The Bombing of Porcelania

Bread.  I love it.  Eating a loaf of bread a day is no problem if I don't consciously put my foot on the brake pedal.  If I can I’ll turn everything into sandwiches.   Every possible combination of cooked meats / cheeses with every combination of salad and relishes.  Fish finger and chip butties, absolutely.  Crisps sarnies?  Yup!  Bread and gravy too.  With soup - always of course.  Yum!  

But not just the standard stuff troughed by normal folk.  If I can put it between two slices just before I chomp it then it’s fair game.  Breakfast / lunch / dinner / supper.  2 slices of bread with a slice of toast between?  Smothered with dripping?  Meat pie sandwiches anyone?  Bread and butter puddings!   And so on.  If you can think of something edible I’ve probably had it between two slices of bread.  Wot?  A cheese 'n Riccall sandwich?  No no no… NOT one of them. 

Yes, I can easily eat a loaf of bread a day.  London Alan watched me devour a mountain of the stuff on the NC500 ride in 2019.  A dozen rolls the size of Elephant toenails at breakfast.  Croissants too!  They’re bread’ish aren't they?  Mountains of toast!  And always, always finishing the day with a cheese and ham sandwich.

However, I think I overstepped the line the other day when I took a sliced white loaf into the bedroom with my latest girlfriend.  As well as getting my face slapped and the relationship coming to a prompt end that night, well, I don’t think I’ll ever dip my soldier into a runny egg ever again without getting an erection.  😳

I love this Russian cartoon.  Sadly it's funny.  It is also now banned in Russia.  Of course.  I don’t blame the Russian people for today's carnage in Ukraine.  Just the repressive megalomaniac fecker who’s standing on top of them all in his jack boots.  As stated by the creator of this little gem.  

I love America too!  However, it’s spoilt by the Americans isn't it?  Not all of them but sufficiently so.  Like whilst at the US border in the airport waiting in the long queues of wildebeests on their way to an American holiday veldt.  Held up by them there aggressive mini Hitlers at the border control - so that's everyone with any form of official lapel / badge on their shoulders / gun on their hip.  The harshness of getting a holiday flight load of folk through US immigration makes you realise what it would really be like to take a big bite out of a shit and sugar sandwich.  Or to live in Mexico.  

Whilst I love bread sadly my body does not.  I can best explain what eating bread and other food stuffs does to my body based on the effect it has at the exit.  Sorry here come my personal wartime anecdotes of my battles with Porcelania every day.  Stop reading now unless you have a strong constitution...

Since retiring the body's rhythms have 'normalised' so much so that it is no longer a surprise to me that an internal air raid siren goes off at 9am every day.   With a sudden deep throbbing hummmmmph!... I take flight from the sofa and I taxi my way to the bottom of the stairs.  With a feeble thrust from my after-burning knees [1] I make the climb to altitude.  As an old school non-stealth aircraft I keep the bathroom lights out as I search for my target, which conveniently, is just behind the door.  

Imagine a scene reminiscent of the alien spaceships arriving on earth casting great shadows across the cities in the film Independence Day.  The daylight is completely blocked out.  Like a huge throbbing blimp with my Bombay trousers open (a nice make actually) I hover over Porcelania's one and only lake.  

The armament to be released today is completely dependent on what was loaded into the chute to Audrey II the previous day - the remains of which are now stacked on her old Greek baggage conveyor belt throbbing to go.  Audrey patiently waits for the green light to come on.  I touch down and flick the switch.  The doors open and the bombs come off the rails like they’ve been greased.  Thank God I don't need help in such respects.  An accidental ingestion of Dulcolax / Senocot the night before would for sure result in me bombing my own airfield during the night; and, with bedsheets in hand, a cross legged *gnnn* visit to the laundrette would promptly happen at 6am.

I have quite a selection of weapons available to drop.  The types of bomb include...

Carpet Bombs - a home made weapon generally constructed from the remains of the previous days loaf of brown bread.  Difficult to explain without being gross but imagine you're looking at the back end of a concrete mixer as it flicks its drum rotation into reverse and starts to discharge a not so loose slurry of stone and bits into a big earthen works hole.  Yep, that's it.  Fantastic at smothering the enemy, well anything.  A double flusher for sure.  

Torpedo - Constructed by Audrey II because I've overdosed her with Ibuprofen ... it comes off the rails as though it's been greased and enters the lake without a ripple.  Has a shaped charge warhead which often does not detonate and frequently gets stuck.  Sits there ticking.  Needs to be poked with a big stick to encourage it around the bend.  

Cluster / Fragmentation - often loaded quickly on the old Greek airport conveyor as a result of eating too much fruit and nuts.  A problematic munition it tends to fragment on exiting the aircraft.  Leaves a mess on the underside of the aircraft and blatts the porcelain tower blocks on either side of the lake.  Causes too much collateral damage.  Note to self.  Stop eating fruit!  15 a day Wayne is way too much!  

Vacuum Bomb - all of the above qualify as vacuum bombs but only if I'm suffering a bad episode of hiccoughs when I go to the toilet.

Nuclear - A red Vindaloo / Phal shaped device designed for me by the Pakistani air force.  I wouldn't want to be anywhere near ground zero when this one is released ‘cos as well as totally destroying everything and taking the paint off anything in its flight path it normally also causes the whole back end of the aircraft and its associated ring piece to fall off at the same time.

Gas - I don't have these types of bomblets post a letter from the United Nations (might've been my GP thinking about it) telling me that under an old UN Convention on war they're illegal and so I should avoid all fast foods.  My brother sadly did not get a letter.  Guests arriving at his house are reminded to put on the obligatory gas masks that are hanging at the entrance.  He occasionally blames the dog but if I had a Yorkie with such a gaseous problem I'd have the poor thing put down.  'Silent but deadly' is his motto.   Funnily also the motto of the Ukranian Army...

The fact that my doctor has taken an unusual interest in my bum doesn't worry me too much.  Personally I'm happy that he's taken an interest cos my dad sadly died from cancers in the general area of his bomb racks.  Bend over Mr Tyssen is somewhat too frequent in our conversations nowadays.   

Now Hairy Melon has a big problem with anything being sent the wrong way along her conveyor belt and will always keep her big mouth tight shut when approached by anything swaddled in latex.  Thank God she's not got teeth.  Can you imagine it?!  Monsters!  For sure looking after them would be the worst job ever for any dentist.  Not only because of her immensely bad breath.  Just imagine the contortions they'd have to put the chair into to check out her gums.

Bread is my downfall.  My love of it only ever will have a bad end.  Yes that too, but also because of the amount of carbohydrate it will always have a devastating effect on my blood sugar levels unless I do something about it.  As a Type 2 diabetic I should really do my best to take more care.  

So I do.  It's one core reason why I cycle.   There are many other reasons why.  Many already written about, many more to describe.  But a core reason is that the energy needed to ride 50 miles per day burns approx 4000 kcals more than normal.  That's approx 40 slices of bread!

I have two pastimes that I love to do.  And one that I don’t.  I love eating bread and cycling.  One cancels out the other.  I know this for sure because my HBA1C is normally quite healthy after every tour riding summer.  What could be better than to do the two things that I love - and to do them together :-)

The one that I don’t?  Oh that’s easy.  Hand washing my cycling shorts!

Ciao for now.

[1] After-burning Knees - unlike the military equivalent used on warplanes to get them quickly to altitude my afterburners only ignite after a long cycle ride [for sure an indication of the early arrival of my shit uncle Arthur Itis] which cause immense discomfort whilst climbing the stairs to use the bathroom.  It's nearly time to buy a Bungalow...