By Religious Affairs Correspondent, Labia Corkscrew.

Local children discovered the ghostly image.

Thousands of people have been flocking to the small Kilkenny village of Knocktopher to pay respect to what some believe is a divinely inspired image of Eurosceptic arms dealer Declan Ganley.

The image was uncovered by local children whilst drunkenly cutting down trees with stolen penknives. At first, the striking resemblance to Mr. Ganley went unnoticed, as the children in question were unaware of Mr Ganley’s face and his all consuming personality.

However, late Sunday, several members of Mr Ganley’s inner circle were coincidently strolling past the innocuous tree stump when ‘a blinding gush of hot wind‘ penetrated the night air – leaving in its wake the dulcet features of the entrepreneurial war profiteer.

Ganley's face is seen to smile when touched by females.

Since then, wild eyed anti-Lisbon Treaty canvassers have been conducting nightly vigils in the surrounding constituency – with candlelit parades, badger baiting and traditional clown dancing accompanying the proceedings.

“Knocktopher is a blessed place,” said local tourist board official, Libertas member and parish Priest, Father Paddy Browne. “The Catholic Church and Libertas in no way promotes the belief in scaremongering and superstition, but I firmly believe that this is a genuine miracle, probably sanctioned by God himself.”

At play in the fields of our Lord?

Asked why God should want Mr Ganley’s face to appear on a tree stump in the lead up to a tightly contested referendum, Father Browne ventured that “scripture speaks of God’s violent opposition to European integration, indeed, we all probably remember the famous passage in Exodus when he asks Moses to lead the chosen people into the desert so that they may say NO unto Lisbon.”

Mr Ganley retired from public life in June following his failure to get elected to the European Parliament. His movements since have been cloaked in secrecy, with some commentators suggesting that Mr Ganley had never actually existed and that his sudden appearance in public life was merely the mass hallucination of ‘evil made manifest in human form’.

However, Mr Ganley has recently stunned critics by his transubstantiation back to the political stage with a strength, swagger and intellectual certitude usually reserved for firebrand, right wing zealots.

Mr Ganley refuses to directly address the mysterious proceedings in Knocktopher and has instead released the following, oddly phrased communique:

“God has spoken. The time of purification is at hand – and I’ve got the guns.”

Men of destiny who both enjoyed staring out of windows. Absolutely no other similarities are suggested whatsoever.

]]> http://dailyblogicle.com/?feed=rss2&p=1405 0 http://dailyblogicle.com/?p=1390 http://dailyblogicle.com/?p=1390#comments Wed, 23 Sep 2009 04:26:39 +0000 The Editor http://dailyblogicle.com/?p=1390

By Special Comedy Correspondent, Bob Palindrome.

Tiernan, 40, comedian.

Tommy Tiernan force fed the envelope of taste down the postbox of controversy yesterday when he launched a verbal missile at “a sinister cabal of Down Syndrome-suffering Traveller Jews”.

Tiernan prefaced his words by giving a wink and cheeky smile – and adding the context that his words ‘come from the lunacy of my comedy mind – and should not be taken seriously.’

He then added:

Tiernan, shown here giving his familiar 'double-handed Nazi salute.'

“But seriously, I hate those fucking sneaky Mongoloid Pikey Kikes. With their silly voices, tax dodging and crucifying of our Lord Jesus Christ. I hate them for not being as articulate as me; I hate them for offering carpets at discount prices – and most of all I hate them for controlling the world economy through their secret devotion to the baby eating Satanic sect we call Judaism. Now please don’t quote these words out of context – because the lunacy of my comedic mind is thinking that stuff – and not my rational mind. Actually the normal intellectual part of my mind really adores and respects those brain-dead, money grabbing, sub-human vermin. And that last bit was a joke too. Don’t you see what I’m doing? Do I have to shout these words louder? Coz, believe me, I can shout really loud – I’m in the Guinness Book Of Records in fact – for shouting – shouting for 36 hours. WHAT YOU FUCKING THINK OF THAT???”

Tiernan was shouting these words during the annual ‘Tommy Tiernan Electric Picnic Shoutathon’ held each year in the sublime mud pits of County Laois.

Tiernan’s comments went down well with the largely non-Jewish, non-Disabled, non-Traveller, morally bankrupt middle-class audience.

Some say Tommy Tiernan is an intellectual behemoth who cleverly pushes the boundaries of comedy by holding a satirical mirror to the contradictory face of our hypocritical society.

Some also say Tommy Tiernan is, in fact, a loathsome cunt who picks on easy target minorities for the sake of stimulating the vile inner prejudices of his baying Vicar Street mob. It’s also possible that he rapes black children dressed in Ku Klux Klan sheets and wanks off his dog whilst listening to recordings of Hitler speeches.

Only joking Tommy!!! That last sentence came from the lunacy of this reporters’ comedy mind and will therefore prevent any possible offence. LOL?

]]> http://dailyblogicle.com/?feed=rss2&p=1390 1 http://dailyblogicle.com/?p=1371 http://dailyblogicle.com/?p=1371#comments Wed, 16 Sep 2009 16:02:02 +0000 The Editor http://dailyblogicle.com/?p=1371

By Chief Political Correspondent, Dandeloin Trunch

"Kanye West, singing his mad heart out for our nation."

The pillars of Irish democracy rattled like a kettle-full of spoons this afternoon as American rapper Kanye West stormed  government buildings to put a stop to the ongoing NAMA deliberations.

West had earlier arrived in Dublin Bay aboard his gold plated hovercraft and was seen swilling cognac as he made his way up Nassau Street with a  hundred strong entourage of bodyguards and personalised armoured cars.

“No to motherfucking Nama!” rapped the multi-platinum selling artist as he made his way towards the stage set up by longtime  collaborator, Labour leader, Eamon Gilmore.

"Kanye, Gilmore and Burton."

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” announced Gilmore as West leaped towards the microphone, “I give you Kanye West – a true socialist and friend of Ireland.”

West, visibly emotional, playfully head-butted Gilmore to the tarmac below and pulled the microphone to his mouth. To the musical strains of his classic song ‘Gold Digga’ West preceded to hurl verbal abuse towards the handful of Fianna Fail supporters in the crowd.

“50 years, 50 years,
NAMA got one of yo’ kids, got you for 50 years
I know somebody payin’ child support for one of his kids
His baby NAMA’s car crib is bigger than his
You will see him on TV, any given Sunday
Havin’ pints at Croker and driven off in a Hyundai
NAMA was supposed to buy ya shorty mortgage with ya money
But NAMA went to the doctor n’ got lipo with ya money
NAMA walkin’ around lookin’ bling with ya money
Shoulda’ got insured, but fucks you like a pro for ya moneeey
If you ain’t no punk holla’ we want pre-nup
WE WANT PRE-NUP!, yeah
It’s something that you need to have
‘Cause when NAMA leave yo’ ass she gonna leave with half,
50 years, 50 years
And on her 50th birthday, we found out it wasn’t ours?

Now I’m sayin’ Cowen’s a dumb bogger (When I’m in need)

Coz he messin’ wit those broke bankerz     (they steal me money)
Now I’m sayin’ he’s a dumb bogger     (When I’m in need)
Coz he messin’ wit those broke bankerz     (I gotta leave)
Get down BOI, go ‘head get down     (I gotta loan)
Get down AIB, go ‘head get down (I gotta loan)
Get down Anglo-Irish, go ‘head get down (I gotta big fuckin’ loan)
Get down Cowen, go get yo’ big fat ‘head down.”

Brian Cowen has since released a statement saying he “did not hear the song in question, but in any case, I much prefer the music of Snoop Dog.”

Clinton explodes into action!!!

Bill Clinton is on a roll. Fresh from storming the ramparts of North Korea to extricate U.S journalists Euna Lee and Laura Ling – Clinton has further confounded observers by busting through the walls of a maximum security LA jailhouse to free lady-killing wig fetishist and legendary record producer, Phil Spector!

Washington insiders spoke in hushed circles yesterday as typed words emerged of Clintons’ audacious escapade.

Former White House press spokes-female, Dee Dee Myers, rang exclusively to the Blogicle phone as news broke :

“I’m amazed, but not surprised,” breathed Myers, “Frankly, I’m a little shocked, but not actually frightened. Confused by Bill’s actions? Sure. Understanding? Absolutely.”

According to the LA Police report, Clinton rammed his armour plated, government funded Mercedes truck through the electrified walls of San Diego’s Michael Jackson Memorial Prison sometime in the early hours of August 9^th. Clinton’s vehicle rampaged through the courtyard as his secret service contingent traded heavy gunfire with dozens of terrified prison guards.

“It was like something from the A-Team,” said  MJMP warden, Anthony Murnane, “Clinton drove like a maniac – just like BA Baracas used do – smashing off walls and other cars – flipping over a few times – exploding a little. Only trouble is he killed maybe two or three of my staff. And that wasn’t so cool. BA Baracas never killed no-one.”

Clinton and Spector celebrate.

Police suspect that Phil Spector had prior knowledge of Clinton’s intentions – as he was reported to have recently told a cell mate that: “A saxophone playing former United States President will attempt to free me from jail.”

Prison officers were aware of these comments but dismissed them as the insane ramblings of the guy who clandestinely overdubbed strings to the Beatles’ classic tune ‘The Long and Winding Road’ – thus agitating the ongoing creative rift between the song writing partnership of John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

“Everyone knows Spector’s obsessive overdubbing on the ‘Let It Be’ album caused the Beatles break-up,” said Warden Murnane, “I read that weeks ago on Wikipedia – so anything that lunatic said in the privacy of his cell didn’t amount to a stink pile of diddly squat. The guy was a loon. Plain and simple. Although, in fairness, he did do a marvellous job on my debut single ‘Prison Warden Blues.’ His decision to overdub six thousand wolf howls over the final guitar riff surely propelled the track into the arena of instant classic.”

Clinton is believed to have driven Spector to LAX – where an awaiting private jet flew him to a secret location in Manchester, England. Rumours suggest British musical group Oasis have already signed Spector to produce their new album, ‘Lazy Tunes For A Tone Deaf Nation.’

Clinton was unapologetic about his freeing of a convicted killer, vowing instead to “free every prisoner in the world…or…eh…something like that……………Christ, I’m bored”.

Box office tills spun off their coiled rafters this past weekend as Michael Bay’s latest motion picture greedily swallowed vast swathes of the American gross domestic product. JESUS CHRIST: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN – has smashed all box office records with a provisional Friday to Sunday accumulated income of approximately $83 billion!

“I’m FUCKING PSYCHED!” announced Bay from the frontlines of Afghanistan where he’s currently battling the Taliban whilst on vacation.

“When I saw those FUCKING AWESOME numbers coming in from the States I FUCKING SHOT MY LOAD and emptied literally THOUSANDS of SHELLS into the FUCKING TOWEL-HEADS! YEHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

In fact, so many people were sitting in American cinemas this weekend that the Earth’s axis was seen to skew sideways by ‘a good inch or two.’

JC: ROTF (as it’s known in internet circles) picks up the Christ story three days after the Saviour is nailed to the cross (for a crime he did not commit). In Bay’s ‘re-imagining’ of the Christian belief system – Christ (played by Christian, Christian Bale) is woken from death by the gypsy spells of Mary Magdalene (played by nympho atheist Megan Fox) and promptly embarks on a high-octane series of epic yet progressively dull, CGI-heavy action scenarios – with a Bazooka wielding Jesus randomly targeting vast swathes of Roman Judea, Egypt and south central L.A.

Bay co-wrote the screenplay with long time collaborators Rob Smith (an 11 year old kid with severe Attention Deficit Syndrome) and the entire editorial staff of FHM magazine.

Michael Bay (centre-left) celebrating Mass with some friends.

“Kids are FUCKING PSYCHED about religion!” screamed Bay as he slit the throat of a Taliban insurgent whilst not actually showing any blood and with a gorgeous lens flare effect highlighting the insane directors flowing chest hair. “And they especially like religions that can FUCK THEIR EYEBALLS WITH HUGE FUCKING EXPLOSIONS AND A MEAN MOTHERFUCKING CHRIST KICKING ASS ALL OVER THE MIDDLE EAST!!!! YEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA”.

The huge profits earned by JC: ROTF have already led to the green-lighting of sixteen Jesus sequels as well as six prequels based on the Old Testament. Bay has been signed on to direct all these films simultaneously whilst also leading the US assault against the insurgents in Pakistan’s Swat valley.

“You ain’t seen ASS KICKING until you’ve been PWN’D BY MOTHERFUCKING MICHAEL BAY,” said President Obama at the Pentagon.

NBC have also announced that they’ve commissioned a 22 episode reality show which will follow Michael Bay as he head-butts random people in the streets whilst shouting ‘Boom-Bang-Bay!’

‘Boom-Bang-Bay’ will air this fall.

Hey people! WAKE UP! Lets get REAL! Lets get really real. Not liberal left, neo-Marxist real – I’m talking about REALLY real. Yes thats right, I’m talking about REAL spelt in uppercase letters – so you KNOW I mean BUSINESS! And by BUSINESS I mean REAL – and the getting of it.

And what is it I want us all to get REAL about? The planet Earth, that’s it. The neo-fascist, ultra left wing so-called ‘Media’ – as controlled by Philip Schofield and his gang of sycophantic Maoist’s – has for too long spoken out in defence of this planet and its perceived ‘endangerment’ (if that really is a word, Phil!).

Frankly we here at the Blogicle are sick to our gunnels of silver haired, lily livered malcontents like Schofield, Attenborough, Titchmarsh and Prince talking up our ‘delicate blue pearl’ and trying to make out that its something worth giving a gnats eyelash about.  After all, what exactly is the big deal about our so-called ‘only home in the universe.’? Sure, its big, its blue and its wet – but so is my recently deceased Uncle – but you don’t hear me banging on about saving him?  Those Kensington High Street neo-Buddhist-bead-wearing dullards are out of touch with the REAL views of the REAL people.

The Blogicle juts two angry fingers in each and every mouth that says ’save the planet’. The Blogicle has a proud two month history of saying it LIKE IT IS and keeping things REAL. Therefore, in closing, the Blogicle says ‘piss off Earth, you were never invited to the party in the first place.’

And if that means we’re racist or prone to violence – then fine – we will wear that toxic badge with pride. And to hell with Lady Ga Ga too – she’s wasn’t asked to the party either. And if that means we’re women-haters then fine, we’ll wear that toxic badge with pride over our other badge. We here at the Blogicle have tremendously large sweatshirts – and we can WEAR AS MANY BADGES AS YOU CAN THROW AT US.

In other words: BRING IT ON…..FOR REAL!

EDITOR

Earth from space. The REAL deal?

LE CORNER DU POET DE PETIT

Hello I’m Dalton Felch, editor-for-life of The Daily Weekly Blogicle and all round good egg.

We here at the Blogicle believe that poetry has been largely hijacked by the pseudo-intellectual-left-right-centre-liberal-Stalinist-leaning right. As such, its almost impossible now for the little, hard-working man or woman to get his or her poetry published in the Ant Mcpartland controlled neo-con media.

Well, we here at the Blogicle say ‘no more of your tyranny, Ant’ and we jut two defiant middle fingers at his Everestian forehead. No more we say! No more!

As such, we here at the Blogicle will give a weekly brain-space to all those who would like to see their poetry in print (or on a pulsating LCD screen). Time after time, history has taught us that poetry has the power to prevent wars, heal the sick and dilate the eyes for up to one hour.

We here at the Blogicle say:

POUR OUT YOUR THOUGHT JUICE AND GIVE US YOUR POEMS!

Pour them to: dailyblogicle@gmail.com

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 First off in this weeks poetry corner is the sublime ‘Cartwheel Rape’ by thirty year old Anthony Browne of Waterford, Eire.

Browne has been a professional poet since smoking a fat doobie on his twelfth birthday. He enjoys racketball, degenerate gambling and the later works of Scooter.

To be read in silent repose, with comments always welcome…

Cartwheel Rape

Slut in corner, turned back,

My balls, victim of ransack.

I indulge in a moment of pancreas attack,

Live @ 3 cancelled due to jockey death.

Where did I leave the evidence?

Over by washing vacuum machines.

Sold my solid green underpant for 50 cents,

Small wasps penis is my dreams.

Turbo spin,

Helmet chunk,

Ironised chairs,

Windmills.

Spent time in turmoil,

Obama’s bald bell,

My pant I’ll soil,

My end will swell,

13 donkeys running with burning anuses,

Breaking children’s legs with hardcore Seamuses.

Coal, left on my locker,

Sticking knitting needle in my ribs,

Weasels face itching my chin,

Eating shit with dog’s gay bibs.

Back to the bitch, back to the slut,

Slan leath agus go raibh maith agut.

Turbo spin,

Helmet chunk,

Ironised chairs,

Windmills.

~Anthony Browne

Jeff's Electric Light Horoscopes

Hi I’m Jeff Lynne and I’m from Bir’min’em. I also used be in the right groovy band what were called Electric Light Orchestra – aka ELO – if your feeling lazy.

I knocked out dozens of classic tunes over the decades but you young’ins will probably be most familiar with me cheeky little ditty what was called Mr Blue Sky. Was right chuffed with that one – have a gander there below…

Anyway when I’m not writing or producing hit tunes, I like to sit in me back garden here in Bir’min’em and stare up at the lovely stars. Suppose over the years I kind ‘ave become a tad handy with the astrology and that kinda lark.

So here be me horoscopes for the week ahead. Peace and love!

CAPRICORN:

Ever wondered what it would be like to fall head-first under the double-decker 25A bus to Lucan, Co. Dublin? Well wonder no more ( @ 4.23pm this coming Saturday – btw)!

AQUARIUS:

Unusual cloud formations in your ascending Pluto will no doubt give mouth ulcers before that ‘big date’ with Henry from accounts. Be Careful.

PISCES:

A strong north wind will blow across Jupiter this Friday lunchtime – causing panic across world stock markets but having little or no effect on your property portfolio. The lunatic hiding in your basement will, however, cause untold damage to your inner bowels.

ARIES:

On Saturday you will attend an artist friends’ debut exhibition in a loft space in south-east London. You will tell him you like his paintings very much and will then get very drunk. During the time when you are drunk you will vomit on his 124 square metre master-work ‘MASTERWORK FOR FOOLS VERSION ONE’. Luckily no-one will notice and the evening passes without further incident.

TAURUS:

On Wednesday afternoon you will be largely devoured  by sharks.

GEMINI:

Your love affair with President Obama will continue to interfere with household chores. As Mercury is brighter in the south sky; it may be prudent to allow President Obama back into your pantry to grab those ‘dirty undies’ he concealed when your husband came home early last week.

CANCER:

Your lucky number today is 12131284798479834798708284798174827498274.

LEO:

A vast slice of your weekend will be dominated by the smell of burnt toast. You will have trouble finding the source of the burnt toast but will eventually deduce that it came from the ‘toaster’. Your embarressed laughter, however, will be cut short by a freak rickshaw accident in the living room. Dozens will die.

VIRGO:

To hide his shame about his past, Max works obsessively as a hotel night porter where his aim is to please his guests, especially the Countess—a confidante who requires his services to get her young men as sexual partners. Many of the other guests are war criminals, who hold secret meetings in the hotel to uncover any evidence connecting them with their war crimes. Max prepares with these former Nazis a strategy for his upcoming War Trial at the hands of the Allies, as they conduct mock trials to learn about records in the archives they should destroy and witnesses to be tampered with or eliminated. Into this hotel culture, which reeks of nostalgia for the Führer, comes the only live witness who can testify against him—the young Viennese camp inmate who is now married to an American opera conductor. She is someone he sexually abused in the camp and Max can’t stop obsessing over their past torturous relationship. They are drawn uncontrollably to each other despite the dark past both of them share and the apparent danger from Max’s unchanged fanatical and bloodthirsty Nazi comrades, Klaus and Hans.

Eh…actually that was the synopsis for 1974 film ‘The Night Porter.’ Sorry about that, mate.

LIBRA:

Your current love affair will end at the beginning of next week. Standard and Poors will  then downgrade your ’sexy rating’ from a STRONG TRIPLE A to a PATHETIC TRIPLE Z. It will take years to recapitalise your mojo.

SCORPIO:

As a world renowned film critic; you are especially pleased with yourself when you publish a damning seven word review of ‘He’s Just Not That Into You.’ Your review will simply read:

‘I was just not that into it.’

SAGITTARIUS:

Your decision to wear an Arab keffiyeh headscarf around your neck so as to appear ‘politically aware and kinda cute’ ends in tragedy when an Israeli F-15 fighter plane drops a 1000 pound cluster bomb on your face.

******************************

And that’s all me astrological musings for now. So until next time - try not to have any CONFUSION in your life - like what I am singing below.

Right chuffed with this tune I was…

WELCOME TO MY LIFE YOU FOOLS.

So this is a blog, eh? And not just anyone’s blog – but MY blog – bloody hell I simply cannot think of a more vile charade – and I include Graham Norton’s entire career in my terms of reference.

Blog! Even the rubbish Open Office software I’m using to type this insists on branding the word ‘blog’ with a big red squiggly error alert.

BLOG! Four little letters that strike more fear into me than other well known word-shockers like ‘Nazi’ and ‘cunt’ and anyone who does ‘blog’ must surely have the previous two of those words attached to his name each and every time it’s seen in print.

The word ‘blog’ makes me want to cough up bits of pancreas and tongue-feed it into my hard-drive like a mothering crow. What the luminous fuck does ‘Blog’ mean anyway?

A: Well, actually Steve, the word ‘blog’ is actually a contraction of the term “Web log” and…..OH SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU THUNDER-TWAT!

The proper dictionary term for ‘Blog’ should be: ‘a festering, Guinness-coloured canoe-sized shit’ – and nobody will ever persuade me otherwise.

But then again, I’ve got nothing much else to do, so keep reading if you want. However lets be clear, apes; I despise each and every atom of any so-called human who’d disgrace his mercifully short existence by wasting even one micro-second of it by reading someone else’s BLOG. If your eyes are still gliding across these pixellated word-shapes than I heartily vomit on your soul and regard your eventual death with even less levity than when my shoe laces became undone during my morning wank.

KEMP

I fucking love Ross Kemp. And I love it when he’s putting his bald head on the line for the entertainment of mostly Sky One viewers – who are, on the whole, a lice-strewn gang of barely human sex-pests with the kind of hands that are permanently encased in a fine silky film of their own cock-snot.

KEMP has been inside gangs, inside Afghanistan, inside Pirates, inside Afghanistan (again!!!) and he’s even been in a fucking fruit and fibre ad. It’s clear he’s doing all this to try and escape the legacy of being a fake tough guy in EastEnders – but fuck me he really shouldn’t care so much about what the brain-dead masses think. How much longer must he suffer this insane penance? What’s next for this brave, yet exceptionally stupid ex-thespian? Are we gonna see ‘KEMP DOES THE STATIONS OF THE CROSS’? Perhaps this show would first run on Sky Two – to test the blood lust of the audience – with Kemp having his skin flayed off by ex-Heart Beat actors in centurion outfits before being hammered to a mahogany cross by show presenters, Justin Lee Collins and Davina McCall. Maybe we could really ramp up the sacrificial ethos of the show by allowing Kemp to finish himself off with the spear to the abdomen bit what us Catholic kids so enjoyed. I know the grisly details of the stations by rote. Mostly because I was taught them by rote. What better way to foster the eager minds of the young then for their elders to allow their soft, porous brains to be swamped with vivid, photo-realistic images of Roman era torture? Fucking brilliant!
TOILET

I had a wonderful shit this morning. It was rich, colourful, textured and it curled out with the elegance of Fred Astaire’s prancing ghost.

What? Too much information? Well, sorry but…

THIS
IS
HOW
I
ROLL.

DEAL
WITH
IT!

AND
HAVING
THE
WORDS
APPEAR
VERTICALLY
MAKES
IT
EVEN
MORE
FUCKING
AMAZING.

BECKHAM

I have a recurring dream that male model David Beckham (hobbies include football and touching his anus with a stick) is actually the one sitting in the back seat of the Limo beside Jackie Kennedy that fateful day in Dallas. In fact, now that I think more, the dream also seems to suggest that Beckham’s wife is also in the back seat – not in place of Jackie – but rather just sitting in the middle, kind of like a spare prick that wants its presence acknowledged but is actually more relevant than a fart in deep space.

Strangely, the dream always ends before the much anticipated head-shot and I wake to find my finger frantically pulling an invisible trigger.

I’ve consulted the mystic that I keep tied up in my basement; and he informs me that the Beckham/JFK dream is a common theme among the sleep-fantasies of the clinically depressed; and probably suggests that I also suffer from a pathological sense of career envy and sexual jealousy.

Clever lot those mystics – I quite ENVY their gifts in fact – and with my PATHOLOGICAL JEALOUSY I’ve just embedded a Super-Ser gas heater into his eye socket. He cried for several hours before I drowned him with jars of Marmite (cost me a bloody fortune!).

Until next time….

PISS OFF!

'North Korea - gone in sixty seconds.'

By World Affairs Man, Chuck Venison.

North Korea stunned the world today by launching itself and all 23 million inhabitants into space. The launch was flawless and the entire nation is now said to be hurtling towards the sun at approximately 25 thousand miles per hour.

Speculation had increased in recent weeks concerning a possible North Korean long range ballistic missile test – with neighbouring countries and the US administration warning of ‘far-reaching negative consequences’ if the launch went ahead.

Tensions rose dramatically late Thursday when Japanese spy satellites spotted intense activity around the borders and coasts of the Stalinist, hermit state. Noted activity included ‘everyone in the country donning kitsch, retro-cool space suits and helmets – as well as herding all cattle and pigs into what looked like gigantic fridge freezers’.

At first it was thought the strange goings on were just the pre-amble to yet another elaborate show of strength, but the confusion deepened late yesterday when eccentric North Korean leader Kim Jong-iL appeared live on state television and delivered the following, brief statement:

"To infinity - and beyond," joked Kim as he condemned his nation to a fiery death.

“Hello everybody! Its me! The Dear Leader! Ready for space? I am! Lets all go to space! Uncle Stalin is waiting for us at the centre of the sun. That’s where all great Stalinists go when they die – the sun! Didn’t you know that? The sun is a lovely and peaceful place – where the rivers run with gold and the children are full of nourishment and happy smiley faces – just like here in this country – only much much more and with a lot less khaki safari suits. Don’t forget to put your head between your knees before we blast off – bye for now!”

The US defence secretary Robert Gates has already ordered an inquiry into how Pentagon intelligence agencies overlooked the fact that North Korea had spent the past 60 years turning itself into a vast space shuttle. Gates was said to be incandescent with rage as he watched North Korea leave Earth orbit and dip its wings in a salutary yet somewhat gloating gesture.

A Robbie Williams comeback: A bigger threat than Iran?

“Heads will roll for this,” said Gates in private to me. “What else have the CIA and NSA missed? China planning to send its entire population to stay with friends in Rhode Island – thereby tilting the nation towards the Arctic? Iran collectively belly flopping into the Indian Ocean so as to send a tidal wave our way? Britain sending Robbie Williams over here to try and break America again? Who the fuck knows?”

Anti-American, frog-eating countries like France and Canada have applauded the ‘guile and bravery’ of the North Korean people and have promised an annual ‘day of mourning’ to commemorate the inevitable melting deaths of North Korea’s entire population when it smashes into the sun sometime on the morning of April 26^th 2019.

French President Nicolas Sarkozy is said to have wept like a ‘pathetic dwarf’ when he watched North Korea zoom up the Champs Elysée on its way towards the outer stratosphere.

“My eyes leak like baby,” he told UK based magazine Zoo. “My wife – model turned actress Carla Bruni – she take away my onion necklace but still the tears did fall upon my little cute chin. I salute you North Korea! J’espère l’incendie horrible et pénible de peau vous rappelle juste combien vous détestez ceux l’écume américaine gâtée crasseuse!”

Heart-wrenching words from this most important, yet physically preposterous statesman.