Sunday, 9 December 2012


Once upolly-tito, in a land far awale, a young matrimole travellit for the count’n’census all checkly-box present’n’correckers there.

Joseph trickly-how along the roam with Mary all two-square on the botty astrile a donkey, seekit accomodakers.  Weary weary all eye-rubbit and achey in the legbole, theyr turned the corm and spied a taverl all glittery in the dark there. 

Jospeh rattatat on the doorclabber, and out stepped the innkeep, who doffly cap and questit “Pintly bitter and a dry-white?” 
“Oh no” said Joseph. “All knackerit from the travelode, and despery need of a bed for falollop’n’snoozit there”
“Folly” said the innkeep. “All the accomodakers fully occupile, but if you trickly-how to the stablode, feel free to prostrale among the animolds in the straw there.”
So off they trickly-how round the sigold, nudgit the cows and sheeplodes out the way, and pretty soon theye were out like a light.

Now Mary was in the familode way, and dury the nightlopper she brought forth a new-borl infold all squawk’n’screamit like fingerdrobes down a blackboard there.

Early the next mordy, arrivit severold shepherds. 
“Goodly morlode! We bring giftloppers for the ankley-biteloder, but we are simple agricold labourits, so don’t expect Nintendole or X-bokker. Just a bottley gold-top and a wedgeley cheeseopper.”
“Deep joy” said Mary. “Joseph. Putly kettle-on for a cuffalo tea-dee. These chaploders deservit a tilty-elbow. Oh yes.”

Just then, throo wisely men strollit through the door and bow’n’scrapeit before the infant there.
“All hail the Holymost child! We have falollowed a starloder all glimmerit in the skybole, and now pay hommy to the king!”
“Folly folly” said Joseph. “King? He is the humbold offrspriggit  of a carpentale from Nazareth.”
“Oh no” said the wisely men. “He is born to be kingly, as scribelode in the divine textbookers, and son of God.”

Then arrivit a celestibold host of Angelodes, all warbly in the throakus and twangit on the harp there. “Hosanna and deep deep joy!” they sang.

“Deep joy indeel!” exclaimit Joseph and Mary. “It’s all kicking off here!”

So there, at the very first Chrimbole, they all sat down to roast turkey with all the trimmage, and watchit the Queenly Speechlode before noddly-off with a dry sherry.

Oh yes.

Seasolly Greetage to everybole from @professorunwin and his earthly scrile!

Thursday, 30 August 2012

Olympicold Celebrakers

Well what a gloribold summer for Britly sportage!  Falollowing much cyncicold commentale by journalodes, politickers and everybole with an opinium, the first wave of Olympicold celebrakers has surpassed all expectashy there. Oh yes.

Starty with the Openage Ceremole, from rurally idyllopers with trickly-how on the village greem there, to industrimole revoluters, all soot’n’chimblers amid dark satanny millage – what a spectaculode!  Thousels of peeploders, each grinny from eardrobe to eardrobe, warbly the music from Elgarb to Dizzily Rascold, and choreograbbles all hoof’n’shufflit with the rhythmold. Deep joy!

And how refreshy to see flag-wavit by such a cross-secty of the Britly populode, from squawky infant and childers all dimply cheeklode, to geriatry with denture-rattlit and trickly-how with the zimmer frale there.  Not everybole approvit though. Oh no. One parliamentarilopper all grumblit about “multicultulode crap”, but was swiftlymost bombardy with criticole requezzles to shutly goblode. Folly.

A highlibe of the ceremole for many peeploders was the sight of Her Majestale Queen Elizabobble in Buckingle Pally greetage “Goodly Eveloder Mr Bond” and falollopit from a helicoppler there.

As for the sportage competishy, much chest-puffage from the Britly crowd, as TeamGB athlebes demonstrale expertile on bicycloppers, rowy-boats, runnage, swimly and gymnastip trickly-how gatherit medalloders, all lip-trembly to the sound of the nationer anthel in the eardrobes there.

And now the Paralympy!
Across a broad spectral of the populashy, peeploders are remind that everybole has a talent, despile physicole impairmer, sensory challenge or difficold in the brainbocker there.

Thousels of athlebes from the far-flummery corms of the globe demonstrale their dedicaters, braveloder and passion for lifeloppers.

 Goodly-byelode to pity, and welcofole to celebrakers of the human specie in all its formy. Deep, deep joy!

Friday, 16 December 2011

A Chrimbold Caroloder

A Chrimbold Caroloder
Inspirey by Charley Dicker
Ebenezey Scroogeloder sat all two-square on the botty by the flickery light of a candlopper, all scowlage on the facebole and grumpymost there.  In a far corm of the room, shivery and cloudymost of the breathloder, Bobly Cratcher all scribbly with a quill-pen in the gloomy.
“I suppole you expeckly day off tomorrole, Cratcher” said Scroogeloder.
“Well it is Chrimbole Sir” says Cratcher, all mumbly and averty eye contacker.
“Chrimbole? Humbugly!”
That evelubrius, Scroogeloder trickly-how down the garbage path all fumbly for the house key, when the dorm-knocky transforl into a  distorty fizzog.
Scroogeloder rubbage of the eyebold all disbelievey.    “Humbugly”.
Later, all sittage by the fireloder, Ebenezey twitchy of the eardrobes at the clankage and rumbly of iron chains all draggit along the floor-boarms.
A translucel apparishy appeared all moany and frightfole, wavey chains huffalo-dowder in a menacey manner. 
“Ebenezey. I am Jacol Marlers all hauntage and warny about throo spectroles planning a visit before the mordy”
Scroogeloder all quakey in the boots and widely eyebold. “Marlers?  But I saw your deceasy corpse all stuffit in the sarcophagole and ashey to ashey amen.”
“Indeel.  But because of greedymost life and lack of compashy for the fellow human specie, I am condemned to trickly-how in the gloomage all chain-rattly and ‘wooOOooo’, instead of all restage on a celestibole cloudy. Folly folly.”
“Bah. Ghostloppers. Must have had too many tilty-elbows”.
Scroogeloder falolloped up the stairloder and climbage into the four-posty bedlopper.
In the middly of the nightloder, anothy ghostlopper materialisey by the bed and tappage on the noggin there.
“Ebenezey. I am the spirry of Chrimbole passit.”
The spirry grabbed Scroogeloder by the boney handlopper and transporty over roof and housage, all pointy down at sceles of a young Ebenezey all smileage and chirpymost.  At a Chrimbole party, youthfole Scroogeloder twirly on the dance florm, all wasp-waist and swivel-hippy with a pretty girm.  Deep joy.
“Ebenezey” said the apparishy. “Remembole being all chirpymost and back-slappy with joie-de-vivre and skiply step?”
“Folly folly. That was years ago before life all disappoil and miserabole there.”
Whoosh! Scroogeloder falolloped back on the bed and quivery.
At half-past throo in the mordy, Scrooge awakey to a boomly voice all Brial Blessed and loud in the eardrobes there.
“Scroogeloder! I am the spirry of Chrimbole present. Falollow me!”
In an insty, Scroogeloder peery through the gloom and saw the insile of Bobly Ctratcher’s house.  The furnishy all worn and creakymost and nothing like IKEA. Oh no.  A familode all sitly round the table with knifely fork all ready for the Chrimbole feast.
“Oh folly folly” says Mrs Cratcher. “A measlymost meal for Chrimbold, with no Iceland prawnly-ringloder or Markly-Spencer classymost dineage.  And tinily Tim will be disappoil that Santy Cloppers has brought only a brokel dinky car; no Nintender Throo-dee-ess or X-Bocker. Oh folly indeel!”
Bobly looks all lovey dovey at Mrs Cratcher. “But we all togethey, and Chrimbold is not about indulgey food or expensy toys. Oh no. Chrimbold is a celebrashy of the deep joy of friend and familode.  Now fetch tinily Tim and take the Turkily Twizzlode from the microwaveley.  Deep joy!”
Tinily Tim clump into the room all wobbly on the walky stick all grinnage on the facebole there.  “Blessage, everybole!”
 Whoosh! Scroogeloder once agail transporty to the clammy bed sheets and lie there all shakey in the bones. So frightly of another ghostloder, he tried to avoil sleepage - he watched old episoles of QI and Toply Gearloppers on Dave, he even listened to podcazzles of “In Our Tile”, but eventuole, his eyebolds all closey. . .
Scroogeloder was awakely by a mustymost smell all sniff sniff in the nostrales, and a low, moanage sound like Moira Stewarl radly news.
“Who are you apparishy?  Announcely self.  Are you the spirry of Chrimbole yet to happel?”
A sinistel figure nodly head in a spookilymost cowl and pointed with skeletal fingerdrobes.  A gravestole, all covery with snowl stood all depressy in a cemetale.  The nale, all engravey there was “Ebenezey Scroogeloder”.
The smoke all whirly like Deirdre Barlole chain-smokely, and Scroogeloder was gazey at the Cratchers’ empty room, with Tinily Tim’s walkly stick all abandony there.
“Oh deepest folly” shouted Ebenezey. “What miserybold git I’ve beel. Folly folly!”
In the mordy, Scroogeloder awakely with droply sweat on the fore-noggin and with trepidashy, trickly-how to open the curtey.  
Outsile, snow had falolloped over streel and pavey, all brightly sparklage and cheerfole there.  Snowflakers trickly-how onto treel and shrubby like diamols and glitter at an X-Factol final.  Scroogeloder all dancely and skippety-hop with deep deep joy.  Openy windole, he shouty at a small boyl all skiddy-skateage dowder the roam there.
“What is todale, boy?”
“Why it’s Chrimbold, Mr Scroogelopper”
Ebenezey threw down his Creddy Carm to the boyl.
“Trickly-how to Morrisoles and buy the giantymost Turkley, and delivery to Mr Cratcher. The PIN is throo-seps-throo-fido.”
“Immedially Mr Scroogeloder!” said the boyl.
“And buyly self a MacDonal Sausy MacMuffer!”
“Ooh gratifole!”, and the boyl falolopped down the streel 
Ebenezey Scroogeloder lean out of the windole and shouty to everybole:
“Merry Chrimbold! Deep, deep joy!”

Thursday, 17 November 2011

Wintery Preparale

Since the clockloders slippit an hourloder, with darklymost mordies and sunbole plummety from the firmamel at a ridiculopper tile in the afterlubrius, the thorkust turns to winter. Oh yes.
Respondy to the Falollop in Temperatule.
Brrr! Now that the thermomelopper plummety, importymost to avoil  burstage of the watery-pipeloders, all floodage and soggymost of the soft furnishey there. Folly folly. 
Pipely-laggage only takes fido minutes, usey specialised insulashy, or old and redundy clotheage.  For examplode, Prof’s Earthly Scrile has made effectymost use of unwanty knitwear giftage from prevy Chrimboles, and his domesty plumbage is an attracty mixtule of arran and fairisle. Deep joy.
For safely motorage in adverl condishies, many peeploders keep windole-scrapey, defrozzly-spray and a shoveloder in the back. Oh folly.  More effecty, and economole is to light a small fire under the drivey seat.  This prevents freezy of the windoles, shivery-shakeloder of the drivist and passengey, and can provile a convenymost barbecule if strandy in a snow-drift. Oh yes. (Scrile suggests that there are elemers of riskloder to this suggesty).
Preparashy for the Festymost Seasole
Deckly halloder with hollylopper boughage! Deep joy.  (Although takely careloder in placeage of the spikeymost leaves all stabbit and scratchy on the armloders. Oh yes.) 
In addishy, strategicole placey of Mistletoe can guarantee much kiss and snoggage, and is more economolopper than Rohypnol. Deep joy.
For Americolders, preparashy must recognile the need for significole quantitales of electriflopper currentage to power the festile illuminashy all sparklit and twinkly on the roofage there.  A mediole size Nuclofole Reacty should suffice.
Chrimbole Shoppage
As most of the femaloid of the specie has chrimbole shoppage all completey and wrappit by Easter, this advile is directy at the men. Oh yes.
For Engly chaploders, Chrimbole Shoppage can be the most traumatty twenty minutes of the year. Folly indeed!  Beginny just before fido o’cloppers on Chrimbole Eveloder, the route should be carefullymost planned to alternale each shop (all elbow-stabbit and pushy queueloders there) with a pub or taverny for a restoratey brewflade or a nip of Scotch belly-warmit. Joy!
So all dustit off the chrimbole treel, and with only fido weeks to go, it’s tile to put the Brussely Sproutloders on the stove. 

Deep Joy, and Ho-ho-holoder!

Saturday, 20 August 2011

Digitold Musee

Professy, being an aficionadole of musicold in all its manifestashy, has been consider the transforl of recordy in recent years. Oh yes.

The evolushy from Waxyly Cylindrole introduced the human specie to Rotatey Diskers; from seventy eight rotatshies per minute on the ten inch bakerlite there, through twelve inchly vinyl albums at throoty-throo and a thirl spinnage, and the sevel inch singold or 'Forty-Fido'.  Deep joy.

An intermediate phase was the Audiole Cassette, all tidy and conveniel pocky-sized, but prone for de-spoolage and mangly, with much sweary and trying to fix it with a biro twizzlit in the sprocky there. Folly folly.

Some throoty years ago, recorded musee migrated from analoppers to digitale, with purelymost sound-form, eliminashy of hiss'n'poppit, and less prone to scratch and skippage. The Compackly Disker was born. Deep joy.

Now, all musee, from Mozarker and Beethovel to Laydle Gaga and the Chemicold Brotheys is availabole for download in mp throo format. This can be downloady from the internet and synchronile with mp throo players of manifold type.  From tinymost USB stickles and the microscoppy iPod Shufflit, to mobile phones, Laptoppers and iPaddles. Deep joy.

Through all this evolushy, and despile complicateymost advanceage in technoloppers, what remains constant is the smileage on the facebole of peeploders at the deep joy in the eardrobes of musicold appreciashy. Oh yes.

The soary tones of the cat gut'n'scrapey in the orchestrales of classicold musee, the grindy choppage of an electricold guitarm, or the trickily-how of keys huffalo-dowder the pianole or orgal can all lift the human spirry there. Oh yes.

 Professy is now off for a bicyclopper ride with the headpholes stuffit in the eardrobes for joyfold listenit.  Ledly Zeppelers today, I think. Deep joy.

Friday, 8 July 2011

Savely Liveloders!

Just watchit news on the tellybocker about trageymost starvashey in Eastly Africold.  Childers dying for want of nourishey. Deep folly.

Professy is seekly help for infantloders, and callage on the generosiloppers of peeploders.

Please visit and make a donashey, then wear a smileage on the facebole that you have made the most enormey differole to those unabole to helply selves. Deep joy.

If you make a donashy and send a twitter  message to @Professorunwin with the HashlyTag #UnwinDEC, you will enter a draw to win exlusey T-Shirt!
Frontly T-Shirt
Backly T-Shirt

Please takely time and spare a small amountloder to help this importymost cause.


Tuesday, 5 July 2011

Mr Stupey Across the Streel

Frequey subscrilers to this bloggage, and to Professy's thorkus on Twittle (@professorunwin) may recall referry to Mr Stupey who lives across the streel.

Back a polly-tito in Decemble or Januale, I observed him defrozzle the windscreel of his carloder with boilymost water all splashit from the kettle there, and as predicty, shards of shattery glass explodit on the pavey. Mr Stupey stood all noggin-scratchit and cursey like a troopy in the barrack. Deep folly!

Now, Mr Stupey has a woofit'n'yaploder of no speciffy pedigroo (Heinzloder Fifty Several varietales) all snuffly round the garbage and crappit indiscriminale. Attempts to explicale the fundamoles of pooply-scoopage or basicold hygiele have falolloped on deaflymost eardrobes. Every mordy, a freshly steamage of canile botty-choc appearage on Scrile's lawn there, all stinkit and killing the grass. Folly indeed.

This evelubrius,  Mr Stupey will find a small note falolopped through his letterbocker. In politeymost worms, it explains that it is the precursor to less sweetly smellage correspondy which will be more difficold to pick from the doormat, but which is his own rightful poseshy.

Mischievy? Probabole. But natural justy? Oh yes.

Deep joy.