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Showing posts from March 4, 2012

Are You Being Served?

Did you see half the old cast of AYBS on MasterChef last night? Remember Mr Rumbold? They guy that used to play him looked like he had ears made out of plasticine. In fact he looked like his real ears had fallen off some time ago, then he'd arrived at the studio only for some poor make-up girl to be given the job of cobbling him some up out of whatever was to hand, which the doddering old fool had then dropped in the middle of the road. Here they had subsequently been run over by a lorry, but with no time to remodel them they'd simply been stuck to the side of his head with some chewie. One of them was so large it could have picked up DAB radio no problems and the other looked like the cats had been at it. Rodney Bewes was on there too. The only thing that particular Likely Lad looked likely to do was croak it before he'd finished his macaroon. Mind you James Bolam doesn't look like he's got long for this world either does he? What's that absolutely shit "d

Stigmata My Arse

Miracles do happen, and this one happened to my mate Frank. He was walking through the park, minding his own business and chasing squirrels and ducks as you do, when all of a sudden he tells me that he felt "a bit queer" as he calls it. "Something just came over me, from behind, with a big WHOOSH," he says. The next thing he knows he's up on the bandstand preaching love and squirrel hugging, and people are travelling from all over to see him. "David Icke is always round our house since IT happened," says Frank with a shudder. "He keeps wanting to touch me, and calls me the special one. He says he had a cold last week and that I cured it. He says there's a sign on my bottom, yes you heard a sign on my bottom that proves I am the chosen one. I can't see it myself like, well nobody can see their own arse can they? Will you have a quick shuftie and see if you can spot anything unusual?"

Chelsea

To save time & money Chelsea have announced that they have already sacked their next manager. Poor old AVB, he must be crying all the way to the bank this morning, there's a polished pooh on a plinth in the post to cheer you up old mate. Watching MOTD on Saturday night me Dad said "I bet he's not in a job on Monday," and so it proved. So what's gone wrong, it can't all be ABV's fault can it? He doesn't actually go onto the pitch with them does he? Too many Prima Donnas if you ask me. And the odd petulant pouting ladyboy on more money than the GDP of Portugal of course. Oh, and a racist or two. Plus the inevitable adulterer and a closet gay. Doesn't make for a harmonious dressing room that lot does it?