What Am I Bid?

I saw that the brown cloak worn by Alec Guinness as Obi Wank-Enobi in Star Wars just sold at auction in London for $104,000. It was bought by an anonymous telephone bidder, as were many other items of clothing worn at one time by celebrities in various movie roles. A tuxedo, worn by James Bond, a dress, worn by Madonna in Evita, and some other less memorable items all sold for ridiculous amounts of money. These kind of auctions, usually at least one a year, are always popular and usually offer the most bizarre items for sale to the saddest of high bidders. A friend of Mrs. Waring once owned a felt hat worn by a munchkin in The Wizard of Oz, knowing what I know about this person, I shudder to think what depths of depravity he may have sunk to while wearing it.

Anyway, cash has been a bit tight in the Waring household these past few weeks and I am seriously contemplating offering for auction one of my prized possessions.

I have so far resisted the lure of eBay, preferring instead to keep hold of said item as a nest egg for some security in the future, a college education perhaps for the younger Waring, or to finance an expensive crack addiction, or maybe even a nubile young “housemaid” when the wife finally wises up and leaves me. What is this golden ticket, you ask? What could you possibly have that would be worth so much? Is it a family heirloom? Could it be property in a prime location? Is it the secret to eternal youth or a perpetual motion machine? No, it is none of the above. It is Marlon Brando’s underpants.

Yes, I own a pair of Mr. Brando’s underpants. Not just any pair, but his favourite pair, his lucky pair. Brando wore these in many of his most famous movies. The Cat From Outer Space, Herbie Goes Bananas and most notably Apocalypse Now! In fact, they are complete with shit stains due to a rather loud explosion on the set of Apocalypse Now! after which Brando discarded them outside of his trailer where they were later found by a janitor with a wayward eye for celebrity cast offs. How they came into my possession, I cannot say, but if they were stolen at any time in the last 3 years I had nothing to do with it. The pair of 5XL Fruit of the Loom boxer shorts are not in the best of condition, mostly due to the skidmarks and some shredding of the gusset, but are priceless to collectors of celebrity under garments and should fetch a pretty penny if sold in the right place at the right time.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I start the bidding at $1.75……do I hear $2?

It was BBQ for lunch on the set that day

The Priviledged Few

I am not one of those people who takes up a disabled parking space, thus denying a less fortunate citizen their right to park near the front doors at the supermarket or the post office. Here in California, the $500 fine is more than a deterrant. It just isn't worth it. I would rather watch a seemingly healthy person climb down from their H2 Hummer and make their way effortlessly up the steps at Dodger Stadium and bite my lip than to be accused of harrassing a disabled person. Many disabled people do just fine and abuse their situation for the priviledge of good parking spaces. If the rules are to be followed to the letter, the fuckin Bionic Man and The Terminator would qualify for a blue badge. Oscar Pistorius, double amputee world record holder in the 100, 200 and 400 metres could get one if he wanted. This guy ran the 100 metres in 11.16 seconds at the 2004 Paralympics. For those of you who don't know, the record at the 2004 Olympics for normal folk was 10.93 seconds. My personal best over 100 metres is about a minute 30.

Oscar "Fastest Thing on No Legs" Pistorius. Like shit off a greasy shovel.

Even though I refuse to park in a disabled parking spot, I do enjoy shitting in a disabled stall when I visit the bogs. As far as I know there is no fine for this, if there were, I probably wouldn't risk it.

Why Eddie, I hear you ask, must you shit in a disabled toilet? Well, I like to spread myself out a bit. There is always lots of room, they are never out of bog roll and there is a conveniently placed bar for you to hold on to for those "white knucklers". So, given a choice of a regular, cramped, no bog roll stall and one of palatial dimensions with a hand rail, I'm taking the latter.

This policy has only ever backfired on me once. I was in an office building downtown and needed to drop the groceries off urgently. Most office building bogs are kept locked to keep out the undesirable element (me), so I hung around in the corridor for a few minutes until someone came out then rushed in before the door closed again. There were only 2 stalls, one disabled (per the Americans with Disabilities Act) and one for normal people. Naturally, I opted for the spacious and shiny chrome handle barred disabled bog. After sitting there for a few minutes, enjoying the silence and contemplating the uncontemplatable I heard the door to the bathroom open followed by the click, click, click of crutches on the tiled floor. Bollocks, I thought, hopefully the lad just needs to piss and he can use the urinal. The clicking stopped and I could see the lads foot between two crutches underneath the cubicle door.

I heard him mutter "Fuck!" before he tapped gently on the door and said "Will you be long?"

"Er....I dunno mate, having a bit of bother, might be while," I said, hoping he would out of necessity have to use the other stall, allowing me to escape with no embarrassment.

"Okay....I guess I'll have to wait then...."

"Can't you use the regular stall?" I asked hopefully.

"Not really, I need the bar to help me get up..." Fuck, fuck, fuck.....

"Er...right. I'll get on with it then," I replied.

"Are you disabled?" Fuck, fuck, fuckin bollocks.....

"Legally blind mate," I lied. " It's a bugger, can't tell when you're done, end up wiping 'til it bleeds."

"Oh.....I see." He didn't seem to find humour in my remark.

After about 5 minutes I decided that he wasn't going to give up so I gave in and flushed, leaving the stall by pretending to feel my way along the wall. Through my squint, I could see a look of utter comtempt on the lads face. When I got out into the corridor, I waited for a second or two until I heard him yell "BASTARD!!!!!" He had discovered that I had taken the toilet roll.

Heaven, I'm in Heaven......

I felt bad about it afterwards and did so for some time until I got yelled at by a real disabled person for parking in a space (not designated for the disabled)close to the front door at Vons beacuse all the disabled spaces were taken. Angry fucker.....

Spielberg Bought Stolen Felt-tip Drawing

A worthless felt-tip drawing done by a 6 year old girl and stolen from the wall of her Kindergarten classroom 2 years ago has been found in Steven Spielbergs private art collection the FBI announced today.

The drawing, 'Plumber Stuck Under The House' was taken during the lunch break at St.Ronaldinho's Elementary School in 2005. The Oscar winning director and star of 'Dude, Where's My Car?' bought the drawing from a legitimate dealer at a car boot sale last year and did not know it was stolen until last week.

The felt-tip on excercise book paper shows the daily struggle of a hard working plumber as he plies his trade and gets comically stuck in a crawl space access door. The work had been stuck to the wall with blue-tak ready for an upcoming parents evening when it was stolen.

Elderly teachers assistant Betty Eggbound remembers the disappointment of the artist when she came back from playing on the swing set and saw that the painting was gone.

"She was devastated, little tears streamed down her face," she said. She confirmed that the drawing was the only one taken saying "The thieves knew what they wanted and they knew exactly where it was. If you ask me this was an inside job." When asked if she had any idea who might have taken the drawing she refused to name the suspect but hinted that the dinner lady had shown up the next day with a new perm and a brand new apron.

The drawing was spotted on eBay last summer but was taken down by the seller after no bids were received.

Calls to Mr.Spielbergs office have not been returned.

Death From The Skies

Basant - Festival of death.....by kite.

For a so called man of the world, I know very little of what goes on in Pakistan. I know that there is probably more misery than I care to contemplate. I also know that my ISP, along with many other major companies, moved its Customer Service department to someplace that might be in Pakistan despite every representative claiming to have an English name like Nigel or Trevor. I know they play cricket and I know that they do not care for their Indian neighbours. Not exactly a comprehensive understanding of Pakistani culture and customs is it? There are many things I do not and will like as not, ever know about Pakistan. This week, however, I did broaden my knowledge a little when I discovered that kite flying is banned in the country.
Kite flying, you say?
Banned?
Yes, one of life’s simple pleasures, innocently flying a kite on a windy day is not allowed in Pakistan, and with good reason…….

Lahore, February 25.
Six children and four adults lost their lives and hundreds more suffered multiple injuries as locals ignored official calls for responsible kite flying during the annual spring festival of Basant.
The provincial government had lifted the ban on kite flying for just 2 days but had warned against the use of dangerous twine and fireworks and had asked people to refrain from firing into the air.
Part of the fun of Basant is kite battles and some kite fliers coat their kite strings with shards of metal or glass. This along with the stray bullets and large numbers of people falling off rooftops or being hit by vehicles while trying to catch stray kites, contributes to a large death toll each year.
An 11 year old was killed in Gulshan-i-Ravi when the string of a stray kite cut his throat. The boy’s relatives wanted to lodge a murder case against the Punjab government, as they had lifted the ban, but police refused and a demonstration ensued.
In New Samanabad, someone was killed when a stray bullet went through his head while he was standing on the roof of his house watching kites.
A stray bullet also killed an 8 year old kite fanatic, who was also on the roof of his house in Mozang.
A 13 year old died in Bahbanpura when he fell off the roof while trying to catch a stray kite.
An 8 year old in Maryam was killed by a stray bullet.
A 50 year old woman fell off her roof while trying to protect one of her kids who was up there flying a kite.
A 14 year old fell off his roof and was killed while trying to catch yet another stray kite.
A 20 year old was run over by a car and killed while chasing after a stray kite.
A youth was electrocuted while trying to get a stray kite that was stuck on an electricity pole. In a similar attempt, an 8 year old was killed on the roof of his house.
Hospital sources said about 600 people were admitted to different health facilities in the city and police claimed to have arrested 800 people for violation of the ban on firing, kite flying rules and hooliganism.

You would think officials would do more to inform young people of the dangers of kite flying, but it wouldn’t work. Some people are just too daft to understand that it applies to them.
Just like when the fire brigade used to come to our primary school every October and show nightmarish pictures of kids who had disfigured themselves fucking around with fireworks, 2 weeks later some spaz would show up at school with one eye bandaged and no eyebrows after a roman candle got caught in the hood of his snorkel parka or he set the faux fur trim alight with his sparkler. The same kid would be in borstal 2 or 3 years later for setting fire to rubbish bins at bus stops.

The amusing part of the fire brigades annual visit to our school was that we had a kid who had disfigured himself, not by fucking around with fireworks, but by falling into an electric fire when he was little. The kid, cruelly known as pizza face, was needless to say excused from a slide show that for him must have been particularly traumatic. Not that this made the rest of the kids any less insensitive to his misfortune, in fact the taunts would only intensify until bommie neet when they would die down again for a week or two. I wonder what he is doing now? If he had a hair on his arse he would have opened a local pizza stroke kebab house and cashed in on the name, "Pizza Face Pizza & Kebabs". He could have the last laugh by putting his pubes on the pizza's of the same drunken twats who used to taunt him. They would never know and he could laugh all the way to the bank. I'm digressing here....

I regret not taking the time to learn about Basant before I read about this year’s festivities. Rest assured that I will be ready for it next year. I wonder if they have these same issues in Bradford, where as far as I know, kite flying is perfectly legal.

Da Shizzle

When I was a lad, there was dog shit everywhere. You couldn't have a kick about in the street without kicking a greasy dog slug. I remember having to climb a fence to get our ball back and as I jumped down off the other side, I landed on a skittery turd and slipped, landing in 2 or 3 more when I hit the ground. It was all over my clothes, in my hair and on my hands. The other kids laughed at me and called me Scooby Poo until the day we moved away. It was a fuckin' nasty council estate in the one of the worst parts of Wigan, packs of dogs roamed the streets, shitting and fucking wherever they wanted. The dog wardens stayed away cause they got pelted with bricks by all the kids, as did the firemen and the ambulancemen. Predictably, the authorities were not too concerned about the dog shit problem in Platt Bridge in the 70's.

The problem still exists today, but it seems to have spread across the entire country.....

A couple from South Yorkshire have labelled Bridlington the 'Dog Mess Capital of Britain' and have vowed never to return. I suppose there isn't any dog shit in Sheffield then.
Eddie and Dorothy Freeman have visited the seaside town for the past three years but Mr.Freeman exaggerated "This year we could not walk five yards without seeing dog muck.....It looks like elephants have been here, not little dogs."
Mrs. Freeman also said the maximum she could walk without seeing a turd was five or eight steps. Five or eight? Not five or six or seven or eight.....
A spokesman for the Council said "It is regrettable that (they) feel unhappy about the amount of dog mess in Bridlington......Though we can't prove it beyond doubt, the number of complaints about dog mess in the northern part of East Riding suggests that there is actually less than before." Maybe they should create a job or two, County Dog Cack Monitor, responsibilities include counting, recording and disposing of canine feces. Experience not necessary, will train. Batchelors degree preferred. Previous applicants need not apply.

Also in East Riding, an anonymous dog walker who did not want to be named complained about the state of a Driffield field, "It is absolutely caked in dog muck down there. You can't walk around the path with out standing in it and my dogs are playing and ending up rolling in it." I find this a little far fetched also. Dogs never, never, ever even step in dog shit let alone roll in it. It's like dog shit gives off a hum only they can hear, like a warning beacon.

In Kettering, some anonymous crusader has been attaching notes to piles of dog shit in an alleyway near the General Hospital, telling dog owners to take their dog cack with them. No reports yet on how well this tactic is working although I doubt many people are stooping to read the scribbled maniacal rantings of an angry pensioner while they wait for Bingo to bust out a log.

Meanwhile, wardens cleared away 30 bags of dog eggs in just one day from Burton Latimer graveyard. The bobbins were picked up from on top of and around graves. Usually wardens only remove one or two bags a month so they are either going to have to up the order for bin bags if they are going to keep up with that kind of pace.

In Morecambe, Heather Bradley of Sandylands Promenade wrote a letter to her local rag complaining that on a recent walk from Sandylands Promenade to the Battery, she counted 25 piles of dog doings. She made a point of not blaming the dogs but the owners. Not only can she count, she knows that people are (generally) smarter than their dogs.

Finally, to Sunderland where one dickhead who has been accused of allowing his dog to do it's business on a children's play area is refusing to pay if he is convicted and fined up to £1000, he says he would rather go to jail. "I'm not going to pay a penny because I am going to stick up for my dog's rights," said Colin Edgerton. "I'm not going to be bullied into paying for something that my dog has never done. If Sophie could speak she would defend herself," the fuckin nutcase continued. He also claims that it wasn't a childrens play area at all and that the dog wardens had no evidence. "It's just a field where people take their dogs. Most of the time you have got to watch your dog because it is full of cans and needles," the animal loving Edgerton ranted. "It's got nothing to do with kids, it's just a money making scheme."

Also in Sunderland, a group of lonely pensioners who live in Planet House, a block of flats in Sunderland city center (Location, Location, Location!!!) don't have any dog shit to complain about. Instead they are fed up with having to "wade" through a pile of pigeon muck every time they leave their home. A 70 year old resident of Planet House doesn't blame the pigeons, she blames the shoppers visiting the Market Square who feed the pigeons. Pigeon shit poses a hazard to pedestrians, as footpaths and stairways are made slippery by it's presence. This leaves the already unstable and doddering old folk especially vulnerable to falls and the obligatory broken hip followed by certain death, that is if the bird flu doesn't get them first.

I'm sure I had a point when I started writing this but it seems to have deserted me. It'll come back to me at some inopportune moment no doubt.

News from Texas

The only things that come out of Texas are Steers and Queers. Or something like that. I can’t be arsed researching the quote or even who said it. I’m fuckin tired and my brain isn’t working well right now, so I’m going with that.

Anyway, whoever said it was only partially right. The state also turns out it’s fair share of idiots and there has also been a rise in the number of rabid skunks in southwestern Wharton County. 12 dead skunks have tested positive for rabies so far in February. This is four more than they had all of last year. A 13th rabid skunk and one rabid bat were found in the El Campo city limits in January.

Wharton County’s last rabid skunk boom was in 2004 when 22 rabid skunks were reported. There were only 14 in 2003, 16 in 2005 and only 8 last year.

If anyone in Wharton County is reading this I would like to do my bit to help by letting you all know that if you spot a skunk in the daytime or acting strangely at any time, stay clear of the animal, cause it might be rabid.

Baby Skunks...Cute but very stinky.

Actually, let me rephrase that. If you are stupid enough to go anywhere near a skunk at ANY time, acting strangely or not, you deserve all you fuckin get you moron. Who in the world fucks with skunks? If you see a fuckin skunk, RUN IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. It’s common sense, isn’t it? Skunks do not take kindly to intrusion on their habits. They WILL fuckin spray you and you WILL stink for fuckin days. Dumb fuckin’ hicks.


Also in Texas, some crazy bastard had his menagerie seized by animal control officials last week. Authorities knocked on Bobby Crawford Jr’s door to investigate a hit and run accident and were invited inside by Crawford where they were greeted by his 8 year old rhesus macaque monkey, Darwin.

The officer asked Crawford if he had any other animals, to which Crawford replied “No.” The officer, however, noticed a 50 gallon aquarium which prompted Crawford to curse before admitting that there were 6 piranha fish inside. Crawford also admitted to owning three alligators and a tarantula, although he said that one of the gators had recently escaped and he didn’t know where it was. Sadly, the officer made no mention of poo throwing.

Crawford, who is facing a $1000 fine and 180 days in jail for possession of exotic, harmful or potentially harmful fish or aquatic plants, cried on Friday when discussing Darwin, the monkey he had raised since it was little. “I live for nothing else….I just can’t believe he is gone,” he whined.

He didn’t mention the missing alligator or the possible danger to local children.

It sure is....and you can fuckin' keep it there.

Finally, from the Police Blotter section of the Denton Record Chronicle, Denton County, someone broke into a home in the 3900 block of Teasley Lane on Friday night and took a tube of Clarin brand lotion and a deck of Uno cards.

Denton County Crime Stoppers will pay a reward of up to $1,000 for information leading to an arrest in this or other crimes. Callers will remain anonymous. Call 1-800-388-TIPS.

I am so fuckin’ tempted to call and fuck with them…..

"The Referee's a Pedo"

You’re Shit Aaaaahhhhhh!!!

The Clericus Cup kicked off amid a frenzy of muted excitement in Italy on Saturday. For those of you unfamiliar with the tournament, it is played in the Vatican City between 16 teams from Catholic institutes in Rome. 311 “athletes”, from countries such as Italy, USA, Mexico, Papua New Guinea, and bizarrely enough, Rwanda, will compete in the tournament.
Scenes from the All Priests Five-a-Side Over Seventy Fives Indoor Football Challenge spring to mind, (“You’re all very quiet over there. You’re all very quiet over there”), but there is much more at stake in this years Clericus Cup. The match fixing scandal of last year and recent rioting have damaged the image of the Italian game, if you forget about them winning the World Cup, and have tarnished Italy’s reputation which was never very good anyway.

Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, the Vatican’s No.2 official said that the Clericus Cup “should reaffirm the educational and pastoral value of sport,” and “strengthen feelings of true friendship and fruitful sharing.” This is of course, bollocks. Nobody gives a shit about a bunch of priests playing football, nobody except me that is. I’m pretty fuckin sure that firms all over Europe are blissfully unaware of this competition. It’s not going to be the topic of the day on the terraces at the San Siro, or Upton Park or The Den. Those cheating fuckin eyeties are not going to stop falling over every time they get in the box just because they saw some sissy priests having a kick about on a bit of wasteland behind St. Peters Basilica. The agents and referees are still going to take back handers, they are just going to find a more creative way of doing it.

Marco Rosales, a Mexican seminarian who coaches the Mater Ecclesiae team said that the tournament is a second chance for some clergymen who left promising football careers behind. “Some on the team had a chance to play professionally, but the Lord called them to His team,” he said. Again, this is bollocks. How many lads would honestly turn their backs on a professional football career to be a priest? Straight ones I mean, not homo’s. I don’t believe a single one exists, but I have no faith, so I could be well wrong.

Reginei Jose Modolo, a 32 year old midfielder on the all Brazilian Gregorian University team goes by the name of “Zico”, said after getting a 6-0 spanking by Mater Ecclesiae, “We have lost but we are all laughing.” Bullshit. No you aren’t you may be smiling on the outside but inside you are seething. Nobody likes losing, priests included. You are cursing them and calling them cunts. You will be replaying that moment over and over for the next year. That one, where you should have passed the ball to the lad who was clear on goal, but instead you got greedy and shot yourself, spooning the ball over the goal and looking like a right twat.

Instead of red and yellow cards, the referee gives a blue card which gets you a five minute suspension, presumably to confess your sins. I don’t know how many blue cards you can get in a game, the AP article I stole this story from neglected to mention it, lazy bastards.