This is lonely pea.

He fell off the side of a dinner plate during a particularly lovely belly buster lunch at the Timpson residence last Sunday.

He now lives at the side of this table leg. Alone. With no other peas for company.

Just dust.

At least he's not freezing his balls off anymore. It's the little things.


This is Walter Crumb.

He slipped out of the bread bin via a tortilla wrap and is ready to hit the town.

He’s looking for love – a pretty poppy seed to cosy up to during long, cold nights on the kitchen floor.

Or a dainty dustpan to sweep him off his feet. Grrr.














This is Syd Stain.

He got all up front and personal with the cream carpet at No.17 Bishops Road during a particulary rowdy Burns Night.

Mrs. Griffiths is on his back, trying to fight him off with her pistol, Vanish Gold.

But Syd’s won this round, he’s holding hands with floorboard beneath and he’s feeling lucky, punk.