Posts Tagged ‘Religion’

the puppet master

 British PM  David Cameron has played a dastardly final card in his bid to cling to power.


As he trails pointless oaf Ed Miliband in the polls, the posh boy “Who cares deeply” has decided to make Gingers a key plank of his 2015 election campaign.

In his speech today to the Idiocracy that is the Conservative Party, Cameron will say, “Look here Chaps, we’ve fucked over the poor, propped up the Bankers, divided old from young, gay from straight, black from white and STILL people don’t like us! Even giving pooftahs the right to marry hasn’t helped.  I can only reach one conclusion. Gingers are to blame!”

To gasps from his dribbling, incontinent audience he blurted, “Banning Gingers from public life and stopping them using the internet to spread their gingery thingymajigs is all that is left to me. Polish my brogues please Fotheringham. Where is my fag?”


Last year, Gfb’s correspondent Gail Force-Winds revealed Tory plans to impose Burkhas on Gingers were shelved due to the fact that it was stupid. However, with the lads firing up in Iraq again and a need to appear to have some semblance of control domestically and internationally, the Ginger Question has been brought back.

Cameron’s comments put him at odds with President Barack Obama who, in a speech in Grimsby this month said, ‘We. Are not.  Going. To tell. People what colour. Their hair. Should. Be.’

He Is A Red!

Ed Miliband’s reply was, “I have forgotten what I was going to say. Blah blah blah.”




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I’m still struggling to take the Christmas pounds off. Apart from playing havoc with my rash my lovely wife, Shirley commented that I was close to putting Buddha to shame in the old girth department. Harsh I thought as I took a well earned rest after wrestling the sock from my right foot. Bit of a fighter that one. Still got a bit of elastic in the nylon.

But the mention of Buddha got me thinking.

As I scanned The Sun whilst on the bog, there was no mention of how to live a good Buddhist life. Well not in the Racing Section anyway. I thought Ying and Yang were the name of the Pandas in London Zoo (They never had sex neither – I know the feeling) and used to smother Feng Shui with Curry Sauce after wobbling home from the Swollen Gland on a Friday Night. Never met Harry Krishna neither. Must be a nice bloke – he’s had a religion named after him.

Shame my Uncle Harry never managed that trick. “Harry – Harry, Harry – Harry Feltham” has a certain tranquil quality don’t you think? He was a roofer as well. An existential extension could have been on the cards. If I knew what existential meant. Heard some bloke say it on BBC2 once. Knew it wasn’t At Home Wth The Ice Cop Chase Border Guards  straight away. (Great show that by the way).

Then I spotted it. 3.15 at Kempton Park – Roly Poly Fat Boy. Put  twenty on him to win and he romped home!

Thanks Buddha! Although my journey  for spiritual enlightenment continues.

No it doesn’t.



You can read more of Bob’s musings whilst on the pot here and here. Your lives will be infinitely richer for doing so.

No you won’t.

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Aunty Bill - A Tin Opener Short

Aunty Bill

6 weeks ago I was walking along Brighton Pier, whistling a cheery refrain when a seagull swooped down and pecked me in the unmentionables.

A nearby dog saw this and ambled and sniffed me “downstairs”. As the dog departed a monkey who was eating an ice cream came over and stuck the cone on me privates.

Finally a rather large Jesuit priest offered to spank me so that I could atone for my sins.

At no time did my wheelchair bound partner offer to help me fend of these attacks and ended up discussing nasty habits with Jesuit. The monkey let down her tyres and I walked off in a huff with the ice cream cone still plonked on my crown jewels.

Brighton Council called me this morning to ask when I was going to collect my girlfriend as she was still on the pier, rusting slightly and struggling with barnacle build up.

Do you think I should go and collect her or just Fedex her a tyre pump and tell her to get on with it?

Richard, Crawley

Aunty Bill Replies!

Dear Richard

I publish your letter to illustrate to other readers the damage long-term drug abuse can have on the human psyche.

The scenario you describe above has all the hallmarks of a sustained sesh on the pipe and I would strongly advise you to seek help for your addiction (and give me the number of your dealer).

Many years ago I witnessed first hand the damage class A’s can do as a similar situation happened to a dear friend of mine (without the appearance of a monkey and wheelchair I hasten to add).

Oily George (for it was he) accompanied me to the city of Hamburg for a football tournament.After spending the afternoon running away from an ex mate of the Beatles to avoid buying him a drink (another story for another time), he decided it would be a good idea to team up with a group of Mexicans and partake of a glass of Mescal.

This rapidly turned into Mescal fury and led to him to “Peyote Pete” who proceeded to liberally pour Mescal down Oily’s gullet.

I myself was in no great shape and in the ensuing imbroglio we somehow lost each other in the crowds of sozzled Mexicans. Some hours later I received a call from a panicked Oily who said he was on a train travelling through the Black Forest with no idea how he got there.

It later transpired that he was in fact in a shopping mall near the train station covered from head to toe in emulsion paint (Harvest Peach as it turned out, matt from memory).

Let this salutory tale be a warning to you Richard. Just say Nada

However if events really did unfold as you describe I’d get the hell outta Brighton and let the Council deal with it all.

If she can wheel herself to the nearest garage she can use the air line for a nominal fee (Jet garages are free) thus saving you cost and hassle of Fedexing a pump to her.

Trebles all round!

Aunty Bill

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Silent Sausage

Away In A Sausage

Once In Royal David’s Sausage

Hark The Herald Sausage

Good King Wencesausage

nativity copy

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Regular readers will recall that I met a  man called Trevor through the reincarnee’s dating agency, “Have We’ve Met B4?”  (www.previouslovepreviouslives.com). Trevor in a previous life was a Roman Centurion. (You can read more about how we met here!)

Sadly it didn’t work out. Basically he spent all his time assembling a 25,000 piece mosaic of himself as a Gladiator killing a Christian, in his spare bedroom. Odd.

So I am single at the moment!

Recently, whilst shoplifting,  I bumped into an old friend Cindy.  I hadn’t seen her for ages on account of her taking up with some hippies who went to live in a tepee in the Slad Valley. Cindy spent most of her time weaving baskets made from dessicated skin. Through a combination of primal scream therapy , magic mushrooms and cider she inhabited the soul of Lot’s Wife! (the one who turned to a pillar of salt after turning back to look at Sodom for the non-religious amongst you).

She said it wasn’t much fun being a pillar of salt, made her dandruff salty and she would dissolve a bit in the rain.

Being Lot’s wife wasn’t for her! (Funny how Lot’s wife doesn’t have a name).

To prove her tale,  she let me lick her forearm. Boy was it salty!  She’s staying with me whilst her tepee is deep cleaned. Whenever I have a boiled egg for breakfast she dips her little finger in the eggs and hey presto! they are nicely salted!

When it snows, I will roll her down the garden path! Save me a fortune.


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Somebody asked to see the Pope with a pork pie on his head image again – happy to oblige!

Pope Pius 23rd

Pope Pius 23rd

Somebody asked to see the ginger Sphinx image again – happy to oblige!

Wonder what it makes of it all?

Somebody asked to see the ginger Al Jolson image again – as always happy to oblige!


Somebody asked to see the cute Polar Bear image again – as always happy to oblige!


Somebody asked to see the Shane McGowan dancing in Riverdance image again – as always happy to oblige!

Somebody asked to see the Saturday Night Fever Disco Chicken again – as always happy to oblige!

Somebody asked to see Ali with a chicken on his head again – as always happy to oblige!

He Was Forty Years Ahead Of His Time

Somebody has asked to see Nelson Mandela with a walnut whip on his head again – as always happy to oblige!


has asked to see the David Niven With A Wagon Wheel On His Head Image again – as always happy to oblige!

A Sad End To A Great Career

Last week somebody asked to see Picasso smoking his fishfingers……What a strange world we live in.

By The End He Was On 20 A Day
During His Fish Period

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I hope you are all well and your evacuations continue to be as sound as mine. I have been quiet of late. As you can imagine, losing the Papacy (which you can read about here) took a lot out of me, so I have been focussing on the new religion I founded. Potestantism.

The sacred texts of Potestantism, “The Toilet Scrolls” has the opening lines;

“And verily unto Ye, Man saw the Pot and he saw that it was good. And he lay down his beasts, smote his smiters, lifted the lid  and sat on the Pot. He became one with The Pot as The Pot became one with him. Together in Potted glory. And from that day forth the Pot was to be honoured. Each and everyday. At half eight, just after breakfast, preferably on the Company’s time.”

I contemplated my contemplativeness in my new local, The Wobbly Jowel with my mates, No Thumb Pete and Larry The Laminator. Great lads if prone to acts of cocaine fuelled mindless violence.  As I told the Constable, I didn’t witness the beating being handed out to the young lad as I was enjoying the WJ’s new WC. Nice to see carpet making a comeback in the smallest room.

My lovely wife Shirley won’t let No Thumb Pete in the house after she caught him stealing our roof and her mum last Easter. But not in that order I hasten to add.

But I know deep down she loves them both. Especially after Larry “Laminated” the hairdresser’s face after Shirl’s perm went a bit wonky a few years ago. Well, would you want a perm that made your head look like a toad stool? (the fungal variety and not the waste product of an amphibian).

So I have me first followers! Not your archetypal men of religion, but dead handy when it kicks off with the Salvation Army.  Which it will. Their tambourines are tipped with mercury. Nasty bastards.



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