Is the government funding underground obedience lessons for the residentially challenged? Where exactly are our taxes going?

THE PEOPLE DESERVE TO KNOW.

• Something microwaved
• Meat-based product that had been cooked badly

Instead I went for… cheese on crackers. Not just any crackers either. M&S Sesame, Poppy and Pumpkin Seed Crackers*.

Oh dear.

*Disclaimer: Bought as part of the M&S Valentine’s Dine In Meal Offer, not indicative of trench’s actual grocery shopping habits.

This might sound crazy, but do you think that the virus could have come from the Mummy?

Relic Hunter, serving all your low-rent Tomb Raider ripoff needs.

On a Sunday.

At 07:45.

AM.

Oh you hilarious japesters.

Sadly one of the Crash Test Dummies Car’s siblings hadn’t fared so well, so it was with a heavy heart that I decided to dispose of… my Thundertank.

I do not need to describe how awesome the Thundertank was, and is. With it’s actual tank tracks, pop up ‘attack’ mode and general all-round sweetness. I do not need to mention any of this because you, readers, know all too well how aces this plastic beast was.

Likewise you also know how the hatch doors always fell off. And the tracks always stuck. Until they snapped. And that only one full-sized figure could fit in it unless the hatches were open.

Thundertank, you were a fickle, often broken playtime pal. But the time has come for us to part. Trenchblog salutes you.

Now readers, given your knowledge of my Mother, I think the following question should be fairly easy. Let’s see shall we?

Q) What leaving gift did Mother give to me to celebrate my in-progress housemove?

A) Was it:

• A handmade trinket
• A delicious homebaked treat
• A sum of monies
• By electrocuting me with my own new cooker

Secretly I think it was part of her plan to hospitalise me for a month or two and squeeze a bit more rent out of me. Well who’s laughing now eh Mother?

Me, with my huge piles of cash and complete lack of eyebrows. Ha!

• An old school Slayer t-shirt
• Super tight black jeans. Exactly too tight enough.
• White leather cowboy boots. Aforementioned trousers tucked very firmly into.

It was enough to make me want to put the blog on hiatus again.

But I bet that’s just what he wants me to do.

Not because it’s a not partcularly great Van Damme-fest. Or because JCVD demonstrates the patented Van-Mullett, (see also Hard Target).

But because the film is presented in 4:3 crap-o-vision. You’ll be damned before you watch Timecop in anything but the original aspect ratio.

The slimpack instead of a full dvd case did not help either.

So it was that I stumbled across an amazing pair of items in a catalogue.

Battery powered salt and pepper grinders.

Which means that mankind has spent hundreds of hours trying to make salt and pepper dispensal less menial. Clearly someone, somewhere thought there was a market for these devices. Are these people really out there? Do people roll their eyes at the thought of manually twisting a regular grinder to produce the condiment they so crave?

If you factor in the time walking around a supermarket to get batteries and then the energy spent replacing them, you’re not even saving that much time.

I can picture the scene now.

A dinner party. Group laughter. The wine has already started to flow as the main course is served.

Jeff: Here’s Melinda’s infamous beef stroganoff. Tuck in!
Ted: This smells delightful.
Sarah: It really does, you’ve spoilt us Melinda!
Melinda: Oh it was no trouble really, I just hope you enjoy it.
Ted: I’m certain we will. Jeff, could you pass the salt?
Jeff: (Looking excited) Allow me!

Jeff leans over, grinder in hand. Instead of twisting it a few times, he depresses a button.

The grinder whirs for a few moments. Salt falls from the underside.

Awkward silence falls over the room.

Melinda avoids eye contacts with the guests.

Ted: You’re a c*ck.