Did you just imbibe an energy drink, or are you just pleased to see me?

The aptly named Christopher Woods has just found a way to get himself a bit more of a woody - he purchased a Boost Plus energy drink and got a bit more than he bargained for in the downstairs department that he couldn't get rid of in the urinal. The stiffy that wouldn't disappear.

Now some men have trouble getting one going, and are whinging "I wish I had your problem!". This man is suing because his penis was eternally larger and harder than usual. It's a strange case, and I'm wondering how it would stand up in court.

I almost missed this article because my cursor key was artfully and modestly arranged so it hid the shocking word in the title, and I thought the article talked about an energy drink that was providing us with an eternal election.

That's something I'd sue over.

Not Spine

To state the bleeding obvious, there was no posting on the Mean Manor blog in May 2007. But not for lack of eventfulness, or lack of ill-feeling. Oh no. Firstly, I stubbed my toe.

That may not sound like much, but for those who have stubbed their toe before, it is not an experience to be downplayed. Ouch! You really know what pain is, and you hop around yapping for a while, so that those nearby truly know what idiocy looks like. It is not a pleasant business, not for you nor onlookers.

But to amp up the drama, Mr Mean attempted to purchase some shelves from a manufacturer unfortunately named Knott's Pine. And true to it's name, Mr KP has been ducking and weaving responsibility ever since.

How difficult can it be to get a few shelves together? I thought you stuck a few bits of wood together with some nails and things - not exactly making a three tiered cake (I was going to say "not rocket science", but then I thought of something which seems much more challenging to my mind.)

Mr Mean has been calling the Cowardly Custard and he's been trying the old trick of pretending he's not there, or he's taking another call, or he's trapped under something heavy, broken both his ribs, and can't reach a phone even though he desperately wants to. At a wood furniture store. A likely story. humph.

We're getting a bit sick of this, so when those shelves arrive, there's a good chance Mr Mean might break them up into pinewood sticks and start beating Mr KP's jelly-like character into more of a pulpous mush than it already is. It won't take long.

Then we'll just have to put in another order for shelves.