Yorkshire Sculpture Park comes up trumps again. Pops and I headed out there after being fatally betrayed by Pontefract's town council and their trade description flouting "Liquorice Festival". The festival billed as "all things liquorice" consisted entirely of a liquorice dalek (?!), a stall giving samples of liquorice beer and a van selling liquorice sweets, of which only a third were actually liquorice flavoured, the rest were watermelon, cola, apple etc etc. As was duly noted at the time, there was probably more liquorice in my Dad's lower intestine from the allsorts he'd had earlier in the week than there was at the festival.

The Liquorice Dalek

The museum in Pontefract did however provide us with a few chuckles courtesy of it's jaw-dropping collection of "quaintly english" (ie rascist) early 20th century sweet labels, depicting sinister Gollywogs chasing white men and generally scaring the bejesus out of kids and adults alike: packet of Nigger Eye's anyone?! Or maybe after Mum's bought her 40 Regal for the week, the kids might want to spend their pocket-money on their own "Boys and Girls Packet O' Fags"?



Anyway, Pontefract Liquorice Festival - rubbish. YSP in summer, nothing short of sublime, as my piccies hopefully illustrate.



Usher - Moving Mountains lyric "the water from the rain washes progress away" misheard as "the water from the rain wash his frog ass away". That's Timbaland delivering the musical sweetness again by the way.

You could do an entire book on the ridiculous adverts that Google Ads generates: Hipsway ringtones anyone??!! I don't deny that The Honeythief would make an excellent ringtone, it's just that the demographic for that particular product probably covers about 6 people in the UK. And 4 of them used to have sons in Hipsway.

Imagine being at work and being asked to make a giraffe from silver foil as part of a Fun Week. Imagine it. The tallest, most stable, most accurately realised giraffe wins. Such. Amazing. Fun. I think it's part of a managerial initiative to help people enjoy themselves at work. But I don't need upper level manager assistance to think of fun things to do. I can think of fun things on my own. Like making a realistic assagai out of the silver foil, using the tube to strengthen the shaft, and then leaping over the desks whooping and plunging the Baco-blade into the quivering chest of the organiser and showering in their hot blood. That's obviously a lie because I don't feel motivated to exert anything like that level of energy. I'll just blog it instead.