Epilogue.

To all the readers who have followed Jiblets through his adventures, I thank you.

For circumstances that are for the moment beyond my control, this web log will be suspended. Viewing will remain possible until at least the end of the year. I hope by then I will be able to report a change in fortunes and the antics of a rubber chicken will again be broadcast to the world.

I do apologise for this, also for not being able to give any details on the reason for the presence of this undesireable situation, needless to say, regular readers will have noticed a steady decline in the frequency of these postings. Well, now a separate battle has been fought and lost.

I apologise to those who have supported my fight against the injustice of rubber chicken thieves... sometimes these things cannot be helped. I thank you for you support and pledge not to give up trying to find a way through this difficulty. Check back in a couple of months, I will keep you posted.

Your presence has been thoroughly appreciated - Farewell for the moment.

- Beleobus.

Game Over

Today has been one of those that I would rather forget - knowing of course that it is not going to happen. I shall spare you the bitter personal details of harassment and other unplesantries that have so far gone unreported (I wasn't given any time off until around 3, when I thought writing a job application was perhaps more important than creating a detailed account of some seriously insidious remarks that were directed my way over the course of the day...)

And then came the final nail.

Jiblets was missing again.

At morning tea time I found him stuck in a 1.25 litre coke bottle (not totally empty) and sitting in the fridge. I would perhaps have been forgiven for making a scene... but given the close proximity of nearly forty colleagues, I thought it unwise. I left Jiblets where he was, closed the fridge door. Remarked 'Not Happy.' to no one in particular and got back to work.

I somehow doubt Moriaty is behind this incident. If I find out that he has broken the truce he had best watch out. Regardless, the game playing stage is over - enough was enough six months ago, my patience has run out for those who continually believe they can relocate a persons personal property (a chair btw is public property, for those who are about to try and argue ethics with me) the games are over, it is time for WAR.

I will find you, chicken thief. Believe me, I have the means and the methods. You will be found and the results will not be pretty. Nine months of forgiveness and being patient takes its toll. I guess you have nearly found my tolerance limit...

Game Over - the real battle has begun.

A note of apology to all Jiblets enthusiasts, being in a foul mood (no pun intended) I did not photograph this incident.

I see stupid people.

I see stupid people.

Everywhere.

They don't know they're stupid.

* * * * * *

Just a note of reference: I am not referring to people of intellectual disability or even those who refer to themselves as stupid every now and then. Such people are perhaps silly, of lower-than-average intellect or perhaps even severely disadvantaged in some manner. I am referring to those people who hold the opinion that they are of superior intelligence and that when a conversation is occuring nearby upon which they have absolutely no knowledge, it is their moral duty to interject and start an argument about a trivial matter.

Oh dear, how I actively dislike such people. You cannot defeat them with wit, and they are usually unable to recognise subtleties in your manner. There is an overwealming desire to shut them up with a fist to the head... but then your own moral duties kick in.

SO we let them go. Arguing their way through uselessly trivial matters on topics they have no knowledge of and even less chance of convincing anyone about... but what drives them? Is it *gasp* the small (you know what) syndrome again??? I say this because it is more often than not the case in my recent experience that the so called 'stupid person' will be of the male orientation.

Of course, I was without poor Jiblets on this occasion, but much alcohol was on hand to assist with the aftermath.

I bid you all a good evening.

Rock is dead!?!

A colleague was wearing an enamel badge today that bore the inscription ROCK IS DEAD.

Underneath, in tiny writing it said: Long live paper and scissors.

I Love it!!!

I guess you could say that is really my kind of humour...

Oh well, back to work I go.

Poly Poultry strikes AGAIN!

When a fourth piece of unsigned correspondance came my way this afternoon, printed in the same font on that good old pink paper... although this time it was in the form of a scroll (why... I do not quite know) and after reading but a few lines I had a sudden shocking realisation.

To my newest and closest Enemy (or words to that effect)

There is only one person who would dare address me in that manner: Moriaty.

Moriaty = Polymer Poultry???

You can appreciate my own confusion at this.

Of course, this would explain an awful lot. Why, for instance, Moriaty denied - in quite a believable manner - that he was not at all guilty of the latest few disappearing acts of Von Jiblets. I believe, in some way he is paying pennance for his deeds. I can respect this, and if my suspicions become verified in any way, some gesture of appreciation on my part is certainly warranted. But the sheer shock when I came to this realisation today was quite incredible.

Of course, there is still significant doubt that the two are indeed one.

But geez... (speechless)

When all else fails?

Again I have been forced to answer myself the question of what to do when ideas run out. Not that they have as yet, but the current situation in which I find myself is looking less glamourous by the day. For instance, what does one do when encountering stress caused by the kidnapping of one's stress chicken. It has been five days now and I have not recieved any indication at all of where Jiblets has got to, nor what task is required of me for his return.

It is not common to find me swearing loudly, but I am rather tempted at the moment. What has a sizeable portion of this planet's population got against people that are a little bit different?

Or are 23 year old male mathematics teachers who enjoy thier job immediately to be classified as loonie bin material and thus discarded without any semblance of a trial? Either way, the situation is not an overly pleasing one.

So here I issue a warning to people of the world who consider themselves socially important or superior: my patience with you is wearing dangerously thin. One of you has already been on the recieving end of my imagination. Be warned that this was a friendly act of retribution, not all of you will be so lucky. Be that as it may, I remain a forgiving man (which may prove to be my greatest weakness?) so I give you a week to make amends. Just one suggestion that you are capable of repentance and all shall be forgiven, just ONE.

You have one week, from today. ONE WEEK. Not that you read this of course. Even if you were capable of using a search-engine, I assume that your lack of grey matter would direct you immediately to the silly photographs of what you have done in the past. Then you ask yourself where the other pictures are. I only post tasteful material here - take a hint for once in your lives. You have one week, do not waste this opportunity.

And those of you who pause to ask what it is I ultimately desire...?

I want Jiblets safely returned for one... that would be nice.

And then... maybe this is too much to ask (?) I would like some basic RESPECT.

This and no more.

You have one week.

Le Poulet speaks out.

This is a brief transcript of a speech made by Le Poulet in his opening campaign address to the world:

"Fellow featherless friends, I know very well how it feels to be treated in a Fowl manner. For my life I have never known what it is like to climb the Pecking order of the Coop. Never has my salary been more than mere Chickenfeed.

The French Chickens Unite Kwik (FCUK) seeks new members from all corners of the globe. Von Jiblets may be able to survive the unbelievable, but he has yet to face the public and defend his stance in the face of a proper challenge from one of his own.

With your support, we can make this world a better place for ALL rubber chickens, not just a select few. Please vote wisely, vote FCUK."

Well, this looks like it could be an interesting time. We await Jiblets response.

Le Poulet begins his Campaign.

Le Poulet launches his Campaign for the FCUK party.

Inspiration!

Just to explain the previous post (the one with the Thinker...)

I would appear that Le Poulet has mounted a political challenge to von Jiblets in the upcoming elections for custodian of this blog.

Today Vladamir assembled his greatest political minds and launched his campaign.

No seriously, I was overwealmed with inspiration this evening for some strange reason and this poster is the very start of (hopefully) something quite spectacular. Soon, Le Poulet and Von Jiblets will be making their opening address to the world, elections are due to be held online sometime later this year. We are busy organising a venue for their debate (Battle of the Beak) and invitations will be mailed out to media representatives once details have been finalised.

Seriously, I hope you will enjoy this change of direction... let me know; all commentary is welcome.

The Campaign Poster.

The Campaign begins in Ernest.

Elections Down Under.

Well it is that time again. We folks here in Australia are once again being called upon to elect a national leader. I currently live in a marginal seat - so for once I need to put some serious thought into who shall recieve my vote. In a day voting changes very little - the government always gets in. I cannot help but wonder if it is time to provide the public with a genuine viable alternative.

You see, even independant candidates are politicians of some kind. What we need is someone - just one will do - to remind the nation that somethings need to be taken seriously, but some other issues are of relatively minor importance. What I guess I am trying to say... the trouble with politics is that politicians seem to have a rather non-existent sense of humour. All that hard work running the country causes great STRESS (do you get my drift yet...)

So I propose a new Candidate. Von Jiblets, Vladamir (Rubber Chicken Party) for the Federal seat of Wherever.

We have but one election platform: to install rubber stress chickens in every bathroom in Parliament house and also beneath the seats in the chamber in case of an emergency. We can even provide over-sized stress chickens for those who carry extra responsibility. Perhaps all government vehicles should also be properly fitted in this manner...?

Well, it would be a memorable campaign!

Let me know what you think, all opinions welcome.

We have a new Enemy...

Jiblets has gone missing again.

Sometime around midday, I believe, although this is a very rough estimate as my day has been a full one. Moriaty (after some investigations) can be shown nowhere near the scene of the crime, nor can Mr Vett.

Hmmm....

There can only be one explanation, and it is not a pretty one: We have a new enemy.

I have my suspicions as to the identity of the guilty part in this case, but this actually impedes my progress. Why is it that my enemies always seem to be those senior to me??? Why do none of my fellow grunts feel the need to play such pranks? Are they (wait for it...) satisfied with themselves (GASP) and not feel the need to impose their authority on their junior counterparts. For it is well known that certain, upper-level colleagues are extremely willing to play a prank, but find it very poor humour when the favour is returned.

As for Moriaty... I am pleased to announce that, after initial frustration (and not knowing who had played the stunt) he has come to see the true meaning and a potential truce is in the offing. Of course, that still leaves one enemy, so this blog is set to continue for some time yet.

And if anyone can help me track down Vladamir... please advise, anonymously if you wish.

Thankyou very kindly.

Rewriting the Raven.

Something very odd is going on...

I mentioned previously that von Jiblets has recieved two pieces of correspondance from a personage that calls themselves Polymer Poultry. Well, perhaps there is a clue in the fact they are now referring to Vladamir by name...

I recieved a new piece of correspondance today, unsigned, but I assume it to be the work of Poly. It was a re-write of Edgar Allen Poe's famous work The Raven. It was rewritten as 'The Chicken' and Lenore was replaced with Vladamir. There were other subtle (and quite cleverly humerous) changes which may not have been noticed by those unfamiliar with the original piece.

Poly... WHO ARE YOU???

Today I interviewed my chief suspect. Gently of course, as I do have a remarkable respect for people of intellectual talent that may prove to be a powerful ally in future battles. But the suggestion was turned down. Bummer.

Poly... I will find you. And when I do... you'll need a new toothbrush to cope with the volume of chocolate that will be heading in your direction. Unless of course, you are not a chocolate fan... in which case, perhaps (although this is assuming an awful lot) some yellow flowers are in the offing? Vladamir is well flattered, yet with your anonymity he is unable to express any form of gratitude in person. He is not even sure that you read these posts regularly... Oh well...

Mental Exercises.

Here is something for the Wordsmiths out there...

When I get bored with life in general, I like to set myself a task to complete. It is usually a meaningless task, for these tasks are well and truly final once you complete them (does that make sense) but to be useful they need to provide some form of mental exercise, which for me normally involves memory or logic.

I cannot remember how many times I used to sit and try to write out the States of America and their Capitals while waiting for people (sorry, a person) who had a habit of becoming delayed (apologies, old friend, if you stumble accross this page). This was not a simple task - I've never been to the USA. Plus the fact I really don't know any Americans either... so you get the idea: useless task.

Well, here's one I just set myself. My godmother, that for a reason whose details I'm a little hazy on, we call Libbet - is a bit of a wordsmith. Her father (I think it was her father) apparently used to quote this speel 'the English alphabet' and she once tried to recite it to me. After we finally worked it all out... OK, that itself is irrelevant... I now set myself the task of trying to remember it...

Oh and, if you don't understand the joke here... please think for a few minutes before asking. It is rather 'Brittish' humour...

The English Alphabet.

A for Horses
B for Mutton
C for Yourself (notice the change)
D for Rential
E for Adam
F for Vescence
G for Police
H for Retirement
I for An eye
J for Orange
K for Restaurant
L for Leather
M for Size
N for A penny
O for There
P for Relief
Q for A ticket
R for Mo
S for You
T for Two
U for Mism
V for L'Amour
W for Quits
X for Breakfast
Y for Goodness Sake
Z for Breezes

There you go. Done. Only missed the H for Retirement first time through... not bad at all.

OK. Brain is now exercised. Body was exercised by cycling to and from Kilmore today (30k round trip overland) Time for some sleep I think.

May your chickens be extra good 'P' if you get my drift.

BLUE???

It would appear that Dr Moriaty was none too pleased at first with the relocation of his backside receptical, otherwise known as his chair. Yet for some strange reason, I was not the prime suspect... I shall have to work on that.

Rumour has it that he was intending to turn Jiblets into a BLUE chicken as retaliation... so far nothing has happened at all. Probably nor should it, but this is Moriaty we are talking about.

For readers who have not been here since the start... what has just occurred is the initial act of revenge: Count Vladamir von Jiblets has fired the warning shot against Dr Moriaty. If there are no further acts of chicken-napping then there will be no further malace inflicted upon the poor Doctor's ego.

I bid you all a good evening, the 'just in case' scenario requires some planning.

Revenge!!!

Dear readers,

Today represents a historic date in the annals or memoirs of Count Vladamir von Jiblets. Although his friend Schnitzel has flown the coop in search of more 'intimate' surroundings (no comment) the inaugural act of revenge against Dr Moriaty has come at last.

You can view the actual prank itself by the photographic evidence provided below. The sign reads Moriaty's 'High' chair, and is a double reference, both of them scathing. Moriaty has recently recieved affirmation of his promotion made at the beggining of the year. Many people took this gag to be a suggestion that he was acting as though he is/was above us in his mind. Personally, it was meant to suggest that his acts of 'borrowing' a rubber chicken from a colleague were perhaps a little childish... hence his being provided with a high chair.

The majority of witnesses seemed to quietly enjoy the spectacle, although two voiced their dissent. Both were unexpected and the logic in one case is so remarkably twisted that you would be forgiven for thinking they were offering encouragement... but no, apparently the 'Do unto others as they do unto you' clause only applies in one direction - upwards; those above may do as they wish to those below, but not the other way around. Oh well, a spectacularly inapropriate and unwelcome intervention in a private joke. The matter has ended.

Now we play the waiting game. Dr Moriaty claims to be exceptionally busy at the moment, however, I am sure there will be retribution against poor Jiblets before too long. At least Moriaty has (hopefully) realised that the imagination of the rubber chicken is a fearsome weapon, capable of serious revenge. Of course, that would require him to realise that this act of revenge was merely a warning shot. I wonder if he will...?

We wait in anticipation.

And to those who suggest I have been overly rash in this act - revenge is a dish best served cold, as the Klingon say. It has been a good six months since Moriaty made his first attack on the liberty of Count Vladamir von Jiblets. The corpse is well cold by now, justice has been served fairly and the chickens are free once more.

Revenge at Last!

Chained and Padlocked... Dr Moriaty's prized chair became relocated.

Revenge at Last (part 2)

It became his 'high' chair.

Revenge at last (part 3)

The message was clear, I hope.

The plan is formed.

Today, upon a lengthy consultation with the Count, some purchases were made to assist with the implementation of a grand prank upon Moriaty.

I shall not divulge the nature of this prank but to say that it will bear the hallmarks of a classic stunt: unexpected, negligible long term damage, witty implications. Oooh, the idea is making me chuckle already.

So the props... One meter of reasonably strong chain and a padlock. Everything else will be hopefully provided by an accomplice, fair Lilybee I shall be requiring your master key for an evening, unless prior opportunity can be found.

If all goes according to plan, glorious photographs shall be posted here depicting the inaugural act in the revenge of the rubber chicken!

Wish me well.

Wheels in Motion.

Day one back at work. Moriaty has yet to cause any undue stress or strain, which could be good. He probably does not suspect at all that a prank is coming his way. The majority of the arrangements have been made, but please forgive me for not spelling out the exact nature of the stunt, I am still a little wary that agents of Moriaty browse these pages looking for clues.

Once all has been executed according to plan, I shall publish some before and after photographs for all of you chicken lovers out there... but please be patient until then.

The first (and rather minor by all accounts) act of revenge of the rubber chicken is about to occur. If chickens could laugh... well who knows.

Into the home straight...?

And so it came to pass that the two week 'break' (ha ha ha... Lilybee and the Addict will get the joke) came to a fitting conclusion. In three weeks from now I shall lose thirteen of my students to the pressure cooker of final exams. I wish them all the very best.

Of course, the time is quickly running out for Jiblets to gain his place in the annals of local history with the prank to end all pranks, culminating in the vengeful destruction of Moraity forever (or just having his doctorate revoked... that would be enough.) Of course if this happened, I would have to rub it in every chance I got, always referring to him as MISTER Moriaty. Oh the inherent satisfaction in such an act.

It is a pity my chicken is of the forgiving type.

But bewarned... as I write this post, the imaginative juices (proverbially speaking) have started to flow... Moriaty is in for a surprise soon, all going to plan... we shall just have to wait and see.

NEWS FLASH!!!!

Well, today has proven to be a rather interesting day...

I was making my way through the new DVD boxed set of Star Wars (which btw is well worth it... plug plug plug... :-)

When I decided to take some time out from my 'busy' schedule to check email.

Oh boy did I get a surprise.

You see, about three months ago, I was in a bit of an emotional state (as one does) and a chunk of poetry just seemed to flow from my pen that day. I changed the name on the dedication to Kathryn (Kath, if you're reading this, it was NOT written for you, rather someone who doesn't actally share your name... it was the pseudonym I came up with at the time) and entered it in a competition in the States.

Well bugger me if I haven't made the final 200 short-list!

First prize is around $35,000 US... hmmm No, I don't think I have much chance of winning that big one.

You can view the poem by visiting http://www.poetry.com/ and searching for me by name.

OK, so here is the point at which my anonymity ceases to exist I guess...

Fitzherbert, John just fill in the relevant fields (last name, first name) and it should work. I did try pasting a direct link here, but apparently the poetry.com website does not like that. Oh well, you can't please everyone all of the time eh?

So, now they want me to submit an original piece for their anthology. Guess I'll be busy tonight. Here's hoping that first prize also includes some airfares and accomodation tickets... OK, calm down, there are 199 other people with their eyes on that prize.

But the chicken is very happy with me, for now.

The Letter

This was delivered anonymously, written in an old style font, on pink paper.

To Rubber Chicken

I promised myself that I would not lower myself to this, but this is something that can no longer be denied. Maybe if I give into them in some small part, they will no longer keep me from restful slumber.
For I have been watching you. With anger at first. For I thought it was arrogance on your part, to look down on the rest of us from your lofty perch there in the staff room. To then show off with death defying acrobatics from the rafters, or do Houdini in reverse and get yourself into impossible situations. Even show your contempt for that which would normally have our kind fluffing our feathers in horror, the dreaded gladwrapped snadwich! After which you would return to your lofty perch to continue to gaze down uopn we lesser beings.
But then there was your ice experience, and even I could not believe than anyone could be that naturally cold-hearted. It was not contempt for us, but a quietly suffering silence on your part. Was there another darker hand involved in such foul play? This required a change of opinion.
Then to see you the other day, driven to seek solace in drugs such as nicotine. Or was this a manifestation of a 'bad boy' image, such as Jimmy Dean would show? Either concept required a rethink on my part.
So I must write to you, to show that you are not alone in the world, that there are sympathetic souls out there, to offer you encouragement and support. So show courage in the face of adverse situations that would pluck your strength from you.

Poly (Polymer) Poultry.

*message ends*

So... my initial feeling was wonder, but after reading more carefully, I felt a deep gratitude for whoever had taken the time and effort to construct such a piece. Of course, I still find myself wondering who Poly really is... sometimes I think I know, but then... I really want to be 99% certain of this before doing anything, so it could take a while!

Feels like Friday.

And it certainly feels like a Friday.

Probably because it is.

Of course, unlike the majority of single, mid 20s men who would probably be out on the town with friends and chasing members of the opposite gender as I sit here and bash out sentences that none of them are ever likely to read... ah yes, back in one of those ruts.

Having been away from Dr Moriaty for two weeks, there has been precious little action on the chicken front... Even Le Poulet - the evil, French chicken - has not been seen for quite some time. Although, starting about a month ago, a new (suitably anonymous) player joined the scene: Polymer Poultry I believe they called themselves. Now, although I am usually an excessive ranter (well, I try to stick to what I'm good at... which is not much) during the last 24 hours I have been consumed with thoughts regarding two (for the moment) fictional characters.

One of these characters, who I shall come to shortly calls themselves Polymer (polly) Poultry. The second person actually has posted a few comments on this blog under the title of the Addict. Now, one of the principal reasons for my spending so great an amount of thinking time upon this topic during today is that I briefly held the belief that the two fictional characters could quite possibly be the same person. This would make my task from hereon much simpler - also to be explained shortly (this could be a VERY long post - take a coffee break about now)

Due to the fact that I am NEVER certain about anything in life, I suggest that I am 99% certain I know the Addict. A number of my colleagues are probably under the impression that the two of us severely dislike eachother... nothing could be further from the truth. It is extremely difficult to find an intellectual sparring partner; someone with whom you can have a decent intellectual debate and really get the grey matter working and then five minutes later enjoy a heart-to-heart on separate issues.

I digress. That 1% chance that I have totally botched this whole thinking process has started to creep in... and the one person I would be able to discuss it with just happens to coincide with the 99% chance. Bummer. Looks like I'll have to crack this one on my own.

Let me tell you, dear anonymous reader, of Polymer Poultry...


* Take another coffee break here if required *

Polymer Poultry has so far written two pages simply adressed 'To Rubber Chicken'. To save space in this post I shall create new posts (above) on which to transcribe their contents. You will quickly realise that these writings are the work of an agile mind. By the style of writing, I first thought them to be perhaps a teacher of language... but after mulling over my colleagues with such offerings, I became unsure of this. When the Addict began to post here, I immediately wondered if they were one and the same. My suspicion of this being true is currently sitting at about 80%. Originally it was about 15%, but the more I muse over the writing, the more I realise that someone has put a lot of thought into these gestures and at the same time made a serious effort to remain anonymous (at least for now).

So the two posts above shall be transcripts of the correspondance between PP and von Jiblets.

Now I spoke before about a course of action. I suppose I should give more detail on the off chance that someone is actually reading these posts.

*Supplementary*
I did try to finish writing this, but such personal matters, especially those I am not entirely sure upon myself, cannot be transposed onto a blog about rubber chickens. I apologise.

More funnies will come soon, I promise you all this much.