- HomeopaTEA: There was tea in the cup once. I'm pretty sure now you're just drinking hot water.
- MisTEA: A strong scented tea with hints of flowers and berries. Made from 100% English fog.
- ProperTEA: A stiff country English black tea with a strong, hard flavour foundation. Strata rates not included in price.
- GolfTEA: A long white tea with a yeasty linger or a shorter red tea if you are a women. Tastes like a wasted afternoon with one part bug repellent, and one part tweed.
- MinTEA: Whats this gooey white crap in the bottom of my cup?
- InfirmiTEA: A green tea, laced with laxitives and tranquilisers. Deeply relaxing.
- NasTEA: Incredibly expensive tea which has been specially prepared by feeding it to a specific breed of cow only found in the highlands of Tibet. The digestive action of the cows nine stomachs gently tenderises and mellows the flavour of the tea, resulting in a rich earthy flavour.
- WitTEA: A fruity tea made with pages of the original complete works of Oscar Wilde. It declares nothing but brilliance.
- GoaTEA: A black tea, with added hair, that tends to get stuck all over your face when you attempt to drink it.
- DepraviTEA: Left to age in the drying sun, with chilli and pepper, this tea is made from the souls of tea pickers of old with a blend of oolong. This tea is best brewed at 75 degrees C, but was boiled as an effigy by the Occupy Wall Street protesters. Best enjoyed with milk.
- DeformaTEA: An unusual tea, from a particularly pest ridden area. Strong pesticides are used to return a decent yield, resulting in a unique, but pleasing taste. A flavour that will be surely remembered for many generations to come.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
More Rejected Tea Bar Flavours
Monday, November 28, 2011
Meaty Tea
INT. Kitchen - DAY
MICHAEL AND STEVE ARE LEANING AGAINST THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN CLEANING THEIR COFFEE CUPS
Michael:
What? I must have been drinking
something with milk in it, it’s all slimy inside
Steve:
Milkshake?
Michael:
All the boys are in the yard
Steve:
Is it better than mine?
Michael:
Damn right its better than yours
Steve:
Could you teach me?
Michael:
I would have to charge
MICHAEL AND STEVE CONTINUE TO CLEAN THEIR CUPS. STEVE REACHES FOR THE BOX OF TEA BAGS.
Michael:
Did you want to try one of my Argentinean
teas?
Steve:
Your what now?
Michael:
I got some Argentinean tea at the
markets on the weekend
Steve:
Oh
Michael:
You want to try it?
Steve:
Sure, I guess
MICHAEL REACHES INTO HIS POCKET AND PULLS OUT A PLAIN LOOKING TEA BAG
Steve:
cheers
MICHAEL PULLS OUT A SECOND TEA BAG
Steve:
So what does it taste like?
Michael:
It’s a bit weird - smokey, kind of
like a warn cup of jerky
MICHAEL TURNS OFF THE KETTLE EARLY AND POURS WATER INTO HIS AND STEVE'S CUP. THEY START DUNKING AND STEVE SNIFFS IS TEA AND LOOKS AT MICHAEL SUSPICIOUSLY.
Steve:
It is starting to smell a little
meaty. How are you meant to have “Argentinean” tea?
Michael:
Medium rare
STEVE SHAKES HIS HEAD AND TUTS
Michael:
What? It’s a little meaty isn’t it?
STEVE GOES TO THE FRIDGE AND LOOKS INSIDE
Michael:
You’re not meant to have milk with
it
Steve:
I’m not looking for milk; I’m
looking for BBQ sauce
END
Thursday, November 3, 2011
October
Good morning viewers of the collective,
Of all the months in the year, October was one of them for
the Chess Hammer. The life has returned to the site and new projects have
kicked off as old ones come to a close. Check out the dribblings from
contributors in Archives. You won't be disappointed, but mainly confused.
Three mediocre heroes made the Archive of Mediocre Superheroes
and a big shout out goes to Sean, who has been slaving away and drawing the
heroes. This month saw The Incredible Man, who is never believed; Catman, who
can survive large falls; and Broken Thermostat Man, who has the ability to make
a room uncomfortably warm.
In a dark corner of the blogosphere mumbling to himself is
Rusty. This month he talked about Twitter, Steve Jobs (like everybody else), weird holidays and earthquakes over at Swinging like a rusty gate.
Don’t make eye contact with him.
Stay tuned folks, and have a cup of insaniTEA on us,
The Chess Hammer
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Rejected Tea Bar Flavours
- finaliTEA: a black tea, with bright citrus flavours and flecks of cyanide tablets
- dispariTEA: a hand rolled flowering tea, produced cheaply by exploiting 3rd world workers
- insaniTEA: an intense herbal infusion, with the occasional hallucinogenic mushroom to liven up your afternoon.
- extremiTEA: a light black tea, with some flesh included, from those workers that put their arms too far into the threshing machine
- fataliTEA: A fine oolong tea that may cause ejection of the spine. Jonny Cages tea of choice!
- conductiviTEA: A green tea, accented with metal fillings. Raidens favourite!
- insecuriTEA: The finest of white teas, you'll never feel adequate in comparison.
- uncertainTEA: We know exactly what kind of tea this is, unfortunately that means we have no idea where it is.
- InstabiliTEA: A blend of Assam and ceylon teas, with a dash of neurotoxin for arroma.
- RoyalTEA: We get 1% of the purchase price of this tea.
- FrivoliTEA: We'll laugh at you for buying the worst tea we have
Update on the Chess Hammer Crew
Good afternoon viewers of the collective,
How nice you to join us, but we are not coming
apart. In fact, here is an update on the going ons and officially
announce the birth of a new project.
Today we welcome the newest addition to the Chess
Hammer group, The Archive of Mediocre Superheroes.
This
is a collection of superheroes that are just not that super, spawned from the depths
of sleep deprivation and The Adventures of Broken Thermostat Man; a radio
serial under development with production planned to start in December. Meet the
heroes before they try to make the world a better place, one mediocre problem
at a time. Then maybe, just maybe, society will appreciate their efforts.
The
first project is now at the final mixing stage, proving once and for all that there is no
such thing as “too niche” when you are on the internet, and hopefully should be
coming out around Christmas. Just in time to be not considered for the Hollywood award season.
Rusty
is still talking shit at Swinging like a rusty gate on this site here. It was better to leave him in his own corner
mumbling to himself. He will now be updating this blog to publicise his
activities, more so to check to see if he is breathing still.
To
be up to date with all the latest happenings on The Chess Hammer click the
button marked “Join this site” and be the first to know. It’s okay, we won’t tell
anybody.
Keep
punching those camels’ folks,
The
Chess Hammer
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Finally somebody see my potential
Monday, May 30, 2011
On your bikie
I wonder what real difference the Government believes the Anti-Bikie legislation hopes to achieve. A man today was ordered by the Adelaide Magistrates Courts, who had previously served his sentence for the crimes he was convicted of, because of a "long-established risk" he may commit a crime again. If everyone knows that Bikies are the personification of evil, then why cannot the Police prosecute them with previous legislation? Or is it a way so that the government can easily stand up, smirk, and go “look at how we are saving the world” on Twitter. I myself once had a run in with a bikie...
A few years back on a bright sunny Saturday afternoon, I turned onto Belair road from cross road, and as is tradition from those who sit in the right lane wanting to turn left, I had to change lanes. Upon completion, there was an aggressive rev from a deep thumping motorcycle.
I looked in my rear view mirror and saw a heavily bearded man in an opened face helmet with a moustache billowing romantically in the wind. His dress was leather over denim, big boots, and massive easy rider ape hanger handle bars; I had changed lanes onto the set of STONE. He did not look happy (they never do), and was expressing it with a shake of his head in the manner of a man who had this happen to him regularly.
The traffic lights at the intersection before me were green, and I breathed with relief as I could turn away from my lack of caution. But the motor cyclist followed me. Not unusual, when you think that the Belair road leads towards the hills, a motor cycle haven, but it seemed he turned to follow as a last minute decision.
He crept closer behind me. I thought that if worst come to worst, I could hurry into a public place where people could help me. Or at least some one could administer first aid. Then the lights ahead of me turned red and a feeling of dread overcame me; I would have to stop.
I started breaking. I looked through my car for possible defensive items. Just in case. The biker behind me indicated to change into the right hand lane. He stopped right near my door; there was plenty of room in front of him.
“Oi!” yelled the biker, signalling with his hands that I should wind down my window. I had electric windows, but lowered them all the same.
“Yes?” I replied trying to sound brave. I ended up sounding like a teenage boy whose testicles realised they could make anything I say turn into a yodel.
The biker turned his head and looked forward at the lights, back at me, and then yelled advice that I would never forget: “Your right rear brake light is out!”
I was stunned. I must have looked stunned because the Biker looked at me curiously. I uttered a thank you, the lights turned green, and our meeting was adjourned.
It is easier to show the voting/tax-paying public that you are combating crime when you splash your new laws all over the news. I understand why they do it, good things we expect are glossed over in our minds and we move on. Only bad things are remembered. For example, you always remember that bad waiter, the bad airline service, dodgy shopping trolleys, but when was the last time you started a conversation with a mate describing a service experience as “an acceptable level of competency that I expect as the status quo”?
I believe I should be able to talk to who I want, and I believe that the government should not be able to dictate who my friends can be like a parent worried that their child will come home with a tattoo on their face just because they hang around John from Noarlunga. Prevention is better than cure, but choices are better than totalitarian draconian rule.
A few years back on a bright sunny Saturday afternoon, I turned onto Belair road from cross road, and as is tradition from those who sit in the right lane wanting to turn left, I had to change lanes. Upon completion, there was an aggressive rev from a deep thumping motorcycle.
I looked in my rear view mirror and saw a heavily bearded man in an opened face helmet with a moustache billowing romantically in the wind. His dress was leather over denim, big boots, and massive easy rider ape hanger handle bars; I had changed lanes onto the set of STONE. He did not look happy (they never do), and was expressing it with a shake of his head in the manner of a man who had this happen to him regularly.
The traffic lights at the intersection before me were green, and I breathed with relief as I could turn away from my lack of caution. But the motor cyclist followed me. Not unusual, when you think that the Belair road leads towards the hills, a motor cycle haven, but it seemed he turned to follow as a last minute decision.
He crept closer behind me. I thought that if worst come to worst, I could hurry into a public place where people could help me. Or at least some one could administer first aid. Then the lights ahead of me turned red and a feeling of dread overcame me; I would have to stop.
I started breaking. I looked through my car for possible defensive items. Just in case. The biker behind me indicated to change into the right hand lane. He stopped right near my door; there was plenty of room in front of him.
“Oi!” yelled the biker, signalling with his hands that I should wind down my window. I had electric windows, but lowered them all the same.
“Yes?” I replied trying to sound brave. I ended up sounding like a teenage boy whose testicles realised they could make anything I say turn into a yodel.
The biker turned his head and looked forward at the lights, back at me, and then yelled advice that I would never forget: “Your right rear brake light is out!”
I was stunned. I must have looked stunned because the Biker looked at me curiously. I uttered a thank you, the lights turned green, and our meeting was adjourned.
It is easier to show the voting/tax-paying public that you are combating crime when you splash your new laws all over the news. I understand why they do it, good things we expect are glossed over in our minds and we move on. Only bad things are remembered. For example, you always remember that bad waiter, the bad airline service, dodgy shopping trolleys, but when was the last time you started a conversation with a mate describing a service experience as “an acceptable level of competency that I expect as the status quo”?
I believe I should be able to talk to who I want, and I believe that the government should not be able to dictate who my friends can be like a parent worried that their child will come home with a tattoo on their face just because they hang around John from Noarlunga. Prevention is better than cure, but choices are better than totalitarian draconian rule.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
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