Posted 10:12 AM by Gobbler
"The present upsurge of the peasant movement is a colossal event" Chairman Mao Zedong, 'Report on an Inestigation of the Peasant Movement in Hunan' (March 1927)

Firstly, an amendment. Snowdon isnt 992 metres high, or even 994. It is 1085 (at last count) metres high. So it is a mountain. Which may explain why they call it Mount Snowdon. Sorry all. Perhaps Laura I had been drinking after all, i cant remember its all a bit hazy.

Now then, trousers. Invented by the Galls such as Asterix and Obelix in France a fair while ago, their basic design has remained unchanged since them. At least as far as I know. But, lo! This is not the case in China, i was forgetting. Which is the whole point of this blog. Chinese trousers have moved on. They have a secret trapdoor in them.

Now, Im not talking any old trousers. Im talking babies trousers, pants of the little kiddly-wink variety. Adults do not sport the trapdoor modified trouser, tho perhaps they return to them in later life. Chinese babies and young children are invariably wrapped up in 32 layers of clothing. This keeps them at a mean temperature of 82 degrees celcius. This produces two effects. One, a pink head and rosie cheeks. Everyone likes a nice rosie cheeked child, they look cute. Two, they are already half cooked so if times get hard and theres no food about you can eat the children. At least thats what i had always thought until recently. I have found out that this is only one side of the story.

Imagine the scene. You are two. Youve been wrapped up in 32 layers of clothing again and youre heading towards boiling point. You then need to answer the call of nature. Nappies/diapers have never caught in your 'hood', but your wearing 32 layers of clothing and theres no time to take them all off before your bladder explodes or things get stinky. On the face of it, youre bu**ered. But, aha! The Chinese arent stupid you know. They have installed a secret and very practical piece of apparatus into your attire. The trap-door.

The secret to this unique device is to not sew the trouser legs together around the crotch. Thus when you squat a highly satisfactory gap is revealed allowing for the practical actioning of the bodily processes. Thus you can piss and crap wherever you jolly well like. This idea was cemented in my brain the other day when, cycling along, I passed a bus stop where a man was holding aloft, somewhere at chest hight, his pissing child. A charming sight, delightful.

Shortly after going to bed tonight I'll get up tomorrow and show my class the rest of the first part of the lord of the rings. Then i'll be faced with the prospect of teaching them something. Im tempted to show them the second part. It would save a lot of effort...

Posted 3:14 AM by Gobbler
'Yes but constable Ive only had a couple of ales.' Withnail and I (ish)

Cycling around is, as has been mentioned, an entertaining tho hazardous exercise. Nearly got creamed twice on Friday, firstly when i wasnt looking where i was going and almost had a head on collision with a motorbike, and secondly about three minutes later when racing the final street with Ruboid. I tell you that bus came out of nowhere, and tho i dont like to admit it Bluebelle (the bike) would not have stood much of a chance. Managed to skid out of the way. Races off the menu from now on.

Cycling becomes decidedly more hazardous with the introduction of several glasses of ale. Heading back at about 3 am on friday after a time of general hilarity and jollity including a bouncy boogie at the celebrated Banana Disco, things were a little unsteady overall. Immediately subsequent to me setting off on my bike in pursuit of rubers i fell off it again, and crashed to the floor rather close to a big tree. This minor technical drawback resulted in a bit of my knee being shaved off, but happily there was plenty left so i tried again. I was more successful this time.

The next biking faux pas came along what i call Park Lane, the smelly alley that runs by the park, (oh the irony) when Rubers accidentally cycled at some speed into the gutter. One second there he was, cycling along happy as a sandboy, next the whole show was ruined, as his forward process was halted due to the fact that he had joined the rubbish and sewage in the gutter. Luckily it wasnt the worlds biggest or dirtiest gutter, and he now only smells marginally worse than usual. the bike was ok, and the only other bike related excitement that night was climbing over the main gate with it as the guard stubbornly refused to wake up.

BLimey, got a class now. Sunday! what next. And ive not even told you about the marvellous childrens trousers. ooh, can you feel the excitement? I can.