Origins Of Sayings
Have you ever wondered from where certain phrases, idioms, or sayings originated? No? Then what are you doing here? We all quite often utter a saying in everyday conversation – if we didn’t then it would no longer be a saying and would instead fall into the category of just being a writing – and it may surprise you to know that almost 100% of the one person I just asked about the meaning of the phrase "three sheets to the wind" wasn’t aware of its historical origin referring to drunken launderers losing bedding in gales thanks to rum. Such a high percentage of knowledge-lacking and my own genetic drive to help the mentally-deficient such as you has forced upon me this determination to provide meanings to some of the less well-known phrases and sayings. Saying: Sick as a parrot Meaning: Devastated Origin: If you watch sport on TV in Britain then you will inevitably hear an interviewed loser exclaim how he or she is "sick as a parrot". While it has now come to be synonymous with a feeling of devastation its origin is in late 19th century botany when it was discovered that the coital engagement of parrots (the birds were observed to throw fondue parties and swap wives) was rather at odds with the more prudish level of acceptable marital behaviour of the time. By the 1970s, however, this attitude to parrot sex was completely reversed and the phrase’s association shifted for reasons unknown to its current standing. Saying: The cut of your jib Meaning: Your attitude or behaviour Origin: A jib is another word for "foreskin" and this phrase has its origin with the Jewish faith. Young circumcised men would proudly display their cut genitals to women in attempts to woo them. If a Jewish girl liked the cut of the man’s jib then she would proceed to issue a detailed audit of his personal wealth before consenting to be his business partner. Men who passed this vetting process were subsequently sufficiently cocksure of themselves (no pun intended) to cause this particular metaphor to enter into general usage. Saying: Not enough room to swing a cat Meaning: A small space Origin: When they weren’t engaged in wars with their neighbours many European countries during the 17th century engaged in occasionally less violent competitive behaviour in the form of indoor animal playpark-construction. The French were particularly well-respected for their rodent see-saws while the Belgians demonstrated their prowess at wonderfully-ornate parakeet slides. The 1690s saw the English gain widespread admiration for their ceiling swings for cats and the rest of Europe adopted the design into many of...
Brian Cox – Wonders Of The Universe Promo Pictures
As many science fans will know, the widely-acclaimed (I acclaimed it three times myself and I’m fairly wide) BBC series Wonders Of The Solar System presented by Professor Brian Cox (to be shown on Discovery in August) is to get a much-deserved sequel – Wonders Of The Universe – to be broadcast in the UK in early 2011. Brian has been galavanting around the world filming for the new series and he has just released a series of promotional pictures to promote it in a pictorial manner. I think you’ll agree it looks great. Professor Brian Cox mounted in the cockpit of a Hunter jet from episode #1: The Wonder Of Aliens. Professor Brian Cox plus feline friend from episode #2: The Wonder Of Leaning On Things. Professor Brian Cox and a chopper, also from episode #2: The Wonder Of Leaning On Things. Professor Brian Cox and his Glaive about to do battle with the Beast and his army of Slayers in the Black Fortress in order to free the lovely Gia, again from episode #2: The Wonder Of Leaning On Things. Professor Brian Cox, general promotional shot for the BBC series Wonders Of The...
Victorian Anachronisms
If there’s one thing that the Victorians were really good at then that was photographing pornography. If there’s two things that the Victorians were really good at then that was photographing pornography and building time machines. The Victorians really liked their time machines and history was filled with thrilling incidents of their many excursions into the far flung tomorrows (some of which were our yesterdays) and distantly removed yesterdays of their todays (all of which were our yesterdays too) right up until the point when one of the Victorians altered the then-present timeline, uninventing the various Chrono-Perambulators and Time-Velocipedes of the, er, time bringing most of the temporal shenanigans to an end. Most. But not all. Time is a difficult beast to tame and quantum fluctuations in the sub-nucleonic furry membrane of the Transdimensional Penguinope‘s Chronoflippers has a way of leaking memories of things that once will-beens and will-be were to-comes across space-time. I’m a collector of such things. I don’t know much about this lady other than what I assume to be her name written with a flourish across the rear of the photo: Winifred Thorpe-Sputum. No record exists – to the best of my searching ability – in our current historical records as to her place of residence or family. What I can tell you about her, though, is that she was immensely proud to have gotten her hands upon one of the first Atari 2600 video console systems. Quite how she plugged such a system in is not clear and it may be that Mrs Thorpe-Sputum simply appreciated the aesthetic qualities of the device. Fans of Victorian music know that after you’ve heard a few chamber quartets perform their repertoires a couple of hundred times it all starts to get a bit samey. No surprise then to find modern (if you’re reading this in the late 1980s) music travelling the time helter skelter back to the nineteenth century to liven up the entertainment somewhat. I wish I could tell you just what this Victorian girl was listening to on her ghetto blaster but I’m not privy to such information. I’d like to think, however, that it’s the Sugarhill Gang. It doesn’t take a Chronoforensicist like me to see that this is clearly a woman displeased with her iPad and who can blame her? Apps would have been nigh impossible to find in Victorian Britain and the one app she might possibly have wanted – the app that makes the thing useful to anybody except fanbois – simply didn’t or won’t exist back then, now, or in the future. The Victorians learnt to their cost that time...
Professional Gardening Tips
You can’t fail to learn a thing or two about maintaining a garden when you venture out into your own once or twice a year but somehow I’ve managed it. Never mind, though, because what I lack in gardening skills and knowledge I more than make up for with an active imagination and that’s why I’m treating all the people interested in keeping their own gardens looking prim and proper to these gold-plated, cast-iron-effect-tin, 63% certified, professional gardening hints and tips. Just to clarify: the gardening tips are professional; the tips are not for professional gardens. I don’t even know what a professional garden is. Even if there were such a thing then what’s an amateur garden? Is it only a garden for special horticultural events but the rest of the week it’s a butcher? Maybe. Speaking of "maybe" I may be veering off the point here somewhat. Gardening Tips Licking pollen makes you veer off the point somewhat. A goat is a gardener’s best friend. Don’t blink. Blink and you’re dead. Don’t turn your back. Don’t look away. And don’t blink. Otherwise fucking lilac grows everywhere. Gravel is a gardener’s best friend. Do not watch Jumanji just prior to venturing into your own backyard jungle; it’s really not a very good film. Wear a yellow tee shirt and witness nature’s rare "Look at this giant flower everyone!" dance by a herd of bees at close quarters. Paving slabs are a gardener’s best friends. You call it a flower; your wife calls it a weed. Accept it is a weed and remove it as ordered. Do not waste time and energy arguing. Every second spent arguing is a second spent in the scary garden of doom. If you smell moonshine and hear a banjo deep amongst the garden undergrowth then back away slowly and quietly and call for armed reinforcements. Six tonnes of concrete is a gardener’s best friend. Every shovelful of dirt turned over, every bush pruned, and every troupe of toads scooped up and batted into the neighbours’ garden is a potential Pixar animated classic gone for good. A flame thrower is a gardener’s best friend. Attractive pots and urns in your garden prevent things growing under their bases; but only for so long. Letting everything rot where it falls is only natural. It’s certainly natural for me because I’m naturally lazy. Napalm is a gardener’s best friend. Fans of low-maintenance gardens should have saved their money and bought an underground bunker instead of a house with a strip of land out the back shouldn’t they Mr Hindsight? Taking off and nuking the site from orbit is...
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