Posts Tagged ‘Africa’

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

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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.



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?”

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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!



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This was requested by blogger and awful poet Colonialist. His poetry is well worth investigating here!

zuma copy

“When will my pad be finished?”


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Sim Salabim!

Egypt’s famous Great Pyramid has grown a moustache to honour Movember.

“Eye of a camel, son of a she-wolf! Is this the work of the secret Brotherhood of Male Grooming?” declared retired civil servant Ali Hassan as he waked to the baker’s to buy his cat some fish. Without success. As an insurance policy he visited the bank. Again without success.

pyramid tache

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As much as I appreciate my lovely wife Shirley’s attempts to prolong my life via roughage, there are times  when a man needs a fry up. And if he still has the energy, a spot of self abuse afterwards. But never during.

So I nipped into the Corner Cafe and ordered three eggs, three sausages, four rashers, beans, tomatoes, fried slice, fried potatoes, chips, black pudding, white pudding, kidneys. liver, chicken burger, beans, mushrooms, burger, fish fingers, toast. And broccoli. Oh and a mug of tea.

In the Cafe was an old friend, Pete “The Bastard” who was ramming a raw black pudding up a poor fella’s nostril.

This bloke had laughed at Pete “The Bastard’s” wig. I always stifle a giggle when I see it. It is made of corduroy and is laminated. But Pete “The Bastard” thinks it makes him look like Bob Marley. He’s not a man to argue with.

“Awright Bob?” he said as the last piece of black pudding filled the poor victim’s nasal cavity.

“Alright The Bastard?”

That was our conversation.

I needed the facilities and enjoyed the smell of frying bacon as I performed me business. I also read about the growing food shortage in the world and how mass starvation was years away.

I remembered my mum telling me to think about the starving children in Africa.

I cancelled the toast. I like to do my bit.



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Wonder what it makes of it all?

Wonder what it makes of it all?

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