Boys'R'Toys

Out and about and in and out

Sunny shining evaporate drout

Rivers of Bliss and Mountains of Winks

Summers here

Yes! Muckspredder stinks



When tired of jam and tea, stretch ones legs, pop fingers, grind jaw to the whistling silence of a summer dawn

Smell me in the garden, field me on a bridge, hug me from woodglade trip, bite hard to my rosy lips

Sandals pinch of sand delights, Puppies yap in dusky fright, all the world is out tonight, sleep and lover winter, elope on diamond kite

Aretha and Dusty Springfield entered Manager Wanda

My Manager/Agent/Mentor and sometimes lover (in your dreams Miss Orla) has followed the ways of her number 1 client.

Winning a prestigious pagan event called 'Kareoke III' and beating the likes of Phil Jupitus and Ben Miller.

You decide if (like me) you think she resembles Hitler riding a Pig.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xaBQ0MJ5lhs
Her proudest moment.... which doesn't say much.

Sylvester Stallone's Agent Is in Da House

Just as I was leaving aunties - via the bar and 3 G&T's I bumped into a distinguished chap. Had an accent from 1940 Hollywood (if you know what I mean ladies!).

Could I restrain myself? Barely!

While helping 'Jimmy' dab off some red wine - using spit and towelling - he whispered that he had a difficulty.

Being secure and sheltered in the cubicle - I urged him to speak freely - I am - if nothing else - a quintessentially trust worthy friend, mentor and confident.

His 'client'. Mr Sylvester Stalion needs a new Kidney. Not for health reasons - purely recreational endurance.

I understood everything and felt supremely confident within his arms.

The difficulty Jimmy had was with the provenance of the organ.

As you probably all know those clever science bods in Yankyville have perfected ‘Willie Wonker/Star Trek’ beam technology.

I.e. the ability to break an item into billions of pieces and re-create that item – perfectly formed, feet, yards or even miles from pick-up.

The computing/light…. thingy processing is so enormous that the Science Bods do keep the samples small and simple. Like a Willie Wonker Chocolate Bar or a human organ.

The Provenance of Sylvester’s Kidney comes from pre-death, death row inmates. These young fit lads are perfect hosts… their meals and exercise is ordered and consistent. The lads are in peak condition.

One day they wake without a Kidney.. if they wake at all? They give something back to society (wealthier members of society) and I’m sure somewhere in their feral brains they feel a stab of pride.

Sylvester's issue is - he doesn't want an organ from a bad person... he feels it's sullied, dirty... I suppose you could say - tinged with Evil?

I insisted Jimmy take me to Mr Stallone at ONCE. I'd never heard anything so flim flam feeble before. And coming from a big Hollywood bod!

18 hours later I was laying by the Pool of Jimmy's Cottage (only Americans could call a 18 bedroom Mansion a Cottage:0) . Sheepishly and distracted Sylvester strutted in.

I tapped a towel covered stool - beckoning Sylver to join me.

I whispered "Do you like Steak?"

Sylve laughed - such an silly question to ask an American muscle man. He assumed I was a simpleton...

I was the master of this verbal chess game.. Slowely Slowely Catchee Monkey...)

I got dressed into my silk LA pjs and led Sylv to the table. My cook - Mr Eagle - was BBQing steaks. The smell was intoxicating.

"When you eat that rare steak, with Worchestershire Sauce and mushrooms, and you chew it in your mouth - how do you feel?"

Sylvester got close to my face "A man eats meat - meat is good"

Mr Eagle served two fat rare steaks. Almost as big as a mans fist. My mouth salivated as I tossed my eyes from Steak to Sly to Steak to Sly.

Sly and I stared at each other as we chewed and cut and fed ourselves.

Swallowing hard I cleared my mouth. As I wiped the juice from my chin I said "What if this steak came from a bull. A bull that went wild and stampeded. In that stampede the Bull killed a small child. Would the steak be bad?

Sly laughed an open and full mouth laugh.. The laugh of Goliath as David appeared with a sling.

I let him roll his eyes and pick his teeth then I jabbed again "So the meat isn't bad. The meat isn't condemned for the actions of the Bulls brain?"

"No you strange Brit - of course not" Sly smirked

"So why dismiss the organs of a Convict? That Kidney didn't break the law... it was the brain - the brain that did wrong. As a modern society we must be able to seperate the organs from the brain. The skin from the bones." I dazzled Sly using my Obama nation style.

Sylvia was dumb struct. He leant over and with a mouth full of mushrooms he kissed me full on the mouth. I felt like a little bird being fed by its mumma.

Cut off in my Prime

Hello Devoteas

I was called away suddenly - not the spirits - more random than that - it was a CELEBRITY.

I'm back at Old Aunties - stirring troops and summoning dead commissioners - when a tall Scottish hunk began wittering on...

"oh i'm looking for a printer, where's my printer... I need a printer"

While eyeing up my equipment I thought - I KNOW YOU - YOU'RE A CELEBRITY.

I should be a detective - as like Sherlock Holmes I deduced:

1) I recognise Him
2) He can't be friend or family because I don't know any black haired Scottish men
3) My luck was in

So coming to his rescue - I helped this whitterer - glowing with English rose radiance and the residue of a particularly pumping gym session.

He said "Thankyou - you're very kind"

I agreed, he's observant even if printer retarded.

I pressed the buttons for 2 copies and put the paper into the machine (yes he'd fecked that up - trying to shove the paper into the air cooler!)

Genetically speaking - he's attractive, tall, fit. He's a celebrity so 'Talented' smart and 'Show' Business savvy. But he's also cack handed and dufus-like.... Breeding potential - ummm - Scottish men are well known around my end - to be generous if hesitant lovers... hey i'le give him a shot.

Father of my first born - may allow that.

I'le keep you posted...

...he's probably irritating the tits off his wife - i'm not that much of a feminist to come to her rescue and take him off her hands - and if she's a Scottisher she probably thrives and swells on adversity and suffering.

Rascist Rant over - that's why my last blog was cut short.

Another Ibiza ditty that shot out of me was a future warning to a tight clothed actress who presented herself on her knees...

CSI Animal

Got a call from my Agent
Got a call
Got a call

He said 'Little Princess'
You're going to the ball

I've got you Animal Rescue
A Feature that will place:
CSI Animal
Insert - Titled with your face

CSI Animal?
I questioned
'What is that?'

"CSI Animal Crimes against...?
Cat, Bat or Rat"

Come Monday Morning
Wardrobe dressed me up
Tight; jeans, Vest Shirt, Lacquered hair
Black Boots worn 4 stirrups

I looked NY chic
LA Glam
I'm a Hollywood Dream Babe
Ready for HD Cam

First shows
Were simple shows
Abattoir and Battersea Dogs Home
Reasons for Deaths - so clear
Even without DNA smear

3rd case was mighty tricky
on A45 to Penge
Hedgehog suspiciously flattened
His death - my duty to avenge.

Rule of thumb when CSI'ing
Hold off assumptions to the end
First impressions can be false
This is no Pretend

On my knees I dusted for prints,
On my back I scoured for motive
On my feet I UV'ed for Blood/Semen
With one of these - I did succeed

Trajectory of Blood Splayed
out from end to end
1.7m diameter
once again - I don't pretend

I photoed every angle
Photos of my looking great
Photos of my mate Johnny
Ooops wrong step I make

I stepped back onto flat Hedgehog
The Director and Producer saw
They’re both animal lovers
Sensitive issue – too raw

They let me finish the ep
Demo’ed how Hog was hoe’ed
Slow-Mo recreation
Using plasticine hog and road

My pretty scaled blood spat image
My pretty butt in tight jeans
My pretty NY chic stirrups boots
No dent – They told me ‘Just Leave’

I was a Doctor - till they cut off my heart and balls

Welcome to the year of the Oxe - 2009 - Bully for me? 'Yes!' Bully for you? "Well let me look at you closer... get closer to your screen.. oooh - Yes!"

You're asking yourself - 'what did Miss Orla do for New Year?'

(Once a Psychic - always a Psychic - ha ha!)

You're asking yourself - 'Was her New Year as good as mine?'

You're asking yourself - 'Is it too late to buy dollars cheaply?'

For all those answers and more... keeeeeeep reading!

New Year 2009

Wow what a night - what dancing - what revelations???

Infront of 17,000 party goers in Ibiza I sung the following trippy skank fiver song lament - bellowed straight from the bowels of Naraka:

I was once a Doctor
Treating the sick and the lame

I was once a DoctorAlas...
never again

I saved a life lesser than human
NO Human Dr can

I save a life of a Zebra
this is how

my pain
began

My husband was dozing beside me
Driving our beautiful Sedan
I changed the radio? Was I lighting a fag?
This is how,
my pain
began.

Hitting a Longleat Zebra
To lazy to run from the horn
To dim to fear metallic roar
travelling faster than a Lion's Yawn

The thwump did wake my hubby
The thwump did dent my car
Zebra limping away
Won't get long away
from bruising my Sedan Car

I sped on foot to the Zebra,
He ran limply away
Back in the car I followed
Won't escape medical prey

Shouting 'Hold the Wheel' hubby
we drove alongside beast
Shouting 'Hold the Wheel' hubby
My own safety in Sedan did cease

Around the neck I did grab
pulling the Zebra to the ground
Rugby as a young girl good training
Forcing my quarry down down

Lame leg trussed with scarf and belt. I slung him
His panting chest.
No fear of mine
Hubby and I lifted him dirtly
Onto front of car - with twine.

Driving to the Exit
(Sign said - don't turn round)
We unloaded our cargo gently
Both hubby and I did not frown

As the smell of the wild excites us
and seeing knowone around
We consumated our effections
txting Longleat - once come down

Unbeknownst to my hubby and I
CCTV within Longleat is key
With head shots, tyre prints, number plate,
HTV showed we could not...
escape

I was once a Doctor
Treating the sick and the lame
I was once a DoctorAlas...
never again

I saved a life lesser than human
NO Human Dr can

I save a life of a Zebra
this is how
my pain
began

Life Lesson: Number 1 and 2

1. boni pastoris est tondere pecus non deglubere
2. Learn Latin

Wicca'd Thoughts

Alas and pity Miss Orla - yes i'm succumbered.

Wicca spirits are taunting and cruel.

I was asked to a small prison in Iceland to evict and evoke the Criminal Wicca spirits out of the prison's upper class convicts.

You see I know and their families know that it's not their rich children breaking laws - but wicked lower class 'Wicca' spirits possessing their grown strong children.

So one by one I invited each of these polo shirted, floppy haired, arrogant, strong willed, muscular men into my borrowed cell (they found me a double ensuite near the prison kitchen).

Sitting them opposite me - with my hands running from their shoulders to knees - via their rugby thighs - murmuring the anti-wicca chants that my Aunt Mooomoo had taught me on a weekend in Alberta in '82 - I felt a niggling fire lite up. A fizzing and tingling in all my pointy bits.

Tip of nose, little little toes, pouting lips, stirring hips.

My tongue kept licking, the lips I kept nibbling. I blushed, I rappidly blinked, my heart raced, I giggled.

A mighty Wicca curse. I nearlly fainted. My assistant offered to sit with me, or take me outside. No - I shouted - I will over come.

Then the strongest of the Wicca Demons came in - the demon was hidden in Janak - a 24 year old blonde man with fire in his eyes.

I got permission to cover the glass panel in the door so we were alone. I forced that Demon out of Janak. Thrown around the room - I was locked in a flaming furnace of Flesh and Spirit. The demonic howls left both our bodies - building to a total eviction of SPIRITS.

Janak slept afterwards - the rattling echo of that Wicca spirit may never leave me - but I know I did my duty to the full and earnt my £18,000 rightly.