Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Africa’ Category

We hope you are as amazed as we are at the previous lives of Agnes!

Hello People,

It is great to be here (well for the time being anyway – goodness knows where I will be 5 minutes) to share with you my previous lives.

A few years ago I was a whale. One of the big ones.

I know this because I am partial to Plankton and always shed a tear at the end of Free Willy 2.

Only last week I swallowed a man in Asda! I was looking for dental floss. The plankton gets stuck between the teeth you see.

He is quite comfy. So don’t worry.

You may think I am a fantasist……….I would beg to differ.

Regards,

Agnes

Read Full Post »

Nothing can replace the Big Screen in terms of excitement, magic and bigness. But we have noticed something odd. No chickens.

Sharks, horses, monkeys, turtles, dolphins, Jeez Louise even Ants have had films made about them. But Chickens? Only Chicken Run. No chicken road movies, chicken lurve, no chicken coming of age stories, not even a chicken in a war movie. Chick flick? me arse. A poultry effort.

Until now – Black Chicken Down

Ridley Scott’s powerful drama set in the mean streets of Mogadishwasher. Can Chopper Chicken rescue the soldiers trapped in this hell hole?

“You’ll believe a chicken can fly” – The Times

“The most realistic portrayal of chickens in war I have ever seen” – The Delaware Doubter

“Chopper Chicken is already a movie legend” – The Sydney Morning Glory

Read Full Post »

Hello,

Gingerfightback’s film critic Mark Commode, has discovered that the central character in the Rise of the Planet of the Apes – Caesar  – was originally going to be Ginger as the film’s producers believed it would make the whole thing more realistic.

 

caeser2

Ginger and ever so angry

The next instalment, provisionally titled, “Early Morning On The Planet Of The Apes – Kippers for Breakfast” will feature a spectacular bicycle  chase  modelled on the attached outtake from, “Late Afternoon On The Planet Of The Apes – Not So Warm When The Sun Goes In Is It?”

Read Full Post »

I am Barry Belcher. I am a Milkman. I am Psychic. I have been predicting predictions, with little accuracy for a number of years now. Previous predictions can be read here. and here

I am up with the Lark, delivering milk – in bottles.

So, without further ado…….Milk Bottle of Mystery…….what does the future foretell?

1. June 2012 –  Germany will win the World Cup.

2. March 2015– A joint Transformers and X-Men movie will be released under the title “Transformen – Robots With Sideburns – Rise of the Pygmies”. The film will be shown in VD.

3. December 25 2014 – A cauliflower will be proclaimed King of England much to the chagrin of Prince Charles. King Cauli will prove to be a wise and benevolent leader. The House of Brassica will rule England for the next 3,000 years.

fence2charlessausage

Miffed

Now it is time for messages from “THE OTHER SIDE” –

Michelle, Arizona;

Look in the biscuit tin.

Macy, Munich;

Feel your varicose veins for the answer to your conundrum!

Liang Bo in Shanghai;

Right a bit, now left a bit – THERE!

Antoinette, Enschede;

Find the man with the name Alfonse on his name tag. Fortune awaits when you do!

IF YOU KNOW ANYONE WHO MAY BENEFIT FROM HEARING THESE MESSAGES PLEASE PASS THEM ON….

I am now returning the Milk Bottle of Mystery to the Crate of Destiny.

Until next time……….

Read Full Post »

Hi Kids,

Giving blood is one of the best things we can do to help others!

cupboard crackhead copy

 

Unfortunately due to my shared needle experience in years past (another money saving tip for a future post) my blood is not exactly top-notch – but every cloud has a silver lining and the local butcher, Chortling Charlie – a man with an outstanding track record in the preparation of contaminated meat products can always find a use for a pint or two of me old red stuff.

His Crack Pudding is worth dieing for.

Locally sourced and keeping the air miles to a minimum. Organic food as it should be.

So Kids – If you can’t donate blood – why not have  a word with your butcher?

Peace and Love

Uncle Crackhead

Read Full Post »

fence2charlessausage

The World Cup Is Here!

Brazil is hosting the tournament.

Prince Charles provides his rounded view of the 32 Nations taking part. Here is his take on the final two Groups (Thank God) G and H.

charles chinstrap copy

Group G

Germany – Leiderhosen laden, oompa loompaing, thigh slapping titanic Teutons – massively hammed to a man – made a few mistakes in the past but who hasn’t? I’d slip Angela Merkel a length! Still have relatives there.

Portugal – Port swilling Latin layabouts obsessed with sardines and hair styling products -World centre for dandruff research.

Ghana – Ex colony (weren’t they all? sigh) – people smile a lot and wear clothes so bright their jumpers are visible from Saturn – cheap place to buy sandals but sadly not brogues for one.

USA – Ex colony – they have a penchant for shooting each other indiscriminately yet keep to a strict oral hygiene regime – invent their own games involving shoulder pads to make sure they win them.  Saved our bacon in WW2 when they finally got their arses into gear! Never forgiven Travolta for dancing with Dia*a all them years ago – no wonder he turned to Scientology (she was barking by the way – in case you weren’t sure).

Group H

Belgium – Mussels, chips and getting invaded a lot – Belgium!

Algeria – Cous-cous chomping nihilists who kicked the Frogs out decades ago – up yer arse De Gaulle! –  not  a fan of cous cous – the bits get stuck in one’s teeth.

Russia – Light hearted libertines with a soft spot for totalitarianism and gay rights – their idea of fun is amoebic dysentery – they burn puppies in the winter to keep warm – the rich ones have bought London.

Korea – Workaholic loons – bastards stole our ship building industry – trapped wind archery is the national sport (use your imaginations – does not make an appealing spectacle).

ENJOY THE COMPETITION!

TTFN

Charlie

QE2

 

 

Read Full Post »

fence2charlessausage

The World Cup Is Here!

Brazil is hosting the tournament.

Prince Charles provides his rounded view of the 32 Nations taking part. Here is his take on the Groups E and F.

charles chinstrap copy

Group E

Switzerland – Neutral, Heidi worshipping Nazi gold hoarders who like cheese with holes in – Bastards to a man.

Ecuador – Bandy legged coca leaf chewers and purveyors of silly hats – belching is a national obsession.

France – Shoulder shrugging arseholes who we had to save in World Wars 1 and 2. They still try to shaft us at every opportunity.  Mama still refers to De Gaulle as “That Big Conked French Wanker.” They don’t wash and all smell of garlic. Brigit Bardot though – PHWOARRR!

Honduras – A country with the highest murder rate in the world. Nothing else to do apparently. Apart from sweat. The country only has 7 dentists.

 

Group F

Argentina – Tangoing, cheating Barrio dwellers who have tried to con us out of every World Cup since 1875. The Falklands are British and even speccy Pope Argy won’t get his hands on them!

Bosnia and Herzegovina – Their name takes longer to say than the length of time they will be in the competition. Because of them we have to suffer James Blunt. 

Iran – A land of hairy arsed Yank baiters who hide nuclear waste material down their trousers.Lovely carpets though. Can I have one?

Nigeria – Email scamming juju obsessed con artists who have a problem with educating girls. Bring back the Empire!

 

jose

Read Full Post »

You Have To Hand It To Him!

You Have To Hand It To Him!

Azteca Stadium – Mexico City, Mexico- 1986

He was small,  stocky and had a lovely mop of hair. He had it all. And he did it in tiny, shiny shorts. He was Diego Armando Maradona.

England. Sturdy. Yeomen. Thick.

It was a clash. Not only of cultures and values but also hairstyles. England still trimmed by Mum; Argentina mulleted bandoleros. Boy, did they give the volumizer a bashing at half-time.

A war had divided the two nations. But one thing united both teams. Exceptionally tiny, shiny shorts.

As Peter Reid, the doughty Liverpudlian midfield enforcer, said about Maradona, “I just couldn’t get near him, me shorts had cut of the blood supply to me knackers. I can’t have no kids ‘coz of dem shorts laa.”

England could not cope with the titchy Buenos Aires Barrio boy. Diego was that good. But he was also a cheat. A cheat who drew inspiration from God.

THE HAND OF GOD.


As these photos display the infamous first goal, when he punched the chicken into the net over the head of English goalkeep, the perma-permed Shilts to put his Tangoing team ahead.

From a different angle the chicken looks suspiciously like a boiled ham. If that doesn’t scream Ham Ball we don’t know what does.

You’ve Got To Ham It To Him!

We'd Get Him In The End!

We’d Get Him In The End!

The result? Argentina won the game and went on to lift the World Cup of Footbally Bally.

Shiny shorts are still banned in England to this day.

Diego is now Pope.

Read Full Post »

Hello,

The best way to crack a terrorist?  Veruccas.

Sargent_Stench_Mctavish

I learned to love and cherish my veruccas. Not only were they a food source they also made steadfast companions. Easy to look after and not requiring sustenance apart from a sweaty sock or two, they make the perfect pet for us special forces types.

Terrorists cannot cope with Verucca Boarding. Whenever I whipped out my verucca sock and placed it on the nose of an evil terrorist – Boy oh Boy would that evil terrorist spill the beans.

Even beans he didn’t know about.

Think of it compadre – would YOU like an infestation of these little critters on the end of your conk? Thought not!

The technique was invented by Colonel Jock “McJock” Bollocks who headed up the deep cover Fungal Foot Fighting Force. Jock once took out an Iraqi machine gun nest armed only with a can of Athlete’s Foot spray and a belief in the redemptive qualities of Jesus Christ.

Legend or loon – you decide!

Now in civvy street when I go to the local baths for a swim, I think of all my little verucca chums nestling around the pool’s edge waiting to be called to defend our freedoms.

Thank you  Colonel Bollocks.

 

Read Full Post »

Hello

About a year ago we cause quite a stir with this post about Gibbons, Banjos and the Diary of lost Missionary Obadiah Melordy, who was the first honky to witness Gibbons plucking banjos in their natural habitat.

Here once again are those revelatory images and the extract from Obadiah’s Diary

It was the American Baptist Missionary Obadiah Melordy in his zeal to convert the peoples of the Bangpang peninsula to all things Godly who discovered their talent.

His diary (published posthumously in 1907) recounts the extraordinary events;

March 23rd 1887

“There is still no sign of my banjo, taken two days hence from outside the tent whilst Mrs Melordy and I succumbed to the steamy surroundings in a rigorous bought of intercourse both sexual and social. My lovely wife had sought to reassure me that my instrument (which in an act of wanton sentimentality I had named Jefferson) would be returned with an immediacy that would allow us to draw a veil over this unfortunate act of larceny and Godlessness amongst the peoples of the peninsula.

Up to this point the natives had shown a typically witless savage charm when faced with superior Godly white folk. At approximately noon today however, they appeared restless and in a state of high dudgeon. Mrs Melordy attaching her seventh undergarment, advised me to draw back the flaps of the tent.

And lo! A sound, the like of which neither I nor my wife would ever have considered and Scripture had never prepared us for, swam around us. Banjos being played like a whispered lullaby.

“Mr Melordy! Jefferson is being strummed!” my wife declared, “I believe I can hear another. Now another! Now a fourth! Look up yonder in the lee of the great tree!”

My dutiful wife, so long a bastion of petticoated virtue fainted. I cast my gaze toward the direction of the sound expecting to see natives playing some simple, godless tune upon Jefferson.

Instead I saw a troop of Western Hoolock Gibbons, idly swinging in the trees strumming banjos, each with a practiced ease that took me back to the front porch of my Father’s stead in Kansas.

Within the notation I could hear the harmonies of a favourite Christmas Carol “Away in a Manger” sung by our small, but spiritually engaged community only three months previous to celebrate Our Lord’s birth. Truly a miracle.”

March 24th 1887

“It would appear from Nincompoop, our one eyed guide and valet that a startling event has unfolded. I had asked him to retrieve Jefferson from the light fingered Gibbons and in his innocent savage way he had set off at dawn eager to please me (They are such a happy people when guided by God’s word!)

He returned only to bid Mrs Melordy and I to follow him. With trepidation we followed. Only the sound of my beloved’s petticoats rustling under my tunic could be heard. Mrs Melordy fainted due to the Christian application of a whalebone corset.

We left a guide with her and moved on.

Nincompoop and I crept forward. Closer to the troop. We were greeted by a sight of such perspicacity and dexterity that I too nearly swooned. For in a clearing sat the large troop of Gibbons with the adults strumming Banjos.

A large male was threading a recently made instrument with steel wire, presumably stolen from our provisions. Around him were strewn several roughly made tools.

We watched. Amazed. Nincompoop produced an ancient revolver (a trophy from the earlier Wesleyite missionary St John Tabard of Sevenoaks, England, whose end has never been fully explained) and took a bawdy aim at the large male. I placed a hand on his shoulder and intimated that we back away and leave the troop to strum in peace.

March 25th 1887

I am pleased to say Mrs Melordy has fully recovered from her fainting fit and we had just completed another rigorous bought of intercourse, both sexual and social, when the Gibbons’ Banjos struck up once more.

This time they played a Waltz! Seized, I am ashamed to say by the Godless desire to dance, Mrs Melordy and I reeled for several minutes as we used to in our courting days before sadly she succumbed to the heat and fainted once more.

I am no longer convinced about the efficacy of Whalebone corsets and have vowed not to wear women’s under garments in the tropics.

As I awaited her revival I studied scripture. There was nothing I could find that  explain how Gibbons, low savage beasts as they are, could construct and play Banjo’s in such a delightful manner. I am perplexed.”

So are we Mr Melordy, so are we!

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »