The King's Knockers
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So, a bunch of self-satisfied telescope-huggers are claiming to have discovered the biggest star ever - a great big ball of fire 300 times the size of our sun. I actually discovered that particular sun a couple of weeks ago whilst gawping at the night sky through my camping binoculars, but I'm just too modest to make a great hoo-har about it. Obviously I am writing to the British Astronomical Association to tell them that it was my discovery and that it shall be called "Henry's Golden Ball", but I don't want them to make too big a fuss of me.
I love my camping binoculars and I use them all the time. Catherine calls themÌý my "'noculars" and I've abbreviated that name still further and call them my "knockers". I've certainly been putting them to good use here at Sandy Hole. In addition to discovering new corners of the universe I have also been feasting my peepers on the most illuminating behavioural traits of my fellow campers.
I now know, for example, that the elderly man in the red camper van across the way wears a toupée and is actually as bald as a baby's bum underneath that fluff rug. Silly old fool thinks he looks good with that pathetic chunk of carpet balanced on his head, but I've seen his bonce fully nude and I think I should perhaps tell him that being honest about his hairless slap is probably the best policy going forward.
I have also observed how the family in the nearby dome tent seem totally happy to share their games of twister with the vast menagerie of cats and dogs they've brought with them, seeing nothing peculiar in such practices even though their frail little moggy is clearly less than enamoured at having an Afghan Hound sit on its head for minutes at a time. I would call the RSPCA but they're still annoyed at me for punching that squirrel back in the spring.
I've even noticed that the short, dumpy woman doing aerobics every morning is taking a big risk in not wearing a sports bra - honestly, I think she's in danger of knocking herself out. As far as I can make out, there is nothing but bouncy carnage going on in that there t-shirt and it's causing me such worry that my coco-pops have been left to go soggy three days in a row now.
All in all, I do love my knockers.
Henry VIII was (sorry, is) king of England. The second series of his online show, Henry 8.0, has been showing on the Ö÷²¥´óÐã Comedy website - a new episode will be published next week. In the meantime, catch up on Henry's previous blog rants. You can also or .
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