Skip to main content


Showing posts from May, 2011

If only zay could talk...

I've always held that truth is stranger than fiction and spend rather too much time on social networks posting links to stories which demonstrate the point. The news, however, that the Nazis planned to train dogs to speak takes us to a brand new level of wtf. The so-called 'Woofen SS' has been uncovered by a British academic, trawling through archive journals in Germany. Essentially, a contingent of fascist Fidos was trained to imitate human speech - a little like the mutt on That's Life in the 1970s who was able to say 'sausages'. According to reports, the specially-trained canines were taught to tap out messages with their paws and converse about poetry and political matters. I'm not sure we needed any more evidence about just how barking mad the Nazis were, but this is definitely one to file away for future reference. Are you a talking hound with something to say about this story? If so, please use the comments button below.

It's all Greek to me

Loving the ad from EuroMare Forwarding Ltd in The Guardian's special pullout on Greece today. The company provides what it describes as a 'containerised and intermodal transport service' and dramatises this exciting proposition with a number of starbursts and speech bubbles. "Greek Lemon Juice for your Barbeque" Yes we can deliver it with Efficiency "Greek Canned Peach for your desert (sic)" Yes we can deliver it with maximum safety "Mediterannean (sic) Cuisine orginating from Greece" No Problem! will be on time to your plate! My message to the Thessaloniki-based business is "English Speaker for your advertisement". And best of luck in delivering those peaches safely to the desert.

A good feed in Falmouth

As regular readers will know, I'm not in the habit of plugging businesses on Washed and Ready to Eat , but I'm happy to make an exception for Clarks Restaurant in Falmouth, Cornwall. The owners - Carolyn and Ian - made me very welcome on a recent business trip and served up a really great meal. If you drop in, tell 'em Phil sent you.

You go to the gym? So do I!

Every time I visit the checkout at Tesco, I can't help but pity the poor workers who are forced to wear ridiculous badges that tell me the year they joined the team. They are also encouraged to give me details about their hobbies and interests. What exactly am I supposed to do with this information? Strike up a conversation? "You know what, Mike? It is Mike, isn't it? I just couldn't help noticing that you're a keen gardener. The thing is, so am I! I suppose it's what they'd call a coincidence, but isn't it weird that two such keen horticulturalists could end up in exactly the same place at the same time?" If I worked for Tescoses, I'd want to liven my badge up a bit. My name is Phil. Joined the team in 2011. I like smashing plates at Greek restaurants. I was on the last G20 demo. I have an obsession with Lady Gaga.