Hear Ye

The town gathers to hear news of von Jiblets return.

Hear Ye (II)

Beware Moriaty, the town crier has issued the decree. Those loyal to von Jiblets are soon to see justice.

Holiday with a Chicken.

Greetings one and all. Of course, it is never an easy task to work out how many people actually bother to read these posts in their entirety, but writing still remains quite a reasonable stress relief of sorts.

Count Vladamir von Jiblets and myself had a very nice holiday in Western Australia (we shared a common desire to escape from Moriaty and his fogies for a few days) and thus it was a very successful trip.

A number of photographs featuring von Jiblets have now been posted, including one with a relative of mine who happened to be in WA at the time. This is quite significant, as I tend to see my cousins about once every five to six years, so twice in three years is a significant achievement.

I offer all readers a warm welcome to the latest, rather large installment of photographs, when I have had a chance to catch up on sleep, the rants should begin again in earnest.

Fear not Chicken lovers... Jiblets has returned!

Fun with the army lads.

Jiblets meets some army lads enjoying their time off. The bloke on the left is actually my cousin... hmm... I think they had been drinking a while.

Making friends with Flowers

He decides to 'shake hands' with a Kangaroo Paw.

Perhaps not.

Although... chickens are not known to have a fondness for water.

Jiblets feels the need to cool off.

Jiblets considers going for a swim in Kings Park.

Geese getting too friendly?

Ok... this looked remarkably suspect. Good thing they're bronze statues.

Explain this, if you can.

Hmmm... I can't work out the logic here.

Chickens can read, but...

Jiblets wishes he could read upside down

Spare Parts in Fremantle.

This place could prove useful, if pranks become more outrageous...

In flight random photographs...

The airlines maintain a sense of humour at least.

Beer Hunter

Apparently, stubbie holders are quite cozy.

Rear Window.

Von Jiblets admires the view from his window.

Hot Stuff!

Hot stuff... Von Jiblets has fun in my coffee cup during the flight.

Jiblets arrival in the West.

Customs proved an easy obstacle for von Jiblets.

Blogging in the West.

I am pleased to announce that Von Jiblets has found the western capital to his liking. True, when Brisbane suffers a grand defeat to Port Adelaide in the AFL grand final and there happens to be a number of Brssie boys in town for the Australian Uni games, there have been a few less than thrilled people around; then again, neither of the West Australian teams made it this far... oh well, Queenslanders must be harder to please.

At the instructions of my rubber travelling companion, a plethora of visual evidence of his adventures have been captured on digital memory, so when we return home, this blog is set to grow quite large quite quickly - Stay Tuned for all the oddities I (sorry, we) have managed to find here.

Fremantle... while I'm finding the time to type a few lines... Fremantle is a beautiful place. Only a short train ride from Perth, if Jiblets and I had to live anywhere else in this country of ours, Freo would be the number one candidate. With house prices about half that of Melbourne (which does make them comprable to where I currently reside in country Victoria) and weather that rivals parts of New Zealand (the warmer parts that is) we would be quite content here.

So until we return full of piccies and accompanying annotations, may your days be full of sunshine and your camels run victorious. Unless of course you live in a country that doesn't race camels... in which case, squeeze your chickens and hope for the best.

Bringing home the Bronze.

Currently it is Friday, nearly 9am.

This post is more of a precursor to the next series "Postcards from Perth" which should follow when I return.

But I am pleased to announce that the reason this blog has not been updated in a while is a positive one. Competing in the Teachers Games... we brought home a bronze medal in the mixed volleyball, only missing the gold medal match by two points, oh well.

Photo's will follow when I get some time.

And the chicken was well pleased with us.

Messing around in Boats.

After cutting loose for the weekend and arriving in the Big City - which is getting considerably big these days. Ah the urbanisation and decentralisation of our cities is a wonder to behold. How long before they will become like red-giants and collapse under their own weight?

I digress.

Due to a lack of organisation on the part of Mr Vett, I was travelling alone on this occasion, and hence skipped the otherwise mandatory visit to the Curry Palace and headed east to join a companion of the more musical variety. Upon completing the formalities, my dear friend - henceforth known as Miss K floated the idea of a soujourn on the river. Taking into account the decent weather and Jiblets suggesting that there may be some well mannered rubber ducks for him to converse with, we set off.

When the man in the boat shed denied that he had any knowledge of the nature of a PUNT, we quizzed him on the possibility of borrowing a standard rowing boat. Miss K was delighted by this suggestion - declaring that I was the ideal person to go rowing with as I regularly made the kinds of silly comments one is meant to speak while boating - in true Wilde fashion of course. Well, Mr Wilde (and certainly Mr Moncrieff) was perhaps more fond of going for a Bunbury rather than a Boat, but more on that one later. Our request for the loan of a boat was flatly denied, apparently there was too much water in the river. Hmmm, we are on stage 2 water restrictions in Melbourne (hey, up in the highlands they were stage 9 last year) yet somehow the boating experts deem the conditions suitable for kayaks and canoes only. How awfully unromantic of them.

And so the day passed, making conversation with the odd duck who took a liking to the look (but not the taste as I found out later) of my waffle cone. Twas a day well spent. As poor Jiblets was mistakenly left at home for the day, I took the liberty of photographing some real ducks that are interested in joining the army of the rubber chicken. Whether or not they will get along with the chickens is yet to be seen... they will probably fly away at the first sign of pomme-frites anyhow, so there is little use in worrying.

I bid you all a stress-free day.

When all else fails... squeeze your chicken.

A previous Incident.

When the cling wrap was removed, Von Jiblets was not entirely impressed with being made into LUNCH.

Stating the outrageous.

Well, it has finally happened. Someone out there has patented a range of Rubber Chicken products. We are talking T-Shirts, Boxer Shorts, Mouse pads... all crazy items.

So I just had to order one... A picture of a chicken (probably one of Von Jiblets distant cousins...) with the caption:

HAPPINESS IS JUST A RUBBER CHICKEN AWAY.

Check out the entire range at http://www.poyt.com/

With many thanks to the lilybee for pointing this out to me.

So, if you feel the urge, you may now demonstrate your true allegiance to von Jiblets by publicly humiliating yourself for the benefit of the rubber chickens of the world.

Schnitzel has a small Adventure.

Schnitzel returns from his morning walk, seemingly unaware that he has a new head-piece.

Before you all get carried away with jokes about stuffed chickens and shuttle 'cocks' I should pre-empt you all and say that both Schnitzel and von Jiblets have heard them before.

The newest recruits.

The allegiance of the faithful continues to grow. Chickens accross the world are flocking to Von Jiblets' side to battle Le Poulet in the Battle of the Beak.

The event that started it all...

Although it has since been revealed that this was not uniquely the work of Moriaty; the ingenuity should be credited entirely to Mr Vett... however this was the prank that set the precedent, and soon the band wagon had many passengers. When von Jiblets could take it no more, this blog was started. So for all you Jiblet, historians out there, here is the original work of pranking.

Say it with flowers.

Just as a follow-on from the previous post, "Chivalry of the chicken" I have decided to add a small rant about the possible applications of a chivalrous manner. Firstly, dear readers, I have NO idea whatsoever regarding 'how things are done' in the modern world, so please feel free to enlighten me as to any of these suggestions. And... just to clarify, when I speak of things being done I mean ethics and appropriate behaviours, not anything of a - how shall we say - more personal and private nature.

There are two rather different aspects to chivalry as it relates to being an honourable person. It is a common perception and a widely held belief that if wronged, the honourable person should seek to challenge the wrong doer as an instance of defending their honour. While this is fine, the honourable person should ALWAYS provide a suitable chance for the wrongdoer to see the error of their ways and make ammends before being shot, a la Evariste Galiose. Famous French Mathematician, solved many important problems in abstract algebra, shot aged 20 in a duel that resulted from an argument over a lady...

The second and perhaps less widely agreed upon aspect of chivalry concerns the treatment of a right doer (is that even a proper phrase??!?) But according to the logical law of opposites, it should stand just as strongly. The implications of this are fairly simple: if someone goes out of their way (even only slightly) to do something pleasant for you, the honourable person would immediately seek a way of repaying this gesture.

Now, here is the part where I fall short...

How does one make such a gesture of gratitude without appearing over zealous or making an unwelcome advance? I shall have to think upon this some more.

May all your chickens find themselves in good rubbery health... except Schnitzel who is stuffed already (ha, that was an unfunny joke for a couple of people who might just be reading this...)

Until next time, dear Readers.

The allegiance grows stronger.

Perhaps the greates indication of the success of Count Vladamir von Jiblets and his loyal companions lies in the fact that many of their common enemies are as yet unaware that this website exists. No, that is not true, they know well that it exists, they do not know WHERE. And that is the beautiful thing, the url of these pages has nothing to do with chickens whatsoever, thus making it a difficult task for adversaries of the fowl to plan their moments.

Each and every plan for revenge can be posted here in graphic detail, and Moriaty (or le Poulet for that matter) will be none the wiser. Ah, the wonders of having more working brain cells than certain other individuals... oh, and amassing a decently sized allegiance would have something to do with it perhaps!

Moriaty...

Moriaty, captured on camera at last.

And Schnitzel was his name.

Schnitzel, perhaps the most loyal ally of Von Jiblets, sets out for a morning walk.

Game on, Dr Moriaty.

It is a sad state of affairs when one cannot withold the urge to play prankster for the simple reason that one is stressed out. Dr Moriaty, we are all stressed; you should not consider yourself any more stressed than the rest of us. And to remove someone's desk drawer while they are on duty and hide it elsewhere, please! There could have been valuable documents in that drawer that were required for later in the day. You would have told me if I asked, I hear you reply? SMEG OFF! I do not believe this for one forsaken second, he who is too busy for anyone and lets children play baseball infront of glass windows... No, forgive me for being cynical.

On a much lighter note, von Jiblets is beginning to gather allies. Yesterday he recieved a letter of commendation from an anonymous source... was it you, lilybee??? And today there was a package of birdseed left in his hiding hole (photographs to follow). To make matters even more interesting, other members of staff have begun purchasing for themselves stuffed poultry toys (more of the cuddly variety than stress-reducing) but the battle lines are being drawn and it appears at this early stage that the Rubber Chicken is well ahead of Dr Moriaty in the two party preferred vote of allegiance.

Therefore, Dr Moriaty, on behalf of Count Vladamir von Jiblets, I have much pleasure in informing you that the game is ON. You will not know where or how the next blow shall be struck, but let it be known that once it has been dealt, you will not be forgetting the name of von Jiblets for many years to come.

May the remainder of you go in peace.

The West is yet to come.

Sixteen days.

Yes, that is correct: Sixteen days before I fly out as Von Jiblets loyal escourt to the farthest western state capital in this fine country of ours. Aptly named Western Australia (we were a creative nation at federation were we not?) I have been told the strangely isolated nature of Perth makes for quite a brilliant city. So the camera batteries have been purchased and the accomodation seems to be properly booked. Now there is but one thing left to do...

I must apologise to my regular viewers for the lack of updates that will be seen here for a short while. Starting two weeks from now, the regularity of updates will probably slow for about a week and then hopefully begin again with a crack and fizzle as Von Jiblets and Le Poulet take their turf-wars interstate.

Oh, and to a fellow Antipodean (ie a kiwi) who has suggested a bledisloe cup match... Surely it would be more appropriate to have a FRENCH rugby team, being as their mascot is a CHICKEN... le Coq. OK, so le coq means 'the rooster' and le poulet means 'the chicken' perhaps we can create a new game called La Guerre des Oiseaus. Forgive my poor spelling at this time of night, that was meant to say 'battle of the birds' but I seemed to have lapsed into froggie speak for a moment.

Perhaps that is a sign to resign for the evening. Until then.

The plan that back-fired.

A recent photograph posted here depicts poor Count Vladamir von Jiblets stuck in a mousetrap. It should be pointed out at this stage that the mousetrap did actually belong to Von Jiblets. See the 'to catch a thief' post for full details.

Yet some rather dark-humoured comedian took it upon himself to allow von Jiblets to fall victim to his own trap. It is good that rubber chickens do not have neck bones, or the story would certainly not have a happy ending.

So enjoy the humerous photographs while you are still in a position to find these antics humerous. It has long since worn thin around here. Well, I guess all is well as long as someone is getting a laugh out of it all.

Farewell for the moment.

Victim to his own genius.

Von Jiblets fell victim to his own trap.

Le Poulet has been sighted!

Le Poulet, as snapped by the Paparazzi during his soujourn in Australia.

Into the home straight.

I assume that the feeling I am currently experiencing is quite similiar to a 400m runner as they round the final curve and enter the home straight. You can hear the supporters once more and the finish line that was previously but a distant memory has come into view.

So it appears a few of us have found eachother's blogs... a neat little community of three seems to be forming between Sir Beleobus, The Lioness and Lilybee. If Jay ever chooses to visit again, hello to you, please feel welcome. The chicken is always receptive to good company.

Speaking of Vladamir von Jiblets... he has been missing in action recently. I have no doubt he will soon reappear to tell the world of his adventures, but until that time, this blog will consist mainly of some evening rants. Or not as the case may be.

May you live long and prosper, for this will guarantee the lilybee and myself some employment for the future. Well... I'm a fair way from retirement!

I bid you all a good evening.

Monkeys with Mobiles

This morning - being a sunday when one can enjoy the leisure of a longer than usual breakfast - Mr Vett and I were discussing the place of chivalry in modern society and whether or not it was an out-dated notion.

Now I must warn you that Mr Vett is in posession of an extroadinary intellect and many of his observations on society are closer to the truth than anyone would dare to admit.

Society and ethics, he concluded, are the most fragile of notions when you think about it. In the end, according to Mr Vett, the human brain is not at all different to that of an animal: there are three basic thoughts that occur on a regular basis, upon which (either directly or indirectly) all other thoughts are derrived. In order of importance (again I cannot claim authorship of these thoughts, but concur with the majority of Mr Vett's argument) the three thoughts deal with Eating, Avoiding being eaten and Procreation for the furthering of the species.

When the author of this Blog becomes disenchanted by the world at large (which happens in rolling phases, for a few weeks a year) then I become more inclined to believe that this very simple notion is true. As Mr Vett so succinctly put it, "We are all just Monkeys with Mobile Phones." Perhaps there really is no point in behaving in a chivalrous manner, as in the end such behaviour simply means I die sooner. Hmmm, not a nice idea from any perspective.

Anyway, I leave the thought with you - whoever you happen to be, maybe no one reads this anymore. Worry not, I am beyond worry for the moment. The future just happens, whether you are ready or not, delaying the inevitable is just a waste of effort.

May the rest of you live long and squeeze plenty of chickens.

Chivalry of the Chicken.

If you have come here for humerous anecdotes or pictures of pranks played on a rubber chicken, please re visit in a week from today. This post is a serious one, not really aimed at anyone, just a feeble attempt to put into writing the result of a couple of long days thinking.

At least three people have spoken to me and used the word 'chivalry' lately. Although last week I would have ventured to suggest that I knew what the word implied, now I am not entirely sure. Knighthood is awarded these days not for service in defence of Monarch and Country, but for personal achievements that are interpreted as 'service to the empire' or something similar. Bill Gates was awarded a KBE for his services to enterprise, yet I cannot see him riding forward to defend Her Majesty if Britain is ever invaded. The changing nature of warfare and the fighting of battles has effectively resulted in skills such as sword fighting becoming relegated to the arena of public entertainment - whereas once a missing limb was testimony to your loss in a duel, nowadays such decision is made by the electronic device.

So chivalry has, in a very real sense, lost meaning almost completely. This does not mean to say that the values we once associated with being chivalrous should be forgotten. It is also a flawed argument to suggest that because women seek equality that chivalrous acts such as holding open a door or offering your seat are no longer welcomed. Of course, such actions can no longer be EXPECTED; this does not mean by any stretch of the imagination that chivalrous acts are no longer APPRECIATED.

And if you come accross a French chicken in your travels, von Jiblets would be very interested to hear from you...

Stay Tuned.

The Death of Chivalry?

For regular readers of this blog (are there any???) I do apologise for not posting adventures of Vladamir von Jiblets lately. You may appreciate by reading the blabber posts more closely that I have been provided with much food for thought of late, and the digestion process is causing a great deal of methane.

For if there is one thing that has a mental laxative effect upon me above anything else it is perpetual laziness of thought. Just as some people (of which I do NOT consider myself) find grossly unfit or overweight people unattractive, I cannot but help feeling emotionally repulsed by those who do not value their mental fitness. Often, the two are complimentary fitnesses - a farmer exercises their body each and every day in their daily routine while constantly exercising their mind in solving the myriad of minor 'problems' that form the reality of a life on the land.

Those who know me offline will immediately understand that these statements imply I have just had a day at work that has required dealings with somewhere between 40 and 60 such 'lazy minds' - people who expect brilliant results from their life and work yet seem unable to accept responsibility for actions as simple as 'borrowing' someone's rubber chicken...

So the venting of one's spleen is set to continue for a while.

Apologies to all those who attend this site soley for the pictures, there will be new additions on that front as soon as I get a few hours to myself.

Farewell.

Living in the Past?

There is a common misconception amongst those I chance to meet at social occasions, or perhaps even those I lived with during my early University years. Of course, it is a relatively simple conclusion to reach that someone who wears a suit to uni (well... it cost me $8 and it had nice pockets...) with a pocket watch (a gift from a fellow philosopher, long story.) spends time researching history as a pastime (well, that stuff is interesting!) and acts in a chivalrous manner (I would prefer to refer to it as ethically different, but chivalrous is fine for now)... IS LIVING IN THE PAST.

Hmmm... I believe I am alive, anyone with information to the contrary please contact my next of kin immediately, and it is 2004. So, I should be forgiven for thinking that I am living in the present... or do logical arguments not count as valid in this situation? Forgive me, I was under the impression that we were playing on a level surface.

I do not in any way consider being chivalrous living in the past. Nor do I consider pocketwatches old fashioned. Just as each and every reader of this page is entitled to make their own decisions on how to dress and how to act towards others, so am I. If, for no reason other than PERSONAL PREFERENCE, I choose to be this way, accept it. I'm not interfering with you in any way, I'm not being offensive and I'm most certainly not trying to force my morals down your throat.

Heed this message and the Chicken promises to remain your friend.

The wrath of the Rubber Chicken is not to be trifled with.

Go in peace.

And then there were TWO?

Forgive me for not making this post earlier - it has been brought to my attention as the administrator of this incomplete and rather badly illustrated account of the acts of Count Vladamir von Jiblets that another rubber chicken, possibly of French origin has made a public appearance. Sporting a moustache, rather bristly eyebrows (which is odd, as chickens normally don't have either) and with a Galois hanging out the side of his beak... he refers to himself simply as Le Poulet.

For some unknown reason, Count von Jiblets excused himself from his public duties this afternoon. When asked where he was going, he simply replied, "I need to bake a pie."

If anyone can please enlighten me as to exactly what is going on around here, it would be greatly appreciated.

Thanking you kindly.

For the greater Good..?

Von Jiblets decided that it was time for action...

Nemesis.

Von Jiblets was soon to discover that his Evil Twin did not not become a Pie...