I've been hearing some trash being talked and some bull being spouted about how MAMPAM fell off. 'Bout how MAMPAM be filled wit' milk-drinkers, sops and pantywaists. Well dang them! Dang them all! Listen up, let me tell you how it's going to go down.
Anyone who wants to step to MAMPAM better tell us this trash to our faces, preferably via video conference. Right, that's that.
Something is gurgling from beyond the plughole, awakening from its merciful slumber. But it will not be denied. Bottles of wine alone will not quench its thirst, and Monster Munch and pizzas alone will not quell its hunger, for it knows no satiety.
Old News
Exactly five weeks and one day ago one of the Mammers (me) got married. To a lady (take that, Prime Minister Cameron!). A protest march (crawl?) was held by the remaining Mammers and Pammers in Cardiff to prevent one of their number being sucked from them, but they needn't have worried.
MAMPAM resists all attempts at the cutting of bonds. Even death will not be tolerated as an excuse, with Jon taking up a course in introductory taxidermy, funded by the NHS, natch. Presumably he will start off on smaller, weaker animals, such as Alex, before progressing to nature's more impressive behemoths.
MAMPAM is back!
Welsh Choral Music
Before I got married to my lovely wife, we indulged in the fine UK art of stagging, in the UK stag party's spritual home, Cardiff. This meant that, naturally, we decided to indulge in some local cultural activties, such as choral singing.
I later found out that this was an ancient, traditional song not from Wales but Norfolk, dating back to 2002.
Who knew?
MAMPAM VIII
MAMPAM returns with a bish bash bosh tomorrow for its eighth birthday. As usual it will be in Bromley and no girls are allowed. So far we haven't heard anything from Strasbourg saying this constiutes a contravention of the ECHR rulings, so onwards we plod. In an insane world, perhaps MAMPAM is the sanest path to tread.
We cannot wait for MAMPAM. We will not wait! But we will. Perhaps a rendition of I'm MAMPAM VII I am I am will be in order to celebrate.
A Final Thought
Special mention for Ben, because I haven't mentioned him above yet. And this means he gets to have a tag in the labels splat with the rest of us. Happy splatting, Ben!
Anyone who wants to step to MAMPAM better tell us this trash to our faces, preferably via video conference. Right, that's that.
Something is gurgling from beyond the plughole, awakening from its merciful slumber. But it will not be denied. Bottles of wine alone will not quench its thirst, and Monster Munch and pizzas alone will not quell its hunger, for it knows no satiety.
Old News
Exactly five weeks and one day ago one of the Mammers (me) got married. To a lady (take that, Prime Minister Cameron!). A protest march (crawl?) was held by the remaining Mammers and Pammers in Cardiff to prevent one of their number being sucked from them, but they needn't have worried.
MAMPAM resists all attempts at the cutting of bonds. Even death will not be tolerated as an excuse, with Jon taking up a course in introductory taxidermy, funded by the NHS, natch. Presumably he will start off on smaller, weaker animals, such as Alex, before progressing to nature's more impressive behemoths.
Welsh Choral Music
Before I got married to my lovely wife, we indulged in the fine UK art of stagging, in the UK stag party's spritual home, Cardiff. This meant that, naturally, we decided to indulge in some local cultural activties, such as choral singing.
I later found out that this was an ancient, traditional song not from Wales but Norfolk, dating back to 2002.
Who knew?
MAMPAM VIII
MAMPAM returns with a bish bash bosh tomorrow for its eighth birthday. As usual it will be in Bromley and no girls are allowed. So far we haven't heard anything from Strasbourg saying this constiutes a contravention of the ECHR rulings, so onwards we plod. In an insane world, perhaps MAMPAM is the sanest path to tread.
We cannot wait for MAMPAM. We will not wait! But we will. Perhaps a rendition of I'm MAMPAM VII I am I am will be in order to celebrate.
A Final Thought
Special mention for Ben, because I haven't mentioned him above yet. And this means he gets to have a tag in the labels splat with the rest of us. Happy splatting, Ben!
I posted this blog entry on my 31st birthday! What a zingerof a birthday it must have been.
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