Whimsy On A Wednesday
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A Day In The Life

November 17, 2021 7:28am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 12 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

Paperback Writer

I’ve sat here for months doing nothing but writing things. No adventures. No parties. Nada. Then all of a sudden the world begins to come out of hiding and I get invited up to Liverpool for a break.

I’m not sure that you can class Liverpool as a holiday or even a break but there we are. I had to think about it for a bit but since I had a ticket to ride I thought I’d let it be.


Now, I’d almost forgotten, due to my hermitude, that when I make a plan, Karma wakes up. Ooh, here she goes – *rubs hands together so hard causes a fire* thinks she’s gonna have it easy? BWAHAHAHAHA! 

For starters, the day before my trip a terrorist attack happened in Liverpool. Yes, Liverpool. A car bomb got made by some arsehole and went off in a hospital car park not 300 yards away from the house that I’m going to stay in. Lovely. 

Maybe I shouldn’t go…

Hey Jude Jules “It’ll be alright – there are coppers everywhere. It’s the safest place to be.” 

Hmmm… I’m already on edge. But, you can’t let these nastyass people ruin your plans so I prepared myself for the long and winding road.

Twist and Shout

First stop – wolfits to the kennels! Off I go with the mutts after a long run after a hare across the farmer’s fields. 

“Hmmm – one of your dog’s vaccination cards hasn’t been stamped by the vet. I will need to call them to check if you’re a big fat liar.”

“Go ahead. My dogs are on a plan. They have better healthcare and food than I do. They must have forgotten due to the Covid nonsense.”

He called the vet. It rang and rang. He tried again. This went on for a while. In the meantime, one of the wolfits got bored and pissed up the side of stacked bags of kibble in his shop. Brilliant.

Eventually, the vet answered. The kennel man passed over his mobile phone for me to talk to them as they couldn’t find the information. I put his phone to my ear and said hello and then screamed because my eardrum nearly burst. Kennel man had his phone on speaker which I didn’t realise and the vet receptionist’s voice is still reverberating in my ear canal. 

“I’m sorry but we don’t have your dogs listed at all. There’s no information whatsoever.”

“Well, that’s impossible. I fetched their medicine not two weeks ago. I pay a lot of money to be on your plan and I don’t need this sort of unprofessional nightmare.” Not with the prices you charge. What an outrage.

The receptionist and I had a bit of a passive-aggressive spat and then she told me the name of the vet. It was then that I realised that wasn’t my vet and that’s why she had no idea about my pets. Kennel man had called the wrong veterinary surgery from some other boarder’s sheet. Plonker.

The receptionist put the phone down on me. Karma barked out a laugh. 

The situation got sorted and I left in a terrible rush because I had made myself a strict timetable in order to leave for my junket with everything done. Now I was behind schedule.

While My Guitar iPhone Gently Weeps

I rushed home and started to gather up lots of blankets and cushion covers. The plan was to get all these washed down at the launderette and back on before I left so I could come back to house beautiful. The launderette has huge washing machines that could get it all washed and dried in one go rather than me spending all day using mine. I like the zen of a break to continue when I get back home so I can get back into the swing of things gently. It never happens but I live in hope that one day, it might. 

As I rushed around with my arms full I dropped my iPhone into a hot bucket of water that I’d used to mop the floor earlier and hadn’t yet disposed of. 


Blankets dropped, I fished around in the water trying to find it whilst screaming like a banshee gently cursing. I rushed it over to the kitchen counter and then dived into the pantry to find the jar of Basmati rice. In it went with force. I prayed and promised to be a much better human being – but only if it didn’t break. 

Penny Lane

I arrived at the launderette. The machines took coins which I didn’t have so I had to change a couple of tenners into pounds and twenty pence pieces in the change machine. There were an awful lot of coins so I put them all in the zipped part of my purse, zipped it up tight and put it back into my bag. I then set about putting all my stuff into the giant washer, filled up the detergent compartment and set the temperature. I pulled my purse back out, went to unzip it and pulled the zipper head clean off. Sigh.

Now, if this had been any other zip and I mean ANY other zip it would have parted its teeth and gaped its brokenness at me. For example, if this was a piece of clothing and I was on a night out it would ruin my evening and force me to go home because, oh look, my zip has bust. 

Not this little git. Oh no, this remained tight shut like a bull terrier with lockjaw. I could not get inside to get my coins. I looked out of the window to see if I could spot anyone dodgy who might have a knife. Nothing except a doddery old window cleaner. I ended up using my car key to try and open it and with great force, it slipped over the metal teeth and cut my knuckle. 

 Finally, and after a lot of will, I got it torn open and the coins spilt out everywhere. I’ll have a new purse for Christmas, thanks…

 Here Comes The Sun

I sat watching the machines whirl round and round for an hour and found the experience quite relaxing which is just what I bloody needed.  As my blankets were drying and I sat patiently waiting, a weird little chap came in to dry his washing. He kept telling me that it was too foggy and damp outside to put it on the line.

“I’ll do six minutes at a time I think – these driers are hot,” he said.

“Yes. Good idea.”

“That’s what I do. Six minutes at a time.”


“How many minutes have you got left?”

“It’s already too many.”

I ended up taking my laundry back a little bit damp.

Eleanor Rigby

Picks out the rice from her phone where connection has been…

I pulled out my phone from the rice jar. I noticed that there was rice jammed into the space where the phone charger goes. How? How has my rice suddenly turned into miniature cous-cous and found a way to block that hole? I sat carefully trying to pick it out bit by bit with a pin hoping I am not going to ruin the connection because we all know how temperamental these things are. I rang someone to make sure it was working and told them about the ordeal.

“You didn’t have to put it in rice – iPhones have been waterproof since the iPhone 8.”

Why did I not know this? 

The day was a colossal nightmare which led me to believe that the high jinks coming up with the scousers should be a breeze by comparison. Liverpool, don’t let me down.


Thinking Inside The box

November 10, 2021 9:22am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 15 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

I was sitting in the living room the other night, all comfy after eating a nice chunk of cottage pie. I had a blanket wrapped around me because it’s getting cold and I daren’t turn the heating up because of the insane gas prices. I had a nice MPV sitting on the table beside me which is a cocktail that I made up of Mango, Passion fruit, and Vodka. I should market this to bars because it’s lovely but I haven’t got time to do other people’s jobs. 


Space Cake

I had just watched an episode of the new series Universe – by Brian Cox, which always gets you thinking, and I was waiting for the Great British Bake Off to start so I could support my favourite contestant, Jurgen, with his methodical baking techniques. The Great British Bake Off is an absolute staple of Great British television and has been known to cure depression, manic episodes, family arguments, and all layers of anxiety with its comforting formula. If you’re feeling a bit low or out-of-sorts then get yourself a nice MPV and get Bake Off on telly. 


The Scent of Epiphany

Then, I got to thinking rather than watching the adverts on TV which have now started to get all Christmassy. My favourites are the ridiculous perfume adverts which make absolutely no sense at all and would probably stop me from buying perfume in case I end up like one of the self-absorbed fruit-cakes acting out their madness. However, that ship may have already sailed. 


I came to the frightening conclusion that the world is being taken over by boxes. 

Think about it – outside of the box for a moment, if you would. 

There I sat in my house – a box. Inside that box, I sit in another box watching the box. 

Every day I wake up and untuck myself from a box and go to another box to have a shower. I then go to my next box where I turn on a box and start writing things onto a 2D box image.

Even if I want to escape all of this boxiness I have to go outside to a box on wheels which will transport me to another box where I buy things in boxes and bring them back to my box. 

The thing that washes my clothes is a box and so is the thing that dries them. The thing that stores my cans and cools my food – boxes both. Most of my appliances can be considered boxes and all my important documents are kept in boxes. Even my gadgets are boxes. 

And when I die I will end up in my final box. 

Frightening, isn’t it? 

I square to God I’m starting to feel a bit trapped. 

#LetsGetCircular #TriangularTomorrows 


Blast Off!

October 13, 2021 10:14am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 20 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

Sometimes, whimsy has been known to get the better of me. 

A fanciful notion took hold of me the other day: Wouldn’t it be nice to do something wildly different? Instead of getting up, donning my usual attire and starting up my old motor to go traipsing around the usual places, wouldn’t it be fun to go on a cosmic adventure!

Imagine getting trussed up in your space suit, saying cheerio to the dogs, bouncing outside to fire up your rocket and blasting off on a little junket to our solar system. 

Who wouldn’t want to do that?

Well, since we haven’t yet moved from Tesla’s to rockets you’re not going to find a rocket on your driveway. However, that doesn’t stop us from going on a trip. Oh no. 

Just for all you kids out there, I’ve made a rhyming story and video of a trip around the solar system. So, if you’re one of those people that have put your name down to live on Mars, you might want to watch this. Whilst it’s made for children a few of you adults might just learn a thing or two!

Please feel free to share my video with any parents who think their kids might enjoy my story – Blast Off!

NB: Before any bright spark asks me where Pluto is, know that Pluto got downgraded from a planet to a dwarf planet (the Death Star)


A Song To The Cowboy

October 6, 2021 10:07am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 12 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

“Cowboys ain’t easy to love and they’re harder to hold
They’d rather give you a song than diamonds or gold
Lonestar belt buckles and old faded Levis
And each night begins a new day
If you don’t understand him, and he don’t die young
He’ll probably just ride away”

I sat at my computer concentrating on something intently. Outside it was lashing with rain, that sideways rain that beats viciously at the windows. Summer is dying and being blown away by the cool whips of autumn. I could feel it starting to seep into my bones. Time for a jumper. I didn’t get much sleep the night before, tossing and turning with a mind full of nonsense and fears about inevitabilities. This made me wake up tired, ready to sleep some more but unable to as my inner clock doesn’t allow it. Half a mug of tea sat on my desk amongst other things yet to be filed away creating chaos in my workspace. 

The heavy knock at the front door made me jump. The dogs reacted instantly, leaping at the entrance between the hall and kitchen. Terrorists on the territory. We will assist in their demise. I hushed them with sharp words and moved through the middle section, locking them behind. 

I hate how loudly people knock at my door. I need a doorbell. I have a button outside but it doesn’t work. Inside my porch I have an antique brass bell. People arriving also try this but it is there for decoration and doesn’t have a clanger. That’s when they knock fiercely, annoyed and frustrated. 

The man stood there with his clipboard and tool bag. I forgot he was coming. I told him this as a way of apology which wasn’t the right thing to say. He had come to service my vacuum cleaner. This must sound very strange and that’s because it is. I have a world class hoover that needs to be serviced annually like a prestige car. I had to trudge upstairs to get it because it is housed with the carpeted areas and not downstairs with the hard floors. The machine was heavy and cumbersome which made me irritated with the man.The cowboy. I tried to be nicer.

“Do you want a drink?” 

“No, I’m alright. Where can I work?” He stood in the hallway looking concerned at the two big shapes through the opaque panels in the door. 

I opened the lounge door beside him. “You can work in here, don’t worry, I won’t let the dogs out.”

He gets to his job and I went to shut the front door. I spied a package that the postman had left on the windowsill in my porch. The postman doesn’t knock – he knows I won’t hear it so he leaves prizes for me to find. My mood lifted as I noticed the American postal packet. I like that the American postal service has a packet shaped for anything. You don’t get that here. I remembered being taken to a place called the Container Store in America. Why are you taking me to a shop full of boxes? I had thought. I ended up getting lost in that shop, fascinated that there’s boxes for just about anything. Americans must be so orderly. How had I lived without some of these boxes in my life? Why did we not have this store in England? 

I picked up the packet and took it to my table. I didn’t know who it was from or what it was – I wasn’t expecting anything. I looked at it for a few seconds, relishing in the surprise. I tried to imagine what waited for me inside. 

My friends, Mr & Mrs B had sent me a lovely card and an old book of Cowboy Songs. In the past they have sent me many old cowboy books, found in old stores and posted out to me.

I fingered the old book and smiled. I lifted it up to my nose and smelt it with my eyes closed hoping to breathe in the memories of an old life. I opened the first page and there, sellotaped to the front sheet was somebody’s name and address. Barbara Martin from Chatanooga. How can anyone say Chatanooga and not feel like dancing? How proud she must have been of this book to do that! She is remembered now by a stranger in another land; her book sat on a table in medieval middle England. I wonder what she would have thought to that?

I flicked through the songs about the wild cowboy – instantly transported to the old frontier. 

The ultimate bad boy. Reckless and rollicking. Yearning to belong and yet belonging to nothing. God fearing and strong but with the devil constantly on his shoulder testing his faith. Searching for love and killing it the next day.

Dirt on his boots. Sweat on his brow. A full days work for little pay.

Scooping up the same ole serving from a dutch oven at noon. A food that still comforts to this day.

Travelling through the wilderness and beauty where he rides to find answers. Comfort found in the red giants that speak to him.

“And the Colorado rocky mountain high
I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky
Talk to God and listen to the casual reply”


I looked back out of my window through the grey sky. Left with melancholy and yearning; wishing to walk through the jimson weed and sand-burrs; stopping to fill my belly with prickly pear and cholla. 

Thank you Mr & Mrs B for making a dreary day turn into a dreamy ride through the old west, along with the cowboys for company, on a dusty old trail unspoilt by man.

Before I lament any further, I leave you with a sneaky little page found tucked inside Barbara’s book.


What A Gas!

September 29, 2021 12:05am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 22 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

With Breaking News From Bad JuJu

Just as one lockdown disappears another one starts under the guise of “NO FUEL”

Thanks to the media’s narrative of instilling fear into the public, hundreds of people ( AKA wankers) have rushed out to panic buy fuel leaving petrol stations empty. Due to a shortage of HGV drivers in Britain, there are not enough tankers to deliver fuel across the nation. Many haulage companies are going under, unable to deliver products as they have lost drivers from Europe. The government have recently issued 5000 temporary visas in an attempt to bring back European drivers to help with the crisis. They also have the army on standby. 



Dave Dillbury, a manager from a haulage company in the northwest said, “People are blaming Brexit as you’d expect and I saw that German tosser from the European Union on TV the other day saying, Wie told you so’ but this shortage has been going on for years.

Another large truck company reported a loss of drivers due to the pandemic. “Lots of people got furloughed in lockdown which has made them not want to come back to work,” Ian from Truckability said. “My mate Rob and his missus started their own eBay business with the dosh they’d saved and now he’s minting it in selling crocheted effigies. 



Queues of traffic lining up for fuel have caused severe delays on roads across Britain resulting in fistfights and road rage. One angry couple were seen hurling abuse at a pensioner sat in his car because he was blocking the entrance to KFC. “These doddery old gits don’t need to go out, but we’ve got a family of five to feed!” said the outraged pair. Another man said he had been waiting in the queue for two hours only to get turned away when he was four cars out because the pumps were empty. 



Many workers are taking to social media to report their frustration. Taxi drivers are losing money, health workers can’t get into hospitals and care homes, and an irate chiropodist blew his top on Facebook earlier stating,”I was supposed to visit a woman with bunions this morning but didn’t have enough fuel to get there. Now I’m out of pocket and that poor woman isn’t going to be able to walk the shops, is she? – It’s outrageous!”

Fuel-station managers have spoken up saying, “Prepare for it to get worse – We are already having to cap the amount of fuel that people buy if they’re lucky to get some, and soon we will have to prioritise medical staff and emergency services.” When asked why the prices have suddenly risen to £2.08 per litre when the problem isn’t actually a shortage of fuel, one manager from Kwik-Fill said, “Some say it’s profiteering but I see it as entrepreneurial. You gotta fill your boots when you can.” 

When speaking to forecourt attendants across the nation evidence of sheer lunacy seems to be in play. Neville Green, a cashier at Esso said, “I’ve only been doing this job for 5 weeks and I think I’ve seen it all. One bird started filling up plastic carrier bags and putting them in her boot. Another bloke brought 20 fuel cans, and someone else came with a great big container on the back of his truck and started filling that up. I normally finish at 10 P.M. but today I finished at 4 P.M  cos there was nowt else to do. I’m just thankful I ride a mountain bike.“



One unscrupulous woman got barred from Facebook for trying to sell ten litres of fuel for £50. She has now gone into hiding after severe online bullying and several death threats.



Who knows when this crisis will end? Fuel is just the start of it. Many of the supermarket giants are being left with empty shelves as drivers are a scarcity. “Even the drivers we had have left to do contract work,” Sonia from Sainsbury’s said. “They’re getting fifty grand a year with no late-night shifts or weekend work. They’re onto a pig’s back. I even thought about jacking in the deli-counter to get my HGV licence but my fella said it’s no job for a short-arse with alcohol dependency.” Asked if she thought the situation would get worse, she said, “Well, I’ve already stocked up on mince pies. I don’t know if I’ll get a turkey at this rate. This situation could totally ruin Christmas.



On a personal note, I’m biding my time with little choice since I only have 19 miles of fuel in my tank. I only have to turn a corner in my truck and that’ll be gone. My advice? Invest in a pair of walking boots and save money on your gym membership by putting your best foot forward.

  There’s miles to go before you sleep. 


Big Jugs And Pop-Up Meat

September 8, 2021 11:14am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 15 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

From the title of this blog, I would bet my top hat and tails that you thought something “ooh-err-misses” might follow.  

Something a little bit juicy perhaps?  Well, yes you are right.

Something a bit top rack? Yes, also correct.

But not in the way you think, dear reader, and quite frankly, I’m outraged. What sort of blog do you think this is?

The Brave New World

I got taken on a magical mystery tour to go and do “Something Exciting” last week. Generally, I’m a big fan of being taken into the wilderness and given a challenge but for some reason when I was told about this surprise I found myself being a bit of an arse.

“I don’t really like surprises, can you just tell me what it is?”


“Well what am I supposed to wear?”

“Anything you like.”

“Fine. I shall come in a ball gown and disastrously high heels.”


It definitely wasn’t kayaking then. Or, maybe it was…

Barn Art The Food Of The Soul

Turns out it was pottery painting. In a large barn in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere. 

What happens is that you pick a pot of your choice and you paint it. 

I chose a large jug because I like to use them as vases. They’re more interesting than vases and they can double up and be used for lashings of gravy when the flowers die. 

Normally, you only get one hour to paint at these places but thankfully this one lets you stay until you’re finished. Good job, because my idea took four- long-hours. In my wisdom, I decided to paint a wildflower scene on my jug so that it went with the vase theme. Never doing that again. By the time I’d painted my last poppy and cornflower I had a deep hatred for anything floral. What I neglected to take into account was that you have to paint each thing three times over if you want the colour to pop. I maybe should have listened to that part of the pre-training before I decided to paint a forest garden. 

That said, I prevailed and shouted, “I’ve Finished! Hallelujah!”  just as the woman who ran the place had decided to bugger off and lock me in. 

Ewer Won’t Believe it

You have to leave your masterpiece behind so the lady can glaze it and make it all professionally shiny. I hate waiting for things. A few days later I went to collect my pitcher of painted perfection and I was not disappointed. 

Decanter your pre- conceptions and take a look at my growler!  [informal. a pitcher, pail, or other container brought by a customer for beer and not what you thought]

I thought about investing in a kiln but then remembered I already have 465 hobbies. 

Have You seen That Anchor?

And then there was more!

“There’s a pop-up smokehouse at the back of The Anchor in Plungar. Fancy a burger?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

The surprises just kept getting better!

Deep in the Vale of Belvoir, in the back garden of a country pub, came “Smiffy’s Smokehouse ‘Burger Fest.'”  Known throughout the land for bringing the deep south flavour of authentic BBQ to street food.

Meat lover, (and once actor), Aaron Smith, got to know some guys in America who did cook-offs and became southern inspired, buying his own smoker and dishing up hard-wood smoked brisket, burgers, and pork, along with pit beans, chilli and loaded fries. Over the last few years his food has gone down a storm in the restaurant area and now he also does pop-up smokin’ BBQ’s  at venues.

The weather was good. The beer was flowing. The punters were jolly. A medley of country rock blared from the speakers. Thank God my cowboy boots were mended because I felt proper authentic.

To be fair, this was one of the juiciest and tastiest burgers I’ve ever eaten. 

With loaded fries, of course.

Rumours spread fast in village England. So good was the pop-up burger fest that even Jason Momoa came for a snack.

Followed by one of Tupac’s stage managers. 

You don’t have to go far to see the infamous here. 

Put that in your brioche bun and smoke it, Hollywood. 


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