Posts Tagged ‘Japan’


Grandpa Fightback swore that a good Shanty a day kept the hemorrhoids at bay. He lived to 105 and was never afflicted by the Chalfont Saint Giles.

GFB’s Folk and ancient lore expert Hermione Moist, rummaged in her backyard and found an old album by Toke Townley and The Tuggers, “Hand Shantys By The Shore With Sweet Deliza”.  The titles alone heave us windward into the salty spray as the Whaler hoves out of Nantucket;

There’s a Narwhal up me grapper.
I’ve been bent over a Barrel or two.
Have you dandled on Nelson’s Column?
They lowered her on me and Mary Rose.
There’s a cabin boy in me quarters.
Captain Sparrow’s marrow.
There’s never a gay pirate when you need a boost.

Here is a classic Shanty – Featured in Jaws so it has to be good!



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


“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!


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.

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Enjoy the World Cup!



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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 C and D.

charles chinstrap copy

Group C

Colombia – Every crack dealers second team. Likely to sniff victory at the earliest opportunity. Will hug the lines.

Greece – So broke the team had to walk to Brazil. Dearest Father cheers them on. We have to hide the crockery.

Ivory Coast – Big lads to a man – lightweights. Should have been our colony. Frogs got there first.

Japan – Whale butchers and giant lizard fantasists – who WE BEAT IN THE WAR! – You can stick your Honda Civic up yer arse!


Group D

ENGLAND – Inventors of football, railway timetables, parliamentary democracy, the concentration camp, trapped wind, eyelash curlers and the long sock – if there’s an Eden it is England. Bloody foreigners. Which one of you fuckers wants some then?

Italy – A car back fires and Rome surrenders – lily livered Latin loverboys who will cheat and bribe their way to victory over our brave lads unsullied as we are by the desire or skill to win at football.

Uruguay – Morose bandy legged corned beef hawkers – two words to say to them Graf Spee and the Battle of River Plate!

Costa Rica – Titchy Central American nation perched on an Isthmus which sounds like someone with a lisp saying Christmas. They don’t have an Army. INVADE! Bring back the Empire!


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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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I had really enjoyed my first pottery class. Clive the course tutor had been very patient and even though my first “throw” was a little wonky in places and the handle had fallen off, I was quietly proud of my efforts.

Unfortunately I spent too long listening to Clive’s views on ceramic glazing and despite running all the way to the station missed the train for home. It would be at least an hour’s wait for the next one.

After five minutes or so I needed a pee and made my way along the Platform to the toilets. The Gents toilet had a heavy wooden door painted cream with the word “Gentlemen” painted in racing green on it.

I seized the large brass doorknob and pushed. It was an effort to open. As the door succumbed to my efforts I noticed that the toilets still retained splendid and ornate Edwardian finishings. White ceramic tiles with blue grouting, heavy brass piping to and from cisterns and intricately patterned wrought iron splash pads for the more athletic bladder. The conveniences were a gem of their kind. A real find.

I was admiring the ornate flourish of the manufacturer’s logo on the porcelain urinal when there was a rustling noise behind me. I ignored it and carried on with my tinkle. The rustling continued and was now accompanied by the sound of aged hinges creaking. I finished my business just as the shrill cry reverberated around the cool tile finish of the lavatory;

“Aiieeeee! Banzai! Banzai!”

I turned quickly, fumbling to rehouse my winkle. Again the shrill scream advanced towards me,

“Banzai, Todo, Todo. Aiieeeee!”

In front of me stood a member of the Imperial Japanese Army. He was in his late eighties and was dressed in ragged, patched battle fatigues but with a pair of Velcro fastened Reebok training shoes on his feet. He bore the insignia of a non-commissioned officer.

The soldier gurned with menace at me, baring four rotten teeth in the process. His dental hygiene regime was not of the highest order.

More worrying than halitosis was the aged rifle he pointed at me. A large steel bayonet wobbled precariously atop the barrel. Again he screamed and lunged forward. As he did so the bayonet drooped from its fastening and clattered on the floor.

My assailant muttered, probably an expletive in Japanese, bent down picked up the bayonet and began to berate it in a world weary manner. He lost interest in me and retreated to the toilet cubicle, closing its squeaking door behind him. He fumbled with his rifle. Again the bayonet clattered to the floor. Again he swore. A small wizened hand scurried around the cubicle floor until it seized the bayonet.

Even in all this excitement I remembered to complete my ablutions and gave my hands a thorough soaping and rinsing. A Dyson hand dryer had recently been fixed to the wall. Although out of keeping with the ambience of the rest of the toilet my hands were dried in an instant.

Had the fitter been confronted I wondered?

The sign on the ticket office window said “Back in 5 Mins”. Fully seven minutes elapsed before a man appeared. A bucked tooth harridan who could eat an apple through a letterbox.

“Yes sir, how can I help?”

“Did you know there is a Japanese Soldier in your toilet?”

“Met him then? Old Hidetoshi. Lovely old feller ain’t he?” The man replied in a broad West Country accent, “Been here since 1942 or summat like that. Still a few of them dug in on the Somerset border apparently.”

“Haven’t you told him the war’s over?”

“Countless times. The fact of the matter is – he’s can’t face going home defeated. Reckons he will bring shame on his family. So he lives here. In the toilet cubicle.”

There was a cruel matter of factness about the man’s attitude. “Besides,” he continued, “Hidetoshi is a dab hand at the old Bonsai malarkey. He’s helped us win the Station in Bloom competition for the past twenty years now. Wiped the smile off Reg Belcher’s face down at Cam and Dursley I can tell you. Go and take a look. Down at the bottom of Platform 1.”

I sauntered to the end of Platform 1. The man was correct. The small garden with bonsai trees, maple timber decking and a very attractive miniature water feature really was a sight to behold. The pebbles surrounding the trees has been individually shaped to provide a pattern of doves in flight. Tranquillity personified.

I walked back to the ticket office. As I walked past the toilet door I noticed it was slightly ajar. An aged rifle and bayonet protruded. Again the bayonet fell to the floor. Again I heard Japanese expletives.

The “Back in 5 Mins” sign had been put up in the ticket office window once more. I sat in the small waiting room and turned my attention to the mysteries of ceramic glazing.

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"Known as the Chicken......"

Influenced by the Kurosawa, Sergio Leone, set himself the task of making his own clucking homage to the great Japanese Director. Two of the films in particular stand out.

A Few Chickens More and The Good, The Bad and The Chicken. Classic movies with timeless themes.

The Chick With No Name

Greed, deception, double dealin’, poor lip synching and lots of Wah Wah Woop Woop in the soundtracks made for riveting entertainment.

Eastwood’s character of the fluffy little amoral Easter chick with no name set him on a route to superstardom and alongside co-stars Elay Wallach and Lee Van Cheep, the films have entered movie legend.

Here’s what the critics had to say,

“You’ll believe a chicken can lip synch,” The Delaware Doubter.

“Lee Van Cheep will go on to superstardom. A real feather in his cap this one.” The New York Times

“The most realistic depiction of chickens in a Western I have ever seen!” The Houston Chronicle.

Martin Scorsese was one of many to be inspired. “Seeing The Good, The Bad and The Chicken gave me the inspiration I needed to for my film Raging Chicken, which originally was going to be about a taxi driving fighting cock on the mean streets of New York. This was such a stupid idea that I decided to make it about a cow with anger management issues. Moo moo.”

The rest as they say is history.

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