Get over and do it tonight. Monkey come chop banana

Where do I begin? So much of little worth to share with you.

Actually it needs to be with a key theme over the last week for me – fake humans.
Does anyone out there watch ‘Humans’ with the green-eyed blue-blooded sentient synths and now the new obedient orange-eyed non-sentient version? Well I do. Imagine my shock the other morning when I saw a great big blue synth blood stain on our bed sheets. ‘Oh that was a pen’ said Mrs Bob. Duh right! Your secret is out, you are a synthetic Mrs Bob. That explains not only your perfection Mrs Bob, but also why you need to plug yourself in to recharge each night. You told me that it was your pacemaker not your very essence of being that needed topping up…….


Which takes me to Westworld. Now I loved the film with Yul Brynner but I have never seen the big money Sky series. For those who don’t know about the Westworld film, it is about a fantasy world created for rich people who want to fulfil their fantasies. There are various worlds populated by totally realistic robots. The main one is a Wild West town so you go there as a bad ass gun slinger and get into bar rooms brawls, ‘romantic’ nights with saloon gals, and then gunfights with the man in black, big bad Yul. Of course you always win. What happens – spoiler alert – is that the robots develop a fault and it all goes wrong as they kill humans.

Now in the film, all the robots are shut down until they make the sun rise and the humans wake then suddenly it comes to life and they start to walk around as if they had been on pause. Now this is where I come in (yes, long-winded I know).

So………There I was lying on the bed in the Bobloft the other morning. Looking at a book or a paper, quietly, reflective, almost intellectual…. No noise to be heard anywhere in the house as half the clan were out and the other was asleep. Then a noise, the faint sound of Bob Junior (male) as he opened his door.



A less annoying version can be found at

Now this is my point. There I was in ‘off’ mode as no humans were about. Then as soon as I sensed the presence of a human I went into Pleasure Robot ‘audible’ mode (or attention-seeking as Mrs Bob would call it). There you have it, I am a high-end Pleasure Robot. I bet I cost millions to develop.


Just days later we discovered that Bob Junior (female) is one too as she similarly reacted to the sound of my presence. It must be in my (blue) blood.

Now I don’t know what underclothes Pleasure Robots wear but I do know that a) I went commando a week ago as I ran out of clean pants (that I could bothered to look for anyway) and b) I then told people I was going commando and then c) I ordered myself some new pants online. Mrs Bob was impressed that I bought my own pants but said she had never come across anyone buying their pants using Amazon Prime. Is that so odd? Actually, is Amazon Prime a TV station?

Was I to wear pants at night – adult night Pampers aside – then I would have ruined them the other night. I had an awful nightmare about a man wolf / werewolf / scary wolf thing outside a house we were staying in. He / it came out as it started to go dark and you had to draw the curtains so it couldn’t see you and make sure you got back to the house before dark or it would kill and eat you. Robots dream you see? If you could see inside my head you would be frightened too. About my wolfycritter dream not about what goes on in my head, but that is troubling too.

creature (11)_web
Bad dreams? Well Croatia v Nigeria is on now and that will give me bad dreams as the worst World Cup game so far. I have managed a few games but have dropped off a bit too. The Bobcave is doing it’s job – desk and laptop to do my work, then a one-second trek to the sofa, tv and beer fridge. I annoyed Bob Junior (male) by singing my version of the Scooby Doo theme (which starts in a raunchy voice, ‘Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you? I want to kiss your body’) and he poured beer on my shorts. Very hurtful.

Anyway crap game this but loved the rest of it. Even looking forward to England on Monday night and a full Bobcave with friends, beer and pizza. I have my England flag up, my World Cup wallchart (up-to-date) and my barely filled Panini sticker album. I have a Joe Hart swap if anyone needs it.
I made sure I went out on Thursday night with friends to Wanstead for une biere before the World Cup started. I met two ex-colleagues who I shall refer to as Leslie Ash and Geronimo. Now Geronimo offended / delighted me by saying that I am like Varys from Game of Thrones. Initially he focussed on the ‘little birds’ network of spies and informants (as I had a tiny bit of gossip) but this soon moved to his other features – bald, fat and a eunuch. Hmmmmm.

When we left the pub, a young bloke off his head who we immediately labelled (on the basis of “say what you see”) Fake Hitler. I declined his offer of a drink but he did – as he described it – ‘spud’ me. A fistbump in my parlance. I have been spudded by Fake Hitler.
They played some good 80s music in the pub including one by The The, a band I had partially forgotten about. I wasn’t a huge fan as they were a bit pretentious you know?


If you want non-pretentious music then you should have been at the Lambourne End festival last weekend for the headline act Red Alert, fronted by Carey Junior’s (female) boyfriend who I shall today refer to as Pablo Maracas. They played a blistering set with one highlight being a non-sweary Creep, along with their rock-out version of Word Up and then a great version of Sweet Home Alabama. I was quite well behaved I think.
The amazing guitarist, who we shall call Norman Niblet, comes from a musical family and father – Drambuie Kazeem (pseudonym) – was telling me all the cool bands his band supported back in the day. Tygers of Pan Tang. Bloody well yeah!!! I found it hard to concentrate though as my Big Fat Sausage Finger has been hurting a bit. It has put me off sausages but not chips and I showed Bob Junior (male) how to make Slimming World chips this week to his dee-lite.

Which brings me on to meat. I didn’t used to like lamb chops but I do now but they need to be crispy and well done. I could do with a number of small lamb chops right now.
Monkey Chop by Dan-I. Now that stream of crap made me think of this great song from the early 80s. Brilliant.


On that note, goodbye and enjoy the World Cup. Busy with work and football so will Boblog again when there is a crap game on.

2 thoughts on “Get over and do it tonight. Monkey come chop banana

  1. I cannot believe you ended this week’s blog with a photo of Lamb Chop. Without a formal Public Mental Health Warning. I am not going to sleep for a week. I am going to forward my psychiatrist bills to your solicitor.


  2. Typical – the Lamb Chop thought police. Is this the world we live in now?


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