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new oily

Hello Oily

Pubic hair topiary is all the rage this year in North Devon. What is your view on “The Brazilian”? Sambatastic or are you a bush guy.

Aged Elsie, Bideford

Oily Replies;

Elsie,

I spent a summer on Copacabana a few years ago and filmed the real Brazil in my documentary ‘City of Thongs’. (Did you know that Queen Victoria wore an early prototype, a kind of hair shirt for the arse – which historians claim explains her permanent miserable gurn).

Armed with such fascinating historical facts I wandered the beach interviewing, oiled up thong clad  ass shaking women. The results were…..well, exhausting.

The question I ask society at large in this wonderful piece of “Deep Throat” journalism is a simple one: is the thong all it’s cracked up to be?

Oh and by the way Elsie, I found your false teeth. Not sure how they got clamped there without me noticing overnight. Let’s stay off the rum in future!

Oily

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Hello

I was round Aunt Bab’s this morning adjusting her new Stenna chairlift. She was very grateful, although medically speaking there is nothing wrong with her unless being bone idle is now recognised as a medical condition.

The lift does set her new wallpaper off a treat though.

I had the inaugural journey, as I needed the smallest room. Got stuck on the landing and had to walk the rest of the way. Not exactly Neil Armstrong – can’t have everything in life.

I had a go at that Sudokio in The Sun whilst on the pot. All Those Numbers! In Boxes. Up. Down. Across. Did My Head In. Numbers are bollocks. End of.

So I rolled up the paper and swatted a fly who was banging its head against the frosted window pane.

Bit like me with the Sodokio.

I walked down the stairs.

The lads in the Dubious Pilchard were impressed when I told them of my new fitness regime. Given up crisps too. On Sundays at least.

Rio’s only round the corner after all……

Be lucky.

Bob

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sooty

 

Ginger Sooty filed this from Copacabananananana Beach last night.

Hello,

lahm copy

Philipp Laum Lifts The Sausage Of Destiny

Germany Won The World Cup!

Philipp Laum held the FIFA Golden Banger of Destiny aloft in the Maracana last night and proclaimed, “V R der Champs Ja!”

Their win had much to do with the inventive attacking play of midfield dynamos Glock and Spiel and the extremely strong ankles of Bastein Shcweinsteiger who took a pasteing from the leery Latin layabouts of Argentina (who should have won).

redeemer copy

The Germans wonderfully coiffed Coach, Joachim “Me Dye My Hair? – Never!” Louw can now relax and work out the final piece of his masterplan for footballing dominance – the reintroduction of the mullets.

Holland beat Brazil 3-0 in the 3rd place play off game and this probably means curtains for Brazil coach “Big” Phil and his team of wailing God botherers.

big phil 3

So well done to Germany.

My highlights revolve around two moments involving the Dutch team.

Firstly there was Arjen Robben’sh,”I tripped ova der Mexican’sh shaushage to earn der penlti,” incident.

 

robben copy

 

And then Robin Van Persie’s dive-volley header against Spain which marked the beginning of the end of a wonderful Spanish team. This is even more extraordinary when you consider RVP had a meat pie on his head at the time.

rvp pie copy

 

Other Things You May Have Missed

Darth Vader has mad himself available for selection for Germany.

British PM Cameron relaxing at home

On Me Head Luke!

Sadly,  Buddha has announced his retirement from international football.

 

Benedict Cumberbatch announced that England would never win the World Cup, “Until we play 3 at the back.”

benedict copy

Thank God It Is Over!

 

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sooty

 

Ginger Sooty filed this from Copacabananananana Beach last night.

Hello,

big phil sausage copy

The Sausage of Destiny with Big Phil

 

As you will know Brazil are out!

Their coach “Big” Phil  blames the magical sausage he put so much faith in pre-tournament.

Nothing to do with the fact that the team spent their time wailing and gnashing their teeth like a cult of poorly coiffured neurotic evangelical Christians who thought the direct route to God could be achieved by kicking the shite out of their opponents.

David Luiz, their louche centre back even prayed to Big Phil’s banger of destiny – to no avail .

david luiz copy

Such is the shock in Brazil that yesterday temperatures rose by 2 degrees Celsius in central Rio de Janeiro as the city’s populace becalmed their buttocks in shock at the thrashing handed out by the Raiders from the Rhine. Sashaying will resume Sunday by Government decree.

big phil 3

The football has become increasingly sterile and apart from the collapse of Brazil against the Teutonic Titans nothing of any merit has occurred.

Even that cheating, diving bashtard Arjen Robben of the Netherlandsh couldn’t enliven the bore fesht that was der shemi final with Argnteenar. There were hopesh he would replicate der now infamoush “I tripped ova der Mexican’sh shaushage to earn der penlti,” incident.

Sadly not and the Argentinians went through.

robben copy

Pope Argie celebrated by blessing his fence.pope fence_edited-1

Other Things You May Have Missed

The Costa Rica team have been offered free Trans Gender surgery as a gift from a grateful nation for reaching the quarter finals. As yet none of the players have taken up this offer.

Chile forward Sancho Pancho Poncho Panpipe Parper was awarded a special medal by FIFA for over coming a dry scalp during the match against Brazil.

Pogues legend Shane  McGowan announced his retirement from international football.

Gollum has announced his retirement from international football.

Benedict Cumberbatch announced he would be available for selection for England once again after patching up things with England manager Roy “Watson” Hodgson. Benedict told Gfb, “I need to play off the main striker and not wide left. That way the lads’ll get the best out of me.”

benedict copy

Enjoy the World Cup – nearly finished

 

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sooty

 

Ginger Sooty will keep you up to date with all the shenanigans and goings on in Brazil 2014. He filed this from Copacabananananana Beach.

Hello,

“Up comes Carlos Alberto on the right….” Ah yes 1970, the greatest football team ever assembled win the World Cup for the 3rd time and entrenches Brazil as the spiritual home of football.

So with the competition for 2014 in Brazil what could be better? I even donned me Carnival outfit and sashayed to Costa’s for a celebratory decaffeinated coffee – harder than you think when you are a glove puppet.

And why are grown men collecting Panini Stickers? – Got – Got – Need – Need indeed

The opening week has been brilliant.

Every game has had something to drool over, excessive saliva production is common amongst native Portuguese speakers. In fact so much spittle has been produced in Brazil that giant sponges are being used to mop the streets of Rio.

And boy oh boy is obesity popular amongst Latin Americans!

Their have been fine wins for Holland (shaliva shpectaculer) Brazil, Chile, USA, Mexico and Italy.

England managed to string 3 passes together on more than one occasion in their game against Italy but still lost to the Latin Layabouts. The only worry is Wayne Rooney – he looks like he has been partying with some Papua New Guinea head shrinkers such as his bonce diminished from the Oirish spudhead look.

Better Than That Welcome Mat On His Head!

Better Than That Welcome Mat On His Head!

Let’s hope we can beat Uruguay tonight to stay in the competition. If not INVADE this corn beef sweating arse end of South America!

Ahem.

Germany look good but the real shock has been the early demise of reigning champions Spain who lost last night to Chile and are out of the competition.  It’s a shame when a truly great team comes to the natural end of its cycle but boy they were good, possibly the greatest since Brazil 1970. This glove puppet for one will fondly look back on their brand of football inspired by Rudyard Kipling.

Yes Riki Tiki Taka Tava football changed the way we play the game. Forever.

mary_poppins copy

Other Things To Ponder

We all love Iran now – They are not evil nutters hellbent on lobbing a nuclear warhead at us – they are avuncular chaps with beards and a deep commitment to parliamentary democracy. Crap at footie though.

Is the Swiss goalkeeper really made of cheese as some reports suggest?

The Japanese team play ancient Japanese folk melodies on nose flutes to celebrate scoring a goal.

Lionel Messi – the world’s greatest footballer – collects burglar alarms and has over 250 in his shed.

benedict copy

Enjoy the World Cup!

 

 

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sooty

The World Cup Is Here!

Brazil is hosting the tournament.

Despite the corruption, riots and on site deaths,  the world will turn its attention to the buttock shaking centre of the Universe for a month.

Yes folks, there will be images of g-string clad, sweaty arsed Favela dwellers shouting,  “GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLL” every time a “sambatastic” player breaks the old onion bag.

Prince Charles provides his rounded view of the 32 Nations taking part. Here is his take on the first 2  Groups.

charles chinstrap copy

 

Greetings – it was most kind of Gingerfightback to invite one to give one’s view of the nations competing in this year’s Roundball Event (more of a Polo man – nothing like riding an old nag –  but enough about Camilla!)

Here are my views of the plebians taking part in the game WE INVENTED!

Group A

Brazil – Any country that has a pubic hair shaving regime named after it is alright by one! PHWOARRRR!

Croatia – People with incomprehensible surnames should never be trusted. They have a tablecloth for a national flag. Dodgy collaborators.

Mexico – Cheese melters and bean squishers mostly propped up against walls asleep under their sombreros. Is Yul Brynner still coach?

Cameroon – Shite Prime Minster from Eton – didn’t realise he was a footy player – had him down as a fag basher from his Bullingdon days.

 

Group B

Spain – Current Champions – Eat very thinly sliced ham – not breaded either – the bastards  – their King has just abdicated.  MAMA! ARE YOU READING THIS!

Netherlands – Clog barmy barge dwellersh finger in dyke typesh – love to shmoke der dope. Tall. Very tall.

Chile – Pan pipe parpers and centre of the world bird shit industry. A country so thin it is the poster child for anorexic Human Geographers.

Australia – Aussies constantly bang on about how great the place is from the countries they are living in. Ex convicts with skin cancer.

 

 

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Goose

Hello,

I hope you enjoyed Part 1 yesterday. You can Read Part 1 here!

Here is Part 2 – Read on……….

Day 41 – Lisbon – scurry aboard Recife bound ship “Obrigado” – the principal cargo is buttock emollient cream, samba costumes and whistles – wriggle into a nice floral headpiece, matching sequinned bra and thong – I blending in with Brazilian culture!

Day 43 – The Obrigado – Unmasked by Boson as not “Hector” the vessel’s happy go lucky First Mate but as a non-paying transgender guest with well-honed buttocks – thrown in the Brig.

Day 43 – The Obrigado – Brought to ship’s captain – he is an unreconstructed romantic who is in a state of high dudgeon after reading the Bronte Classic Jane Eyre – he clutches me to his swelling breast and sobs uncontrollably “Poor Rochester,” he cries – tells me of his loon of a wife – a woman with a predilection for salty old tars – she is sealed away in ship’s bulkhead on account of her madness and “needs”.

Michael-Fassbender-as-Mr-Rochester-Jane-Eyre-2011-michael-fassbender-25911613-1920-1040

Day 46 – The Obrigado – Mass panic as Captain’s wife escapes and ravishes the ships Bursar, First and Second Mate, Boson, Petty Officer, Cook and a lad who happened to be passing in a Tuna fishing boat she spotted on the starboard bow – swam over to and ravished – she is captured and restored to her cell – the Captain sobs – I read him extracts from Wuthering Heights – “Poor Cathy,” is all he says.

Day 50 – Recife – Leave Obrigado – Captain donates lifetime supply of buttock emollient to thank me for my support – his wife ravishes me before I skip ashore – “Poor Cathy,” are the last words I hear.

Day 51 – Trans-Amazonian Highway – Sashay my way towards Belem – my bottom is revered by buttock cognoscenti.

Day 54 – Belem – Join Samba dance band – band rooted in bizarre Marxist theory that believes buttock wobbling in camp outfits will eventually destroy capitalism – I have my doubts.

Day 68 – Mouth of Amazon – Say farewell to my Samba Band colleagues with a toot on my whistle – Capitalism still intact – chop down big tree – shape it into giant clog and paddle towards Manaus.

Useful Tip in the Rain Forest #1 Never paddle in a thong.

butt

Day 71 The Amazon – See off attack from shoal of synchronised swimming Piranhas by dazzling them with my sequin studded brassiere – smear myself in emollient to fend off flesh-eating insects and mosquitos.

Day 75 – Fishing village of Maracaibo – Befriended by Geoff a double glazing salesman from Cornwall who. “turned left at Plymouth instead of right” – barter my whistle with him for a set of triple glazed French windows he happens to be carrying – lash them to clog and sail up the Amazon!

Day 80 – Manaus – Leave clog and trek into Forest – see all types of creatures – Jaguars, Monkeys, Lions, Tigers, Penguins, Polar Bears, even a Giraffe – realise I am in Manaus Zoo and head for exit – easy mistake to make. Turn left at MacDonald’s and find myself deep in the Rain Forest.

Useful Tip in the Rain Forest #2 – Never walk in a thong and stilettos in the Rain Forest.

Day 84 – Rain Forest – Felled by dart fired from blowpipe – fall into delirious fever – imagine erotic romps with Bilbo Baggins.

Day 86 – Rain Forest – Fever breaks and awake to find short lad with big ears and enormous feet next to me! I am in Middle Earth!

Day 86 – Rain Forest – Lad wakes up and smiles – he only communicates by twanging his nasal hairs in complex melodies – I discover his name is Whothefuckareyou? Chief of a long lost tribe who still don’t have a clue where they are – The Wherethefuckarewe?

tribe

Day 86  – Rain Forest – I am the first white man in samba outfit with smooth buttocks the Wherethefuckarewe? have encountered – I am worshipped as their long lost God and christened Wherethefuckdidhecomefrom?

Day 87 – Rain Forest – The Wherethefuckarewe? are a proud people – traditional costume is an Adidas Shellsuit – it is good to see that they have not been tainted by western culture – Whothefuckareyou? organises a feast in my honour!

Day 88 – Rain Forest The feast comprises the traditional Amazonian dish of Burger and Chips washed down with a highly intoxicating liquor made by fermenting the bark of dogs – we partake in a fertility dance with a number of toothless harpies – nasal hairs plucked with much ferocity – Before passing out all I recall is a nasal hair plucking rendition of the Hokey Cokey, followed by Hi Ho Silver Lining……..

Day 93 – Rain Forest – Whothefuckareyou? leads me deep into the jungle – day after day I toil moving ever further from civilisation towards what? I know not – I am wilting – cannot go much further – chafed and blistered – my headgear a bit wonky – Finally he holds out a slightly wonky Light Sabre without batteries towards a clearing in the Forest.

Day 93 – In The Rain Forest – A place of serene beauty – never before seen by a white man dressed in a samba outfit – giant statues – thousands of years old – bearing a remarkable resemblance to the cast of US Sitcom Friends – guard this place – I hear water nearby – Whothefuckareyou? twangs on his nose hair – the sounds tell me that we have reached the source of the Amazon – A washer is needed to stop the dripping – slightly disappointing.

I think of Simon Cowell with a sausage on his head.

simon_cowell goetta copy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Goose

 

Hello,

With the Soccerball World Cup in Brazil  starting next week and football fever building,  here is an old story from our friend  The Tight Fisted Traveller on how he managed to travel to Brazil for free last year.

This is taken from his handy reference book– “The Coke Smugglers Guide to Latin America”.

Chapter 23 – “Brazil It’s An Amazon Place!”

Day 1 – London – Steal bicycle – nip to French mens outfitter’s “Moi?” – purloin traditional French garb of beret, Breton shirt, moustache and string of onions – stare in shop window and practice nonplussed facial expression whilst shrugging shoulders – I am French!

Day 1 – London – Bike ride to Dover hampered by dangling onions – but I am French now so shrug shoulders and blockade motorway to protest.

Day 3 – Dover Harbour – Stowaway on French Minesweeper SS “Mai Oui”.

A Typical Frenchman - well if you're gonna do a cliche do it properly

Day 4 – English Channel – My disguise allows me to mingle with the crew who smoke continually, argue about the true meaning of Sartre and make vegetable soup which is slurped down with Gallic aplomb.

Day 5 – English Channel – The crew take me to heart after Je suis discovered akip in torpedo tube – sing the Edith Piaf classic – “A Citroen Backfires – Paris Surrenders” become overnight internet sensation on Vous Tube.

Day 6 – Cherbourg – no sign of Cher sadly – I am smuggled ashore by crew who wish to continue discussing Sartre and their nation’s affliction for permanent nonplussedness. After emotional farewells involving mass spontaneous shoulder shrugging – I cycle south for Spain.

Day 8 – Cherbourg (still) – Dangling onions still a problem and the false moustache causing further drag issues on Bike – c’est la vie – blockade service station toilets in protest.

Day 9 – Cherbourg (still) – Tour de France sweeps through – Stage 14 to Reims – I join the Peloton – miraculously win the stage and claim the Yellow Jersey. Cite Lance Armstrong and Amphetamine abuse as major factors in my success.

Day 10 Reims – I am uncovered when my dangling onions accidentally throttle leading French rider in Stage 15 – chased by baying mob of French onion loving cyclist philosophers who see this as ghastly “Les Rosbifs” attack on a French sporting institution (but the philosophers ask “is it?”) – Make good my escape by removing the onions from bike and take off false moustache – they’ll never spot me!

Day 10 – Reims- Arrested by French police. Blockade my cell in protest.

Day 13 – Reims – Released – am offered a lift by Heineken sozzled Dutch shykling fansh – Wim and Piet Mine Der Gap who are following the Tour – Their camper van roof sports a giant detachable clog and a windmill – “Krayshee Ja!” Wim and Piet keep saying – I am hidden in Windmill as we pass through the Pyrenees into Espana. Now I know what Anne Frank must have gone through.

Day 31 – The Spanish Pyrenees – Wim and Piet spin on blades of windmill for three days singing the back catalogue of well known Dutch Prog rock band Focus – they swear rotary turbine spinning cures any hangover – I decouple giant clog and slip quietly into the River Sangria and raft to Madrid.

clogboat

Day 33 – Somewhere in Iberia – Sailing by clog surprisingly comfortable – draw admiring glances from Spanish Environmentalists who are protesting about tomatoes being grown in greenhouses along riverbanks.

Day 37 – Madrid – How a Brit, disguised as a Frenchman arriving in a giant clog could be construed to be the famous bullfighter “El Flatulente” is beyond me – but I am – carried shoulder high to Las Ventas for a spot of “Death in the Afternoon”.

Day 37 –  Madrid – Bullfighting clothes very tight on the old knackers – mince my way into the ring – confronted by a livid Bull called “El Mangler” – my bowels loosen – prance like John Wayne with piles – realise my sword is actually a shop bought Star Wars light sabre without batteries – I have to make the droning noise myself – El Mangler sees the sword, recalls he is part Sith and then does a passable Darth Vader impression – becomes internet sensation on Tu Tube – I am carried shoulder high by adoring fans out of the arena – with only a wonky shop bought Star Wars light sabre without batteries as a trophy.

Day 38 – Madrid – I hitch a lift in a lorry driven by a reticent Serb war criminal, Goran – cargo is artificially grown tomatoes hidden in statues of Picasso.

oil-painting-tete-de-femme-by-spanish-painter-pablo-picasso-7433141 copy

Part 2 Tomorrow! To Lisbon and Beyond……..

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London 1802. Apologies to W. Wordsworth.
Milton! thou should’st be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Ooh. I’m all worked up.
I need a shower.

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Oily

Several years ago I followed your fabulous diet book, “Masturbate Yourself Thin”, lost three stone and could crack walnuts with my right hand. Sadly I tugged with such ferocity that my foreskin is now over three feet long and when I am in the shower my love missile looks kinda…..weird. Do you have any tips for reeling it in. Or is surgery the only way?

Bellend Tom, Belenses

Hi Bellend,

My we have quite a few wankers contacting me this week! Fine by me!

Could you contact my secretary Salacious Sadie? We have just the part for you. It’s an updated/skewered/perverted version of the Elephant Man and tells the story of the many scraps and bedroom farces old Merrick might have got into with various buxom wenches if he had been a bit less depressive, more outgoing and could run fast like Benny Hill.

Oily

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