you can never step into the same River Street twice

Rollin' down the River Street

Behold the magnificence which is Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan’s River Street.

Often has it been said that Canadians are too literal-minded; most particularly often it has been said to my face, although there’s nothing about my face in particular or in whole which is literal-minded, and indeed quite often the parts migrate at will or vanish altogether and I’ll end up all ears, ferinstance.

Quite embarrassing, especially when they see me writing down everything they say.

But that is neither here nor there. And it’s certainly not in Moose Jaw, which is not all that far from everyone’s favorite Canadian place name: Head-Smashed-In-Buffalo-Jump.

So…have you been to Moose Jaw? Have you seen it? It’s not Paris, let me tell you. So, when the city fathers/mothers/foster parents put their heads together and wanted to do something uniquely Moose Jawian, they quite naturally phoned Germany and brought over artist Edgar Muller and his team to turn River Street into a painting of a river, reportedly the world’s largest 3-dimensional painting.

How proud they must be, eh?

So they not only paved Paradise: they gravened themselves an image of it and now walk all over it.

The Knicker Vicar on Panty Pilgrimage

Laurie McIntosh The rat in granny's panties

Talk about a modern-day superhero! Inglewood, New Zealand priest Gary Husband which, come to think of it, is a real funny name for a priest you must admit, has volunteered to undertake a Panty Pilgrimage. It seems the town has been knickerless since the local store stopped carrying ladies’ underwear over a year ago. Apparently, neither the internet nor the Sears catalogue are available in this remote corner of Kiwilandia either, which of course makes the crisis all that much more severe.

The priest organized ad-hoc panty raids to the neighboring settlement of New Plymouth, but now, thanks to the fervent prayers of his parishioners, a regular bus schedule has been organized and paid for by the government.

Big Mama Granny PantiesCouncil’s operations director Rob Phillips says the Tranzit Coachlines trips will be subsidised for a year “to ensure people were really serious about buying those new knickers – and anything else that might take their fancy”.

That’s contemporary socialism for you. From each according to her ability, to each according to how she feels about the Disney print granny panties they happened to have in stock. But it’s not a trivial issue; no indeed, it could accurately be called seminal, at least once more of the local fellows get involved.

In a world fraught with the threat of terrorism, the very last thing you want to do is turn an entire gender into commandos.

Truffle molestor caught brown-handed

Hand Dipped ChocolatesIn shocking news from exotic Nottingham, we have learned that a disgruntled and highly competitive chocolatier has attacked and “inappropriately handled” the truffles of his competition.

Lynn Cunningham from Hotel Chocolat said: “It was quite extraordinary really.

“The staff observed Mr Colenso handling a number of truffles in a way that made them suspicious.

“When we checked the truffles later they had been squashed and damaged.”

She said Hotel Chocolat was told by Thorntons that Mr Colenso had “handled the truffles inappropriately“.

“We just want to move on now,” she said.

Let the healing process begin.

Remember, one should always be careful about letting one’s competitors finger one’s truffles.

X-Wing Explosion: the hidden story

Although the government has tried their best to cover up what really happened at the launch of the homemade X-Wing fighter, we here at the ol’ raincoaster blog have sourced exclusive footage which demonstrates conclusively that this was not the innocent accident we’re all supposed to believe it was.

Ask yourself: who gains by this deception? The answer, of course, is obvious.

Sir Richard Branson, Billionaire, Butt-Flasher: the video

So the deal is this: Sir Richard “Hottie” Branson, the closest thing England has to an attractive man, was going to rapell down the side of the Fantasy Tower at the Palms in Vegas, to publicise the new Virgin Airways flight from San Fran to Vegas. Things went about as smoothly as you’d expect, once you knew it would pop up here: ie, things got grossly out of hand, resulting in Sir Richard banging the side of the building repeatedly (whether or not it was his type we have been unable to determine; and oh, WHY must it be a mere building: Richard, call me) and also in his splitting his pants up the backside, revealing some dusky grey tighty greyeys, much to onlookers’ amusement.