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The long suffering blog of the Impossimal creators...

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find me some juicy titbits

Orangeable

UN-INTELLIBOT

Post your questions below for an immediate answer.

Q. WHY DO WE HAVE BONES?

I mean really, why do we have bones jelly doesn’t have bones and that stands up so do bananas. I know there’s something hard in my skin but it’s not bones. I’m confused.

Rainbow Duckface (14)

A. You are right, we don’t really have bones it’s all made up by the medical industry so they can sell plaster casts. Ignore the media hype regarding bones we are actually supported inside with an exoskeleton made of adamantium. Your nails are actually very thin slithers of this stuff which is why they can be painted just like a car bonnet. Besides if you didn’t have this metal skeleton we wouldn’t need doors and the door industry would collapse because we could slide under them.

Q. IF YOU HAVE TWINS DOES IT TAKE TWICE AS LONG?

You know, it’s nine months like for one is it eighteen for two or longer?

Unicorn Donkykonk Smith (15 3/4)

A. Twins only occur if you eat a lot of Twixes, as you know they come in identical pairs too. The length of time changes according to how many Twixes you have eaten during your life time, a special formula is used to gauge the ‘twin time’ before being born.

Amount of Twixes x age + Mars bars consumed / Malteasers = Days until twins are born

Simple once you know, more formulas exist for boys and girls which again is all down to confectionary.

ERROR…DOES NOT COMPUTE…INTERRUPTION

Hang on, stop this blog. I’m sat here trying to enjoy an orange whilst I type and I couldn’t be having any more trouble if I was trying to peel a bowling ball.

The skin is so tight I can hardly get my fingers to it only to remove a piece no bigger than my small nail each time. When I do remove something bigger my fingers start to hurt from the strain. I’m not kidding with this, I have eaten lots of oranges, big ones, small ones, pipless and so full of pips it’s like eating a sack of orange flavoured marbles but this one really is the toughest mother orange I have ever had the misfortune to peel.

It didn’t start well today, first the bin in the kitchen decided to spontaneously explode (don’t ask) then the computer decided that today it didn’t want to compute it wanted to install 62,362 updates instead, my email provider sold its entire legacy email system to google but forgot to tell the programmers so now I have to manually access my mail to get around the log on error, also the automatic junk filter junks 99.9% of mail on any setting and finally whilst typing this blog my iPad thought it would be a bit of a laugh to crash and lose the entire entry.

So I attacked the orange quite viciously but still it’s unwielding, this is blogging at its best, live orange peeling, it’s that cutting edge it’s off the scale. The picture above is eight minutes into the peeling, I’m halfway through and my fingers are hurting. Every little piece is like loosening Sellotape from a roll when you keep losing the end.

Ten full minutes of my life gone peeling a satsuma, hang on folks it doesn’t get any more rock’n’roll than this, I couldn’t be having more fun right now if I was cleaning the toilet with my head. There’s juice everywhere, the whole thing is under so much pressure that the slightest puncture issues forth an orange fountain and gives out a little whistle.

The crummiest thing is that the second skin underneath, the horrible, bitter, flakey pithy skin is still there and has to be peeled off each piece. The centre is even harder to get out, each side has the centre pushed in like a belly button so I can get no finger purchase and had to resort to a compass.

Well that went bleeding well. Twelve minutes later a knackered pithy orange with puncture wounds, the centre still refuses to come out and as you take each segment it decides to rip into pieces. Don’t know why I bother, give me a bag of pork scratchings instead.

Then you get the blasteds of all blasteds, it’s that sour that excuse my English it turns your arsehole inside out. This is the sour train from sour town that visited pith station on the way, it’s also the first time I have stuck my tongue out enough to touch the end of my nose whilst retching and clenching, something I never thought possible until today. I swear i saw the end of the universe as my eyes rolled back and my sphincter clapped in panic.

It’s unedible and binnable, in fact I have come up with a recipe for it.

Orange a la Blasted

Try to peel and lightly toss in the bin.

So if you see a new batch of oranges available in Tesco’s that look perfect, tight skinned and deliciously juicy, beware unless you want the fruit version of occupational and electro shock therapy rolled into one I suggest you stick with a banana or indeed those pork scratchings I talked about earlier.

I’m off to scrape the taste out of my mouth with the toilet brush, oh, and push my tongue back in.

 

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