Chris Donald

In Asda a kind lady stepped back to allow me to reach a loaf of bread on a low shelf. As I bent down in front of her I farted, then stood up, shamefully dangling a wholemeal loaf in my hand.

Later it occurred to me I should have smiled, waved the loaf at her, and said “It’s bloody good stuff this!”

If you have an elderly relative who is becoming forgetful and sometimes wanders off alone and goes missing, make them wear an ‘I support Palestine Action’ T shirt. That way the police will have no trouble finding them.

I have trouble with wind and noise, in my trousers.

I know men don’t read books anymore, but have any women out there noticed the similarity between Donald Trump and Don Quixote? Illusions of grandeur, opposition to wind farms. Stupidity.

I tried to get my mate Arthur 2 Stroke’s band on Something Else, but they said no. They wanted a heavy metal band to fit with their stereotype of the North East. Years later Arthur 2 Stroke’s son got his dad on Jim’ll Fix It - by telling them he wanted to sing in a Mexican band. Strange but true.

It wasn’t all bad. Jimmy Savile had a way with kids, and Johnny Morris did good animal voices.

Producers knew exactly what they wanted (punks/motorbikes) and just found a bunch of ‘kids’ to front it. Said I could paint the end credits as a treat, then charged BBC for graphic design and kept the money. Put us up in one of their houses in London and charged BBC for a hotel. We was swizzed.

That was from the same programme. We had wigs on and broken sunglasses.

It was the BBC Community Programme Unit ‘Something Else’ 1981 (‘the programme made FOR young people BY young people’… except they already knew what they wanted, and told us what to do).

Sorry. A full stop would have exceeded the character limit.

I reckon aliens will save the Earth by invading it and simply switching off the electricity. No more shit daytime TV, no more internet, no more misspelling and misplaced apostrophes on social media. It’ll be sheer bliss (until the aliens suck our brains out, or whatever it is that they intend to do)

The problem with the England team is that we are only allowed to field English players, whilst the opposition are always allowed to pick foreigners.

No, it was just some interaction he’d had with someone, that reinforced the preconceptions of him that I’d had before I’d met him and been swayed to thinking he wasn’t a twat.

I thought Jim Bowen was a twat, then I met him and thought he wasn’t. Then I read something about him and thought he was again.

Took Sandy for a walk today at Weetslade Colliery Country Park. Here he is pausing briefly between gatecrashing picnics.

Me and my brother Simon got together with our old pal Jim Moir and his wife Nancy the other day, in a repurposed biscuit factory, to stand in a line and smile for this photograph. (I didn’t realise the camera had a wide angle lens.)
Credit: The Bigger Picture Agency

Watched a ship roll in today,
Then watched another, larger one roll away

Skegness was painted (with real paint) by Simon Thorp 30 years earlier. I’m just returning to a favourite theme, railway posters, now that I can cheat and use Photoshop paint and brushes.

They say the police are getting younger every day. That’s bollocks. My cousin joined up when she was in her early twenties. After 25 years in the force she’s got grey hair, and suffers badly from arthritis.

Highlights of my Cornish Christmas were burning the £3 Blankety Blank board game we bought for entertainment, only to find it was a minimum of 3 players. And the magnificent, breathtaking architecture of Waitrose, Truro.

Could have promoted it as passengerless. Might have attracted a few bus drivers.

Pretty obvious really. First place to look for an enemy of corporate America would be McDonalds.

Viz magazine was 45 today. Hats off for Rude Kid and Paul Whicker creator, the late Jim Brownlow. Wouldn’t have happened without Jim.

In the old days you could write to Heinz, tell them you’d found a set of false teeth in a tin of beans, and they’d send you a 144 free tins, just to keep it off That’s Life. Last week I emailed Cadburys and told them I’d found a chocolate cock in an advent calendar. They haven’t even replied.

For sexy blokes in drag you can’t beat Jack Lemmon. Some Like It Hot.

Francois Hardy for me. Or Alistair Sim as Miss Fritton.

Gregg Wallace’s lawyers should stop procrastinating and saying, flatly, that their client denies allegations of inappropriate behaviour. The obvious defence would be to say ‘Aah! Come on! They LOVE it, really!’