webofevil: (all hail)
As anyone will tell you*, transporting horses for long distances is hard. There are many stories online of horses on aircraft being monitored closely by armed vets for the slightest sign of distress, when they will be immediately shot to avoid damage to the pressurised outer wall. Never mind that these are not truewhat if they were?

We have had our best people working on a solution to just such distressing fictional scenarios, and the final results are impressive. Rather than expose horses to the manifold risks of flying, this proposal would see them exposed to the slightly reduced risks of seafaring instead. Chief designer Mary Anne Zimmerman kindly presented me with the finished design on my birthday:



For a detailed guide to the many features of HMS Seabiscuit (but, due to an error, minus the sparkly horses), click the picture below:




* Well, not anyone.
webofevil: (Default)
"We don't fit in any one category! Our music can't be labelled!" It's a familiar cry, often from musicians who are eminently and instantly categorisable, but in this case, if this is one of the possible categories, I have to say I sympathise:



Record shop, Bergen
webofevil: (Default)
Tough economic times call for tough marketing tactics. Let's cut to the chase, Oasis:




You are now entering Chinatown:

webofevil: (Default)

The Guardian ran this photo yesterday. Although "the shape of a flamingo" is stretching it, you can at least make a case for it being a pretty convincing duck.

It’s slightly unnerving, although for my money not as much as when a jellyfish stung my sister's arm—IN THE SHAPE OF A JELLYFISH.

webofevil: (Default)
In case you’ve been wondering, “Just where the hell have you been, [livejournal.com profile] webofevil?”, then I’ll ignore the fact that you’re being a little brusque and tell you that I’ve been to a family meet-up here:



That’s more than a 3,000-kilometre journey. I would have split the driving with my brother, if I could drive. We took the car up north instead of flying because we wanted to take our time returning along the spectacular coast. So the trip consisted of things like this:

      

And this:

   

Very much a shedload of this:

      

And a statistically unlikely amount of this;

      

Also, a museum of dried fish.



webofevil: (Default)

Which came first, the trees or the block of flats?



Either way, is it maybe time to rethink this arrangement?
webofevil: (Default)
I am currently away. Until service is resumed, here is a perfectly sensible clothes shop opposite my hotel whose name I confess to finding an endless source of childish amusement. I have no excuses for this.

Lucasta

Dec. 22nd, 2009 10:25 am
webofevil: (Default)
The art world was in turmoil this morning after experts claimed that the snow picture created outside [livejournal.com profile] webofevil’s flat on Monday afternoon was signed not by the artist but by someone else entirely. Experts pointed to the different techniques used for the two elements of the picture—“dragging a foot in the snow” for the signature and “maybe some kind of stick” for the mouse or possibly bear itself—although other experts pointed out that this did not preclude the same person, thought to attend a local school, being responsible for both.


The work, originally credited to “Lucasta” and bought by Maurice Saatchi for £41,000,000,000,000,000,000,000, will now have to be put into frozen storage by experts until its provenance is established by experts. “It’s a disaster,” said an expert.
webofevil: (Default)
St John the Divine: faithful apostle, favoured gospeller and parking attendant.



Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] psychonomy for living near this sign.
webofevil: (Default)
Given Thora Birch’s recent inexplicable cameo in my dream, I was a little weirded out to see this at Charing Cross last night. Is it maybe an ill-advised band name?

webofevil: (Default)
My friend Isis summed today up nicely: “I’m going to work. I may be some time.”


Commuter, of unknown origin, outside my flat

   

webofevil: (pg)
One of the top attractions in Worthing is the cage.



Once inside it, children must prove themselves in brutal combat before they are ever permitted to leave. Coastal life is harsh and unforgiving, and only the ruthless survive. Only £1.50!





Are “jazz apples” somehow involved in the production of family juice?



Finally, cower before the satanic majesty of...



... Worthing’s bat-faced church!
webofevil: (Default)


Whatware and whatstyle whatcents?
Chrimbo tat-mart in Worthing gets ideas above its station




It’s not quite the incongruous marriage of “cultural thing you’ve heard of” and “disappointing funfair ripoff” that it might appear—Mr Spock was addicted to these things.
webofevil: (Default)
Can anyone explain this?



Is it of special significance that this sticker has been surreptitiously placed near a statue of Emmeline Pankhurst next to Parliament?

webofevil: (pg)
Officially quicker to walk:



(NB - these are local trains)



I applaud the decision to proceed with this graffiti despite the writer surely knowing just how weak a joke it was:





I look forward on understand meaning translation distinguish!





Freeview plays “Lost Consonants”:





And there’s been a new directive from the Ministry of Euphemism:

Reportage

Sep. 9th, 2008 11:27 am
webofevil: (Default)
Others have already documented the ruin of Battersea power station more than adequately, but I wanted to share this moment from the jaunt around the site the other week. All that’s happened is that a kid has hefted his dad’s tripod on to his shoulder and pointed its leg at him while his dad obliviously takes pictures, but it manages to look like reportage of some terrible incident unfolding somewhere. “Another chapter in the bloody history of Palestine”, etc. Should I try to punt this to Newsweek?

Bus drivers

Sep. 8th, 2008 03:27 pm
webofevil: (Default)


Not that all London bus drivers constantly drive like unbelievable pricks or anything, but here are two buses that have jammed themselves in so closely in a narrow street that the driver of the bus on the right is standing at the other end trying to direct his colleague as he inches his vehicle around. Meanwhile his passengers can’t get off and make their own way to Victoria station, just up the road, as he’s not allowed to let them off anywhere other than a bus stop or he gets six points on his licence. And all this is before Boris has got his teeth into running Transport for London. Good times!

December 2015

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