MATCH.com’s Advert: The Girl on the platform Smiled…


I have been asked to re-shoot this advert.

I’ve made a COUPLE of teeny improvements and, overall,  I reckon I’ve made a pretty TOP job of it.

By all means take a look at the exclusive preview below:

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Firstly, I’ve managed to find a NEW even creepier guitarist…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And  a real HOT babe…

 

 

Surely an Advertising Award can only be moments away…

Advertisements

Mother’s Day – an Annual Opportunity to settle a few scores


Firstly let me say I wish nothing but the happiest of Mother’s Day’s to those many, many – indeed the greater percentage/majority of mums – who deserve nothing other than that.

But – and let’s be brutally honest – some of us have had to endure other mums who are not worthy of the title other than as an acronym:
Malicious Unpleasant Monsters.

I  speak from the bitterest of personal experience.

Some children spend their childhood in the town, others in the country.
I spent mine  constantly in the shit.

I just knew she didn’t like me..for example:

she only started breast feeding me when she found out I was lactose intolerant. Even then, after a while, she got lazy and made me sit in the playpen  4 feet away with my mouth open trying to judge  “the likely flow”   with her squirting away whilst she watched television. Spookily enough other kids don’t like potential playmates that stink of rancid milk.

She took re-usable nappies to the max –  she would turn mine inside out and put them back on me WITHOUT emptying them.

My only “Toys” were an unexploded mine and a hammer.

It didn’t improve as I got older.

She would knit me Balaclavas with no face hole and she ALWAYS made sure I wore the latest party dress.

I remember her disappointment when she heard I hadn’t been abused as a choirboy.

When I was doing a sponsored walk she insisted I use the M6.

I found copies of letters she’d written to Hitler saying I was Jewish.

She  circumcised me using a pastry cutter.

If  I wanted to play outside I had to fly kites near electric pylons.

She lived in hope of finding another Krakatoa so she could send me there on a camping holiday.

I lost count of the number of times I was left behind at the supermarket for days on end. She would scuttle home with the groceries leaving me behind whilst she: “went home for her purse”....promising to return………ha!

We buried her a few years ago – just to give her a taste of her own medicine.

Big mistake ……she got her own back. She gave me tea laced with Rohypnol max strength and dumped me in a gay bar shouting as she left:

“He’s all yours boys”

 

Above:

(We were so poor our whole lives were spent in black and white)

This is an early photo of mum and I next to her favourite bomber.
As a pilot she flew more than  150 bombing missions over Germany – fair enough during the war….. but this was in 1965.
A formidable woman, her Navigator still talks fondly of the time she  ran back across the English Channel with the plane tucked under her arm after it was badly damaged by enemy anti-aircraft fire.
Note in this picture how she is edging me nearer the propeller  whilst dad (out of picture) is in the cockpit waiting to: “fire her up”.

whatever happened to……the Teletubsters?


It’s been heartbreaking to hear about the fall from grace of my former screen favourites:

“The Teletubsters”

According to my mate Derek this is what has happened to them since their all-too-short careers ended:

Lilo

 

Tragically no longer able to sing or dance  after Poo went mental and shoved his scooter up her arse. They had an off screen fight when Poo did an article for “OK” magazine but then found out Lilo got twice the money he did from the rival glossy magazine: “Ey-O” .  She hit rock bottom when vandals slashed her bouncy ball – she got depressed and her weight ballooned to 52 stone.

Her ridiculously long spiky antenna left her trapped on the dodgems at Thorpe Park for 18 hours, after which she turned to drugs. Now riddled with arthritis it is pathetic to see her each year when – despite being restricted to using a zimmer frame – she tries to gatecrash the qualifying rounds of “Britain’s Got Talent” in ever more bizarre and unconvincing disguises.

Stinky Winky

 

Has tried to scrape  a living  selling: “The Big Issue”   but struggles to pronounce it. Gets pissed down the pub most nights with the also washed up Andy Pandy. Done for benefit fraud after Investigators caught him doing an evening  job – hanging upside down as a coathanger in the “George” section of Asda.

Poo

 

The smallest and most annoying of the original “Tubsters”. Made a complete twat of himself by wrapping rubber bands around his  antenna and entering Wimbledon – though he still beat the British number 1 seed in straight sets.  He was most recently sighted at a fairground stall making up the numbers in the “Hook-a-duck” game.

Dipshit

 

…is the only one making a good living…but, unfortunately, does so in the porn film industry. He was put on the sex offenders register after he was  exposed in the press for using the “noo..noo…noo…”  (a machine from the series)  for his personal sexual gratification. In his last film: “Dips, lips and nips”  he is mainly seen with desperate women sitting on his head simulating sex and begging him to give them his: “Tubby Custard”.  Refuses to accept that his career in kids TV is over and, in an ugly incident with racist overtones, chanted: “Whack-a-Pakka” as he  beat up  Makka Pakka  (from “In the Night  Garden“).

An appalling crime


My mate Julian who claims he has mates “in the force” (but is NOT a Jedi) reckons one of them told him that some sick b*stard broke into THE Stephen Hawkings house and replaced the keyboard that he uses to “talk” , with one of those Stylaphone things.

Worse still only two notes – A and F – work.

Stephen’s doing his best to communicate using just the two notes – experimenting with variations of long and short blasts – but, sadly, just sounds like a cross between a police siren and a broken ice cream van.

Basically at the moment  he can say sweet F, A.

*    *     *    *    *    *    *    *    *

IF YOU’VE  BEEN AFFECTED BY ANY OF THE ISSUES RAISED IN THIS POST,

THEN THERE ISN’T A PHONE NUMBER YOU CAN RING…

YOU’RE COMPLETELY ON YOUR OWN…

..sorreeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

We were discussing Time Travel…. where was I?


Why does pretty much every book/TV show assume that time travel will be only undertaken by the good guys?

(I AM aware of the ‘Terminator’  film series, but I still bracket that as “Good”  because Sarah Connor was really annoying and the kid was utterly revolting)

If, when, such a machine evolves what’s there to say that it won’t – like every other invention – be abused by criminals, the military and morons?

Almost inevitably there will be “Time Tourists”   asking Jesus to autograph a box full of Bibles….

“…could you just put ….’to Britney and all the kids’….

NO! NOT in Hebrew for feck’s sake”

There will be Time Memorabilia firms selling stuff pillaged from the past such as old items of Hitler bric-a-brac (what would be the going rate for an old pair of his kecks on e-bay?) .

There would be Time Detectives investigating the Kennedy assasination and  Marilyn Monroe’s death and  putting together money-making videos for the History Channel.

(That grassy knoll is gonna get awfully crowded with all the camera crews)

…so, having considered all this,  I am selling my Time Machine:

FOR SALE  – Time Machine

4 careful previous owners

(…but 25 future totally irresponsible ones)

Only used twice (Titanic and Moon Landing joyrides)

Genuine reason for sale :

Divorce (spent too much time apart from the wife)

Genuine enquiries only – no time wasters!

*            *                          *                     *                   *

The above is an extract from my forthcoming book (published in 1983) :

“Time – the future is all hours”

Instruments of torture – the ladies bra


Number 1 in a VERY occasional Series

My mate Dennis  who I think is in his 20s (not sure, but he’s 19 stone at least)  struck a chord with me and the rest of us on remand when he started talking about his first encounter with this fiendish and completely male-hostile device.

He suffers from advanced halitosis and a variety of skin diseases that are keeping the local Boots dispensary working around the clock. He may be 52 but he can recall it like it was yesterday – which was EXACTLY when it was that he finally got his trembling hands on what can only be described as… lingerie.

His heart was pounding. He was nervous and afraid.

Would he damage it in some way?

Would he not be able to undo it and look  a fool?

And the worst and most terrifying of all

– would he be able to put it back in the drawer EXACTLY as he’d found it before his sister got back from the shops.

* Don’t know if there is such a thing as a “Gents bra” ….and I’m too afraid to Google it.

An ancient tale updated….?


My mate Matt reckons he has somehow got hold of a printed transcript of an edition of

“The Jeremy Kyle Show”  that was due to go out live on Christmas Eve   but was never transmitted.

I don’t know what to make of it…an origami bird perhaps?

*               *               *                   *                     *               *               *

“Today, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Joe to this special live Christmas Eve edition of the
show….”

announces Jeremy holding one arm aloft to signify applause is required.
The audience clap respectfully as a forlorn looking Joe shuffles on to the studio set from the right of the stage. He makes towards the nearer of the two comfortable looking  guest chairs that have been positioned several metres apart.

“Welcome Joe…sit yourself down – is it alright if I call you Joe?”

“In the past I was known as Joseph…. but Joe’s fine…”

says an upset looking Joe nodding to further confirm his agreement.

Jeremy starts to set the scene by giving the audience some background on his guest.

“Now, I’ve spent some time with Joe before we went on air. He’s a straightforward, decent and trusting
sort of a guy. Me and my researchers have got to know – and like – him.”

“Joe – I know why you’re here… but please…. tell the audience and the viewers at home what
made you feel you had to come on the show today”

Joe takes a DEEP breath…

“I’m fighting for my marriage Jeremy…..

I’m completely devastated…..

my wife’s pregnant…. about to give birth…..

and she’s told me that….. the baby’s NOT mine”

There is a collective gasp from the audience – some shout: “No! others shout: “Boo”

Jeremy holds up his palm, gesturing for the studio to be calm.

“OK…OK…so the baby’s NOT yours….”

repeats Jeremy to underline the point before continuing:

“..now Joe…..”
Jeremy pauses then shakes his head…
“You’re a better man than me mate…..you actually want to try and sort this out don’t you?”

Joe sobs a bit more though he does manage a small couple of nods.
The audience sense the man’s deep anguish. There is a definite anger and hostility developing amongst them towards whoever has upset the guest on the stage.

“She’s come a long way to be with us…all the way from Nazareth…..
let’s get MARY on ladies and gentlemen………….”

Security ensure Joe remains seated and some swearing is ‘bleeped out’.

Mary appears EXTREMELY distressed…as she seats herself in the remaining chair.

“Spare us the tears love…we’ve seen it all before…”

says Jeremy, who continues:

“Now….let me check I’ve got this right…you’re married to Joseph…yes?”
“And….you’re pregnant…well I think we can ALL see that……”
“But…and this is the bit I’m certainly struggling with…you say you’re still a Virgin….
is that correct?”
Mary hesitates and Jeremy asks her again, more sternly and raising his voice:

“IS THAT CORRECT?…because…as I already said…. I’m having a bit of difficulty with some of this
sweetheart…and…the other pretty important detail we need to mention is that….”
Jeremy pauses a moment for effect before continuing with emphasis:

“…. you’re absolutely positive that  Joe’s  NOT the Father”

She nods, resignedly.  Joe makes a sudden break from the chair towards his wife. Two burly Guards quickly  grab him and force him back to his seat….a saw and a couple of chisels fall out of his robes. The items are quickly removed by the Security team…

Jeremy rebukes Joe:

“If you try that again mate I’ll have you taken back to the stable…”

Jeremy then turns to address the audience…

“Join us after the break for those all-important DNA and lie detector test results……

AND hear what these  friends have got to say…”

Camera picture changes to show three very confused looking Wise Men apparently arguing…

….to be continued

Just TWO Pounds a month…. or we set your Nan alight again


I really DON’T know which of the charities currently pleading for just £2 a month to give to…

Those puppies look awfully cute…and a little bit sad….

The old lady looks like she REALLY could do with a good Christmas….

And the water that poor child is forced to drink does look absolutely filfthy…..

…but to be honest….

I’m more of a cat person….

…..the old dear’s PROBABLY got Alzheimers and will never remember that I let her down….

and…. what sort of a cameraman goes around filming kids drinking slime?

The voiceover says something like:

“…we need to reach him…..”

DURRRR! But you HAVE reached him – you’ve even  filmed the poor little sod.

“…Thanks for the footage kid….laters…”

Fast Forward 3 months:

Director to Cameraman:

“..remember that kid we filmed drinking the water we p*ssed in…?”

“..yes…how is he?”

“…Well good news and bad news I’m afraid…”

“…oh! no!…is he alright…?”

“..Well the kid died – obviously – but the GOOD news is the advert’s up for an Industry Award…

High FIVE!”

Nothing like ‘Connect Four’


You might want to mention this game to the more ‘gifted‘ relatives that may visit you at Christmas….

It’s called:

Link 3 together AND another one”

(NOT to be confused with similar games)

It’s great to see their little faces light up…though I find it useful to keep a cloth handy in case they dribble…

Very easy to play.

All you will need is (see picture below):

Click on picture to enlarge if this will help at all

ONE Birds Eye Waffle (other brands are available)
ONE tin of peas (SMALL)
ONE tin of SweetCorn.

IMPORTANT:

* do NOT use mushy peas
* do NOT substitute hash browns for the waffle

INSTRUCTIONS:

1) OPEN tin of peas
OPEN tin of sweetcorn

2) Remove 12 peas from the tin
Remove 12 sweetcorn kernel from the tin

3) Place waffle on a flat surface WITHIN reach of the players

4) Take turns to insert your coloured pieces (green/peas), (yellow/sweetcorn)
in the playing ‘grid’ (waffle) until one player has a complete line of 3…and another one
(sometimes referred to as: “4”) vertically, horizontally or diagonally

PIECES INSERTED ANYWHERE OUTSIDE THE GRID (nostrils, earholes etc.,) do NOT count.

5) Do NOT get over excited when inserting your piece and shout:
“Check!”
– that is a COMPLETELY different game

PLEASE NOTE:

Players should take turns quickly BEFORE the waffle fully defrosts.
Playing time can be increased by reducing the room temperature
(does not apply to residents of Finland or either Arctic region playing outdoors)

Whilst all three components ARE vegetables it does not count towards your “5-a-day”.

Eating the waffle immediately eliminates the ‘eating’ player.

Playing time can also be increased by :

  • playing whilst blindfolded
  • hiding the waffle in a neighbours house  (permission of neighbour SHOULD be sought, preferably beforehand)
  • wearing oven gloves whilst playing

Blinding your opponent to increase playing time is NOT permitted.

Full rules and details (2010 Playing Regulations – version 7.3) can be found at:

http://www.sogullibleIwilltypeanythingintomybrowser.com

when technology goes bad…..


Every machine I have contact with seems to have turned against me.

My  PC treats me with disdain….

(PLEASE ‘CLICK‘ on the ‘Blue Screen of Death’ -below – to enlarge it – then you’ll see what I’m on about)….

 

 

The bank’s cash machine is openly hostile towards me.

I swear it tried to catch my fingers last time I tried to insert my card…

My sat nav keeps directing me towards Beachy Head…and urging me to:

“…put my foot down…”

I think I might cancel the order for the colonic irrigation machine.