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Suggested Audio Jukebox:

[1] Jackie Wilson “Talk That Talk”
[2] Ashford & Simpson “Solid” 
[3] The Prodigy “Funky Shit”
[4] M “Pop Musik”
[5] Foo Fighters “Monkey Wrench”



Anyhoots enough about me, what’s cooking with you at the moment? Had you sweating there right? Fret not as I have no intention of passing this particular dutchie. You see, I’m rather a talkative chap. Indeed, attempting to shut me the hell up appears to be a fruitless endeavor, although I have been known to be a kickass listener on occasion too. Primarily however, it’s usually my lips that are doing the flapping and flap they do for dear life. Over the past few years, all track has been lost of how many times I have blathered on and I’m showing no signs of easing off the gas pedal any time soon. Surely at some point I will run out of topics to discuss right? I mean, what can there really be left to wax about? Actually I regret to inform you that I have no intention of hanging up my boots just yet as wind-up teeth don’t wear boots silly. It’s bare foot all the way with the exception of this guy who had a Footlocker gift card.


I know what you’re thinking you know. They really bring out the blue in his eyes. Anyhoots, there is no way on earth I could even conceive of calling it a day when I haven’t even posed the burning question yet. I already know that this one is on the very tip of most people’s tongues and has been an elephant in the room for way too long. Why don’t they make toasters that bread fits into? I mean, I’ve never seen a tank that doesn’t accommodate three privates, a goldfish bowl with a layout that can be memorized, or a Justin Bieber CD that can’t be dashed into a million fragments. So why do I have to cut off the crusts to fit a slice of my granary loaf into my toaster? It’s beyond ludicrous when you think of it. The manufacturers had themselves a single brief, that being to construct an appliance capable of browning bread. Inexplicably many seem to have failed and I have evidence sitting in my kitchen right now, pouting as though I have no divine right to expect anything other than a thumping migraine from our daily run-ins.


To be fair, it’s not the most pointless gadget ever devised and that honor would likely fall to the USB Pet Rock from our good friends over at ThinkGeek. I’ll give you three guesses what this one does. That’s right, you’ve got it in one – absolutely bugger all. Granted, it plugs neatly into your USB socket just as proposed, and could act as a makeshift paperweight I suppose. However, it is also a pocket-sized boulder and shares the same functions. No storage capability, no LCD display, no colony of ants cooped up underneath waiting for the right time to pilfer your picnic blanket. Just a rock.


You think that’s bad, some genius by the name of Mick Madden managed to get the Goldfish Walker patented. Not only can your goldfish be totally oblivious to its immediate surroundings, but it can now also be oblivious to other surroundings. The Goldfish Walker does precisely what it states on the tin, allowing you to take your favorite limbless cold-blooded vertebrate animal out for a walk. It even comes with its own leash.


At least Toilet Golf is a step in the right direction. I mean, when you’re on a par five and having troubles with that daily bowel movement, you can now work on your putting. With the 9-Iron supplied, you can have your handicap down in no time and, while you’re at it, sink some battleships. Ingenious! Somewhat less enterprising and more like a sick joke at some poor sucker’s expense is the DVD Rewinder.


I happen to have been mighty fond of the VHS format but, alas, not everyone was kind enough to rewind and it was the bane of this video store clerk’s existence. I pity the fool who came up with this one as, by the time his invention came to fruition, VHS was a defunct format and had been replaced by DVD. Now unless I’m mistaken, there is no longer any great need for reverse gears. Suddenly Toilet Golf is looking inspired. Meanwhile, infants can now take a poo while giving their C drives a thorough defrag thanks to the iPotty from CTA Digital.


I shit you not and frequently worry about the age we live in. The crazy thing is that I can actually imagine this one taking off with the right marketing push. I can see it now – “dump those files in style with the new iPotty”. I wonder how Norton Antivirus holds up to diphtheria.


Then there’s the Breast Cushion from The Kush Company and this one’s strictly for the ladies. Should your boobies have a tendency to spar as you sleep, then simply slide the Breast Cushion between your cleavage and peace will be restored while you slumber. By the time you awaken in the morning, titties A & B will be the very best of friends and more than willing to express the lactose for your morning latte.


Should any alphas be feeling left out then worry not as the Man Bra from Wish Room is on hand to achieve a similar level of tranquility. Gynecomastia is a real affliction and otherwise known as man boobs or “moobs” for those on friendlier terms. Any excess body blubber can now be kept in check and comes in an array of colors to match up with those jockeys. I happen to be rather partial to lingerie but think I’ll draw the line at the Man Bra. Firstly, I’m flat-chested and, secondly, it’s some way beyond preposterous.


That said, it cannot claim to take the biscuit as that dubious honor falls to the Walking Sleeping Bag. If I’m honest, I’m digging on this particular creation and feel compelled to place an order the very moment a camping expedition is forecast. Like a bed on wheels but far better exercise, this affords you the opportunity of strolling off into the woods at the dead of night if your bladder starts complaining. If there’s a flaw to the design then the lack of any discernible zipper would surely be it. Then there’s the fact that you’ll become the laughing stock of your counselors. However, as they’re frantically attempting to wriggle out of their bed-rolls while Jason Voorhees cleaves through their tent canvas with his bloody machete, you’ll be a good country mile ahead, likely snared in a bear trap, but with far more agreeable odds of survival. For the record, I once had an entire sachet of itching powder emptied into my sleeping bag and that is all I wish to say on the matter.


So you see, there are always talking points to discuss, and I’m more than happy to scour the internet for inspiration every time I assume my daily position just to shed a little light in the name of a few breezy chuckles. There’s just so much to ponder and lighthearted fun to be had. Of course, you could argue that there are real issues in the world that need urgent addressing, and I won’t argue the toss on that one. However, some other chump can whine on about the state of global recession or ballooning rates of obesity, I’m happier tickling those funny bones and turning a few frowns upside down than crusading for the greater good. Let’s not get it twisted, the world is under attack at this very moment and mankind needs to shape up fast if we’re not to give way to a new breed of future dinosaurs. But I am but one man, chattering away cluelessly in my corner, with the barest of bones audience paying the slightest attention to my waffle. Thus I’m all about the shits and giggles and not even necessarily in that order either. Here, which of the following three primates looks most approachable?


Could it be Monkey #1 – Crabby Hal. Under no circumstances should you request that he lend you his iPod as he’ll slap your smile to reverse settings merely for meddling with his shuffle playlist. It’s not that he enjoys being moody or is looking to come across edgy, just that there are so many reasons to be pissed off when you’re an ape and he still hasn’t forgiven NASA for what they did to his second cousin Bluebeard. Meanwhile, his peanut allergy is a constant source of annoyance, particularly given his fondness for Butterfingers. One wayward bite and he becomes an orangutan.


Then we have Monkey #2 – Benedict Powers III. Pretty suave huh? Indeed, he is not short of a few bob. That said, this multi-generational tight wad is so ham-fisted that no banana in its right mind will come within peeling distance for fear of asphyxiation. His boxer shorts may be Calvin Klein and his suit Georgio Armani, but that doesn’t mean he can read the long hand on his Rolex. It’s ultimately all show with Benedict and, the next time Wall Street crashes, he’ll likely end up huffing crystal meth behind a dumpster with the other burnt-out bonus apes.


Or how about Monkey #3 – Johnny One Drop. Even the hog is grinning thanks to Johnny’s laid back demeanor and jovial outlook. Granted, his Radiohead library is far less extensive than Monkey #1 and he is unlikely to be invited to any high-profile fundraisers with that T-shirt on, but look at that adorable bobble hat and tell me you’re not filling out adoption papers as we speak. Has been known to break out into impromptu bouts of line dancing and was once mistaken for poultry due to his wildly erratic moves. Was he offended? Hell no. He even laid an egg just because he finds the word “omelette” so amusing. Needless to say, said egg was a dubious shade of brown and smelt funny.


So what was your selection? If you say Monkey #1 then you should be ashamed of yourself; the last thing you want to do is give that rogue any more airtime than is absolutely necessary. As for the well-dressed Monkey #2, sure he’s a jungle V.I.P. and some refer to him as the king of the swingers, but where’s his sense of fun I ask you? I’m all about Monkey #3 and it seemed like a no brainer to me. Indeed, I wouldn’t be here now, churning out irreverence, if I let the other two in on the secret. When I informed Monkey #3 about my intentions for Chatterbox, you know what his reaction was? Neither do I as he is a gibbon but I’m fairly assured it roughly translated to “knock yourself out”. His reward was an iPotty and he can’t get enough of Fruit Ninja although he flat refuses to harm a solitary banana, which is drastically affecting his high score. Thankfully, it’s not the winning that matters, but the taking part. That’s why I’m so content with being a loser. Far more sociable right?


Eventually all good things are destined to come to an end as even primates have bedtimes. As a matter of fact, I’m off right now to zip myself into my Walking Sleeping bag, with Breast Cushion firmly in place and Man Bra holding it upright. I’ll leave Monkey #3 to finish downloading Google Chrome onto his USB Pet Rock as he has agreed to turn out all the lights and take the goldfish for a walk before bedtime. I just hope he is kind enough to rewind the DVD as I plan to play eighteen holes in the morning and won’t have time for such laborious antics. I’ve sure enjoyed chatting with you fine people and hope to see you here again at the same time tomorrow. Actually I just remembered that I have my shock therapy in the afternoon but I’ll try and whip you up a banana smoothie before I bite down on that sponge. That’s one of your five-a-day don’t you know. You see, always looking out for my readership.

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