By Two Legs Good

So how come I still keep hearing the voices?

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By Two Legs Good

After the disastrous results at the recent elections and the resignation of their leader, Tavish Scott, the Scottish Liberal Democrats have a new leader. The UK is, obviously, reeling at this momentous change.

It's heartening to see they've picked such a popular and recognisable Scot this time:

We say 'pick', but of course there was no real choice - he was only person that had submitted his name! Obviously the very thought of running against Wullie Rennie had terrified the other possible candidates. After all, who'd want to go up against a runner-up of the Scottish Coal-Carrying Championships? That's some heavyweight political ju-ju right there!

Oor Wullie might not even be allowed the automatic right to ask questions at First Meenister's Questions - they may have to take it in turns with Patrick Harvie, representing the Greens, and Big Hen, representing the Broons.

It's also being reported that the Scots Lib Dems have so few seats they've been relegated to sitting outside the back door of the parliament on upturned buckets.

Oor Wullie? More like Poor Wullie!

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By Two Legs Good

Yes, it's another Sunny Soaraway Stone-Cladding Sunday!

We've come to the conclusion that they can't help it.

People are strange, and no matter how they try to hide their strangeness from the rest of us, out it will pop like an electric weasel from their top pocket waving a big flag that says "WEIRD!".

Take, for example, Donald Trump's comb-over.

Now, YOU know he's baldy, WE know he's baldy, and let's face it, HE knows he's baldy. So why does he persist with such a preposterous comb-over?

Trump with anonymous brown nose.

There's hair going in all directions there, and none of them normal, like the sideburns being swept back around his ear to cover his neck. It's not just a comb-over in one direction, either - this is truly leading-edge comb-overy, with hair from the left swept across the head allied with hair from the back combed forward over it to form a bizarre weave at the front. It's only a matter of time before he starts cultivating his eyebrows and then his nose and ear hairs into the weave.

The saddest part of it is that he's fooling nobody, not even himself.

So what, we hear you ask, does this have to do with stone-cladding? After all, it's not like stone-cladders go out of their way to hide it; usually it sticks out like some gigantic pus-filled thumb.

Well, today's example is a bit more subtle. Restrained. Discrete, almost.

But, as we said at the start, people are strange, and people who stone-clad are stranger than most. They can't help it. And, as we said, no matter how they try to hide it - in this case with a pretty decent coat of paint - out it pops.

Now you might have thought that what alerted us to such camoflaged cladding was the fact that despite the rest of the street having darkish brown brick, here was a house that draws attention to itself with a bright creamy paint job. And yes, as we approached that certainly did catch the eye.

But what really made us look twice, what really gave the game away, was the shower-door.

Most people fit their shower-doors next to the shower itself. Not this lot, though - no, they can't resist giving that little signal that spells "WEIRD!" to the rest of us, that tip-off that they're not at home to Mr Normal, in the form of fitting their shower-door externally, nowhere near their shower.

An external shower-door that leads to an alley-way between houses. Obvious when you think of it, isn't it?

Despite their trying to make it blend in, it all draws the eye inevitably to what we now think of as the architectural equivalent of a comb-over, the stone-cladding.

And as with Trump, they're fooling nobody.

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By Two Legs Good

Well, well, well!

Tuning in to the BBC News this evening we were surprised - we could almost use the word 'mugged' - by William Hague making a speech at the Lord Mayor's Easter Banquet. Now there's a man that likes the sound of his own very strange little voice, sounding all the world like a sleepy David Frost doing a bad imitation of Ringo Zzzzztarr narrating Thomazzzzz the Tank Engine.

We hit the 'mute' button immediately. We've been caught like that before.

We did grab these screen shots for you. The second one proves our point above - he'zzz been zo droney and boring he'zzzzz zzzzent himzzzzelf to zzzzzzleep mid zzzzzentenzzzze.


You have to be careful. We nearly went ourselves there.

Anyway, what of his message? Well, luckily the BBC have summarised it for us:



So there we have it. Even in his doziest moments, William Hague believes in democratic change, and that standing against reform means a government is doomed to failure.

We can only hope he gets the message across to as many people as possible, especially his own colleagues in the Conservative Party, and they vote for reform, they vote for democratic change, they vote for AV.

Afore ye go...
Don't be vague, ask for AV!

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By Two Legs Good

There's something puzzling us about this AV vote this week that we don't think has been explored properly yet. The 'No' side are saying 'Oooh, we shouldn't use AV, it'll be more expensive to count the votes'.

Since when should how expensive democracy is be an issue? When our forefathers fought for democracy, the rallying cry was 'Democracy at any price!' not 'Democracy at a reasonable price depending on market variables, the state of the economy and how much the bankers have pissed up a wall recently'.

The No-camp argument appears to be:


From that, it would seem reasonable to assume that:


In a time of austerity, when we're being asked to make sacrifices for the good of the economy, surely there's some fat to trim here? After all, if our democracy actually now does have a monetary cost, we could trim democracy and save some money.

How does a 50% saving in voting costs sound to you? Good? Helpful? Great! So let's do away with the votes for women!


Now calm down, dears! Remember ladies - we're all in this together!

Not enough? Fine. Nearly 30 million people voted in the last election - but what if only millionaires were entitled to vote? That would reduce it to around 300,000 voters. Getting rid of 99% of the voters - mainly the likes of you and us - could save 99% of the costs!


Remember plebs - we're all in this together!

Still not enough? What if we could save 99.999996% of the costs, by moving to a political system that's used in many, many countries around the world? Yes, the ever-present One-Man-One-Vote system, otherwise known as a Dictatorship. By allowing Dictator Dave to have the only vote we could eliminate almost all voting costs for ever. It worked for Adolf Hitler, it worked for Gaddafi, and it still works for Kim Jong-Il - why shouldn't it work for us?


Obviously we're using some pretty absurd and idiotic logic here to illustrate the point that the cost of voting is being thought of as more important than democracy - but that's the very same absurd and idiotic logic that the No-camp are currently using to argue against AV.

Don't let the absurd and idiotic win. Vote for AV.

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By Two Legs Good

Yes, it's another Sunny Soaraway Stone-Cladding Sunday!

Sorry for starting with what seems like a repeat, but please be patient and read on!

Remember this?


Now, houses with A Nice Bit Of Stone-Cladding! ©™ are special. Very special. But some are more special than others, and this one is VERY special indeed. We can just imagine the argument that led to it...

So yes... stone-cladding AND wood-cladding on the one house. Actually, we're not sure that's really what it is - it looks more like a bizarre mix of crazy-paving and painted floorboards. (And just what is going on with that garden wall?)

As Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder never sang:

"Wood-cladding and stone-cladding,
live together in perfect harmony
Side by side on the front of some house,
Oh lord, why don't we?"

Well, Stevie, maybe you'd have an excuse, but surely Paul, surely the man that wrote 'Eleanor Rigby', 'Hey Jude' AND 'Rupert And The Frog Song', could find the words to describe it you? In the meantime, to answer the question "why don't we?", well...

...THAT's why not!


Did that jog your memory? Good!

We could hardly believe this when we saw it - it's the same wacky scheme all over again, but presented in a slightly different but no less half-arsed fashion.

Yes, it's all there; wood-clad upper half, this time ivory rather than ebony.

There's the crazy-paved lower half, this time roughly-hewn, multi-hued and probably installed by someone called Hugh. It looks like what a Hugh might do.

We'll get to the wacky outer wall in a wee while. First though, we'd like to ponder on the age-old question - which came first, wood-cladding or stone-cladding?

Looking at this from another angle makes it more obvious there's something else going on.

There's a cladding-war going on!

The wood-cladding seems to have annexed a significant part of the lower-half territory between the upper-half and the window in a straight-forward land-grab, giving it direct access to the door area.

However, the stone-cladding appears to now be retaliating with it's own flanking maneouvre, an incursion into the upper half around the porch and window roof. A cunning tactic, often successful.

Obviously, only one can win. It'll be a slow war, but we'll keep you informed.

And now, a few words from a special guest.

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By Phil E. Stein

So, to the Tate Gallery for the Watercolours exhibition. I hadn't realised she'd made that much money being in a mediocre comedy series and then Doctor Who, but I guess that's the BBC's superstar salaries for you.

It was pleasantly surprising to see that some of these painter johnnies had scaled their ideas up appropriately, painting things a bit bigger than their normal shortbread tins, tea trays and non-specific greetings cards:

Those weren't the only sorts of food packaging images on show. Take a look at this one by Richard Parkes Bonington. It was probably for an early version of Pizza Express because they've done it all in Italian like they do, the spinach pizza being a 'Fiorentina', the weird leftovers one being the 'Veneziana', and so on. This was probably used on the box for some sort of herb-topped pizza, the 'Verona, Piazza dell'Erbe'.

(How long before Godsento resurrect that to use that on one of their Instant Language products?)

The food links didn't stop there. Apparently some of the early artists were so hard up they couldn't afford proper materials and would just use whatever food scraps they had to hand.

This one, for example, is a mixture of water colour paint and the tasty Japanese fried treat, tempura:

This one, by comparison, uses watercolours and ganache (a creamy chocolate mixture) on vellum. Vellum is very rare, being the actual skin of a character from 'Lord Of The Rings'. The combination makes it so bright... so beautiful... ah, precious, you might say.

I discovered that painting, just like Photographs, Radio and TV, had started off in black-and-white and sepia, before moving through wishy-washy colour to technicolour. You can see the gradual move to widescreen too.

There were quite a few works from folks from other fields – writers Victor Hugo, for example, whose paintings look about as cheerful as you'd imagine, and nonsense writer Edward Lear. Lear in particular was keen to paint at a high level, was always hanging around with artists, trying to get his name known, and was definitely considered a bit of a wallaby painter.

The next one I noticed was labelled as 'A Beardsley'. Who knew that ex-Newcastle United striker Peter Beardsley could be so precise and delicate?

It was notable that the same names cropped up again and again - Blake, Rosetti, Burne-Jones...

...and lots and lots of Turner, the popular fuzzy artist. Despite the overwhelming amounts of Turner, there were no exhibits on show from Bachman, his partner in rock group Bachman Turner Overdrive, who also wrote the best-selling book about the outcast hobbit that learned to fly and explored Africa, 'Jonathon Livingston Smeagol'.

That's a damn shame, if for no other reason that they could have arranged them so the tour guides could point them out, singing the names of the artists as they go:

(We've got the music here for you to sing along with, if you want...)

Talking of names, at Dulac's 'The Entomologist's Dream', I noted it had been donated by Mr C.D. Rotch. Now, Two Legs Good has written before (here, here and here) on the pitfalls of stupid parents that don't think things through before they name their children, so I'm completely unsurprised that ol' C.D. always maintained the importance of that middle initial. How he must have thanked his parents for calling him C.Rotch!

But let's turn back to Turner. The Tate seems so in awe of Turner that they'll even exhibit some bits of paper he cleaned his brushes on while doing some real paintings:

The last rooms brought us right up to date with contemporary works, some so damned contemporary they haven't been finished yet, or in one extreme, appeared not to even have been started:

Yes, those were really on display.

It was interesting to see these in comparison with typical examples of how most people experience watercolours in real life, and to allow space for some of the gallery staff to bring in the 'art projects' their kids did at school to hang here instead of on their fridge at home.

It's often easy to forget how quickly happiness can fade when children 'do art'...

One child in particular seemed to be trying to tell her own story:

Poor girl - I hope that she's getting good advice to stick in at that violin, because let's face it, she's obviously not much cop as a painter.

Another cheeky wee scamp that might benefit from the same sort of guidance is Rebecca, who thinks she can get away with yet another version of the schoolchilds' ancient but ever-popular joke painting subject, 'Black Cat in a Coal Cellar at Midnight':

I'm guessing that maybe some of these were actually made in a play session in the gallery, perhaps on a bring-your-children-to-work day they'd had recently. The plastic sheeting they'd put down to protect the flooring was still hanging up to dry near the exit.

I must say that leaving an old plastic sheet hanging around like that is a disappointing end to such an informative, enlightening and encouraging show, but if you do go to visit it will probably have been tidied away, it looked quite dry when I left. Perhaps they could find a spare artwork or two to put in it's place?

For instance, I'm sure there's probably a spare Turner or two they haven't used yet – say, some of his sketches on the back of old fag packets, or some tissues he cleaned his brush on or artistically sneezed on – that they could use to pad it out a bit and look less empty.

Oh - one last thing. Watch out for the 'Catalogue' - you might think it'd show all the items on show, but far from it. Bit of a swizz, really.

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By Two Legs Good

'Nuff said.

(Thanks, T.)

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By Misty

I am not a happy bunny this morning. As Royal Wedding Correspondent for The Blog With Two Legs I have to write about the blasted event in the run up to The Big Day.

Let me make my stance clear:

1. I don’t care much for weddings, especially when more than 10 people are involved.

2. I don’t care much for the Royal Family.

So now that I’ve got that off my chest, it seems blindingly obvious to me that Prince William should have married what’s-her-name years ago. No, not Britney Spears…the other one… the brunette. Oh you know who I mean.

About ten years ago, when he still had a full head of hair, it was ok for teenage girls to fancy him. It was ok because teenage girls normally fancy the type of 'men' (in quotation marks because teenage girls never fancy proper men – they fancy aging actors pretending to be teenagers in soaps or those modern day eunuchs in boy bands who would never get anywhere with real women). So fancying Prince William was a laudably sensible thing to do.

Parents encouraged it too. Posters of him on teenagers’ bedroom walls meant they could let out a collective sigh of relief. 'At least she doesn’t fancy some coke snorting imbecile prancing about on stage like a gibbering idiot with a red hot poker shoved up his backside.'

Ready for a poker or two.

That’s why it was ok.

But that was ten years ago. Now that Prince William is a balding Prince Charles mini-me it is most certainly not ok to fancy him. Oh no. No siree. Not unless you could truthfully claim to fancying his dad and both his uncles, and if you did that I’d know you were lying, or mad, or both.

Fancy some of that?

All this 'we love Wills, isn’t he a Royal Hunk' nonsense touted in the press really gets my goat. It’s a load of baloney made up by right wing newspapers in order to sell copies of the Daily Mail.

Did they go crazy when Prince Edward got married? No.

Why? Because:

1. Nobody had heard of him.

2. He’s bald in an unattractive bald type way.

3. He picked his bride from the Camilla shelf.

So let’s take off those opaque-rose-tinted specs the press is trying to foist upon us and accept that Prince William should have married a few years ago when he was still arguably attractive. He no longer is, which, by the press’ own rules, is as good a reason as any not to care about his wedding.

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By Misty

Prince Charles has got to have one of the crappest jobs going. True, it’s nowhere near as grim as emptying bins or processing sewerage, but being named the Longest Serving Heir Apparent is the biggest kick in the teeth I can think of. They may as well have called him the 'Number One Also–Ran'.

He has spent all of his life waiting for a job that now, at an age when most people think about retirement, the press is suggesting goes straight to his eldest son. Ouch! That’s gotta hurt… and it’s not like he can go running to Mummy for sympathy.

In 2010 Prince Charles was the hardest working royal, completing 585 royal engagements, as if effort was going to help in some way. 'Try harder and you WILL be King'. Surely he’s figured out that’s not what helps you get on in life. I mean if anyone should have understood that, you’d think he would.

So what does he have to show for a lifetime of waiting and trying? Nada. Nichts. Just a load of photos of him looking stupid in various ‘traditional outfits’. 'You want me to wear this wicker hat? Of course, I’d be delighted!'

Prince Charles. Nice thatch.

Let’s face it, he wants the job reeeeally badly but he can’t bring himself to do what’s necessary to get it because he’s wanted it ever since he was a nine year old in short trousers still hankering for the comforting arms of his wet nurse. Now, 59 years later, he doesn’t have the job and I’ll bet he’s still hankering…

Oh well, at least the ginger one understands.

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By Atom Heart Mother

The Blog With Two Legs recently identified that the BBC News service is committing crimes against the English Language so heinous, I for one would consider going back to the Daily Sport for my news were it possible.

When The Blog With Two Legs demonstrated a deterioration in spelling which could, quite literally, be solved by a click of a button, I suspected the cause was mere sloppiness. However, since then further errors have crept in, and my further investigations have revealed the horrific truth behind the death of English at the BBC.

There is a revolutionary plot to take over the BBC!

As Auric Goldfinger said, 'Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action.'

Asylum seekers shld return, shld they?

That's what they sayd, is it?

Hague has comdemned them, has he?
Enemy action!

It's obvious that standards are slipping - but more information, more sources were needed. I turned to the BBC News website, and there, in a tiny article in an all but forgotten section, there, that's where I found they'd made their crucial mistake:

It was no longer just spelling! Who could be behind the sudden rise in bad spelling AND unnecessary apostrophes?

I shuddered at the thought - it couldn't be... could it?

I double-checked. I went back to my training, using rigourously scientific principles and highest-grade verified intelligence. What did I know about megalomaniacs that try to take over world-wide organisations by stealth? What do they have in common? Here's the executive summary:

Bad guys. Unfortunately, only two are dead.

So, putting all those clues together, what I was looking for was a bald, sadistic, ruthless greengrocer with megalomaniacal tendencies that loves to shout at people and intends to take over the BBC.

There's only one man fits that description.

The Man From G.R.E.G.G.

I think I've found our man!

Yes - The Blog With Two Legs can exclusively reveal what happened to all those redundant high street greengrocers, and what they did with their illegal stockpiles of unnecessary apostrophes and other WMDs (Weapons of Mass Dyslexia); they've bonded together to form G.R.E.G.G. - the Greengrocers' Revolutionary Elite Guerilla Group.

Now they've infiltrated the BBC at all levels, and they're taunting us, flaunting their new-found power by inflicting their symbolic figurehead, The Man From G.R.E.G.G. himself, Gregg Wallace.

Just look at the overwhelming evidence:

Gregg Wallace on 'Veg Talk'
Gregg Wallace on 'Saturday Kitchen'
Gregg Wallace on 'Follow That Tomato'
Gregg Wallace on 'Just The Two Of Us'
Gregg Wallace on 'The Money Programme'
Gregg Wallace on 'No, Missus, I've A Cucumber In My Pocket'
Gregg Wallace on 'Turn Back Time: The High Street'
Gregg Wallace on 'Masterchef'
Gregg Wallace on 'Celebrity Masterchef'
Gregg Wallace on 'Masterchef: The Professionals'

Then ask yourself this - other than as part of some Secret Evil Conspiracy, in any sane world can you think of any possible good reason Gregg Wallace would be on so many programmes?

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By Two Legs Good

Today is Maundy Thursday, a day when the Queen celebrates the memory of the Last Supper by a ceremonial 'giving of alms'. The BBC will be, as they say, covering the celebration. They have Nicholas Witchell eagerly reporting from an open-air platform in Westminster.

Apparently - and we must respect his inside knowledge on this one, for he is BBC News' Royal Correspondent - the Queen will distribute small bags of coins to a group of elderly citizens 'as part of the Maundy Thursday celebrations, and this is the first time it's coincided with her 85th birthday'.


How many 85th birthdays has this woman had?

We know that the Queen has a real birthday, then another set day each year as the state-recognised 'official' birthday. That's two birthdays a year, 100% more than most people, and a whopping 700% more than folks born on February 29.

Already one of the richest women in the world, according to Witchell she's not just contant with that, she's now celebrating her 85th birthday every year. Presumably that means she celebrates the other 84 of them too, so she's now spending an astonishing 1 in 4 days celebrating her birthdays!

Does Witchell not realise the harm this sort of information can do? All it takes is a leak like this from a favoured insider such as him, and the fashion is set. Soon royalists everywhere will be celebrating birthdays every week, and Great Britain will soon smother itself beneath a blanket of wrapping paper, gorged on cake and cava, and worrying about who they sent that obscene drunken phone-cam picture to.

Admitedly, there have been rumours and clues of her addiction for some time now. Addicts always find some sneaky way to feed their addiction that the rest of us won't notice unless we're looking for it:

Her Madge... never far from a good Cake-Hat.

We implore the House of Windsor, the Royal Family, to stage an intervention... for the sake of the nation, this madness must stop!

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