Archive for the ‘Humour’ Category

Why not put your feet up!

February 22, 2010

Well it seemed like I’d never get here, but it’s done. I will admit to being somewhat remiss in my weekly posts of late. Some of this of course can be put down to my incumbent child, that still sits lazily within me point blankly refusing to emerge. I have even taken to going to sleep at night, with a saucer of milk positioned at the foot of my bed, in the hope of luring them out but alas to no avail.

But the real reason for my apparent tardiness has been the sheer workload volume that greeted my return in the New Year, something I am only now beginning to get a handle on. I have sacrificed much these last few weeks, besides this column, from my weekly limbo dancing classes through to a series of reconciliatory ‘dates’ with my ex-wife who had left me, because she felt I was married more to my work than her.

Still, now that I can kick back a little and relax, I am relieved she has stopped leaving me abusive voicemail messages – that woman could always string an impressive amount of profanities together when pushed!

If anything, I have been working so hard these last few weeks, I now find myself at something of a loss as to what to do when I get to the laboratory of a morning. Things rarely pick up till late afternoon, so have found myself increasingly passing the time, with idle activity and practice – for instance I’ve taken to juggling with conical flasks, and also am learning to identify different types of acid, merely by taste.


One down. Twelve remaining.

February 14, 2010

I’ve done it. I’ve often thought about doing it, dreamt about doing it, even fantasized about doing it. But I’ve actually gone and done it. He’s lying in the next room. One of me, clone number 9 I think. Stone cold dead. Oh shit. Oh bugger, oh buggershit. What have I done? My fellow scientists of course will be shaking their head knowingly, having always warned me of the dangers of messing with cloning. And what can I say? They were right. But it was his fault, the stupid, bloody…me. It was one thing him frequently ‘meeting up’ with my ex-wife and doing Darwin knows what with her. As regular readers are aware, my relationship with that woman was never anything beyond futile. Any feelings of jealousy or anger stirred up by him being with her I can only pass off as a severe coincidence or momentary madness on my part.

But when I discovered he had been touching my laboratory apparatus, lighting my burners, dirtying my conicals…gah, I’m turning a bright shade of cochineal thinking about it. To exacerbate things, he proceeded to dance my original dance moves, prance around my house wearing nothing but my favourite waistcoat and then successfully charm my housekeeper using knowledge of her weaknesses (e.g. sherry) acquired by ME, to his coital advantage. But the final straw was him daring to threaten my unborn baby inside me – he left me with no choice. A primeval, deep-buried instinct to defend my bump awakened inside me and I became a dangerous killing machine. Visions of the manatee flashed before me once again. Clone 9 had pushed me into a corner and I had to take action putting his irresponsible ways to an end. But strangely I didn’t intend to kill him. Just warn him. But one thing led to another, bitch slapping led to eye poking, there was a violent struggle with myself that would give psychiatrists studying autophobia a field day. And the next thing I knew, I was lying on top of him at the bottom of my massive wooden staircase.

So, now I must be super cautious with my next move. Obviously I have to get rid of the evidence. But ironically, even though I am a supreme expert on the human body, I have no idea how to dispose of them. If any of you, my lovely readers, have any top tips or experience in this area, I’d be very grateful!

Making Human

February 5, 2010
Well, I’ve reached the end of week 2 of my pregnancy. Being a man, I am experiencing a strange and unpleasant clash of hormones. For instance yesterday afternoon, I was getting quite irate with a work laptop because it wouldn’t eject a disc and was about to kick it. But then from nowhere I burst into tears. This would have been bearable if I’d been alone but it happened during one of the largest lectures I’ve given this year to a hall full of some 200 undergraduates. I had to excuse myself and ran out sobbing.

My cravings this week have included watermelon, saffron, garibaldi biscuits, pine (nordic), cillit bang, banana (skins) and tongue sandwiches – not all at once thankfully! Oh and yesterday I was unusually ravenous and was about to order some pizzas but ended up being satisfied by consuming the menu itself, which saved £70. But sadly I was then sick everywhere and had to get a Chinese banquet delivered in the end.

The growing human in my lower abdomen area has already grown considerably and starting to make itself known to me – I confess to feeling the butterfly type movements that so many women go on about when ‘up the duff’. But after one week? Something seems a bit odd. It’s all going a bit fast and because I don’t recall the conception, I have no way of ascertaining the precise factors that could have affected the gestation process. I’ve been leaving messages on Hawkings and Dawkins phones to quiz them further and get to the bottom of it all but they’ve yet to return my phonecalls and just keep texting me laughing faces and “:-D” symbols. One of them must remember something! Bastards!!

Sorry, there go my emotions again…
Bye for now,
love PCH

CONGRATULATIONS – You’re our 3,000th Reader!!!!

January 27, 2010

I may be getting a bit ahead of myself here – but I thought a pre-emptive post may be the best course of action. This is not to say that  then this will be hopelessly out dated in a matter of weeks, but perhaps you can take small pleasure in the thought that you reading this now – are indeed the 3,000th visitor to this blog. Here you may find my various musings on all things science related – and occasionally not (although don’t call me a ‘social’ scientist) I do however consider myself an authority on many aspects of the Human condition, and I am almost 42.3% certain – that should you have a question relating to virtually any subject matter – you may just find the answers here.

I have been asked though, to stipulate that, The Human Institute, in no way whatsoever – is affiliated to either this site, or the opinions and ideas contained here within.

Indeed, I myself, cannot be held responsible for any of my experiments, theories and formulas.

And  before anyone goes poking their nose around asking – that whole mess last year with the rabid donkey and the centrifugal compressor has already been explained at length to the police – and various animal rights authorities. We just don’t know how it got in…

Code RED.

January 25, 2010

I don’t know how this could have happened, but it seems that I, Professor Charles Human – professor, doctor, scientist, MAN – am pregnant.

Well, actually I DO roughly know how it happened. It was the end product of a series of stupid, purile, drunken experiments, conducted and goaded on by my peers. The evening started off quite amicably. I remember we were discussing the scientific probability that one day it would be possible for a man to become pregnant (a real man, not some ex-woman, post-op with a goatie). Then I vaguely remember me suggesting why not make that day today! Idiot. After being kicked out of our club at closing time (or possibly for shouting), raiding the nearby off-licence for their last case of Scotch, I recall we headed back to my institute feeling the night was still young. The rest is hazy. There was lots of alcohol. Then ethanol. I remember Dawkins trying to a call for a stripper (at 3am!) – as if that was going to help. Every time we go out, he tries to order a bloody stripper. He even did it once when we all went to theatre. The man is tit mad. Anyway, as I say I can’t remember much beyond that. There were tubes….vaseline…scalpels, and I think Hawkings raided the cryogenic store for something as I saw the poor janitor having to clear up broken glass nearby this morning. I don’t remember any pain. In fact I do recall a great deal of laughter and possibly cigars. But the evidence is there on my lower abdomen – surprisingly neat stitches. And what could be a cigar burn. When I saw my body in the mirror this morning, I suspected another practical joke from the boys – I knew Hawkings wanted to get his own back on me for pushing him down the steps at Waterloo station. So I thought maybe they’d stitched a clock or my wallet inside me again. But this was far more serious.

Buggeration. This has all kinds of implications for me. The main one being I’m going to have a baby. It’s definitely happening. I’ve just discarded the 27th ‘YOU ARE PREGNANT’ pregnancy test. At least I don’t have to worry about telling the father. As that’s me too. Just got the conclusive DNA test back from the lab, covered in smiley, laughing faces of course.

On the positive side, this adventure will provide a unique insight into the male side of pregnancy. I’ll still post my regular blogs on all things human and science, but I will occasionally also post dedicated blogs on this new point in my life. There’s lots to talk about obviously. A great deal for me to think about. I’m going to keep it, there’s no question of that. In the critical interests of science, human nature, historical significance and also because my ex-wife always wanted one and when she finds out, she’ll be livid. Ha! Plus you get £190 from the government – simply for getting up the duff.

I will of course deliver the baby myself. I just don’t trust anyone else. I’ll perform a Caesarean section under a local anaesthetic – whereas I am usually against such artificial means of bringing a child into the world, I am equally fond of my penis and fear that, following the evacuation of an infant through it, the old boy will closer resemble a recently vacated sleeping bag.

The really odd thing is, after less than 24 hours my stomach seems to already be slightly larger. Admittedly this could be down to the whole chicken I consumed for breakfast – strange craving I had at 7am, I simply couldn’t deny my body it and was almost breaking down the door to Sainsburys. Gave the fella on the rotisserie counter quite a shock as I gorged on the roast poultry in front of him. I also bought some spares in case I am overcome by a similar urge tomorrow.

Anyway, I had to blog my initial reaction to this news but now I must dash – feeling queasy and need the loo again! (eleventh time in the last hour)

Volunteers wanted for [FREE]!

January 19, 2010

It’s getting as though a scientist can’t even perform a simple genetic experiment nowadays! I remember when people would readily give up their time – sometimes even their lives, all for the good of science.

And before that, there was always the good old days when we could use animals. I recall with great fondness, the first frog I dissected. The first cat I electrocuted. The first panda I gassed. These were heady, carefree times – when it wasn’t unknown for the lab to occasionally descend into the odd ‘animal organ’ fight! But of course, someone always has to come along and spoil all the fun. Before we knew it we couldn’t even swat a fly, let alone open up an elephant, without the RSPCA or so similarly cretinous group coming down on us.

So with drugs to test, experiments that still needed to be carried out, it was that we turned to our fellow man. Something I had coincidentally been at the forefront of, using as I was humans to test my ultimately unsuccessful range in pet cosmetics.

Still there proved to be a plentiful number of volunteers who were only too happy to help their friendly neighbourhood scientist. They weren’t paid though. We aren’t made of money. What little funds and grants we have are always ploughed straight back into our work, and the occasional field trip to Thorpe Park.

So it was this week that I put a perfectly innocent advert up in the free paper, ADVANCED SCIENCE and POTTERY, asking for a large group of volunteers to assist us here at the Human Institute. I require some 200 people for an experiment I wish to conduct, and was most pleased to find an immediate and enthusiastic response to the advert from willing, jobless layabouts. However, since then I have been contacted by a interfering local MP who demand I at least pay something called minimum wage. Now I wasn’t about to pay these volunteers (or at least the survivors) nothing. Indeed I had considered a last meal and a token payment for, I don’t know, a pound perhaps, to at least cover their bus fare home more than generous. Apparently not.

So once again, as I finish writing this, I am forced to head out  and round up some of the homeless and lost. Where did I put my hammer?

The Last Picture Show

January 12, 2010


As well you might by now know, I am a man who deals in cold hard fact. And thus fiction in it’s many myriad forms has never held any interest for me. This was revealed to me at an early age, when it was that as a small child and put to bed – on occasion my grandfather would read to me a story. He delighted in turning to the pages of Hans Christen Anderson and The Brothers Grimm to entertain me, as had they entertained him as a small boy.

I would of course, however, regularly take him to task for the obvious inconsistencies and impossibilities that such tales would throw up. Rapunzel – to grow hair to sufficient length with which to fashion as a rope for passing suitors, would have had to be growing it for at least seventy to eighty years – depending on length (again my grandfather and I would often argue as to how tall this actual ‘tower’ was). So far from being the beautiful princess waiting at the window for her rescue, she would have invariably been quite the wizened old crone. And one who constantly bled from the follicles, such would be the force exerted on her scalp by someone attempting to climb her hair. Quite frankly such a task would kill her.

Similar a house made of sweets, the like of which Hansel and Gretel happened upon in the woods, is quite impractical in either wet and hot climates, and would have suffered equally badly in both.  And the name Rumpletilskin is preposterous- who’d ever guess that!

So it is I grew up to be the man of science I am today. But I am not so uncultured as to be completely unaware of the current topics of conversation that filter through the laboratories and classrooms here at the Institute. The latest talk being about a motion picture causing quite the stir called ‘Avatar’. Now I have not seen this picture. Nor have I any interest or intention to rectify this matter. To date I have only ever sat through one film in my lifetime. And even then I stumbled upon it quite by accident, as I was trying to set the timer on my then BETAMAX video cassette machine to record the latest episode of Tomorrow’s World. Tthe one where they previewed the ‘fold up car’ – idiots!

Instead I found I had recorded a film entitled ‘Beneath The Planet of the Apes’. Now this film, despite it’s promising title, of which I imagined might in some way, relate perhaps to Desmond Morris’ The Naked Ape, was instead some incomprehensible rubbish about spacemen, mutants with nuclear bombs, and monkey’s riding around on horseback. So perplexed and then angry I was by what I watched, I promptly destroyed my television and have never owned one since.

If this makes me some social leper – then so be it, but quite frankly if it also means I don’t have to suffer seeing that hack Winston’s stupid big face spewing out whatever asinine scientific theory he’s currently trading in then all the better. You can keep your blue people!

On this I am RESOLUTE…

January 5, 2010

To you I say New Year. I am unable to prefix this with the verb ‘Happy’ though, due to the excess of gross consumption that has inevitably accompanied the festive season.

Like many of you I am sure – I too have taken it upon myself to cut back and detox over the next few weeks. Unlike many of you, however – I am being stricter in my self discipline, and so as of five days into 2010, I have ingested no food nor liquid. I have also taken to jogging for up to 13 hours a day.

Despite currently lacking the energy to press much more than the keys on my laptop, I take solace in the fact that I am unable to succumb to the temptations of the fridge as if I get up too quickly from my chair, I tend to pass out. No fool of course, as extra precaution I also set fire to my fridge at the weekend.

Christmas Fallout & The Year in Review – How was 2009?

December 31, 2009

Well all I can say is I’m glad that’s over! So once more another Christmas passes us by. Not only can I barely stomach the idea of celebrating the birth of a fat man in a red suit who delivers ‘presents’ around the world, the general over consumption I detailed in my last blog entry has little abated over this past week. And to make matters worse invariably we are forced to spend this time with family.

My father doesn’t believe in Christmas (fine you might think – there being something we do have in common) however over the years my father has also stopped believing in the metric system, tomatoes and black people. My mother’s idea of a festive dinner tends to consist of a power shake and back into the garage for the afternoon to continue pumping iron, it makes me shudder to think how strong that woman is, even at her advanced years.

So Christmas was once more spent with my idiot half brother, someone I may have neglected to mention in blog’s of the past – and well for good reason. The product of a messy fling that bears little thinking between my father and our gardener, Graham and I have never seen eye to eye – partly because he is only six years old and I stand some feet taller than him. However his tantrums and constant demands to be the centre of attention I find particularly grating. I find it almost impossible to comprehend how someone as stupid as he, with his limited scientific knowledge (I think he may have ‘heard’ of Newton) can possibly be sourced from one half of the same gene pool as me. Well let me assure you, round the family dinner table I can be just as loud as he can, if not louder!

Still I digress, happy to find myself back in the comforts of the Human Institute and sitting here typing the final blog entry on the keys of my newly acquired Macbook. (Are you reading this Bill Gates? Your ‘updates’ are a thing of the past – I AM FREE!)

So with drink in hand I sit here and contemplate the past year. What have been my main achievements? What have I learnt? what have I taught you my dear reader? Well, I have fulfilled my vow to post one blog per week here on the site, and in the process boost the awareness and circulation of this humble little site. In this new information age where the criticism could be levelled that any idiot now can get their voice heard and read on one of millions of personal websites, as a Professor of Science and Humans – I am glad to be the one sensible head craning itself above the moronic horde.

Why this year alone I have experimented in sleep deprivation, final results still pending once I can actually find what I did with them over that week.


I have championed Sir Martin Marion Hilary, the oft forgotten inventor of time.


And finally given up on this whole cloning business – far much more trouble than it’s worth.


And while we’re at it time travel too.


So what does the New Year hold in store? Well I am looking forward to taking part in my first space flight, and finally finishing my matter transporter (I did give it a test run earlier this year when I tried to transport a common house fly but failed to notice a human being had accidentally climb aboard too – I shan’t go into what came out the other end).  It’s about time too I took a visit to the Large Hadron Collider in Cern to see what all the hold up’s are about. And as ever here at the institute it will undoubtedly be the usual mix of lecture, experiments and occasional discos.

So I bid you farewell people of the year 2009 – and hello to you people of the year 2010 – hold on tight here comes Charles!

Too much of a GOOD thing…

December 20, 2009

In this festive period where we all pretend to celebrate the birth of the magician Jesus Christ, invariably our time is called upon by various parties, friends, colleagues and occasionally strangers to indulge in a few Christmas drinks. Indeed in the past week or so I have been constantly at one end of a glass or three. Whilst the human body can show remarkable resilience I fear I am now at a point where I can no longer continue having a good time.

I extend this latest blog entry out there to all the people I have yet to catch up with, and are making demands of my time to say – the fun must stop, the good times, the drinks, the partying, the constant state of merriment. I can take no more – I am officially going to ground for the remainder of the holidays – I shall resurface just once more to offer my inaugural annual review of the year. Until then…