Thursday, April 29, 2004

"Don't blame me, I voted for Kodos"

If it's gratuitous swearing you want, then top-quality cussing you shall have, my friends! Neil Gaiman points us towards the now-infamous Bill, recently introduced into the US Congress designed to make swearing illegal in the US media. The fucking shitty piss-sticks.

I, for one, welcome our overly-litigious puritanical overlords.

The vote! The vote! Tomorrow's tale of mirth and woe will be one of the following eight. Vote-o!

* Father Abraham
* Barmy ‘Army
* Spray that again?
* Barking Steve
* Piss IV
* Trench Warfare
* Buzzzzzz
* Osama and I


Straight from the "You would have thought that someone would have noticed" Department comes the story from my local rag on how some chap returned from holiday to find his hot tub stolen from his garden. It weighed two tons and cost seven thousand pounds. Probably the same people who pilfered the hanging baskets from our patch last year, may they rot in hell.

And in a vintage news day in the Bournemouth area comes the story of 20-year-old Thierry Henry, who changed his name from David Mercury in honour of the Arsenal striker. The Echo doesn't have static links, so here's a picture. See if you can tell which is which.

His mum, by the way, is Freddie Mercury, but has recently changed to Melek Aysemin Ayse Filikgi Del Boy. Some people just shouldn't be allowed to breed.

Meanwhile meanwhile...

I've been at home feeling ill and working on the Next Big Thing. Food for lazy people is in, with that old moo Aunt Bessie leading the way with ready made mashed potato, along with ready meals that come with a plate and even a knife-and-fork.

If you can't beat 'em join 'em I say, so I've written off to her in a quiet moment suggesting a whole new range of Aunt Bessie's Cheese on Toast, Aunt Bessie's Omelettes and Aunt Bessie's Boiled Eggs. It's a winner, you mark my words.

And let me leave you today with this Jerry Springer-esque final thought:

Nearly twenty years after its original release, "Easy Lover" by Phil Collins still makes me want to tear the top off his bald, bald head and paint the walls of my house with his brains, using a brush crudely fashioned from his brutally severed genitals. A perfectly reasonable reaction, don't you think? And rather pleasing to know that I haven't mellowed after all these years.

Meanwhile meanwhile meanwhile...

Timelord Tom Baker talks exclusively to Robber Rabbit on his harmless hobby of taking a crap in shoe shops.

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