Everything Found In 'A Bad Idea' Category

Honestly, I’d only popped out to buy some spoons, then suddenly it was five months later and I realized I hadn’t updated Tiggyblog. Sorry about that, readers.

That’s not to say nothing has happened to me for five months. There has been a lot to blog about – the Norwegian lawsuits, that police chase through the zoo, the odd stains I now have on my carpet… Oooh and you know, I nearly DIED in a plane crash (the plane didn’t actually crash, but that engine didn’t sound right to me), and I had an out-of-body experience where I nearly DIED, and I woke up in the Top Gear studio right in the middle of them taping a show. That was embarrassing.

So what woke me from my creative slumber? Well, certainly not my muse Dave, who was last seen vomiting over the side of a Mersey ferry. No, it was the guilt I felt when I read that Tiggyblog was recently listed in Amazon Kindle’s top fun 100 blogs in the whole world, or something. My dead blog beat approximately 7,000,000,000 blogs to 92nd place. And that, readers, is probably worth me penning a few more posts, even though nothing interesting will ever happen to me again. You missed it ALL.

Oooh, and did I tell you I nearly DIED the other week…?


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Releive the boredom of driving with the Road Trip Tray!

Are you a busy salesman or executive out on the road? Save time and increase productivity with this super Road Trip Tray! Now you can write reports and browse e-mails on your laptop while you cruise down the highway. Also makes a great dining table for those high-speed picnics. And the Road Trip Tray’s 1001 uses don’t end there…

* Parents! Keep baby happy by using it as a diaper changing station, allowing busy mums to keep moving while attending to junior’s movements!

* Have a dangerous old car with no air bags? Simply tie a soft pillow to the tray and remember to bury your head into it as your car collides with that speeding truck or kindergarten group.

Net nerds! Can’t bear to be away from Facebook or YouTube for a minute? Worried you’ll miss the latest hilarious Lolcat picture? Surf while you drive with this fabulous Web Wow Wheel Widget and never miss a moment of cyber fun!*

Truck, what truck?

*Do not operate while driving. Pretty please. No really, don’t. Seriously. OK, only for really important e-mails. And maybe Twitter.


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Mafia Wars

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Frigging Mafia.Dear readers, it’s been a while… a bloody long while since I posted anything. I’ve received literally several e-mails asking on my whereabouts, am I still alive, do I need bail money etc. Well thanks, but no. My problem has been of a more sinister kind – THE MAFIA!!

Yes folks, it seems my innocent little blog caught the attention of a shady underworld mob somewhere in Russia. Incensed by my poor grammar and constant piss-taking of Meat Loaf, those cold-hearted dons decided that my blog must disappear. From some dingy basement in Moscow, a team of ruthless Mafia hackers decided to take it apart and TAKE IT DOWN. They trashed it, burned it, pissed on the flames with their vodka-infused urine causing the flames to get higher and burn a bit more… until there was nothing left but a charred, defiled cinder of a website. Those BASTARDS!

Either that or I forgot to renew my web hosting account, I’m not entirely sure.

But anyway, having now single-handedly defeated the Russian mob, I guess it’s time to get on with it and write some ruddy posts! Bugger.


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Back in 10 Minutes

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The inconvenience store.

“Back in 10 Minutes”. I walk three miles to the convenience store, only to find a scrappily-written note stuck to the door. Back in ten minutes? When is that? Is this the first minute, or the ninth? I wait ten minutes, but no-one comes back. What a shoddy way to run a store!

Time passes. I begin to wonder if something has happened to the clerk. Is he lost? Has he been hit by a truck while crossing the street? Or brutally murdered in an alley? Perhaps I should call the emergency services.

I wait another ten minutes. Now I’m getting worried. The clerk must have met with accident. Typical! I need a carton of milk, and they’re lying dead in a hospital corridor. Hang on though, that is a ’10’, isn’t it? It could be a ’40’ if I look really closely and squint a bit. Back in forty minutes- what kind of store is this? So much for customer service. Oh well, I only have another twenty minutes to wait.

Thirty minutes pass. I realize I may look a bit of a twat standing outside the store. A passerby across the street stops and stares at me. They must be thinking “Why doesn’t she go in? Does she have a phobia about convenience stores? Is she a bit retarded or something? Maybe she’s blind and can’t find the door handle. Should I go and help? No, she’ll probably get offended. I don’t want to appear patronizing…” And so the passerby stands there, agonizing about whether they should help the poor retarded blind girl.

Another fifteen minutes pass. This clerk is ether taking the piss, or really is dead. What if the store has suddenly closed down and the clerk is out of a job? Perhaps he has taken revenge and made off with the cash register. Or driven to despair by his impending unemployment, the embittered clerk has rampaged through the store with a shotgun, opening fire on the customers! You hear about that sort of thing all the time. Is the store is full of blood-soaked bodies? Maybe I should open the letterbox and see if the smell of death wafts out.

That’s it, I’m calling the cops. Something is terribly wrong, I just know it. But the cops might think I’m involved! Why else would I be standing here for ages, acting suspiciously? Great, now I’m implicated in a mass shooting and robbery. That passerby on the other side of the street has been staring at me for twenty minutes now. They must be an undercover cop or something.

Perhaps I should break into the store. I can smash down the door and rescue any victims that might still be alive. Then I’ll be seen as a hero, not a felon! And maybe I can help myself to a couple of chocolate bars while no-one’s looking. I’m sure Forensics won’t miss a blood-spattered bag of chips either. Okay Tiggy, steel yourself. Breaking down the door in 3…2…1…

I crash through the door and hurtle headlong into the shelves. Pop bottles and Reece’s Peanut Cups rain down on my head.

“What the fuck are you doing?” screams the clerk as he grabs a shotgun from under the counter. He glances at the door swinging off its hinges and grabs the ‘Back In 10 Minutes’ sign.
“Shit, I forgot to take down that sign. I hope the boss didn’t notice…Hey crazy lady, one move and you’re fuckin’ dead… Hello, 911… is that the police… I have a major situation here…”


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