Donkey Milk Soap

Hello, Ben here.

I'm just editing this episode.

I've just got to the end of editing it, and it strikes me that this episode is a little bit spicy potentially if you're listening with children.

I know some of you listen with kids, but this episode is just a little bit more lewd content warning than usual.

So, just to let you know that.

And features scenes of Amorous Congress with a minor tour.

Yeah.

Anyway, enjoy!

Uh-oh.

Welcome to Three Bean Salad.

Welcome.

Hello.

In the moments before we just pressed record,

all three of us said words to the effect of, I don't have a single thought in my head.

We've seen a lot of each other recently because of the old tour.

I think the only news I have for you is that I've, since I've last seen you, I've bought a mattock.

And that's about, that's my strongest.

Hang on.

A mattock.

That's my strongest gambit.

Is a mattock related to a shaddock?

Far from it.

Far from it.

It is not a consumable.

It is the.

Okay, Mike, don't tell us what it is.

Don't tell us what it is.

Let's play a game of mattock.

I think we can work this out from First Principles.

Okay, so it's unlike a Shadduck slash Pomelo slash Pomelo.

Correct.

So it's not a fruit.

It's not a fruit.

Correct.

Okay.

Mattock.

Okay, process of elimination.

So far you've knocked fruit off of all things.

We're on our way.

So we've still got veg,

the animal kingdom,

medicinal roots.

Yeah, astronomical phenomena.

Wind patterns.

Dead religions.

Concepts of all kinds.

Except ones relating to fruit.

Other podcasts.

Rucksacks.

Wicker products.

Wicker products.

Anything to do with bees, wax.

And that's a whole host of products, isn't it?

It's candles, it's soaps.

It's not a kind of donkey milk.

No.

And you would know that terrain, wouldn't you, BP?

Because that's the last thing you bought for yourself, wasn't it?

A bar of donkey milk soap.

I did buy myself a bar of donkey milk soap.

Because of the tour, we've been spending much more time in each other's physical presence than we normally do.

And also observing how how each of us maintains self-care on the road that's been one of the things we've noticed isn't it

so ben likes to entirely encase himself in a sort of um when in in a in a sort of beeswax um sort of cocoon yes doesn't he which he breaks out of just before going on stage yes and then lathers himself in the uh the milk soap of whichever unculates he can find

most recently that was the donkey yeah so basically if it's got hooves yeah then

he'll drink its milk.

I'm not drinking the milk.

I'm milking it and soaping it.

Yeah, soaping it.

So this was when we were in.

I mean, I'm just thinking already,

already I'm mentally writing the memoirs of our tour.

And it's several volumes.

The amount that we've

can you remember the name of the place you went to, Henry?

Yorkshire Moore.

No, sir.

It was the peak district.

Correct.

So we went to a small town called Insert Town Name.

Castleton.

Castleton.

Which was home to which castle?

Insert castle name here.

I thought I had it.

It was like the Cleverells or something.

It was some sort of...

Peverill.

Peveril.

Peveril.

Yeah, Peverl Castle.

That's good stuff.

There was a gift shop in the town,

and

it was quite a strange.

We were just walking past it, and there was a sign in the street outside this gift shop which said something like, ask us about our donkey milk soap.

Oh, God.

It has a strong effect on people.

Pam will flee.

Ben didn't even check for traffic and just was straight over the road and into the gift shop, wasn't he?

Can I clarify?

It didn't say exactly what Henry said.

It said, ask us about our famous donkey milk soap.

We're walking down this little street.

Peverill Castle was casting its shadow across the peak district.

Yes.

And

in the town of Castleton.

And as soon as Ben saw the sign saying, donkey soap, please ask us about our famous donkey soap, Ben unleashed himself towards the door of the shop like a bolt from one of the crossbows that we tried out in Leeds Armouries Museum.

Beautifully crowbarred in.

Beautifully crowbarred in.

Only two days before.

Ben was like a bolt.

It was a floop.

He was straight in the door.

You barged two old ladies out of the way.

I don't know if you noticed that.

One of them completely totaled herself.

Oh, completely.

If there had been a troop of clickety-clacketty cyclists passing through, they'd have had no chance.

You cut through them like a scythe, tossed hither and thither.

Yeah, and you went straight up into the grille of the little old lady working behind the till.

You grabbed her by her collars.

Oh, yes, that's the metaphorical grill.

Yeah,

well, they've got their grill in place for just this kind of situation.

People get too excited about the chunky mug soap come at you too fast.

No, so i'm exaggerating i mean i'm exaggerating for comic effect but it's worth it probably wasn't it

but you were you were you were really excited about it what i thought was weird was that the shop had a big sign outside saying ask us about our famous donkey milk soap but then when when he got in there they they hadn't made it obvious where the donkey milk soap was that's true i think to make you look at the other wares do you know what i mean like very clever so they had to go and

have a supermarketing yeah yes it's in the same way that supermarkets will often they'll have a sign saying ask us about our famous donkey milk soap won't they yes and sometimes, as you walk in, the smell

will be donkey udders.

They pump the smell of donkey udders out in the side.

If you look at the ceiling, there's a sort of massive papiomashi donkey udder.

Sometimes there's a huge papiumashi donkey.

And the udders will point you to sections of the shop that they want you to

ensure that they're not going to be able to do it.

People say look up, and people don't.

Yeah.

It's all subliminal, isn't it?

The way the consumers are controlled around these spaces, almost always using donkey pheromones, donkey nipples, and donkey secretions as

as the key sort of enticement, isn't it?

All of which can be made into different skincare products.

Yeah.

So

I want to know, Ben, was this a gift?

Have you lathered yourself and the bean machine in this soap?

What's happening?

So I think when I bought it, I thought this will be a gift.

But just sort of running the maths on it a bit, I think

what's the messaging of that gift.

What exactly?

Who is that appropriate for?

it's a bit like yeah i really like ben i mean he's a great friend like great guy he's always been there for me but i would like to keep him at arm's length for a bit i'll give him some dog milk soap

it's just a little bit um

yeah it's like oh

maybe just cool it down with ben for a bit

if you gave someone some document milk soap because it's a bit

all it does to me is it suggests that the next thing will happen is you're going to give someone donkey milk soap, you'll then explain it to them,

and then the next thing will be, you know what, you'll say, it'll be simply if I just lather you myself.

For some reason.

Things are going to get out of hand quickly.

Because I think, yeah, no, I think that in the context, for some reason, of a pig district town with a quaint gift shop, donkey milk soap seems like the most obvious purchase in the world.

But then when you're in the cold light of day, you're giving it to someone, I think it feels weird.

So I think I'm going to self-lather myself with it.

Yeah.

But I haven't yet done so.

Okay.

Well, I can't wait to hear what the effects are.

It might be astounding.

It might be absolutely deadly.

We've got no idea.

You might be completely hairless everywhere that the bar touches

in an instant.

Or the opposite.

Or the opposite.

We don't know.

A thick donkey weft all over.

Yeah.

And a whole phalanx of donkey suitors wherever you go.

It's one of those ones that donkey milk.

So

it could go either way.

Is that a luxury?

So if I was to open, for example, a hamper of donkey milk soap

as a sort of a Christmas gift, it feels like it can go either way.

It's either that's a super luxury soap.

I mean, they've actually think about it, how much it must cost.

And to get the various permissions in place, obviously

you have to ask the king, obviously.

So it almost feels like, it's that like super luxury.

Almost like a sort of, you know, we will bring you silks and spices and riches, the likes of which you have never seen, and we will top it all off with donkey milk.

So,

do you know what I mean?

So, is that something you might promise a king, a medieval king?

Yes.

Well, yes, Cleopatra used to bathe in asses' milk, didn't she?

Yes.

Was it asses' milk?

Yeah.

Yes.

As opposed to.

I was getting confused with asps' milk, but asps is, she died with ass's milk.

She died because of an ass.

She didn't milk.

She didn't milk a poisonous snake.

She didn't try and milk.

Although

that would be milking something too far, wouldn't it?

Yeah.

But I think we're unearthing something quite interesting about human civilization and culture here, isn't it?

Which is facts.

You can milk any animal, right?

Any animal can be milked, but we only choose to milk certain ones.

Why is that?

Because there are taboos around milk.

There are taboos around milking.

Like to milk an asp doesn't feel right.

Also completely impossible.

So

is an ass not like a fee?

Is that a male donkey?

How do asses relate to donkeys?

They're quite.

I think they're just the same thing, aren't they?

Right.

Okay, so there is a tradition there of luxury.

But it feels transgressive, because I mean, the idea that there might...

I mean, is there anything more adorable than

a little donkey foal, if that's the right word?

Do you know what I mean?

The idea of one of those going a bit thirsty for the day.

Oh, good point.

For the sake of bonjo's armpits.

Yeah.

You know, that transgression adds to the sense of luxury, doesn't it?

But here's the thing, here's what the thing that's interesting, why I think it cuts both ways, is you could also sell it to me as, oh, it's the cheapest soap of all time.

They are pissing out milk left, right, and centre.

We

it's the

it's horribly rancid it can't be it's completely rancid i mean think about it it's donkey milk is it utterly false don't go anywhere near it

they're very much jam on toast first thing it doesn't dribble in a satisfying way it dribbles in a really gloopy nasty irregular way it's donkey milk i mean things are so bad at the moment we're having to use donkey milks

you know what i mean it feels like it feels like a milk of extremes for sure it feels like it's definitely a milk of extremes

to call it donkey milk soap, is that to imply that all

soaps are made of milk?

No, no.

No.

It implies that this one is.

So that's why you should specifically out of the milk of a donkey, I'd say.

So what we should be calling it is donkey milk soap, not donkey milk soap, which is what I think we've all been calling it.

Certainly I have hold hands on that.

Sorry, what's your emphasis trouble?

So it's not donkey milk soap, it's donkey milk soap.

To call it donkey milk soap would be to imply that this is donkey milk soap as opposed to cat milk soap or your traditional

wolf milk soaps or whatever.

It's donkey milk.

So you want to bracket the donkey milk together.

Yes.

Okay.

Mike.

Yeah, yeah.

Yes.

Could you milk Pam?

Oh, God, no.

Uh, Pam, Pam, Pam, Pam, Pam, Pam, Pam, Pam, Pam, Pam, Pam, Pam.

Good girl, Pam.

Good girl, Pam.

Oh, Pam.

Pam, Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam,

Bam, Bam, No, Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam.

That's an interesting question.

I think we'd struggle to.

She has been spayed.

Bless her.

So

she will never give forth puppies or sort of lactate naturally.

She's a castrator.

I think that would require a degree of hormonal treatment, which I'm not going to put her through.

Fair.

I don't think a peak district gift shop would have a sign saying, please ask us about our famous dog milk.

So

that wouldn't be right.

It should be please don't ask us about

our infamous dog milk.

It's on the other side of the sandwich board.

So we're no closer to finding out about what a mattock is.

Is it mattock?

Yes.

Mattock?

So hang on.

Is it a weapon?

I'm sure it has been used as a weapon, but

that was not its purpose.

Oh, that's a good clue.

Its primary purpose.

Is it a small miniature carpet that's just for the buttocks?

No, it's a good guess, particularly given what I've just said about weapon use.

Because obviously that would lend itself very well.

Because it matters a medieval battle.

Yeah.

Because, you know, you've got those little

carpets that go around the base of a toilet.

Yes.

Those U-shaped ones, which are designed to

absorb piss.

And keep the piss in the room.

Rather than having it be cleaned away and washed off and completely lost and wasted.

I think they've fallen out of favour.

Yeah, I think they have, yeah.

Yeah, from our childhood, I don't know if many younger listeners will have even had the chance to piss on them at all.

If you go to a BN, a BNB run by a couple in their 80s, they might have one of those.

I think it's called a pedestal mat.

Is it?

A pedestal mat.

Yeah, that's quite a grand title.

Yeah.

That is grand.

A pedestal mat.

Donkey milk pedestal mat.

Only needs changing once every five years.

Completely saturated in donkey milk.

You won't even notice the piss.

But I was wondering whether Matt could be a version of that that's for the top of the toilet, so for you to sit on and feel comfortable that you're on a car.

I think to modern ears, the name is misleading.

I assume back in the day there must have been some sense to the name.

But to a modern English speaker's ears.

Okay, is it some kind of tool?

Correct.

Oh.

But for where?

For what?

What environment?

The garden.

It's removing the footwell of a car.

Again, Henry is making some very strong and bold choices, ultra-specific choices.

But, I mean, Ben is correct, but actually, there is something in what Henry said that

I think it would actually be quite useful for that.

Of all the tools I have in my house and shed, were I to desire to remove the footwell from my car, I think I I would reach for the mattock is it a kind of blunt sort of smashing tool for smashing through walls smashing through bits of wood smashing

stuff up hello what

don't know about some don't know about blunt for smashing through wood but smashing through I mean there's there's an element of that going on wood smashing wood smashing and wood smashing and wood and garden is it wood chip

no sir is it a big saw and a stick no but it has a stick it's on the end of a stick

but it's not a saw.

No.

Does it harvest olives?

From any tree?

No, it more harvests.

Is it a way of killing a sparrow mid-air?

It could be used for that.

But I think the collateral would be obscene.

So is it bladed?

Is it bladed?

Double-bladed.

Double-bladed?

Double-bladed, sir.

Oh, is it like a pair of scissors on a stick?

No, sir.

Is it a way of making a scrambled egg while the eggs are still in the nest

it would be hugely effective for that it's the freshest scramble on earth it was a highly effective dramatic scramble beyond shadow of a doubt um

it's two blades and they are at 90 degrees to tether what how's that yes like that

no no not in that orientation Do they snip?

It's not shit.

Garden shears.

Do they spin round?

No.

Is it like for cutting grass?

Nope.

Is it to do with trees?

Yes.

Is it for taking the bark off trees for some reason?

No.

No.

Is it for checking it?

Go down the tree.

Is it for checking if there's a tortoise asleep in your tree trunk?

It would be useful for that, but the tortoise would not survive.

You'd have the answers quickly, but brutally.

Are you making your own galvanized tree rubber at home?

Yes, but that's unrelated.

I'm trying to save money on tires.

They're getting so pricey these days.

Are you making and storing your own sap?

Because I know you've always dreamt of becoming completely sap independent.

To not rely on any sort of commercial government sap whatsoever.

We are a sap citadel here.

Yes, that's official now.

You want to go down the tree?

The trunks, the roots.

Yes.

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

It's a root masher.

You're making your own cork flip-flops.

Again, Ben is using a different kind of logic to the magical child Henry, and he's on it.

He's done it.

I'm going to get the mattock.

Oh, my God.

I can't wait to see this mattock.

What's he doing?

What's he doing with roots?

Your handle.

What?

Oh, my God.

Your mattock.

Whoa.

Oh, it's one of those.

Oh, my God.

I've got it all the wrong way around.

Careful, Mike.

I'm going to try again.

Here we go.

Oh, my God.

Oh, wow.

I'm going to be quite careful now not to

take any large chunks of myself off.

So basically to explain to listeners, it looks to me.

It's the pickaxe's brutal cousin.

Yeah, it's like what an old prospector might have in the gold rush.

So at one side you've got a sort of axe thing in the usual orientation.

On the other side it's like a sort of 90 degree axe.

So that's the hewing there.

And then the bed is for the for the prying of roots and tree stumps.

Can I say it's absolutely horror film?

It's a 1970s horror film poster and the film the film is called Wayne.

Yes.

And it's Mike's face, and Mike is holding that, and it's Wayne's coming to get you.

It's got real horror because it's like you can see that it has some sort of purpose that isn't to do with taking people's heads off, but Wayne clearly has decided that's what he's going to do with it, and it's going to be really good at it.

Oh, and it would be perfect for taking someone's head off.

Yeah,

it's just hue and pry.

It's got so much hue and pry.

There's so much hidden violence in it

or potential in it.

Blimey.

There's a very good chance that this will be the end of me.

I fully acknowledge that.

So what's the plan?

Are you just going to take it to a PTA meeting and start sort of throwing your weight around?

Listen, when your children get bad grades,

there's only

one source of action.

I've got some roots and stumps to get rid of.

So are you bonsaiing your tree?

Are you going to try and bonsai it?

I'm clearing.

I'm fully clearing an old naughty tree stump.

It's taking me a while.

Hence the uh hence the old mattock.

Is that the tree that you fell off while looking for um it's the very same one, the bay tree.

It remains my my bete noir.

Mike Mike, he'll he won't always do it immediately, but Mike will have his revenge.

It's taken a long time.

It's nearly a year and damages himself.

It's nearly a year since that happened.

You're taking the whole tree down, are you?

It's down to the stump now.

Wow.

And

that's proving hard work to get up.

So did you get all rid of the top bits?

Oh, yeah.

Using chopping and so on?

Using chopping, using an old axe, a found that the people who used to live here left behind, and a mini chainsaw.

So now there's just a stump there, but if you left the stump,

then of course the thing that you hate the most is your...

Life will find a way and fresh

poor life.

And it's just going to be taunting me, sitting there taunting me.

So up it comes.

I think the Matoch is quite an uncontrollable force of violence, is what I'm getting.

Because when you were holding it earlier, Mike, there didn't seem to be any way of controlling it.

It seems to be weighted in a way that it kind of rotates fairly randomly, that the head comes down slamming, and you don't know why.

And suddenly you're being shifted.

Is it it feels like it's wielding you suddenly?

It's a tool that's very much in charge.

Yeah.

It feels.

Yeah, certainly the way I use it.

Yeah.

It feels extremely dangerous and random.

It also, I'm just looking at pictures of mattocks online yes and mattock catastrophes

when a lot of those come up

for example there was the uh the great mattoching of an entire coachload of pensioners in the pennines

um

last year they'd just gone out for a a simple day out on the bus to go and pick up some donkey milk soap from a yes a lovely pennine soap there was a middle-aged man just trying to dig up a hedge

things get out of control quite a bit and it happened on the way back that they say the reason it was such a bad tragedy was happening on the way back from the donkey milk farm, which they'd gone to visit.

They'd all bought loads at the gift shop.

And of course,

the whole bus was super lubricated because, of course,

it's still going, isn't it?

It's still, the catastrophe is still happening.

It's still, the bus is still crashing.

And it feels like it's possibly become a perma crash now,

which you can now visit as actually

as part of the trip to the pen lines.

It's yes, it's because, of course, donkey Box Sabers is a super lubricant.

So, anyway, I'm looking at pictures of

Mattox online.

They've got that horrible look to them, which is, you can see that it's a medieval technology.

It's a pre-enlightenment bit of kit.

It comes from a simpler, more violent time.

It's an item that is dangerous, but comes with no safety features whatsoever.

That's right.

You know, there is no scabbard.

There is no emergency sort of key that springs out if you fall over or anything like that.

It comes from a time where, you know, if, as you will, you accidentally behead one of your five sons with it.

It's from a numbers game era.

It was always a numbers game.

That's why you had the five sons.

You only ever wanted two.

They didn't get the plague, annoyingly.

So you've got to just give them a swift mattock at 18.

Mike, are you wearing any kind of personal PPE?

Whilst using the mattock, a cycling helmet, perhaps?

I have told myself that even if I have the urge and I'm feeling lazy, I will not operate the mattock in flip-flops.

I've told myself that, at the very least.

Yeah, but beyond that, that's about it.

I might wear a pair of shades.

I sometimes wear a pair of shades or glasses.

If there might be chips to fly in, I am in the habit of doing that.

But that's just to look cool, right?

Mike, that is such a moment from the trailer for the serial killer film.

You slowly pick on his shades.

You with the shades and the wielding

in the dead of night.

Yeah.

It's absolutely terrifying.

Just looking at it, it makes me think of in an American film where the cops pull up the car, they're talking to the guy in the front seat, the driver's seat, seems okay, and then they glimpse under a bit of tarpaulin in the back, the head of a mattock sticking out.

Yeah.

And they're like,

we've got our guy.

But also, we're finished yeah

before we press record henry you received an email what seemed like an email oh you then said oh my god oh god and then i said what he said maybe i'll tell you on the podcast okay so i'll tell you so basically while we're having a little break i glanced at my phone

and my algorithm

had thrown up something at me.

And you know when people say the algorithm,

everyone's saying the algorithm the whole time at the moment.

Yeah.

Do they mean the is it the algorithm or my algorithm?

Is it the

is the final word on current society.

We've done it

Yeah, so anyway the algorithm whatever the fuck that means Yeah, has thrown up something which made me think that the other thing which other people are saying all the time at the moment, which is oh, is it listening?

Is the algorithm listening?

And so, so I was having evidence that maybe it is listening

because I got thrown up a review of a book because we were talking about donkey milk soap and different times of milking of animals and the taboo of milking and so on.

And I got sent a review of

a book called Morning Glory Milking Farm.

And I've just been reading about it.

It's a monster romance slash erotica novel

by C.M.

Nuscosta.

Okay.

The main character is Violet, a woman in her mid-twenties, overeducated, burdened by student debt, and struggling financially.

She's at a point where she's about to have to go back and live with her parents.

It's basically me, but when I was in my mid-30s.

Plot set up.

She responds to a job offer in Cambrick Creek.

So it seems like a normal job with good pay and benefits.

Until she's asked to wank off a monster.

Isn't that

by the way?

Another little tip is:

if anything seems like a normal job,

then be suspicious because that might mean that it isn't actually.

If it is a normal job, then it's fine.

If it seems like a normal job,

also, for example, if the boss, Harold Blimpton,

seems like he isn't actually a

sort of cryptozoological horror.

Yeah.

Then it might be that he is.

For example, if he seems like he has hooves,

it might be that he does.

But if he has hooves, that's fine.

But if he has hooves and he's open about it, I don't see why you should judge someone

for being hooved.

In fact, if it was Ben,

and a hooved man, was giving him a job interview and said, where do you see yourself in five years?

Ben would say, I'd see myself siphoning off your milk and turning it into soap.

It behooves me to do so.

It behooves me to mook you.

And that's why you've never ever been employed by an ungulate, have you?

No.

No, I've done zero hours and stuff, but never fully employed.

Yeah, yeah.

Never signed a contract with an ungulate.

Yeah.

Yeah, yeah.

Apart from that one, that one job you did do for that horse.

Not an ungulate.

Is a horse not an ungulate?

It has hooves.

The algorithm is listening.

I've just been sent an ad for a book called My Ungulate Lover.

Society said it was wrong, but it behooved me.

The algorithm is very much putting you in the ignorant but horny section, right?

Which is actually a massive market.

You have a laugh.

If you can tap into ignorant but horny, you'd be the richest man on earth.

I think this sentence from the Wikipedia is going to clear up about the Angular thing.

Okay, please.

In 2009, Morphological Work found that Aardvarks, Hyraxes, Sea Cows, and Elephants were more closely related to each other and to Sengus, Tenrex, and Golden Moles than to Parisodactyls and Arteodactyls.

I'm sorry, I'm not going to trust someone called Morphiological Work.

That's clearly a made-up name.

So

can you summarize that in a more easy, digestible way, please, Ben?

What was the conclusion in a way?

I think he's saying that the world of ungulates is the gift that keeps on giving.

Yeah, I don't know.

What comes of Violet?

I want to know about Violet.

You've dangled a narrative carrot.

Horses are ungulates.

Yes.

So.

It seems like a normal job with good pen benefits, no experience needed.

The catch, the clientele are minotaurs.

Oh, okay, okay.

We've all been there.

It was a bit of a bit of a.

Why did I start?

And there's your gear shift.

There's

you're a third of the way into the book, and all of a sudden needs to spice this up a bit.

Editor's note: do you think these, um,

this slightly difficult group of locals could be minotaurs?

Trouble is we've already designed the front cover and there aren't minotaurs on the front,

but how lovely to hear that there's a community of minotaurs, you know, who we associate with normally with being such an isolated creature.

You know, that's true, which is very much a one-off, wasn't he?

He was the minotaur, wasn't he?

He was the minotaur, he was kept in the labyrinth, he wasn't, he didn't get the chance to even kind of you know mingle with other minotaurs,

let alone breed.

Um,

and he's

yeah, he was created by um King Minos.

No, he was imprisoned by King Minos.

As a way of in Knossos.

In the Palace of Knossos.

I think the Minos War was possibly the son of an affair between Zeus and King Minos' wife.

Who was a swan?

It's always a swan.

There would have been a swan involved.

I'm quite prepared to admit that I might be wrong about all of the above, but yeah, we can rest assured there will have been a swan involved.

Yeah.

Because if you shag a swan, you get a cow-headed man.

That's simple genetics.

That's simply why you shouldn't do it.

It's something to do with.

Theseus is the guy who goes in and kills him.

Icarus.

Icarus and Daedalus were servants of King Minos who tried to escape slaves, really.

Icarus built the labyrinth as the best way to get people to buy

Daedalus built the labyrinth.

Yeah, as the best way to get people to buy gifts from the...

Because if you visit a labyrinth, and stately homes around the country have this, if you have a labyrinth, you're more likely to visit the cafe.

Donkey Muck soap.

Buy some Donkey Milk Milk soap.

Davis was also the inventor of the pencil with a pencil sharpener on the top and indeed to shift those units.

Yeah.

It was his first stroke of genius.

And of course, he managed to solve the paradox, which is that you can't.

How do you sharpen the pencil on the sharpeners attached to the pencil?

Yeah.

By coming up with the other one.

Getting another pencil, which actually

again did wonders for the Canassos gift shop.

Yeah.

Yeah.

What else is it telling us about Violet and her fate?

Oh my God.

The Cleontene mind.

By the way, is this a satire about something to do with like

Gen Z and having a harder time than their parents did or something?

No, I think it's just an erotic book about people who want to jack off a minotaur, isn't it?

Sometimes it's as simple as that, isn't it?

Otherwise, what's the message?

Don't try and get a job.

If it's difficult to get a job, you're better off going at home.

Because if you're trying to get a job, it might be with a wanky dinosaur.

Right.

Or minotaur.

I mean, you know, fill it in, whatever.

Any sort of base store, mythical creature or.

How's it going with your kids' book, The Wanky Dinosaur, by the way?

Is is it still self-published is it still the self-publishing route the

self

very much popping it under people's doors

just trying to get the word to spread during the marketing isn't it yeah

okay so violet the cleon teller minotaurs humanoid beasts

her job involves milking them Okay, i.e.

collecting their semen for pharmaceutical purposes.

What?

This is basically the story of the donkey soap industry.

That's what it is.

The next bose.

It's like the animal farm of the donkey soap.

It is a satire.

It's a satire on the donkey milk.

Soap.

She ends up.

Who would have seen this coming?

She ends up developing feelings for one of the minotaurs.

What the flippity?

I thought I knew where I was with this book.

I don't know where I am now.

A particularly stern, deep-voiced one.

I think that's how it works.

That's like Beauty and the Beast.

They've gone up to Heathcliff.

It's always a bit grumpy.

Yeah.

Because most of them have got squeaky eye voices, haven't they?

They're like, hi!

Oh,

I'm just watching Housewise of Cheshire.

You toss me off, I won't even notice.

It's like a poison, you've got to get it out.

Would you toss me off, would you?

I've had such a rough day.

Those black trousers, they really suit you.

Black trousers.

It's It's weird you're wearing black trousers, though, in the semen milking area, because

I'd wear something lighter than that.

Maybe some light linen.

Do you know what?

I'm ready to go again.

Because you tossed me off again.

Thanks, Lord.

But that's the thing, isn't it?

In like Beauty and the Beast and the Disney.

Like,

if you're a monster, if you're a male monster, it doesn't matter how gratesque you are, as long as you're like, come this way, Sally.

And Sally will love you because you're stern and sort of.

Like Nosferratu.

Like Nosferatu.

Would you like to go to dinner with me?

It will need to be dinner, not brunch, for some odd reason.

It feels more formal for a first date.

But it is horrible.

Or the chicken crucifix.

Yes, of course, I've been to a fucking harvester.

I'm here every night.

So hang on.

I'm just realizing that there is a scene out there of, I presume, women who

think minotaurs are sex.

This is a thing, right?

This must be a kind of scene.

Oh, I don't know who's written it.

Is he either that or the or there's a male writer or an AI writer who assumes that that scene exists?

I don't know.

Or wishes that such a scene exists because they possibly resemble a minusaur and they're a bit grumpy.

You know?

I think, look,

let's

not, it's not rocket science here.

It's being muscly is sexy.

Having hooves is sexy.

Being big and strong is sexy.

Look,

I've never actually held

a buffalo or a bison or any kind of angular stick.

But

I mean, I imagine they're quite well hung, aren't they?

Bulls?

I mean, they're a sort sort of symbol of masculinity, aren't they?

In a bull, yeah, so I could see that maybe.

I suppose it's which bit of the bull do you get, which bit of the human do you get?

Isn't it possible?

So, is hang on, is your contention that Disney's it's implicit that the beast and similar heroes have they've got a big old swinger?

Is that what you're saying?

I think basically, yeah,

I'm the king of the swingers,

the jungle VIP, yeah,

right.

So, she gets Fiends Woman who begins to request request her specifically.

God, that's gross.

It's sounding increasingly sort of stock homey and coercive, isn't it?

Why do you find that bit particularly gross, Henry?

The thing about a Minotaur requesting was just gross.

Yeah.

It shouldn't make a difference who's tossing you off if you're a Minotaur and you're doing it for pharmaceutical purposes.

Exactly.

The whole thing should just be a cold transactional.

But it should be mechanised, let's be honest.

It should be mechanised.

And how is your Minotaur dick pump invention going on, Ben?

Is it still?

I'm still very much at the stage of just putting it under people's doors.

Which suggests it's not, it hasn't got enough girth, to be fair, if you're able to do that.

That might be one of the problems.

I'm having to matt away the bottom half of most of the doors before I'm pushing and rolling it through.

Just getting the word out there, you know.

Anyway,

so there's a component.

So there's a romance component, including sexual tension.

It's a human-monster romance with strong erotic sexual content.

The romance develops slowly, slow burn.

I think it always is

if your lover is semi-humanoid.

Heavy on explicit sexual scenes involving non-human anatomy, size differences, fluid, etc.

Oh, God.

I'm in.

Where do I sign?

Just to get the book.

I only want the book if I have to sign for it, please.

I think it's time for a pompadou, isn't it?

It is.

It might.

I think think it is.

And in fact, we could maybe use a pompadou jingle that someone sent in.

Oh, nice.

Please, lush.

Oh, actually, I don't think we do have one.

Well, this is a classic

case of them needing the pompadoo jingle, then.

Yeah.

Okay, double pompadou.

Double pompadou.

Dompadoo pom-bado, pom-ad-doo.

Dompadoo.

Play the jingle.

And now it's time for

Dumper Doo.

Dumper doo.

Dumper doo.

Ordinarily, dear sweet listeners, I mean, we'd be firing up the bean machine.

But essentially, someone was too busy rubbing donkey milk soap into their own body and forgot to rub donkey milk soap into the central cogs of the bean machine, which is the only thing that keeps it lubricated.

The bean machine readout is therefore saying that it needs urgent maintenance.

It's also saying that it's not calling it the algorithm, but an algorithm.

Where it's the algorithm, isn't it?

So it's the algorithm.

Which is...

Global warming

has rapidly overtaken the hindquarters of the machine.

It's a a very slow-paced rhythm, isn't it, the algorithm?

And then crept up

down into Henry's tubes and caused an algorithm leak.

Yep.

Leading to what you just listened to.

So are you blaming me?

Yeah.

In part,

I think we need a full guy, and I think that's probably you.

I mean, you're the one who technically works for the bean machine, isn't it?

You're supposed to be doing the maintenance.

You're technically employed by it, aren't you?

You are the violet of the bean machine story.

Well, okay, here's a secret I wasn't going to tell you guys.

That's a good point.

I had to take some cogs and sprockets and other parts out of the beam machine to make my mechanical minor tour semen milking machine.

I'm so sorry.

Of course.

Are you crazy, man?

So, anyway.

So, in reality, I mean, yeah, I'm feeling slightly under the weather.

We've recorded some nice things.

There's a feeling that.

Are we slacking off?

There's a feeling that you might perish in the next 20 minutes.

Yeah.

Yeah.

That's the feeling I'm getting.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Definitely.

And we don't want it to be on our watch, essentially.

Yeah.

No.

So, with that said, why don't we read some emails?

Yes, please.

Let's do it.

And why don't we play an version of the email jingle sent in by Memnor?

Wonderful.

Memnor?

Where's Memnor from?

Well, the

Infiniduke,

Lord of the 19th Realm.

Memnor, I mean, I thought I defeated him at the Battle of Ungad.

That's what it seemed, though.

But it might be a different Memnor.

It could be a different.

You're right.

You know what?

It might just be a different Memnor.

Let's find out.

It could be Mike's auntie Memnor.

Could be Auntie Memnor.

Yeah.

That's right.

Yeah, she does listen to her.

Who fought alongside me at the Battle of Ungard.

Completely different story.

Caused real problems, didn't it?

That's right.

Well,

her Cyberlance

skewered the um the hovering eyeball that um that Memnor called his wife,

didn't it?

So I'm not gonna forget that now, Rick.

Well, that's

war's an ugly scene, isn't it?

People do things their regrets.

So Memnor are in fact a band called Meminor.

Okay, so it's not an individual.

Okay, yeah, different

Memnor.

So I think this is the first band submitted jingle, but I quite like that.

Yeah.

Oh, nice.

That feels like raising the stakes, doesn't it?

Yeah.

Let's go all the way to Symphony Orchestra, guys.

Okay.

Yes, please.

Memnor says.

They say, Hello, Beans.

We write to you to inform you that after several months of enjoying back episodes of your podcast, we have decided on a way to show our appreciation.

It is, of course, the only way we know how, which is by creating the music most befitting of the archetypal provincial dad, Prague Rock.

Oh, yes.

To this end, we have included a version of your email jingle in the style of yes slash rush slash genesis for your entertainment.

What a combo!

Lovely.

It's a rich brew.

That is a heady brew.

Many thanks for your podcast, Memnor.

Well, let's listen to it.

Thank you, Memnor.

Here we go.

Yes, please.

When you send an email,

you must give thanks

who came before.

anything for me.

You're someone ship when you send an email.

This represents progress.

My robot, you in a horse.

My beautiful horse.

Yes, Memnor.

Outstanding.

Yes.

Very good.

That was outstanding.

That was so good.

I feel like that.

It made me feel like the Postmaster Jingle needed its own kind of 80s adventure cartoon show.

You're right.

That was a credit sequence.

Yeah.

With impossibly

just a huge amount of stuff happening in a really quick amount of time, isn't it?

Fast-moving Postman.

Yeah, yeah.

All the top bits of their ancient horses.

Being swallowed by huge octopuses and stuff.

Yeah, there's loads and loads.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah, wonderful.

Memnor.

You're my favourite band, Memnor.

Well done, Memnor.

Memnor.

We did get the Memnor, and we liked it.

Does that work?

Sort of.

I don't know.

It might be at the end of every one of their album reviews.

I don't know.

It might be the sort of thing every music journalist thinks they've come up with it.

It feels like one of those.

Okay, cool, cool, cool.

Everything okay, Henry?

Are you emailing back to see if you can join Memnor?

Just quickly setting together.

They're so flute, weren't they?

Weren't this a great flute?

I haven't updated my CV for so long.

I'm quickly having to throw something together here.

I like going to the cinema.

No, I was Googling Memnor and it's some sort of a giant deity.

Oh, I see they're named after something.

In the orderning.

From what tradition?

I know, that's what I'm trying to work out.

If it's fictional.

I found Memnor's website.

Yeah.

They're from Huddersfield.

And Memnor

is a deity from Dungeons and Dragons.

Oh, no.

Okay.

So it says here.

It's great stuff.

Let's start off with...

This is from Jack.

And it is a Bean First, I think.

Oh, yeah.

It's a speed bollock.

Speed bollock?

A speed bollock?

It's described as a speed bollock.

Okay.

Who's it directing that?

Hi, Beans.

In the latest Antarctica episode, Mike suggested that a cold version of Sex in the City would be called Ice Road sex missing the rather obvious ice road fuckers shame on you i'm going to take that i'm going to accept that jack really i think i think because that that that is what i was reaching for yeah and i i didn't even manage a simple pun yeah what's the pun and uh it's that that that show ice road truckers is the show oh sorry i just thought it was a completely crass comment

no so i didn't say that's actually quite good yeah yeah yeah oh yeah more more power to your bollock

Yeah, yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Speed bollock accepted.

Accepted as swiftly as it was received.

Thank you.

Yes.

Excellent.

Bollocking accepted.

Sophie emails.

Dear beans, I was doing field work on limestone pavements, and to entertain myself through the monotony of writing down numbers, I started re-listening to your show.

One day whilst walking to my site...

Brackets, note an area with massive holes and slippery rock, I managed to roll over my ankle on the flat, not slippery or dangerous path, dislocating my ankle and breaking it in three places.

Holy moly.

Oh, no.

Whilst in hospital for a week and waiting for surgery, I only had four episodes downloaded onto my phone to listen to on repeat as I tried to sleep.

I could not listen to the podcast for months afterwards, and recently I've been forcing myself to listen to it to try and get over it.

In your recent episode on hiking, you mentioned limestone, and I fear it may have set me back.

Please don't do it again, Sophie.

Oh, Sophie.

Sorry, Sophie.

Because normally it's just a simple drill through the hand, isn't isn't it?

Yeah, exactly.

Because a lot of people injure themselves listening to our podcast is something that's come up in the past, isn't it?

And it's over and done.

And it's usually, yeah, an injury you can just deal with with

any sort of spigot you've got lying around at home or what have you, you know?

Or just shove shit.

Or just shove blue-tack into it, I find.

If Blue Tack's

straight out of the packet, it's fairly antiseptic, isn't it?

It's not fully, but.

Oh, Sophie.

Yeah,

that's grim business.

So we won't be referring to limestone from now on.

So we'll try and focus on sandstone.

And more igneous rocks.

And the whole igneous rock family.

And of course granite.

Which is of course a man-made rock.

So strictly speaking, it would come under a different

taxonomy.

But for these purposes, I'm happy to

let it go.

You're saying granite is a man-made rock.

It's not a man-made rock.

Let's just move on with the conversation.

It's a form of compacted gravel, isn't it?

Using concrete as the creosote.

The pennines beg to differ.

The next bit of content contains harrowing dental scenes.

Warning.

Hello, Beans.

This is from Ellie.

Hello, Ellie.

It's quite a long one, this, but I like it, I think.

I wanted to share with you my very own dentistry misadventure after hearing about Mike's internal ceramic landslide.

Is everything okay there now, Mike?

Yeah.

They replaced it with

something else.

Good.

I was cycling back from a little swim in a river near my house share in Grenoble

with my trainers tied up dangling carefree over my handlebars.

Uh-oh.

Can I say that as an image, that's absolutely idyllic?

Well, it screams of imminent danger to me.

It's too good.

It can't last.

Yeah, it's very much the first opening scene of casualty, isn't it?

Yeah,

something's going to happen.

Casualty Grenoble edition.

Barefoot as the day I Was Born.

Although the idea of riding a bike barefoot, I find

probably quite painful.

I've tried it and it's not comfortable.

Barefoot as the Day I was born, I started whizzing down the slope as I often did, the wind whistling through my toes, happy as a clam.

Then disaster struck.

One sneaky little trainer stuck itself between the spokes of my front wheel, immediately stopping it in its tracks and sending me over the handlebars, teeth first, into the pavement.

I was sitting on the floor trying to gather up my broken bike when two kind men rushed over to help.

The first one got a look at me and asked, have you always been like that?

Oh, no.

Oh, dear.

That's not a good start.

Like what?

I replied.

Without your teeth, he said.

Oh, my God.

And we started searching for the teeth in the grass next to the road.

You can't reinsert them.

It's not like hands.

You can't just stitch them back on like hands

we found two one still completely intact root and all and the other in bits

oh god he presented them to me i slipped him on my top pocket and he asked but where are the rest oh no but there's some people will be passing out listening to this

without being able to see myself I frantically replied, how many are missing?

I frankly replied,

he didn't answer but went back to combing the grass as it turns out only two were gone but I've got a rather large front teeth and it looked like a whole bunch had been knocked out he then called an ambulance god almighty

she wasn't listening to us in this story was she this is just a this is just a horror story this is just a

we did have to take on board guilt No, no, no.

I mean, I'm feeling quite a lot of guilt about the person who rolled over their ankle and had to have surgery and broke their

guilt about that one already.

Yeah, I did.

Yeah, Sophie.

Yeah.

anyway.

The ambulance came, said that she was fine.

They were wrong, weren't they?

They were absolutely wrong.

They were massively wrong.

All the teeth had flown out.

A few minutes later, I got on the tram to head home with my top pocket full of small bloody remains.

When I got back, I got the same response from Google as Mike and tried to fill a small glass with my spit.

Too much blood, though.

So I ended up putting it in milk.

When I got to the dentist the next morning, I showed her the tooth to give her an idea of the size and shape.

She really, I'm skipping some more horrible bits.

Okay,

she reluctantly disinfected the entire tooth before shoving it back into my gum.

She also told me I should have shoved it back in straight away myself, and it would still be alive.

What is that true?

You've got to shove things back in, dude.

I think the whole point of medicine was

because you can't just shove things.

Because it was a bit more complicated, isn't it?

Yeah.

It's also a lot to ask in that situation.

If you've just fallen off a hill, you know, at speed,

it's a lot to ask.

I feel quite queasy now.

I'm sorry to all of our listeners, but yeah, thank you, Ellie.

I'm glad that all turned out okay.

Why did it all turn out okay?

We don't know, but we hope it did.

I'm sure it did.

I'm sure, well, I hope it did.

Thank you, Ellie.

It may be that she still just wanders the streets of Grenoble going, Hello,

I am the lady who lost her teeth

to people.

It really makes my test drama sort of pale into insignificance.

Yeah, golly, thank you.

I suppose the lesson is put shoes on your put them on your put them on your feet

where possible.

She doesn't need to hear that, she knows that.

Yeah,

no, no, no.

So I'll take that back, actually.

Do what you like with your shoes.

Do put them on your feet, actually.

I mean, yeah.

But do what you like with your shoes.

Morgan, emails.

Hello, Morgan.

Hi, Morgan.

Dearest Beans, it is with regret that I must bollock Ben.

So many bollocks today.

Yeah.

And

when you're down as well, when you're

down.

Feeble.

It is with regret that I must bollock Ben for mixing up cyber goth with steampunk.

Oh.

Cyber goths have neon hair, brightly coloured clothes, often latex, and gas masks.

Steampunks are the ones who wear begoggle top hats, Victorian-esque suits, and a lot of brown.

Cybergoth has all but disappeared.

With only the most dedicated holding out into 2025.

Steampunk seems to be perennially popular for reasons that elude me.

As Henry described them as kids,

because I think you were describing some people that you thought were in Edinburgh.

I find it unlikely that they were steampunks as I've yet to see a steampunk under 35.

Interesting.

I would like to add to this email: I'm of neither persuasion.

I'm a metal head, which just consists of wearing t-shirts with bands with completely unreadable logos.

Best wishes, Morgan.

Thank you, Morgan.

Thank you, Morgan.

Okay, good bit of knowledge.

How do you feel about that, Ben?

As a bollocking, are you going to accept that?

I think it's fine.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Bollocking accepted.

And I feel like I've learned something there.

Bollocking accepted.

It was a fairly targeted surgical bollock, wasn't it?

It was in-out.

Yeah.

Yes.

It did the job.

Yes, it was specific.

It was

and it's incredible what they can do now with bollock technology because, of course, that bollock was all completely remotely controlled, wasn't it?

Oh, yes, and she's delivered it coldly and accurately.

And

well done, Morgan.

Yeah, thank you.

Okay, we normally now play the Patreon jingle, but I'm going to play one sent in by one of you.

Why not?

Let's do double jingles.

Very golden jingles.

This is from Morgan.

Another Morgan.

Yeah.

Different Morgan?

I don't know if it is the same.

It might be the same Morgan.

Hang on.

It is the same Morgan.

Golly got.

You bothered me about

cybergoths.

Yeah, okay.

Morgan writes, Howdy Beans, Beethoven's Fifth, Debussy's Clendaloon, The Patron Dringle.

These great pieces of music throughout our history have inspired and delighted thousands.

As the greatest and most humble composer this nation has ever seen, brackets apart from all the other ones, I've put my own twist on this modern-day classic.

I've cranked the forebodingness up to eleven with a choir and included my own voice, pitch-shifted down a few octaves.

This sounds like it might be quite terrifying.

Yeah.

anyway, thank you, Morgan.

Let's see.

Thank you again.

It's time

to be the fairy man.

You could be quiet

for such repeat

Memnor arise!

Memnor!

That was we've re-summoned Memnor!

Blamey, thanks, Morgan.

That was

fearsomely sinister.

If you'd like to sign up for our Patreon, go to patreon.com forward slash three bean salad.

If you sign up at the Sean Bean tier, you get a shout out from Mike from the Sean Bean Lounge, where Mike was only last night.

Sure was.

And it was a lovely smell down there, wasn't there, Mike?

Because

you're making the first ever Sean Bean Lounge donkey milk soap.

I am indeed.

Thank you, Benjamin.

And here's my report.

We were making our first ever donkey milk soap at the Sean Bean Lounge last night.

Step one was finding amenable donkeys, for which Fran Barnett, Matthew Wood, Slagarella, Helen Callanan, and David Payne were sent among donkeykind to live at one with them and build networks.

They took it too far, went full donkey and were lost to the project.

And so Matt Siebert, Frederick Yessen, Dan Cook and Sophie Elliott were sent in to try again.

This group was successful and secured the trust and willingness of a coffle of asses who were then each named after Sean Bean loungers who have perished in embarrassing circumstances and whose deaths have not yet and will never be made public, including Johnny Martins, Keith, Michael Banyan, Princess Kate, the Ratface husband, Andrew and Katie.

Roly Poly Little Bat Faced Girl, Steph Acton, MJ and Sam Rankine assessed the donkeys for ripeness and when ready gave the signal for milking to begin.

Various methods were tested.

Victoria L, Marina C and Stephen Fitzpatrick laid on their backs and deployed gravity and teat squeezing.

Mary from England, John James Davies, Brianna Smith and Zachary Nielsen laid the donkeys on their backs and deployed suction and tugging.

Pingas Les, Oliver Sanders, Liam Kent and Jack Duff carried donkeys on their backs and ran the 15-peak challenge.

Shelley, Adam Meddings-Lee, Matthew Turner, Madison Funicello, Michael Johnson and Andrew Warhurst attempted telekinetic milking and got a group migraine.

The milk was collected by Sarah Fairhead and Miton and Luke Clargo's many ill-fitting hats and the amount was measured by Stephen Ball using units of shabadoux shabadoux de bonks.

Then began the churning, with Lisa Ponyhart, formerly Marshall, Hannah Stembridge, Andy Clark in Cape Town, and Jamie Campbell dancing the Rotherham jig upon the milk.

Ellie Knightsbridge, Cape Brighouse Evans, and Patrick I brought milk onto a trapeze and churned using milk obatics.

And Tanya Watzel, Jonah Kinross, Jamie Foster and Maggie Madol spread rumours about one section of milk to other sections of milk to cause in-fighting churning.

The donkey curds were mixed with lye and donkey oils by Alchemy Distillery, Emily Walker and Alex Priestley in a specially adapted Maxi Pocket, and The Way was drunk by CB, Darren Cox, Grizz and Callum Addis on their way to an audition for Magic Mike Sean Bean Edition.

Megan, Joe, Kerry Flynn and Rebecca Andrews dried the mixture out on warm dogs.

The set soap was then carved into the shapes of Sean Bean's most lavorable characters by Emilyn Owen, Tom Jewell, Jordi Angus and Gracie Vollin.

And a bar was tested on Finn Scanlon, Paul Spenceley and Andrew Clark in the bath with catastrophic consequences.

Thanks all.

Right, let's finish off with a version of our theme tune sent in by one of you.

This is from Mike from Gateshead.

I was introduced to your pod fairly recently en route to some recording sessions with a fellow musician friend of mine, Tom, a big fan and principal oboe of the BBC Symphony Orchestra.

Limey, wow, wet.

I noticed that no one has yet written your theme in the style of Debussy.

To properly immerse myself in his sound world, I naturally had to contract syphilis.

Probably the most straightforward element of the process.

Courtesy of a sit-down we at Gateshead Wetherspoons.

Best wishes, Mike from Gateshead.

Thank you, Mike.

Thank you, Mike, Gateshead.

And thank you, everyone, for listening.

Yeah, we'll see you next time.

Thank you very much.

I felt quite emotional stuff.

That was hmm.

That was beautiful.

Thank you, Mike.