Have you tried cabbage soup?
Guaranteed it'll make you poop.
Spending all day on the bog,
Passing one too many a log.
Lose your muscle, lose your fat
Cabbage soup will do just that.
watery, green it's nutritious
One thing it's not is delicious.
But it's cheap to make, easy to grow,
It'll help with your digestive flow.
If you need help, please see me
I'm the one that's rather cabbagey.
For many a cabbage I do have,
Then every hour be on your lav.
Very soon you'll love your loo,
As you drop yet another poo.
Cabbage soup is that great,
I should know as I'm never late.
So try my cabbage recipe,
It'll turn your pee green, hee-hee-hee.
What have I been up to? WHere have I been? Have I invented any new slug soup recipes? Well, all shall be revealed at some point. Or maybe not. No, in fact this shall never be revealed. What I've been working on with my loyal slugs will forever remain a secret. So, why even write this? I haven't the sluggiest. Keep slugging! And remember, when in doubt throw a cabbage.
Sluggers, Zappleheads, Zapplers, Cabbagers, Dukers and other fans of me, my slugs, my books, my cabbages you may soon rejoice as this week, or next, will see the launch of two new books and the re-launch of the current two? New covers, new illustrations, new books, new prices, new slugs, new laughs, new tears and new tea bags. Get ready for a hilarious week of adventure and more Zappleness. The sequel to Duke & Michel: The Mysterious Corridor, Duke & Michel: The King Tingaling Painting, Elias Zapple's Rhymes from the Cabbage Patch and... that's about it. Get those pennies out now!
Taking a cue from Carlos the Slug, a famous maker of tequila, I decided to create my own concoction. Once I had gathered the necessary cabbages, I started the process and soon distilled a marvellous tequila-like substance. However, I wanted to put my own stamp on Elias Zapple's Noggin Rocker (the name of my beverage), and not put a worm in it like Carlos the Slug does with his tequila. So, I gathered together a few trusty slugs, turned the radiators on high then asked if they fancied a refreshing swim. They jumped for joy and right into the tank containing my cool concoction (they obviously thought it was water). Soon all of them were so exceedingly inebriated that I was then able to bottle each one. Elias Zapple's Noggin Rocker (with a drunk slug inside), available to purchase now.
Inside this book you will find,
Funny nonsense from my mind.
Zany rhymes and slimy tales,
Creepy crawlies leaving bloody trails.
And a clever slug that shocks,
Tales about Cinders and Goldilocks.
Cabbages, slugs and Elias Zapple,
What rhymes with Zapple apart from apple?
Fun and craziness! (You'll have a good time),
There's even some that do not rhyme!
Read the book, there's so much more,
Or my slugs and I will go to war!
Avid readers, devoted followers, loyal subjects I wish to announce that I am back at home in my world of cabbages, slugs, and writing and soon, very soon, a new book will be released. There should be two but things have been moving slowly ever since Steve the Slug died. The new book is a book of rhymes that will delight, horrify, make you puke, split your sides and question my sanity. I'm already questioning my sanity as a matter of fact. Unfortunately, my sanity hasn't been answering my calls. The book of rhymes is entitled, 'Elias Zapple's Rhymes from the Cabbage Patch'. I shall keep you all updated as soon as I have a publication date. Keep throwing the cabbage!
Whenever cooking slug, (I only ever cook disloyal slugs), make sure it's fresh and cooked immediately after guillotine. I however, seemed to have forgotten this and when munching on my grilled slug my face slowly turned as green as a cabbage then as purple as somebody else's cabbage before swelling up. I quickly dashed to the lavatory and emptied my bowels. The slug I had chosen to cook had been resting beheaded for a good few hours under the sun... Sun-dried slug is not as good as sun-dried tomatoes.
Four days later, after lots of sweating and more trips to the loo, my slugs finally got me back on my feet and back to peak condition. Mr Snazzy didn't suffer too much either, thankfully. Though he was most cross with me for eating that spoiled slug. Let this be a lesson to all of you!
Many admirers of my moustache often ask me how they too can grow and maintain a moustache as fine as my Mr Snazzy. I usually tell them they can't then push them away then threaten the admirer with a cabbage. However, perhaps I, Elias Zapple, have been too harsh and maybe others should attempt to grow a moustache 10% as good as mine. Here are some tips:
1) Shave your upper lip area. We want real hair there!
2) Wait three to four weeks for your moustache to settle and take root.
3) During these weeks, shampoo everyday with a special extra-nourishing, moustache shampoo. You may also use moustache conditioner.
4) Once your tea-strainer is happy and starting to protrude over your upper lip, begin to trim if your preference is a neat and tidy moustache.
5) From this point your lip-warmer will begin to have a life of its own. Parties, functions,
soirées etc... He'll also require a name. Counsel him as quite often these new furry monsters have ludicrous ideas. Thankfully, my Mr Snazzy was a lot more restrained and sensible.5) Take vitamins and consume plenty of onions and herbal tea to strengthen your moustache and give it a natural shine.
6) Use Uncle Dick's Moustache Wax for styling when venturing out into the world. Use your fingertips to style the ends for a Dali-esque, Zapple-esque finish.
7) Remember, the longer your moustache grows, the more impressive it is and the more people will shower you with adulation. However, if it ever gets to be nearly as impressive as Mr Snazzy my slugs will be commanded to shave it off.
There you have it. Go away now, grow, nurture, groom and enjoy many, many years of moustache heaven.
Well, Slugland was a bit of a waste of time. Not much was achieved there. Yes, I learnt some new cabbage recipes, learnt new techniques in how to breed, modify and train slugs, and acquired some new killer slugs that are deadly by the touch but I felt that I could've achieved much more if I had just stayed home, pricked my finger, thrown cabbages at Dieter and gotten my current crop of slugs to infiltrate Dieter's home and steal all of his tins of soup. Oh well.
Could I, the great Elias Zapple, be suffering from the oft-alluded to writer's block? As I sit here, stroking Mr Snazzy, staring at a blank page whilst Derek the Slug makes me yet another cup of herbal tea, I wonder what has happened to the words that used to pour from my fingers. Maybe I've been throwing too many cabbages at Dieter? Maybe I've been too distracted with the comings and goings of my many slugs that have filled up an already congested hallway? The next book in my collective arsenal, Nicu - The Littlest Vampire, is just waiting to be written and yet it is not. What shall I do? How can I commit word to paper? Has the blood dried up? Has Elias Zapple written his last word? Will children never get to experience a new Zapple novel ever again? Of course not! I just wrote this and I shall delight you all again!
Went for a meal this evening with Bert the Slug. Bert obviously had to be hidden in my pocket otherwise we wouldn't have been allowed into the restaurant. I tried numerous times to coax him out but he refused believing that if he were visible then the staff and the patrons would throw a fit.
So, I ordered food for two looking like a real greedy guts and appearing to be a rather sad individual. I had to stealthily feed Bert his morsels, carefully putting bits and pieces of food into my pocket for him to eat.
Anyhoo, I got to the shrimp tempura when I was given a rather strange reddish-looking sauce to dip the tempura into. I did so and was revolted. I exclaimed, 'this tastes like vomit!' causing all the customers and staff to stare at me. I dipped a crumb into the sauce for Bert to try and he too agreed that the sauce did taste like vomit.
I alerted the waiter who refused to believe me and refused to try it. So naturally I did the only thing I could do which was to go home, get five cabbages then return and hurl them at the restaurant.
My slugs later returned contaminated the batter.
It's Christmas time and that means lots of presents, turkey, TV programmes, the Queen and slugs looking forlornly at you wondering where their gifts are. I don't really celebrate Christmas except for roasting a cabbage, throwing a cabbage at noggin of Dieter and giving little cabbages to everybody around me. However, this year I may do something a little different. I may gift a few copies of Duke & Michel: The Mysterious Corridor, its sequel Duke & Michel: The King Tingaling Painting and Jellybean the Dragon to a few unfortunate victims - and if they don't like it then I'll be throwing a lot more cabbages at them. Yes, this is a plug, of sorts, so go out (don't go out it's cold and there's no point as these books are available online! Ah, the wonder of a lazy future!) and get to your nearest bookshop and purchase a copy of the above books. Naturally I can't gift everybody these books otherwise I'd never be able to purchase a cabbage again. These books are funny, wonderful and without a cabbage as far as the eye can see. Maybe this should change. I've quite forgotten what this post was originally meant to be about. Hmm. Ah, yes I don't like Christmas as it's just a time to spend and spend you must on Duke & Michel: The Mysterious Corridor, Jellybean the Dragon and Duke & Michel: The King Tingaling.
It really has. It's been a week, almost a week, since my last post on this infamous blog. Where does the time go? Does somebody hoover it up? Does it fly by like a Concorde did until New York got them abolished? Seriously, what happens to time? Many days have passed since I hit Dieter with a cabbage, he may think I'm going soft. I'm sure it was only yesterday that I hit his noggin and yet it has been a week. A week since anything of note happened. One minute I was a little bud then I was a performer on Broadway and then I found my way to commanding an army of slugs. What happened in the intervening years? Were they stolen? If so, who would steal my years? Can I report them to the police? My years have been stolen and I demand them back. It is all quite disturbing and I'm feeling rather flustered. I need to lie down and take a breather. Perhaps I can get one of my trained slugs to make me some tea. However, last time one of my slugs made me tea he accidentally fell into the cup and boiled himself. He tasted like a mushroom. No, I shall have to do it myself whilst I work out what has happened to the past few days, week however long it has been. I want my time back and I demand answers. Anyway, let this be my blog post while I gather my thoughts and write something much more coherent soon... you'd be so lucky!
It could be that I know not what I am talking about, and that is quite likely as there is not much I know - except the art of cabbage throwing, styling moustaches and writing superb children's literature (Duke & Michel) that is adored across all of Camberwell - however, is Minecraft not merely a latter day Sim City? Perhaps you do more actual building and... oh, how I miss playing Sim City. I used to play it. I know that I was but a child growing up in Elizabethan England and then spent my formative years down various chimneys in Victorian London but I also liked to play the odd video game. Could I, Elias Zapple, get to grips with this Minecraft craze? Could I get to destroy others like how they tried to destroy me in Vietnam? I shall, wanted or not, enter the world of Warcraft... Minecraft, and build like I've never built before. I was a master at Sim City, I shall master this too.
O Elias Zapple, you are so great
from the fields that doth bear your name
to the towns that singeth and cryeth for you
for fear of thou which is curly and furry
O Elias Zapple, you are so resplendent
in your dashing Zappleness
your hair in which poetry has been written and
recited through the ages
where many a cabbage been thrown
tossed hither and thither not landing on
but upon noggin of Dieter
O Elias Zapple, emperor of slugmony
ambassador to slugs that doth battle for thou
fight, explode in all the glory that is thine
thee struggle, bleed thickened slush and
bringeth home chocolate frosted cupcakes
O Elias Zapple, wordsmith for ankle-biters
great thou words be, cherished they are under the candyfloss tree
laureate thou shall one day be
bleed thy words on thy paper
goo goo g'joob
In Maputo I am known for my love of tinned tuna.