I've decided that trying to be tremendous is far too tiring, so instead I'm going to work on 'unique' (a bit like Scara and his inspiring and rare diary entry :p) I think that'll be easier and more relaxing. Making my bappage dissappear on occasion would also be good, especially when I work with male kids during their puberty, their gormless staring at my wabs instead of actually listening to me is well fookin freaky....hmmm....maybe a sharp pencil could 'by accident' lodge itself in a painful place......do-de-do-de-do...*smug, yet innocent whistling noises*. Maybe myself and Spork should start developing some 'anti-wab-staring' missiles, propelled, obviously, from the bra. I reckon that we'd make a stash of cash on that whilst also solving some of the world's problems. Right, I'm off now to draw up some blueprints for those babies.

Will I be famous?

Will I be rich?

Here's what she said to me.......

'No Love, you're gonna be just like your Brother, a right pain in the arse', Well, perhaps that is true, but I've decided I'm going to go down a different road, that one signposted as; *Trrrremendous twinned with superbsville* (I think the multiple r's are important because they make it sound more magnificent and, if you roll the r's, slightly Spanish). To be described as 'Tremendous' must be fantastic, ahem, what I mean is that when people describe me as tremendous, which they do, all the time, honest, erm ask anyone they'll tell you, then that is fantastic. I don't just mean that I want to be 'tremendous' at *something* (like prodding, which I already am) but tremendous generally, in every way.

Mmmmmm, with a lot of hard work I'll get there eventually, step-by-step, day-by-day.........qué sera, sera.........

Even if the world is about to go up in a chuff of smoke, just what use do you think sending me this crap will do, eh, eh? Do you think I can stop it? My bum tricks may be good, but they're not that good. If the apocolypse is about to happen my advice to everyone is to go to your nearest supermarket and have a good old prod at whatever you can find. Especially if you are one of these lying scumbags who keep voting in the poll *pretending* you would never, ever, do that sort of thing....you know you are telling porky pies, it is completely natural, don't be ashamed, be proud to prod.

We might not be hearing from Spork for much longer, she's about to be famous, well in Derby anyway....My mate Dave (yes, I do have a mate, and he's not that expensive) who's a Science teacher saw Spork's very funny diary experiments and has decided to use them in class, tee,hee! I always told her she'd make the big-time.

Results: The whole world (well, general survey of about 10 people) are meat prodders! Most admit to doing it when shopping but some claim only to do this in the comfort of their own homes, this made me feel kinda like a flasher perv, maybe it's the thrill of being caught or something, I dunno. But, I have also found a new breed of prodders, those that belong in the bakery section. Now, you may think this is part of buying bread to check for freshness etc, but let me tell you, the stories I heard today would make your crusts curl at their freakiness.

This is the beginning of new cutting-edge social research, I reckon that prodding, of any kind, animal, vegetable, bread or human must be the only way that we humans can cope with shopping in the frenzied hell-holes known as supermarkets. The investigation continues...this is Plimsole, reporting from the butchers, for Geek-ware.

So, to all those that were keen to pidgeon-hole me as a meat freak, then damn you, myself and the prod-meister are off to Asda for a quick fix.

BTW has anyone else noticed how bAckline seems to have been kidnapped and replaced with a garage lingo lovin' specimen? I blame Osmond, I reckon he's onto us, even if he is on horseback.

It has been stated on many an occasion that my arse is majestic and all powerful, even to the point that in well known furniture stores it claims in many a mock pine cupboard that I not only do bum-tricks, but I do them well. So well in fact that my bum finds it hard not to overpower the wonder of my magic pants and Le Sac Magique. With all of the conjuring abilities my arse and possessions have, the Magic Circle don't have enough insurance cover for us to join, thus resulting in a new magic circle being created; The Majestic Mooners Club (Spork failed the MMC entry test). Now, if Spork, the foolish one, really wants to declare war on my arse then let her, more fool her, she'll rue the day....muahua!!!

ODE TO MY ARSE

My arse is lovely, big, and round,

To insure would cost 10 million pounds,

Spork's arse-magic doesn't come anywhere near,

So, we shall never be in fear

LET THE ARSE-WAR COMMENCE.......