Bill, Ben and Razor Sharp Flexi Men.

March 13, 2018 11:07pm Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 18 Comments

Movie meme

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

I’ve been watching a film for days. I can’t remember what it’s called or what happened in the beginning; I’m also pretty much lost as to what went on in the middle. I could have sworn that the main character’s name was Bill but it turns out it’s Ben. However, since I’ve had the odd margarita, grown an inch of hair and aged considerably since then, forgetfulness is to be expected.

See, I started this movie when I arrived in America last week and due to the INSANE amount of commercials, it’s still on. I mean credit where it’s due, you certainly get value for money. Who knows, maybe the TV company are on a pigs back and just keep rolling this film out on a loop because it will take weeks before anyone figures out what the hell is going on.

Talking of value for money…

However, I have learnt something much more valuable than whether or not Bill or Ben make it out alive and get the girl. It has come to my attention, mostly because I have been browbeaten by it after every ten seconds of Bill and Ben’s adventure, that everything in America costs $19.99.

cost advert

The first thing you need to buy is the youthful hormone drug. Starting here is key because you can live long enough to try out all the fabulous things that are on offer for the fascinating, one-time offer price of $19.99. There is a slight chance you might die of the many side effects but there’s no risk without reward and you will be transformed into a super-gadget-maestro within days.

Unless you shave….

Whilst you can have the best double-edged razors for the rest of your life for only $19.99, there’s a pay off and you might want to grow a beard instead. The man selling them insists they are the sharpest thing you will come across; unfortunately, he is not and if he ever had any razor-sharp wit, he clearly rinsed it away with his bristles. Evidence would suggest that shaving with these razors scrapes away all of your personality and leaves you as dull as dishwater. Don’t get me wrong, the guy is a silver fox with a very young face and has obviously been popping the youth pills, but I’d prefer it if he cut his tongue out. Maybe I’m being harsh here and it’s nothing to do with his razors and he’s actually been watching the same film as me and lost the will to live.

Talking of sharp…

The next on the list is the double-action knife sharpener. There seems to be a “double action” theme amongst all these products that you can buy for the amazing price of just $19.99 but not the sort you might be craving. Anyway, this knife sharpener is the biz-nizz. Not only can it sharpen any given knife, it can also sharpen your credit card and slice right through a juicy tomato. Well, I was blown away by that.

Just imagine, if you could just humour me for a moment, that you lost every knife in your kitchen…it could happen… Shrug your shoulders, fish out your wallet, slip out the old Visa, give it a quick swipe through the double-edged sharpener and hey presto, you’ve got yourself a lethal weapon. Personally, I think this should be marketed differently and they should think outside the box. You could sell this gadget for double the price if you marketed to guys with the strapline, “Next time your misses takes off with your credit card, the bitch will lose her fingers!’

Talking of marketing…

There's more advert

The amazing products for sale at the spectacular price of only $19.99 come with so much more! Not only do you get one but you GET ANOTHER ONE FREE! Not to be pedantic or anything but since these are sold as “lifelong lasting products or your money back” why do you need two?

Did I mention the FREE SHIPPING? No? I’m sorry, I was mesmerised by the best bang for your buck – and no, I haven’t skipped TV channels though it would be interesting to see how long an orgasm can last on American TV.  As tempted as I am, I can’t leave Bill and Ben hanging now we’ve gone this far. I’m sorely tempted to buy them the pills with FREE SHIPPING to see if they EVER get there and Bill or Ben don’t die before the film ends.

Talking of my favourite people …

All holes filled

Phil Swift isn’t one of them. Under normal circumstances, I might get along with this guy if he was being quieter and sitting at a bar with something more interesting to say. Phil, let me get something straight: I DON’T CARE how good your bloody Flexi Tape is, how ridiculously you enthuse about it, or that I can get it for the one time amazing price of $19.99 with an extra bottle of Flexi Foam thrown in for free, with FREE SHIPPING and a free trip to Bali with bells on.


No, Phil. I’ve had enough and the only thing I want to do with your Flexi Tape is stick it right over your preaching, whiney, irritating gob.

OK. I feel better now. Must go, I have a film to finish.

Boot JuJu

February 27, 2018 12:02am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 33 Comments

Girl in Boot JuJu near tree

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday But Mostly A Right Booted Kick Into The World Of JuJu!

Today I am shamelessly promoting a new venture I’ve started because there’s no point doing something unless you SHOUT IT FROM THE HILLTOPS!

It’s very hilly here in the blogosphere.

And what do you need to climb hills?

Good footwear, that’s what.


Girl with boot on fence in Boot JuJu

We all know that I am ‘Queen of Boots’. This is a worldwide known fact. I think there should be a Wikipedia entry on this, to be honest.

Now there are boots and there are bewwwts. Everywhere I go in mine I am always stopped several times and told, “I love your boots!” and “Where did you get them?”

“Well, I got them from Schuh or Boot Barn or Pinto Ranch or Office or Lucchese or even Tractor Supply….”

This is what I say along with a thank you and a very dramatic hair flick.

Then eventually, the penny dropped. Took a while…

Boot JuJu

Girl in boots wearing vintage bad JuJu boot straps

See, it’s not my boots that they like but the magical JuJu I adorn them with that turns them into a walking work of art. JuJu that has girls salivating with boot envy and guys winking at the…I dunno, whatever goes through guys minds when it comes to girls boots.

How do you think I got on a policeman’s bike in Colorado?

If I can’t wear my Boot JuJu, I ain’t going!

This is how passionate I am about my bewwwts. Now I’ve seen some boot accessories over in America and in the UK but it’s very limited and not to my taste: It’s either too flimsy and breaks in five minutes, or it’s too heavy with chains and makes you look like Butch McButch. Not good. So, I started making my own durable and yet beautiful feminine boot JuJu which is how this venture came about.

I have spent the last few months designing, creating and bleeding into leather. I have sourced vintage materials, embellishments and teamed up with a manner of professionals for advice. I have cut myself, chipped and broken my nails and screamed my head off in frustration and started over. I have whittled down my designs, tried and tested them, and despite no sleep and food that comes out of a packet, I have made it through to the beautiful, bitter end. Well, I guess it’s really now the beginning, but here we have it.

For Boots That Talk The Walk

The .45 Boot JuJu Double strap

Let your eyes feast on my new and stunning online store below and marvel at the Boot JuJu on offer. Please spread the word to every female you know: share my site, my FB page, Instagram and Youtube channel so that they too can have some sass in their step!

Website – Boot JuJu – For boots that talk the walk

JuJu x

A Disagreeable Spirit

February 21, 2018 12:02am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 26 Comments

Angel, Jules Smith

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

I jest about being a rancid bitch shat from the bowels of Hell, but recent evidence might suggest it’s true.


The Psychopath Test

The other day I was asked to do a personality test by a work colleague. They had participated and suggested I should take it as it is devised by a well known psychologist. You even have to pay a fiver to do it so that gave it more credibility.

The test stated that you must be in a calm setting,  a settled mood and not stressed. I don’t even know what that means.

The test asks random questions from ‘strongly agree to strongly disagree’ with many variants in-between. That caused instant irritation because I’m a bit of a ‘yes-or-no’ kind of chick and can only do shades when I’m being creative; otherwise I like to get straight to the point.

Be honest, it said.

Bring it, I answered.


Meet the New Stalin

Undertand Yourself


I mean….


As you can plainly see I am probably the most disagreeable person you know. Have ever known. Will, in fact, ever know. Not just slightly. Not by a smidgen, even.



At first, well, not at first because the first thing I did was tell the person who made me take it to bugger off and go and ruin someone else’s day. True to form. Then I thought, well if you’re gonna be good at something then you may as well excel, right? Look at the positive side.

But then I wondered at its accuracy. Disagreeable people have massive, life-changing mistrust.

I have lots of fabulous and lovely friends. Some of them LIFELONG. How, if I am so wretched? Hmmm… maybe they fear me? So, I rang one of them up and asked them.

“Why are you my friend?”


“Answer the question.”

“The same reason anybody is a friend, you like each other and enjoy each others company. We share a commonality.”

I thought about that for a second and whether the person I was talking to was a mean-spirited bitch. No. Quite the opposite. Good.

“So it’s not out of fear?”

“What’s going on, Jules….?”

I explained.

“Which mood were you in when you took this test?”

“What do you mean by which?! I exclaimed in a disagreeable fashion.

“Well, you know… were you agitated? Testing the test? Being ridiculously literal?”

In hindsight, I did take the test after many gruelling hours of work. And I might have only had 4 hours of sleep. And someone was vomiting upstairs and making me skittish. And I’d just lost my Apple ipen. And someone had stolen my last vanilla cappuccino sachet. Not to mention that at the time of answering the question, “I care about other people’s problems,” someone was chuntering about how their day was ruined because the shade of the dress they’d just purchased was slightly off. Do I care about other people’s problems? STRONGLY DISAGREE. TICK. 

I’m sorry but if someone’s life is ruined because they bought the wrong shade of frikkin’ yellow then I have no compassion. None.

I’ve got real issues. Like being labelled a psychopath.

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the right time and maybe, just maybe, I answered a little rashly.

However, not wanting to leave things to chance, for once, I decided that I should make an attempt at becoming a bit more balanced.


Goddess of Mother Earth

Goddess of Mother Earth

Gaia, they call it. It’s like the Netflix version of mind-blowing spirituality and (yes, and) scientific findings. Rather than download another book on the art of Japanese folding, I decided I would subscribe to this channel and watch endless programmes that would enlighten me rather than violent thrillers and series where people blind you with their peaky caps.

I started with Quantum Physics as I rather like this subject. However, I realised the only reason I was enjoying this particular episode was because I figured I had the ability to affect global consciousness and make people adhere to my whims. Very sociopathic. I moved onto something about water. I was so captivated by this series that I stayed up until 1 am watching it.


I am now afraid to drink our water. Water, when it comes out of our tap is dead. Dead and vile and full of life-destroying chemicals. Not only that, but water has a memory and retains all the gubbins that people have flushed into it despite the chemicals. The only way to cure this is to freeze water and then melt it to return it to its original state. Then, after all that hassle, you have to run it through a black carbon filter to remove the chemicals.

I sat up until 2.45 am researching water filters on Amazon.

When I had to get up at 6 am the following day I was utterly atrocious. And dehydrated.


I’m Not Scared of Dying – I Just Don’t Want To Be There When It Happens

The next night I resumed my Gaia viewing even though I was now a sociopath on mead. Back to medieval insight. Don’t drink the dodgy water.

I started a series about the afterlife. I dismissed about 3 episodes because the people on there were pissing me off. Yes, of course you’ve had 97 near death experiences and spoken to spirit guides who keep sending you back because THEY HATE PEOPLE LIKE ME and want to INFLICT YOU UPON US.

And breathe…

This is making me even more intolerant. What’s after 0th percentile? Burning in Hell?

Eventually, I found one with scientists talking as well as nutters. I decided to stick with it.


I am now petrified of dying and have issues with my loved ones who have passed.

Apparently, when you die your soul rushes out of the top of your head with such force you might be violently disorientated.

Really? You just frikkin’ died!

Because of this, you might not know where to go, what is happening or what to do. Well, whoopy doo. I don’t know what I’m doing now, never mind how I’m supposed to deal with exploding out of my mortal head, with no moral support and no sat nav. I’m going to be one of those orbs that bounces off the walls of my house forever.

Secondly, if you’re not quite as neurotic as me, when you pass you may feel a sense of great relief. You will look down on your loved ones crying at your death but not give a toss about that and only feel peace and happiness.

How selfish is that?

I take great exception to the fact that I’m here crying and wailing at the loss of people I care about and all they feel is great relief and sod off on a jolly to never-never land.


I’m No Sigourney Weaver


I moved swiftly on to alien encounters.

You’ve heard it all before: abductions, poking, other kinds of poking, UFO’s and so on. Blah Blah. Despite being a sociopath, I am not averse to the fact there are other life forms in the Universe than us. I’m not that narcissistic.

Then I found that they could be walking among us. That could explain why I have so many eclectic friends; they’re not human. I’m being conned.

I now start wondering how I would react to an encounter with an alien and realise that in all scenarios I would become extremely disagreeable. Fear.

I then learn that if you think about aliens, they pick this up (being all advanced and all) and turn up cunningly disguised as the FedEx man. Not only am I now dehydrated, feeling unloved by my ancestors and a psychopath, but I’m also agoraphobic.


The Disciples of My Mind

Matthew, Mark, Luke, John

As I sat in my tinfoil hat and contemplated my new found enlightenment, someone called me and asked if I had ever spoken to myself.

Look, I told you my friends (aliens) were eclectic.

“Yes, I even answer myself. I sometimes have arguments with myself too.”

“No, I mean have you ever spoken to your subconscious?”

“I dunno. Probably. Unless we’ve had a row and they’re blanking me.”

“Look, Jules, it’s a good way to understand yourself. ( Can we just stop here and laugh out loud to that? I did.) Try and talk to your subconscious and give it a name.”

Hippy shit.

“A name? Really?”

“Yes. Make it real and have a conversation.”

“OK. What else have I got to lose at this point ?”


Back To My Former Self

I’m gonna be honest, I tried it. Nearly sent me off to Broadmoor.

My friend called. “Did you talk to your subconscious?”

“Oh yes.”

“And a name?”

“Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.”

What? That’s 4 names?!”

“Because 4 people spoke to me. I had a mind orgy – and not in a good way.”

“You can’t call them male names, you’re a female.”

“I know. One of my subconscious personalities made the very same point. So, I renamed them ‘Itsy, Bitsy, Teeny and Weeny’

“Oh.. How did that go?”

“Badly. We all fell out, I couldn’t remember who was who so I sent them to Coventry.”

“And what have you learnt from that?”

“To remain very disagreeable.”

Moral of the story? – Don’t water yourself down to appease other people.

Want more?

Load another!