Friday, April 21, 2006

The story of my life

Chiggedy check yourself before you wreck yourself, the Colonel's in your face like a big can of Mace.

By which I, of course, mean to say "Hello there!" How's it hanging, dawgs?

It's hanging good, you say? Capital news. A weight off my mind there. Now, pleasantries over, let us cut to the chase, what?

In response to literally no enquiries I have decided to share with my dear readers the story of my life. Gather round folks, while I relate the story of a young player called Egdelwonk Lenoloc.

I was born in Kyrgyzstan, a baby. From then on, I grew outwardly in all directions, a trend that continues to this day. At the age of thirteen I acquired my first moustache, a wispy "five-a-side" affair that was carried away one day by a strong gust of wind. It later re-appeared on the jowls of "Birds of a Feather" TV unfunnywoman Lesley Josephs and has subsequently performed a self-penned "one 'tache show" at the Edinburgh Festival.

I received a brief but serviceable education. I went to Crenshaw High. Shit was fly.

Aged sixteen, sporting the bushy soup-strainer that is with me to this day, I enlisted in the Kyrgyszstan army for a couple of years of square bashing.

You know me, I'm not one to boast, but man alive, I bashed them squares good. I bashed them squares to the left, I bashed them squares to the right. In mid-season form I could batter the shite out of a square faster than you could say Jarmila Kratochvilova.

The army brass hats, impressed by such pugilistic prowess, rapidly promoted me to the rank of Colonel. While this sounds impressive, I didn't have any subordinates to lead or command. The entire staff of the army in those days only amounted to twenty-eight chaps.

However, in 1991 we shocked the world by overthrowing the yoke of Soviet oppression. The evil empire, having taken its eye off the ball in the eighties with its' Glasnosts, Perestroikas and Wham concerts, simply forgot about our small nation. In a bloodless coup, the Soviet ambassador was turfed out of his residence, a small statue of Lenin was hockled on and everyone in the country got pissed up on vodka.

Stirring times, my decadent bourgeouisie capitalist running-dog chums.

However, this brave new land fit for heroes decided that soldiers simply Wouldn't Do. The military machine was dismantled and replaced by a solitary security guard on minimum wage. In an ironic twist of fate, this position was filled by the former Soviet ambassador who had being doing a bit with the secretary of the Minister for Employment and How's Your Father.

Of course, counter-revolutions are all hip and dudey, but without the cold hard roubles of the russian overlord, the nation's finances went down the kharzy. The one day week, the winter of disco in tents, the Minister for Finance going fur-hat in hand to the IMO and finding it didn't exist any more. All these hardships and more were suffered by my people.

It was then I resolved to come to England and live the good life.

"The Good Life" was the one western TV programme that we were allowed to see behind the Iron Curtain. The state television channel thought that the show, with it's "hats off to back-to-the-land collective farming" message and rejection of capitalist values was just the thing to bung the way of the proles. Plus, Felicity Kendall was, like, totally fit as. To this day, la Kendall is worshipped and revered throughout my homeland. This is much better than those wassocks from Albania and their ridiculous obsession with Norman Wisdoms.

Learning the language of Shakespeare and Dickens wasn't easy. The only source material was a stash of Topper and Beezer comics liberated from the British embassy, a copy of "The Famous Five Chin a Picaninny" by Enid Blyton and occasional pirate radio transmissions of Sofia b-boys on the legendary Electric Bulgar-loo FM station. Thus my slightly unorthodox mode of expression was born.

That Tricky Dicky was quite the card, eh? A regular box of tricks. And Beryl the Peril, giddy up!

Having mastered this strange new tongue I stowed away on an Easy-Jet to Amsterdam, hustled my ass go-go dancing in the Melkweg before finally pitching up at North Shields ferry terminal in Old Blighty.

At this point, my career options were minimal to say the least. Dressed in ragged, unfashionable clothes, I had only the sketchiest grasp of the English language and a career in the armed forces had dehumanised me to the point where I was unable to interact socially with my fellow man.


Naturally, I got a job as a Civil Servant.


Oof! There's a punchline, what?

The rest of the story can be read on this here website.

Now that you know it, it's time for you to blow it. Get on your knees and kiss da ring...


Where are you going? Come back!

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Ladies and Gentlemen - "The Queen"

Booyakasha, bee-yatches. Get down and get with it. As you are no doubt aware, our glorious leader Queen Elizabeth the Second is eighty years young. To celebrate this fabulous news, Buckingham Palace have released eighty interesting facts about this most fascinating monarch. You can read them here.

However, call me a craw-thumping old monarchist if you want, but I went and came up with my own personal list to signify just what our sublime sovereign means to me.

Eighty Fabulous Facts about the Queen

1. The Queen, real name Elizabeth II: Electric Boogaloo, is eighty years old.
2. The Queen regularly hosts garden parties with up to one thousand guests who munch their way through twenty thousand sandwiches and 7 million litres of Panda cola.
3. The Queen really likes Panda cola.
4. Despite being eighty years old, the Queen has never complained about how fiddly the new five pence piece is. This is because she never carries cash.
5. The Queen lost her virginity in the back of a royal carriage, aged 18 to the Seventeenth Earl of Monmouthshire. He came on her tits.
6. Unlike her mother, who won the Second World War for Britain, the Queen has never seen military action.
7. The Queen used to have a sister, Margaret, who was a slag.
8. Many question the value of the royals, forgetting they bring billions of pounds worth of tourism business to this country.
9. Most of it pocketed by the royal family, charging gullible yanks twenty quid a pop to look around some musty old palace or country house.
10. The Queen has four lovely children; the big eared wassock, the horsey looking cow, the gay one and the dirty shagger who married the fat ginger.
11. The Queen has visited over 100 countries throughout the world. She only liked about three of them.
12. Tribal dances, what's that all about, eh?
13. The Queen has a private art collection worth several billion pounds. Privately, she prefers pictures of cartoon dogs playing pool or cards.
14. Fatman Scoop, Brooklyn Clan, Fatman Scoop, Brooklyn Clan!
15. The Queen has been married to hubby Philip for almost sixty years! They share a passion for jigsaw puzzles, gambling and golden showers.
16. Famously, the Queen had a steamy affair with Michael Fagan, a pissy-trousered mentally ill casanova in 1982
17. The romance ended messily when Fagan was caught titting up the Queen in her royal chamber and shot through the throat by a footman
18. During her gap year in 1946, the Queen worked as a bounty killer in New Mexico, rounding up over 17 bad men.
19. The Queen says no to drugs, fool!
20. Despite fears of avian flu, her majesty has no plans to stop eating swans.
21. Or sturgeon.
22. Other royal favourite foodstuffs include foie gras, devilled kidneys, sorbet and pickled onion Monster Munch
23. The Queen has visited over 15,000 hospitals during her reign. Every last one filled with dreadful whining common children.
24. During the 1970s, the Queen regularly attended all-in wrestling bouts at the Doncaster Gaumont Theatre
25. Her favourite grappler was Kid Chocolate, the gender-stereotyped makeweight tag-team partner of Big Daddy.
26. She wasn't quite so keen on Mick McManus, regularly bellowing "You fackin' cant!" at him from ringside
27. On safari in Africa, her majesty bagged a rare Giant Panda. The staff at Dakaar Municipal Zoo weren't best pleased, but couldn't really kick up a fuss.
28. Because she has to, the sovereign regularly takes tea with the Prime Minister of the day. What is less well known is the fact that she hockles in the tea.
29. The Queen has size five feet, but takes a six for football boots.
30. Prior to her marriage, she had a hen party in Edinburgh. Pissed up on pink gins, she mooned astonished passers-by from the upper deck of an open-top omnibus.
31. There are rumours that she sucked off a doorman round the back of The Gilded Oyster dancehall, but many experts claim this was Margaret.
32. Unlike her mother, the Queen has never choked on a fishbone.
33. At eighty years of age, she still has all her own hips as well.
34. The Queen is blessed with incredible acceleration, reaching speeds of sixty miles per hour when in pursuit of a Thompson's Gazelle.
35. Or rushing to put a bet on.
36. There have been numerous portraits of the Queen over the years, the most controversial by Dutch artist Dirk Bocksjury which depicted the monarch being taken from behind by Italian actor Rocco Siffredi.
37. Oddly, Bocksjury's next work, which showed Sarah "Melons" Ferguson engaging in a "chocolate sandwich" attracted remarkably little condemnation.
38. The Queen is the third most popular royal of the twentieth century, trailing behind The Queen Mother (God bless her) and Diana "Queen of Hearts" Lady Di Spencer.
39. An ardent music fan, the Queen's favourite composers include Mozart, Beethoven, Gilbert & Sullivan, Eric Clapton and the Aphex Twin.
40. During the 1980s, the Queen spent one summer as piano roadie with The Lotus Eaters, playing the festivals, hanging out with the crew, all that shit. Good times, man, good times.


Well, that's forty done. Still reading, eh? Good show. I'd have a rest now, if I were you. Don't want to do yourself a mischief from too much thinking, do you?

Have a look at this photo of two puppies. Go on, savour it.















Ready to continue? Okay, let's kick out the jams, motherfuckers!



41. Although her love of Corgis is well-known, until recently it was hushed up that the Queen is in fact CORGI registered and installs all the boilers and heating systems in her various palaces.
42. She turns up on time, does a good, clean job and doesn't take the piss when it comes to charging.
43. The Queen's state visit to New Zealand was curtailed to allow her to return home to watch "Coronation Street" where Deirdre Barlows was doing a bit with Mike Baldwins.
44. The Queen's favourite type of Club biscuit is "Mint".
45. She jokingly refers to it as "the royal Mint"
46. Red-faced toadying journalist James Whittakers once soiled himself with laughter upon hearing this joke funny.
47. The big bloated, pompous turdtwister that he is.
48. The Queen once made a cameo appearance in popular US hillbilly car-chase drama "The Dukes of Hazzard". She played Uncle Jesse's stuffy english cousing, the Duchess of Hazzardcestershire.
49. It wasn't very good.
50. Another popular american 80s show was "Hardcastle and McCormick" but the Queen was never in that.
51. Or "Knight Rider".
52. A keen film fan, the Queen regularly attends swanky premieres. However, unlike most stars there is no scrabbling horde of papparazzi trying to get an upskirt shot of her beetle bonnet as she alights her limousine.
53. Urgh.
54. Among her favourite films are "Chariots of Fire", "Ben Hur", "Gone With the Wind" and "Black Bro's Banging White Ho's 3"
55. Not really. She didn't enjoy "Ben Hur" at all.
56. The Queen has never eaten a Twix in her life.
57. She recently presented Channel 4's "100 Greatest TV Adverts Ever!". Jimmy Carr was fucking livid.
58. Hoffmeister's "Follow the Bear" campaign was number one.
59. Her show-stopper at karaoke nights is to do all the voices to Jive Bunny's "Swing the Mood".
60. While visiting New York, the Queen survived an attempted drive-by shooting attempt, believed to have been orchestrated by Suge Knight, who for some reason got it into his head that she had gunned down Tupac.
61. Other celebrities famously not assassinated by the Queen include Diana, Queen of Hearts, Dodi Fayed and Paul Henry, former Crossroads simpleton Benny.
62. The Queen is a black belt, third dan, in kung-fu. She has her own dojo and everything.
63. In 1984, she delivered a knockout roundhouse kick to the head of Queen Beatrice of the Netherlands, claiming the title of European Monarchy Martial Arts Master.
64. Despite owning over 72.8 cars, the Queen cannot drive!
65. Instead she prefers to go everywhere in her own personal train, where she gets free newspapers and complimentary tea or coffee and biscuits.
66. Nice ones as well, choc chip cookies and that.
67. She said listen John, I love you but there's this bloke I fancy. I don't want to two-time you, so it's the end for you and me.
68. In 1985 she appeared as a panellist on "Round Table". Her pick of that week's releases was Amazulu's "Excitable".
69. She said the production was "excellent" and "It would probably sound really good in a club".
70. Richard Skinner chose "We built this city on Rock 'n' Roll" by Starship.
71. Shortly after this, "Round Table" was replaced by "Singled Out" presented by Janice Longs.
72. Janice Longs is the sister of Noel "no beard more tidy" Edmonds off of "Keith Chegwins'SWap Shop"
73. The venom of a Queen is ten times more deadly than that from the cobra. There is no known antidote.
74. In 1968 when one of her corgis was impregnated by a jack russell terrier, she solemnly stoved in the heads of the resultant puppies with a spade.
75. The Queen entered the Eurovision Song Contest in 1970, coming second to Luxembourg.
76. The Queen must eat her own body weight in quail's egg every day in order to survive. She keeps them in her handbag, which must be replenished every two hours.
77. The Queen has never broken wind in her life. A housemaid reaches up and slides them out while she sleeps.
78. Saturday night, I feel the air is getting hot, Like you baby. I'll make you mine you know I'll take you to the top, I'll drive you crazy.
79. The Queen? More like a bastard.
80. Gawd bless you ma'am, may your empire last for a thousand years. That would be skill.


C Ya, Wdn Wanna B Ya!!!!!!11!!!

Monday, April 03, 2006

Mersey Paradise

What up, big dawg? You been keeping it real with sufficient assiduity?

I'll tell you what, mind, that Liverpool is skill, isn't it?

One of the chaps has been fortunate enough to find a lass who will marry him and he chose the 'Pool as the venue for a final weekend of feckless abandon and lager-based fun.

Thirteen men good and true set off on the train from Newcastle's Central Station. Cognisant of the fact that Liverpool prides itself on it's credible fashion attire, we had been kitted out in black polo shirts with "Burkey's Porn Allstars" on the front and porn names on the back. One can only speculat about the number of busy travellers who had their day brightened by some oafish geordie wandering the aisle with a can of lager in one hand and "Rex Silverside" on his back, spouting ill-informed opinions vis a vis "lasses" and what they enjoy.

People on trains, they love all that type of thing.

Of course, when travelling by rail it is obligatory for folk to play cards. It is uncertain which was invented first, the locomotive or the playing card. Whichever, it should be noted that the restraint and urbane sophistication of our party was such that there were no "dorty cards" on display featuring ladies with comedy breasts and faces covered in Ready Brek.

We aren't animals, you know.

Besides, there was cash at stake and the important business of making one's own rules up for the various games. Maximum respect to the chap who claimed there was such a thing as "Junior Pontoon" which beats a five card trick. It is said that God loves a trier.

I mean to say, Junior Pontoon? In a chimp's cock, Sparky.

Eventually we got into Liverpool, chickedy-checked ourselves into our swanky dockside hotel and got "oot on the lash". It was shortly after this when I disgraced myself and made my name something to be hissed in a scolding, reproachful manner.

I went back to my room for a kip.

I know, you are disappointed in me and think I am a bell end. All I can do is apologise for the whole shameful episode and pray that you can forgive me.

Eventually we got out for the evening and got down to the business of drinking heavily, shouting on and annoying women in pubs. We visited the modish Babycream bar before taking in the rather more earthy delights of Matthew Street, where one of our party had a gun pulled on him. Nice place. Another curious fact about Liverpool is that every taxi journey costs four pounds, a considerable improvement on London, where the figure is an extortionate ten pounds, the robdog cockney knackers that they are.

By and large, I would heartily recommend the pubs of merseyside but with one or two caveats. Firstly, bar owners seem to think they are making things too easy on their clientele is they don't have to climb two or more flights of stairs before they can go for a slash. I'm not Chris fucking Bonningtons, you know.

Secondly, there must be an epidemic of wife-beating, slap the missus domestic violence in the area because every pub toilet is plastered with posters advising against putting some manners on your lass, intimating that the local constabulary will take a very dim view of this type of thing.

Anyhow, we had a good time yada yada yada and all that. I shall cut to the chase now as I suspect all you really want to know is "Did you find a titty bar?"

Yes. Yes we did. If you ever visit Liverpool and want to receive a particularly half-hearted, perfunctory lap dance from an uninterested, going-through-the-motions lass then pop into "Angels" nite spot in Cumberland Street. That's what they do. Don't be tempted to take digital photographs, though or a muscly fellow will threaten you and force you to delete the offending images.

A propos nothing, take a look at that website I have kindly linked to just above. Look at the comment from one mug punter.

"Went to Angels last night, there is a babe called candy....what a girl, think shes new but boy does she do it for me, not like some of the others, she is ever the professional,polite, charming and very very sexy - don't bother trying to get her number though, she wont give it to you - think she has a fella LUCKY B*****D "

There is indeed a babe called Candy and what is more, she has masseeve knockers. However, I didn't try to "get her number" because I knew that she was working. I will freely admit that I'm no expert on what the ladies like but I am confident that they aren't overly keen on slavvery pisshead who have just paid them to take their clothes off. They probably think that type of man is weak and foolish, a jack-ass if you will.

Nonetheless, a good time was had by all and we all had a big drink. It was skill.

A final big shout out must go to the King of the Ewoks who, in order to entertain the lads, rang his girlfriend up and put her on speakerphone. He then tried to get her to "taak dorty" on the phone.

"Say "back door"" was just one example of his patter. "Work the shaft" was another. All good clean fun you will no doubt agree. He probably wasn't expecting her to come back with "Ah cannot wait to see your cock", though.

I don't know what the world record is for turning a phone off, but it was probably lowered by a couple of seconds yesterday.

We eventually got home Sunday night and the stag had to get butt nekkid and get thrown off the bus.

That's what it's aal aboot, eh?

Lively up yourself peeps, I'm outta here.