Beany Van Roamy
Binky Le Bollock-chops
Cecil Henderson Fifteenth
Zanex Wilderspleen
Peter Panickford aka Bolom
Hex Many Mex Many Oompa St Trilby
Dullsy McExtension-Cable
Scrotum Ackerford
Silderplant Exhalium
Bum-Chin Bollock-Neck McGee (even though she tells a hearty tale)
June 3rd, 2011
It is the end.
I have been with someone for what seems like a lifetime and was littered with so many happy moments that it is hard to know how to feel right about now. On the one hand I am happy for them to leave this existence, to fly to another world and seek happiness wherever they may find it, however I too am crippled with despair and depression at the prospect of being alone. It’s the multitude of feelings that are best conveyed in poetry but we all don’t have time for that.
I have being associated with the shirt known as “Minty-Fresh” for at least three or four years which is practically my entire stint from the North East. It has been on heavy rotation each week serving my shirt needs for Monday and Wednesday; the shining light when compared with its darker brother (who still doesn’t have a name). I have sweated my fullest, have walked through countless streets and eaten a variety of awful, awful lunches when housed in Minty-Fresh. I have seen sunrises and sunsets, the skies cracked open like the devil’s trousers, the soft snow on my cheek.
That all has to end now.
Unfortunately because Minty-Fresh smells so badly, and because I didn’t get a chance to give him a once-over with the Febreeze, he is still hanging at home during his last week as a shirt. Nonetheless he will return stronger than ever before I tear him up into strips and use him as dusters.
Be strong, sir, be strong.
May 31st, 2011
Are you the kind of person who doesn’t like confrontation and does everything they can to avoid it? Do you think of people as annoying and then not tell them to their face when really you should be screaming it into their see holes? Do you want something to push you over the edge and into the realm of ‘ARGH’? Then I think we have the product for you.
Presenting Can Angst!
Can Angst contains ten years of pure anger gathered from frustrated artists, moody teenagers and other sullen demographics. If you want to shout at little Timmy for not putting his skateboard away then Can Angst can be there for you. Just slide open the top and sniff the wonders inside. The warm smells of rage will filter into your nostrils and turn you from Betty Blue into Batty Bastard. You will tear through your kitchen with all the subtleness of the Incredible Hulk looking for a crapper.
Top scientists recommend it.
Seriously.
Would we lie to you?
When everyone else has deserted you Can Angst will still be there with a sympathetic shoulder for your to rest your stressed and veiny head on. Bring on the first day of the rest of your life. Bring on… CAN ANGST!
May 25th, 2011
By Oily Buns aka Oliver Bunsford
I suppose it was only a matter of time before my knowledge and expertise in this field was required by the rest of the world. It is not the kind of thing you can keep to yourself, especially when you know it will help so many others. So yes, I’m throwing the gauntlet down and showing my shiny parts. I am giving up my valuable time to point you in the right direction. I’ve also lost quite a lot of business since “real” and “funny” comedians started appearing again, and those articles about the train sodomy didn’t help.
How many people have wives? Exactly. Tons. How many people know what to do with wives? Exactly. Tons. Some however don’t have the faintest idea of what to do once the veil is up. They get a frightened look on their face and soil themselves in the reception room. Luckily I’ve been practising polygomy for the best part of two decades; for no particular reason, I get a bit fussy sometimes, I like a bit of change. Being on the road so much you pick things up here and there, mainly there, and there as well.
You can break wives into five main groups: annoying, naggy, pointy, nymph and polar bear. I seem to favour the last two, no idea why. We will run through all of them at some point.
I only hope that with my help you can achieve the same level of bliss that I, my eleven wives, and twenty-seven children have.
May 24th, 2011
Reports are flooding in from the North-East of England of a man going around the area and offering his services for what are mostly services and jobs which are way too difficult.
The first report came from members of the public at the Theatre Royal in Newcastle upon Tyne, which is currently being modernised and updated. “I was stood taking pictures of Greys Monument when I noticed that there was a man climbing up the scaffolding at the side of the Theatre Royal,” said Keith Arborium, local photographer and all round nosey parker, “He eventually got to the top, strode over to the foreman and said, “Leave it to me, I’ve got this!” Quite what he thought he was able to do nobody could be sure. He picked up some pipes, struggled to know what to do with them, gently dropped them on the floor and raced off down the hill.”
It didn’t stop there.
“It was in the afternoon and we were quite busy for a Thursday when this guy just pushed his way in front of me, grabbed the scissors and said, “Leave it to me, I’ve got this,” wailed Mavis Davis, hairdresser to the stars, “He then proceeded to attempt to cut this poor woman’s hair only to cut most of the length, stared into the mirror at the disastrous results, smiled like a simpleton before running away down the hill.”
Police are baffled as to why this man would be putting himself into these situations when he clearly does not have the mad skills or expertise to carry them off. Concerns were raised as to the safety of the general public however since the initial reports arrived the man has disappeared. We would urge anyone though who knows the whereabouts of LITMIGT to come forward and expose this idiot for the moron he is.
May 19th, 2011
Good afternoon and welcome to the first in what we hope will be a long line of editions of Eating on a Budget.
This week we attempt to grasp the subtle nuances of an old favourite namely beans and sausages, grabbed from the shelves of Sainsburys and paid for with very little pence. Yes, this tin of salvation was purchased for less than 30p so what can you expect to find within?
For your money you do get a generous portion including six or seven sausages and plenty of beans. As with most tinned items there was more sauce than necessary. When the spoon went into my mouth there was a slight expectation of squalid tomatoes but it wasn’t as bad as it should have been. It was tomato-y, yes, it was exactly as it was described on the tin, more of less, but the after taste left a little to be desired. The price you paid immediately comes to mind once the food has left your mouth.
I could have tarted it up with some bread rolls but I faced the enemy alone and came off a little worse for wear. Whether it chooses to return on me only time will tell however it has stayed down for ten minutes and one can only assume this is a good thing.
Overall this little number could have been better yet set your expectations lower than usual and you might be surprised – 5 out of 10.
May 13th, 2011
I know I know, another one so soon after the last one. Usually I don’t remember dreams however recently they seem to be coming in and invading my thoughts when I wake up. This particular dream is relatively short. I could couple it with the other bizarre one I had at the start of the week in a Logical Dreamscape double bill. I could but I won’t:
I open my eyes and I’m in a queue waiting to see My Morning Jacket. I’ve waited ages to get in so the mood of the people stood with me are exciteable to say the least. When the doors are flung open we politely rush in and take our seats and that’s when I get a little suspicious. Rather than being a huge arena or stage it’s a tiny room that looks as though it’s used for church proceedings, and we’re all sat on those plastic chairs you had at school. Everyone else doesn’t notice. The room fills up quickly and someone appears at the front.
The man looks like the singing guy from the Lighthouse Family albeit without the suit, and he doesn’t do any singing. He instead pulls out a watermelon and taps on it. A faint rain then falls from the ceiling. The crowd claps and cheers at this; I stare on in disbelief.
So what does it all mean?!?
April 7th, 2011
I don’t even watch a lot of television anymore, and if I do thanks to modern technology I fast-forward the f*ckers whenever I get the chance. One particular recent t*rd of note however keeps cropping up between the hither, the thither and whatever is left.
That advert about Disneyland / Disneyworld where the parents tell their children and they all erupt into a screaming void of excitement. As cute as it was the first time by the second and third rounds you despise both the kids and the mums and dads. Why? It’s so horribly scantily-clad it’s like a page three model; zero detail, nothing more, a simple and direct message of you should take your kids to Disney because then the magic begins and if you don’t you may as well throw yourself into a bonfire for denying your kin this level of happiness. The worst one is the moron who took time to make a sort of screensaver for his television so, his children with their faces so close they could see through the mechanism itself, they read a delightful message of ‘We… are… going… to… Disneyworld.’
Oh, and any advert featuring Martine McCutcheon should have vinegar rubbed on it first to remove any impurities.
March 7th, 2011
I know we complain about the lack of futuristic things and how disappointing the future has turned out to be, and quite frankly I don’t want to change that tide by swooping in and saying how great everything is and how content I am with how things are. Because I’m not. Far from it.
I think that instead of furthering man’s advance into space or looking for similarities between dogs and why they lick their balls or whatever it is scientists investigate these days we should start a petition for futuristic things. Let me start the list off:
1. Robot Pants – not that I’m really so lazy that I don’t have the energy to remove them myself but I think some sort of crazy trousers would go down a treat. Imagine if they could heat you during winter months or blow cold air around when it’s hot. When you take them off they stand guard by your door or there could be a switch you can trigger to make loud noises when approached by elderly ladies conducting surveys, making them scurry away.
2. Gadget Gauntlets – one button could extend to reveal Spiderman-like stretchy goo stuff allowing you to climb tall buildings or harness criminals, another could reveal a tin opener or flares to distract would-be attackers.
3. Lasers – it’s an obvious one, and one which would of course be used by criminals for nefarious purposes. If they could develop one slightly stronger than a laser pen so I could use it to melt marshmallows instead of having to savage them with a cigarette lighter that would be a big help.
March 3rd, 2011
Hooray! Hooray! It’s the start of March today!
After having bling-blinged my way through January (spent too much over Christmas, eating nothing but tinned ravioli and soup for lunch) and February (spent too much after not spending anything during January, eating nothing but tinned ravioli and soup for lunch) it’s nice to settle in a month that only contains one birthday, as far as I am aware, and nothing much else. Not that I will be needlessly throwing my money hither and thither; it just means there’ll be a little less worrying and a little more shaking my loins with joy.
Another point I should make. At first I thought it would be a good idea to change the name of the month March to March-tober but then that would be carrying on the spectacle of dark mornings and chilly trips at lunchtime so that’d be a big nay nonny no nay on the No Scale. Something else that also topped the No Scale with a spectacular nay nonny was the rise in train fares and the band Frankie and the Heartstrings.
March 1st, 2011