Farty's Fortunes

Saturday, 24 July 2010

East Fortune Airshow 2010

So this time we remembered to bring folding chairs, so that we didn't a) crick our necks looking up all the time or b) get wet off the grass. I took 300 photos and videos, mostly of empty sky, wingtips, exhaust smoke or trees. Of the rest, these are the least worst.

As usual, click to embiggen.

That's not a vampire - THIS is a Vampire! on Twitpic

Russian Red Arrows
Aerostars in formation on Twitpic

Not only dragons spit fire. on Twitpic

Wing Walkers

Wing Walkers (video)

Wednesday, 21 July 2010

The Tale of the Missionary and the Black Sheep

A missionary gets sent into deepest, darkest Africa. He spends years with the people, teaching them to read and write, and about the good Christian ways of the white man. One thing he particularly stresses is the evils of sexual sin, "Thou must not commit adultery or fornication!"

One day the wife of the Village Chief gives birth to a white child.

The village is shocked and the chief is sent by his people to talk to the missionary.

"You taught us of the evils of sexual sin, yet here is a black women who gives birth to a white child. You are the only white man that has ever set foot in our village. It doesn't take a genius to work out what has been going on!"

The missionary replies: "No, no, my good man. You are mistaken. What you have here is a rare, but natural occurrence. It's called an albino. Look to thy yonder field. See there a field of white sheep, and yet amongst them is one black sheep. Nature does this on occasion."

The chief pauses for a moment and then says, "Tell you what, my friend, you say nothing about the black sheep, and I'll say nothing about the white child!"

Sunday, 11 July 2010

Edward Cullen Eat Your Undead Heart Out

So this week, young, almost teenage girls have been falling over each other to get some of my precious bodily fluids.

They've been very, very persistent, sending me letters, begging me to come and pay them a visit.

And when I eventually arrived, they were clamouring around me in their short, white skirts and tight blouses, demanding to know every little thing about me.

"What do they call you, handsome?"

"What's your star sign?" 1

"Hey, do you operate, you know, heavy machinery?" They get totally turned on by that.

"So, where do you take your holidays? San Francisco? Equatorial Africa? Anywhere that's had a recent outbreak of a communicable disease?"

"Man, have you done any good shit lately? Smack, crack, anything involving needles, basically?"

And then they got really personal, asking about my sex life and that. Not so much about all the prostitutes I'd murdered but whether I'd had unprotected sex with them, either before, during or after.

Then they gently laid me down and I barely felt the tiny, sharp sting as they began to suck out my lifeblood and I slipped into a daze...

Next thing I knew, I was sipping a nice cuppa tea with my chocolate Hobnobs.

Best thing about it? Not an angst-ridden Twilight fan in sight.

1 Technically, "What's your date of birth?" But anybody can work out your star sign from that, right? Right.