?’

‘It’s Andy.’


‘Yes, Andy,’ said the blonde.

This totally floored St Peter, and he paced this way and that, deliberating the answer.

Finally, he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer and turning to the blonde, asked ‘How in God’s name did you arrive at THAT answer?’

‘Easy’ said the blonde, ‘Andy sat, Andy watched, Andy waited till his billy boiled.’

The blonde entered Heaven …


And what’s worse … you’re now singing it to yourself.