Tales of nonsense and items of little interest, sometimes true, always poorly thought through. Less sophisticated than most newspapers and magazines.

Saturday, February 3, 2007

Pakistani Comedy

The last few weeks have been something of a whirlwind for me. A whole mess of parties and after shows littered with drink, drugs and wild sex. I’m exhausted and need a break from it all. I wish. The last few weeks have been a non stop tornado of accounting classes, work and a bit of sleep here and there. Nevertheless, I am exhausted and need a break from it all.
This isn’t going to happen.
At times like these I find a good laugh is as refreshing and energizing as a walk on the promenade at Blackpool in January. It’s been a bad day in Iraq, so there isn’t much to laugh at in the news. Well, there was that woman who had a 93lb tumor removed. The doctors just kept telling her she was fat and to eat less. There was some humour to be mined there, I just couldn’t be arsed with it. Instead I took to the internet and managed to find some jokes on a Pakistani newspaper website. Paki’s have never been renowned for their sense of humour and if this collection of jokes is anything to go by they never will be.

You Will Be Taking My Mother in Law Now Please

A miser entered a restaurant and ordered for curry worth half a rupee. A waiter brought him the curry. When the miser began to eat, he saw that a fly was floating in the curry. He angrily shouted at the waiter. "You brought the curry with a fly!" The waiter answered, "Then do you want a goat or sheep for half a rupee?"

Two men were sitting opposite to each other. At last, one of them said, "Pardon me, I am a bit hard of hearing, no doubt, but I feel myself totally deaf today. I am seeing you chat for an hour but I could not hear even a single word." The other man answered, "I was talking, I was taking chewing-gum."

A man entered a calm dispensary of a doctor and yelled, "Doctor, for God's sake do something for me. I was applying on the flute but, I committed a mistake to swallow it". Doctor answered coolly, "You should thank God that you were not playing on a piano."

An old singer turned up the stage. As he started, his artificial teeth fell down. Hastily, he fitted them into the mouth but as he began singing these fell down again. When this process went on for a number of times, a person said angrily, "Would you sing something or go on changing the cassettes."

A wife complained her husband, "Why did you say before our marriage that I was all your world." The husband answered, "I had not learnt geography, then. Now I have discovered a number of other worlds."

A man asked another man, "Where is Bhatti Gate situated? he replied, "It is near the Data Darbar." But I also do not know where the Data Darbar is?" he enquired. "It is near Bhatti Gate, he answered. The first man asked with surprise, "But I do not know where both of these are?. Both are very close to each other", the man replied.

First opium-addict: "What date is today?"
Second opium-addict: "It is Sunday today."
First opium-addict: "I am asking you the date, not the year".

Maybe they lost something in translation…….

How I Gurned My Way To America

I miss my Mum. I know that makes me sound like a southern poofter but I don’t’ care and anyone who says I am can fuck right off. It’s not easy living thousands of miles away.

I know, I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. Nobody made me leave England. Well, not exactly. They told me I had to stay, at least until the trial was over, but I was getting a bad feeling about the potential outcome and decided to do a runner. I bought a fake passport and a fake identity from Jimmy Bobcap and went into hiding for a few days while I put together a plan.
I knew that getting out of the country with dodgy documents was going to be almost impossible for at least a few weeks. So I decided I would have to immerse myself in the life of the person named in the passport until the fuss died down and I could get out with minimum hassle. I looked for the first time at the passport Jimmy had sold me. It was issued in the name of one Gertrude Stubble, age 65. That bastard Jimmy Bobcap had sold me a woman’s passport. How the fuck was I supposed to use this? I was fucked.

Gertrude wasn’t much of a looker, in fact she had a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp. Les Dawson in drag was more attractive. I had no choice. I had to make it work. I went round to the local retirement flats and nicked as many items of old lady clothing as I could find on the washing lines and stopped at the chemists for a bottle of cheap perfume, some thick support tights and a bottle of blue rinse hair dye. The paki behind the counter gave me a knowing smile and a wink, the dirty bastard. I wrote Jimmy Bobcap’s number down on a piece of paper and gave it to him with a saucy grin. That would fix the both of them.
I had to get out of town and decided to get the train to Carlisle, the last place the filth would think of looking for me. I got a room at a squalid bed and breakfast near the station. It stunk of cat piss but it would have to do. The owner, Mrs.Gusset, seemed suspicious of my story that I was in town for an Emmerdale Farm convention and asked for a deposit on the bedsheets, in case of an accident, she said.

I didn’t have much cash and would need to generate some quickly if I were to buy a plane ticket and pay my lodgings. There was nothing worth stealing in Mrs.Gusset’s hovel, so I went for a walk, shuffling along hunchback style as I tried to stay in character.
Carlisle was a shit hole and there didn’t seem to be anything worth stealing that would raise the kind of money I needed. Then I saw it, a sign in the window of The Turd and Shovel pub.


That was it. I would win the money. I looked at my watch, it was 7.50. Just in time! I entered the pub and almost recoiled at the stench of body odour and woodbine smoke. There were some right ugly bastards in there. Winning might not be as easy as I thought. Looking around it was as I had expected, I was the only man dressed as a woman in the place. I tried to see if there were any real women in there, but you couldn’t really tell. I put my name down on the list of contestants and bought a pint of mild so flat it should have been served in an envelope and found a seat next to a fat old fucker with a whippet. Immediately the whippet stuck it’s nose up my skirt and I gave it a kick. “Bit o’ luck and that’ll be me later” said the fat old fucker, nudging an even fatter old fucker sat next to him. They both laughed so hard they collapsed into simultaneous coughing fits.
It was almost last orders by the time my name was called and I was pissed from all the pints of mild the fat old fuckers had been buying me in an effort to get into my thermal woolen knickers (very comfortable by the way!). I stumbled onto the makeshift stage and pulled the biggest fuckin’ gurn you have ever seen. There were gasps of amazement as I pulled one then another, each one outdoing the last. I was declared the winner, collected my 250 quid and escaped through the bog window while the fat old fuckers fought over who was going to take me home. I ran all the way back to Mrs. Gusset’s and fell into bed, exhausted.

I was woken next morning by Mrs. Gusset yelling something about a gentleman being there to see me. The smell of cat piss had been replaced by the smell of shit, a puddle of which was staining the sheets next to me. That was goodbye to the deposit money. But this visitor, who could it be? Could the cops have tracked me down? Did they have the house surrounded? I decided to play it cool and put on my housecoat, a long spray of perfume and went downstairs cautiously. The visitor, it turned out was a local impresario who had been in the Turd and Shovel the night before scouting for talent. He told me that he represented Gurners all over the North West and wanted me to compete in the World Series of Gurning to be held in Las Vegas in two weeks time. The prize money was $500,000 and all he wanted was 50% plus expenses. The offer was too good to refuse and before I knew it I was on a plane to America.

To cut a long story slightly shorter, I won the World Series and announced my retirement the next day, moved to Los Angeles and here I am. Occasionally I look back fondly on my time as Gertrude Stubble. Now and again I will get out the support tights and sniff them, rub them against my thighs and pull a gurn just for old time’s sake. I will never wear them again though as it’s too hard a habit to break.

Here is the picture of my World Series winning gurn.

I am a master of disguise.

Chewbacca Hits Rock Bottom

Filthy Animal

Cop's arrested a Chewbacca impersonator on Hollywood Blvd yesterday for allegedly head butting a tour guide who intervened when Chewbacca started harrassing a couple of Japanese tourists who refused to pay him for having a picture taken. This is fuckin gold.

The tour guide asked Chewbacca not to touch the tourists and Chewie got angry. "You could see in his eyes he was exploding beneath the mask," Sapir said Friday. "He yelled at me, 'Nobody tells this wookiee what to do!' "Classic!!

Hollywood Blvd, specifically the bit outside the Chinese Theatre, is the haunt of a large number of celebrity impersonators who literally beg for money from tourists. These guys are always going on about how they are serious actors and street entertainers when really they are filthy unwashed pan handlers. Their costumes look like shit and they just get in peoples way in what is already a busy area of the Boulevard.

Apparently Chewbacca has been involved in skirmishes before, Captain Jack Sparrow is quoted as saying "..he got into a fight with a music vendor. They knocked over a baby stroller." Darth Vader also confirmed that Chewbacca was a troublemaker saying that he often had run in's with other "performers".

Last year, Freddy Krueger was arrested for allegedly stabbing a man and two years ago, Mr.Incredible, Elmo the Muppet and the guy from Scream were arrested for agressive begging.

When contacted, a spokesperson for Lucasfilm said, "The street performer doesn't have any affiliation with Lucasfilm. Nevertheless, we are disappointed that someone dressed as Chewbacca would behave in this way."

Chewie was released on $20,000 bail and will appear in court later this month. I am keeping my fingers crossed that he shows up in costume.

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Putty In My Hands

One of the most enjoyable things about being a parent is the opportunity to really influence your childs growth. I'm not talking about physically, although if you wean em onto the ciggies at a young enough age you could stunt their growth (if you believe the anti-smoking crowd). I'm talking about mental growth.

Most responsible (make that conservative/republican parents) would seize this opportunity to teach their young ones, to nurture their ability to reason and to promote the benefits of paying attention in school and learning things that will be useful in later life. Not me. I prefer to mess with my kid. Not in a dirty pedo way. As illustrated in my previous post, there is no future in fiddling with the kids. It offers little in the way of reward and much aggravation if caught. If even a shadow of suspicion falls upon you, you are pretty much fucked for life. So, no, definitely not that, it just isn't my cup of tea. No, I mean messing with my kids mind. I don't do it in a cruel way. I'm not one of those emotional abuse fuckers who treats their kid like shit, degrading her and calling her a slag for wearing make up. She's only six, that will come later, when she gets a boyfriend. I merely try to impress on her the necessity of a sense of humour and to be silly, daft, talk shite and nonsense, to confuse those around you and blur the lines between reality and bullshit. Of course, being six, she doesn't quite get these concepts and probably just thinks I'm a lunatic. She will thank me someday.

I have invested a considerable amount of time in trying to convince her that if you fart and sneeze at the same time, you do an involuntary back flip. I have sat her down and shown her wrestling on TV and gymnastics in an effort to back up my argument, asking her if she heard them fart and sneeze before performing the backwards somersault. I have tried to demonstrate myself but despite having the silence and concentration needed for such a maneuver I have so far been unable to recreate the act. She isn't having it, unless she sees it with her own eyes.

I suspect that she is being advised by a classmate. There is a little girl in her class who thinks she fuckin knows it all. My kid came home from school one day and told Mrs.Waring that she knew how people get pregnant. There had been some discussion at lunchtime and this kid had told everyone that if you wanted to have a baby all you had to do was shave your arse. Had I been there I would have told her that this was indeed the truth, unfortunately I wasn't and Mrs.Waring poo poo'd it and told her it was a lie. I am tempted to contact this kids parents, not to complain but to congratulate them on a fine line of shite. This is inspired stuff.

For a while, every time I went for a shit I would squeeze the squeaker out of an old dog toy. The child was intrigued and over the course of a couple of months I was able to convince her that I had a squeak toy stuck up my arse. This kind of thing never gets old for me and I would still be doing it today if Mrs.Waring hadn't exposed me and confiscated the squeaker. She has this fear that my style of parenting will at some point backfire on us, and she may be right, but I'm proud of our daughter and the things she has learned so far:

  1. People in wheelchairs are just lazy.
  2. Rabbit cack tastes just like raisins.
  3. Bald people got that way by holding their farts in too long.
  4. If a dog marries a cat all their kids will born monkeys.
  5. Don't fuck with the British.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Dirty Dick

When I was a kid, there was this bloke who used to go to the local baths a lot. By a lot I mean every fuckin day. We, my friends and I, would see him standing at the bus stop with his towel rolled up under his arm, he would get on the bus and the bus would leave. A couple of hours later he would get off a returning bus, towel still rolled under his arm and he would presumably go home. As innocent young tearaways, we didn't think much of this except that he must really like swimming.

During the summer holidays, we would often go to the baths ourselves. There was fuck all else to do and it was fun, pissing in the pool or the foot wash, chasing lasses and showing off. Occasionally we would see this fella while we were there. He always appeared not to notice us, or if he did he just kept himself to himself. A wise move given that single men approaching groups of kids in the swimming baths is frowned upon by much of society.

Now and again, the older sisters of one of my mates would come with us. We were all about 9 or 10, so they would be maybe 12 and 14 at the most. They were ugly girls, buck teeth, bad hair, just skin and bone. There was more meat on a butchers pencil. Even the oldest one was a late bloomer and was still flat as a panel of plasterboard. The sight of them in their swimming cozzies could not be described as easy on the eyes. Anyway, one day, the older one, Janine said that this bloke had touched her arse while he swam past her. I remember thinking that it was unlikely, cause if I was a pedo, there were a hundred better looking girls in the pool that I would be trying to cop a crafty feel of. I thought she was lying for the attention. And besides, this lad never came anywhere near us. She swore that it was true and her sister started to back her up saying that he had touched her arse too. As a group, we believed them and instead of telling one of the lifeguards we all swam over to the lad and started to call him names. Nonce, Molester, Bum Fondler and possibly worst of all, Dirty Dick because that one stuck. Visibly shaken, he fucked off and left the pool before anyone of authority showed up or some mental case of an unbalanced disposition got wind of it and decided to give him a leathering.

So, as I said, the name stuck. From then on he was Dirty Dick. Whenever we saw him at the bus stop we chanted his name, whenever we saw him walking down the street we followed him singing "Dirty Dick, Dirty Dick, touches kids and makes them sick". Pretty soon, people began to notice and rumours started to spread about Dick and what he did at the baths. All kinds of untruths made the rounds as people got the story wrong and misinformed someone else. There were rumours that he had been seen wanking on the back seat of a bus. People said they had seen him fucking stuffed animals in the church yard. Word was that he had been chucked out of ASDA for poking holes in the fruit. Things were looking bad for the lad.

It didn't take long before we stopped seeing him waiting for the bus with his towel. No doubt afraid to go anywhere near semi naked children, he had been forced to abandon his pastime. People saw less and less of him on the streets, in the end he just vanished. Hopefully he just moved away and didn't top himself or anything like that because then I would feel bad about it.

On a recent visit back home, I was standing in line at the pie shop and who walks in? Dirty Dick! It was him, older, greyer and fatter but it was definately him. Obviously, as time had passed and he had changed, people had either forgotten or just didn't recognize him. He had returned. Although I didn't think he would recognize me, I dropped out of the line and went over to the bread rack and started to examine a Warburton's Toaster, letting him get in front of me. When a couple more people joined the line, I got back in the queue.

By the time I got to the front of the line, he had left the shop with his meat & potato and a vanilla slice. The woman serving recognized me, she used to be one of our neighbours until her husband came home from the pit and caught her fucking the lad who worked in the bookies and quickly divorced her. "How yer doin' love? You still livin' in't States?" "Aye, doin' grand", I said, "I see Dicks back". "Eh? Who you on abaht?". "Yon mon who wuz just innere", I motioned over my shoulder. It took a moment before she realized who I meant but the memories came back quickly. "That wuz Dirty Dick!" she blurted out loudly. The shop was silent except for a little kid who asked his mum "Who's Dirty Dick?". "Never you mind", snapped his mum. A few people whispered quietly to each other and slowly they all remembered who Dirty Dick was. Word would travel fast and it wouldn't be long before tales of how he was seen sucking off a sausage roll in the public bogs got around. He would be ostracized once more. I felt a twinge of sympathy for him but it quicly passed. You have to get your kicks somehow.....

Sunday, January 28, 2007

It's Not What You Think It Is.....

Honestly Officer.....I was just cleaning it and it went off.

Hardly a good excuse, but what else could you say? Could you come up with anything better if caught having a wank in an airport men's room? How the fuck would you explain it to the wife? And the kids? I love it when public figures get caught doing stupid things. You have to laugh....

Dr.Hugh H. Tilson, aged 67 and a prominent public health expert was arrested by a plainclothes cop after he was seen having a wank while watching other blokes pissing in a restroom at Atlanta airport. Dr. Tilson is a part time faculty member at the University of North Carolina' School of Public Health and is also a government and industry advisor on public health issues. You have to think that his decision to rub one off was badly thought out and is probably not going to do his career much good. How fuckin' desperate do you have to be to do something like this?

I cannot imagine how you bring this up with the wife. When would be a good moment? There isn't one, there can't be a good time to have a conversation like this but you would have to tell her before she read it in the paper or heard about it from someone else. Your options are limited and there is no dressing this up. Not many positives to point to in a situation like this. This kind of thing really disproves the theory that every cloud has a silver lining.

I would love to interview this lad. I really would love to get into his head and find out what the fuck he thought he was doing. More than that, I want to know what he told Mrs.Tilson. I need a good excuse just in case I ever get wrongly accused of doing something similiar.