Cloverstardropper’s Yodelling Vagina Pineapple

And so, in the never ending quest of how many ‘switch’ word related headlining puns we can dream up…

… we decided on one that sounds like the title of a Half Man Half Biscuit song.

It’s back to Switch’s Silliness – but first, the obligatory Simming connection:

It has to be said, we’ve been a little worried about Cloverstardropper of late. You think Hands On Neck Syndrome isn’t real?

Think again!

 

Let’s stick to something a little less contentious:

This is something that would only make sense to Americans. In Britain, we’d be wondering whether there’s any Members of Parliament who aren’t asexual or bisexual, and – considering how many are meant to have had affairs with Edwina Currie – necrophiliac as well.

(Message to our American readers, in the UK politicians being caught with their pants down is practically an industry in its own right – and we don’t mean that wuzzy ‘having an affair with the secretary/Puerto Rican nanny/Swedish au pair’ crap you think constitutes a scandal).

Now for our Berry Sweet Simmie/Rory Gilmore moment:

Now for the flip side:

We’re wondering if that one was original or whether it was one of Honey Booboo’s?

Not that her friends have been having much better luck at Thanksgiving:

 

50 Loud Drunk Homophobes? Wasn’t that a Al Jourghensen side project?

On top of all that, the weather has finally been getting cold Stateside, albeit Californians’ perception of cold isn’t the same as those of us in more Baltic climates:

Not that we have room to talk, with this year being the hottest on average since 1783 – a fact rendered all the more remarkable because the previous record holder was caused primarily thanks to the ‘nuclear winter’ Europe and much of the northern hemisphere suffered in the wake of the Móðuharðindin volcanic disaster in Iceland.

In other news, Cloverstardropper has also come out of the closet as a werewolf (which when you think about it are just furries with attitude):

At least, we think that’s what moonsickness is? But blaming Obama for it? We’d never have taken Switch for a Tea Party member!

Hmmm, this post needs more pussy…

 

… we don’t know, and we don’t want to know!

Cats spend most of their time outside instinctively patrolling their territory before finding somewhere to sit and watch the world go by. The main reason for any domestic cat hunting is boredom – if you don’t play with your cat at all, it will hunt (unless it was a former feral cat, whereupon the instinct to ‘bring home the bacon’ will remain forever). Simple as that.

Sitting for hours at a known vole hole or lying in wait for the sparrows and squirrels underneath the bird table doesn’t compete with a good half hour roughhouse indoors chasing the laser pointer (preferably on a well polished floor so the cat can demonstate its awesome skid skills or along a long hallway it can go 100 mph down) or getting stoned out of your skull on the catnip bag.

Or ‘accidentally’ chewing the owner’s arm. At every opportunity.

If you don’t want your cat slaughtering the local wildlife, playing with it is ten times more effective than putting a stupid jingle bell round its neck (which only annoys the cat and makes it less inclined to exercise at all – result, one fat cat) despite what the RSPB claims (who did their research not in conjuction with Cats Protection but in conjunction with the so-called Feline Advisory Bureal/International Cat Care – a ‘cat welfare charity’ largely sponsored by ultra-dubious firms with vested pet industry interests such as Bayer and Nestlé). More to the point by spending quality time with your cat you’ll half your own stress levels too.

For every story a moral.

Unfortunately we couldn’t find one for the above so you’ll have to make do with this:

Let’s end this with the following dreadful joke: