Swine Flu Gone - The Village is Safe!

The other morning, one was sashaying along the passageway from the conservatory to the library when the telephone rang; it was Ida Rash - one of the Rash triplets. Ida and her siblings Hedda and Ivor, run the village charity shop.

Normally, one would wait for Chu Me to answer the telephone but he had just had one of his specialist nature DVD's delivered and was inspecting it. I believe it was something to do with bears but really, I don't know where his DVDs come from but the spelling is atrocious; do you know, instead of Bears in the Park, they had actually printed Bareass in the Park??!! Still he loves his nature so as long as the documentary is value for money, all is well.

Anyhoo ... Ida Rash told me they had just taken a delivery of some odds and sods from a house clearance and that there was a rather gorgeous piece of Royal Worcester that may be of some interest to Crusty. As Chu Me was a little preoccupied, I decided I would take the Aston and have a quick blast into the village.

It was while I was driving out of Crusty Hall's gates that one bumped into Doctor Arthur Pedic and the village nurse, Angie Gramm. They really should have looked where they were going but, thankfully, other than a cracked helmet and a ripped stocking (Angie Gramm's and not Dr. Pedic's, of course) they appeared to be fine.

One lowered one's window, "Doctor, dear, there's no marks on the front of the car, are there?"

"No, Dame Crusty, You actually hit my leg rather than the bike itself."

"Good show!" I said, " What brings you up to one's home on this gloriously sun drenched day?"

"We were just coming to tell you that the Swine Flu scare seems to be over. We have no further reports of symptoms."

It was indeed marvellous news. One had quarantined Crusty Hall for the past week or so, ever since Angie Gramm had first mentioned the potential outbreak. One even had to put a member of the household staff in the stable block for a week after I saw her runny nose. She said it was hay fever but one thought a week locked up wouldn't hurt and may even toughen her up a bit.

As one sped off to investigate the Royal Worcester find, one got the impression Dr. Pedic and Angie Gramm were looking for a lift - now that their bicycles were slightly bent - but one could not have blood on the leather upholstery, could one? As chance would have it, they seemed quite happy hobbling down the lane as I glanced at them through my rear view mirror.

Mark Lester Father of Michael Jackson's Daughter?

One was sitting the in the library at Crusty Hall the other evening checking one’s Facebook and emails.

When I signed out of one’s Hotmail account my curiosity was stimulated by a headline that Oliver Twist had claimed he was the father to Michael Jackson’s scrumptious little daughter, Paris.

I know, I could hardly believe it oneself so I clicked on the headline and read further. It appears that child star Mark Lester - who was a long time friend of the late Moonwalking Megastar - had been approached by Mr. Jackson; He had allegedly asked if it a donation of sperm could be given up for breeding purposes.

One has obviously not been privy to the exact account of the ins and outs - as t’were - but while reading the article, one pictured the scene in one’s own mind to clarify things.

The Scene: Two friends sit at a dinner table being served a delicious main course:

ML: [claps hands] Food, Glorious Food!!

MJ: Oh yes, Mark, It’s a Fine Life. Tell me, Mark, would you do something for me?

ML: I’d Do Anything for you MJ; after all Where is Love if it is not between two such good friends and I Consider Yourself as one of my closest.

MJ: Mark ... can I have your sperm?

ML: [shocked] (thinks: Well, As Long as He Needs Me I suppose…) MJ, after Reviewing The Situation, of course I’ll do it. If you can order desert I’ll just pop off for a little Oom-Pah-Pah …. Be Back Soon.

[Exit ML]

[½ hour later, enter ML with half filled receptacle]

MJ: Thank you Mark! Promise me you won’t tell a soul about our arrangement. If you do I Shall Scream.

ML: MJ, my friend, Who Will Buy such a story. You certainly won’t find this Boy For Sale. I assure you there is only one occasion after which I would think of disclosing such private information; That’s Your Funeral.

And thus the story leads us to believe that nature’s nectar was passed between the two men and a gorgeous little poppet was born. Whether the transaction was carried out using a resealable freezer bag, a turkey baster or an adequately sized piece of Tupperware is unclear, as is the matter of whether there is any truth behind the tale.

Anyhoo … I don’t know about you, poppets, but one thing is for sure ... one will certainly never be able to enjoy the song Beat it in the same way again and all in all the very thought of such things has left a funny taste in one’s mouth.

Employment Agencies - Qualified to Recruit?

I was cleaning out some old bits of rubbish from the study this morning and came across a print off one had taken of a job advertisement. It was placed on a reputable website, by an even more reputable employment agency and I believe it was advertised around 2004.

One remembers printing it off as I was agog at the number of mistakes throughout the piece and really wondered if the agency who placed the advert should, indeed, be qualified to select candidates for inclusion in the work place.

Crusty swears this is the actual advert placed although one has removed the company name so as to avoid embarrassment. (apologies for the poor scanning quality but for some reason there was baby oil smeared on the glass platen - goodness only knows what Chu Me was scanning last night!)

I have never found out how many people ansered the advert but let us hope someone was lucky enough to obatain the postion.

South Carolina Man Arrested After Sex With Horse.

One reads some of the strangest things on the interwebular community and none more so that the story on MSN today.

An American man, has been filmed having sex with a horse! (one is assuming it was of the lady variety)

Now, I know what you're thinking, 'those Americans will film anything and no wonder our societies are in such a state' ... but no poppets! This film was not of professional doing but a security film taken by the owner of the abused animal.

Rodell Vereen, 50, from South Carolina was caught for a second time humping the same startled creature. He had previously performed the same act about a year ago. Thankfully a relationship had not had a chance to develop.

Anyhoo, he has now been placed on a sex offenders register and been charged for the offense.

The poor traumatised horse is, I believe, in a stable condition.

A Joke To Exercise the Chuckle Muscles.

One awoke this morning and the weather was glorious! Señor Sol was definitely showering Crusty Hall with rays of his warmth and one felt alive!

Chu Me had clearly been up much earlier and as I sat up to watch my gorgeous little poppet Colin his-twinkle-makes-y'-tingle Briggs appear on my 28 incher with his regional update, one could see my faithful houseboy out of the window - by the stables - fussing over his hens and stroking his proud cock.

After Chu Me brought breakfast to my bed chamber, I suggested it would be a wonderful idea to take the Aston for a spin into the village and have a lunchtime snifter at the Badger's Snatch. Now, I do not want my readers to think Crusty is in the habit of frequenting drinking establishments; the Badger's Snatch is a public house steeped in history and is therefore acceptable to be seen there. It has a charm that has been unchanged for many years. Furthermore, since the new owners have taken charge - Fanny and Willy O'Dour - it's popularity has increased significantly and it has now replaced the village hall as the central meeting point for our delightful little community (much to the annoyance of the vicar).

Anyhoo ... around 11.45am Chu Me and I were speeding down the drive on our way to our lunchtime venue. On arrival, Chu Me naturally went to the counter to order our drinks while one sashayed elegantly through to the beer garden detras. It was here that one got quite a start when one saw a Rash; it was Ivor.

The Rash triples (Ida, Ivor and Hedda) run the village charity shop and are forever doing good throughout our community. Ivor Rash has a wicked sense of humour and one always looks forward to him recounting one of his marvellous jokes. Today was no different.

As we joined his two sisters in a shady corner of the beer garden, we popped open the bottle of ice cold Pere Ventura Brut Cava that Chu Me had brought (Fanny always keeps a case on hand for my visits) and awaited Ivor's little gem:

A man who just died is delivered to a local mortuary wearing an expensive, expertly tailored black suit.

The rather unintelligent mortician asks the deceased's wife how she would like the body dressed. She points out that the man does look good in the black suit he is already wearing.

The widow, however, says that she always thought her husband looked his best in blue, and that she wants him in a blue suit. She gives the mortician a blank cheque and says, "I don't care what it costs, but please have my husband in a blue suit for the viewing."

The woman returns the next day for the wake. To her delight, she finds her husband dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a subtle chalk stripe; the suit fits him perfectly.

She says to the mortician, "Whatever this cost, I'm very satisfied. You did an excellent job and I' m very grateful. How much did you spend?" To her astonishment, the mortician presents her with the blank cheque

"There's no charge,"she says.

"No, really, I must compensate you for the cost of that exquisite blue suit!'"she says.

"Honestly, madam' the mortician says, 'it cost nothing. You see, a deceased gentleman of about your husband's size was brought in shortly after you left yesterday, and he was wearing an attractive blue suit. I asked his wife if she minded him going to his grave wearing a black suit instead, and she said it made no difference as long as he looked nice…so I just switched the heads."

Well! One thought this was knicker-wetingly funny and just had to share it with my poppets.

Dame Crusty - The Agony Aunt Returns.

It has been a while since "agony" has been popped into one's box - refering, of course, to the box of correspondence one receives each day from my faithful housboy, Chu Me.

This week, however, a troubled poppet has written to Crusty seeking advice.

Dear Dame Crusty,

I'm sleeping with the boyfriend of my best friend. She's really in love with him but he's planning on leaving her for me. I really want to stay friends with her but I don't know what she'll do when she finds out.

Chardonnay, Newcastle

Dear Poppet,

Well, you have been the little tramp haven't you? Your urges have got you in quite a pickle but I suspect when your best friend finds out, she'll kill you and you shan't have to worry your tarty little head about it. I hope this helps.

DCG x

Wayne Rooney Has No Idea!

The wife of non-aesthetically pleasing footballer Wayne Rooney appears to be having a sad old time of it during her pregnancy.

Crustettes will recall one had posted on this very subject before in the distant past.

Somebody had apparently been posing as Mrs Rooney on Twitter and leaking the news that the couple had successfully bred and that a baby was on the way. The two Roonies had their spokesman announce immediately that her twits were false. However, one's mystical powers tingled and one knew that it was only a matter of time before expansion of her mid section would begin.

Anyhoo ... poor Coleen has announced to Closer magazine that, "Wayne has no idea how hard pregnancy is".

He may not know how hard it is now, dear but I'm quite sure he grasped the hardness at some stage during the conception! It was a good night for her and a good night for him.

May all go well and the pitter-patter of studs be upon you soon.