Dan Prince checks into the Asylum…
Hmmm. This Neurosurgery professor in Oxford developing a sex chip to be implanted into the brain and then controlled by a handheld transmitter. For women with low sex drives who want to finally have an orgasm. Right then Tipu Aziz, I only live up the road, give them my number and I’ll sort them right out.
This arseole who is only 37 in Brighton who has made £500 over three (yes three) years making and selling Christmas decorations and gifts out of toilet rolls. Hey, and guess what? He’s single!
What a shame, Paris Hilton getting burgled and the robber nipping off into the night with jewels worth £1.3m. Listen Paris, buy a fucking safe you daft blond cow.
Old story from last week but got to be mentioned. The clown who got stopped at the Birmingham airport security check after setting off the alarm. Now this guy is sixty years old. He’s not a kid. And his outfit included a policeman’s hat, fake plastic i-d and handcuffs. And he was looking after 100 children on a charity trip. Something not quite right about this tale of woe, something really not right…
Hey, something to cheer you up. Student Pete Czerwinski, 23, who claims he never feels full, ate 46 potato pancakes in eight minutes to win a contest in New York. And guess what? He’s single!
Another nutbag. Some berk in Berlin at the zoo with his kids thought one of the polar bears in it’s enclosure climbed in to give it a cuddle because “I thought it looked lonely”. The keepers sedated the bear and rescued him before it ate him.
Fast food. It’s great isn’t it. Not. A woman the other day found a two inch caterpillar in her chicken burger at Burger King. McDonalds, KFC, Burger King, Pizza Hut – your food, in my humble opinion, tastes like donkey shit. And I should know, I used to do the rides on Blackpool Beach.
Now the Stoke area of North West England has always been a great place for clubbing. The people are thick as two short planks and dress like The Wurzels, but Golden and Shelleys stand out as two of the finest club’s of all time. Which makes you kind of a sad when you are watching the telly and you see the story that police have hired stilt-walkers and fire eaters to patrol the streets to deal with Christmas drunks. Great, so you come out of the club, your car is gone, and you have to try and track down Billy Smart.
One of my closest family members sneezes a lot. Like 30 times in a row sometimes. Researches have just found anecdotal evidence that in some people it can be triggered by sexual fantasy. I’m leaving this story right here.
So the Godfather film’s – probably one of the greatest series of film’s ever made, I made correct? So the news that Marlon Brando tried to get a job as a presenter on the QVC shopping channel when he was down to his last $10,000 is saddening. Not as saddening as the next part of his story. He agreed to appear on the show disguised in a wig and women’s clothes, but at the last minute pulled out. What a strange fucking world we live in.
The story of the baker who refused to inscribe the name of a three year old on his birthday cake in Holland as she thought the name was inappropriate. The little boy’s name? Adolf Hitler. Give me strength.
Then there was the guy complaining of a hangover after a Christmas party who went to hospital for some medication. And the nurses found a bullet in his head. Words again…desert me.
Oh, here’s another one, this lass in Hatfield just outside London, she’s six months pregnant and to get into the festive spirit had a nativity scene painted on her stomach. Then had Christmas Cards printed up with the image of her tummy and sent them to all of her friends. What a lazy fat bitch, get down to Clintons.
Another telly settee moment. I’m waiting for the the footy to come on after the news and one of the final stories of the programme is of a rabbit breeder who has called a newly born rabitt Van Gogh as this particular rabitt was born with no ears. I’d have called him Luggs Bunny the daft sod.
Up comes Bristol Boy Wonder Conroy, a nutter…
Just bought my epileptic mate a strobe light for christmas. he’ll have a fucking fit when he sees it.
If toast always lands butter side down and cats always land on their feet, what happens if you strap buttered toast on the back of a cat and drop it?
Apologies to the parents and children for the confusion at the Nativity Play at St Stephen’s Church in Bath on Sunday, but I will stand my ground – there are similarities between Santa and Satin…well kind of, Santa breaks into peoples houses and descends towards a fire for starters.
Christmas Day for me for me is summed up for me by the M&S advert on the telly with Take That in it…spending the day going round to some rich girls house with your mates, playing the guitar, having a playful snowball fight, putting some tunes on, having a dance, exchanging presents then spiking her drink and take it in turns to cum on her face.
Kings Of Leon – If The Sex Is On Fire buy some lube from boots and stop fucking singing about it you boring bastards.
Melinda Messenger’s Dancing On Ice dreams my be over because her big tits are causing her problems. Now I know fuck all about ice skating, but what I do know is if I had a pair of Sin Bags that big falling over would not be a problem, if she did go arse over tit, the chances are she would probably bounce straight back up onto her blades again with her love pillows actually saving her from serious injury. What she really needs to worry about is being an fucking annoying cunt on the telly.
Every December without fail my Nan knits my Uncle a jumper for Christmas and the silly cow (bless her) always makes the same forgetful mistake…he died in 1973.
If you don’t believe in Santa then think again, living proof is he has just added me as a friend on Facebook under his real name Paul Gadd.
Just when you thought the telly was dull enough, boxer Ricky Hatton plans to have his own chat show when he packs in smashing the shit out of people for a living. He says he wants to be the next Jonathan Ross…what, he wants to dress like a twat and phone up Manuel from Faulty Towers and leave messages on his answer phone telling him which members of his family have recently been fucked by his mate? I would rather watch a potato going round in a microwave than watch a dull flat nosed cunt interview Daniel Craig and Ricky Gervais…but If you are reading this Mr Hatton, I think you’re great and a real hero, a champions champion, a great guy, and inspiration to us all and above all one of the best chat show hosts telly has ever produced.
What goes oh oh oh? Santa walking backwards! Tish boom.
The best way to stop your Christmas tree from drooping is feed it Viagra say Swedish scientists…how the fuck did they find that out? Sex fucking mad those Swedes.
Just sent Heather McCartney the One Foot In The Grave box set for Christmas, hope she likes it.
Three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run… into fucking walls I bet.
Amy Winehouse has fled the UK for a spot of sun-kissed ‘rehab’ in the Caribbean, she says the festive getaway will do her good and the Ganja out there is top notch – also good shit out there is easier to get hold of and a darn sight cheaper in fact than the UK in these times of the global credit crunch.
I got a Jehovah’s Witness Advent calendar at home – and I’ve not opened any of the fucking doors on it.
“Feed the world, let them know its Christmas time” not easy with just a turkey, a few potatoes some veg and a packet of Oxo cubes, so fuck off world and get your own dinner.
By the way.. does anybody wanna buy a dead cat with a slice of buttered toast on it’s back?
