Wednesday, May 31, 2006


Based on a true story

When I was a young lad I wanted to enter my bike in the decorated bike section of the Christmas parade. The trouble was I couldn’t ride a bike; the solution came in the form of a bike and sidecar. I would sit on the sidecar (skate board attached to the bike with pieces of tinsel) and my friend would ride the bike. The parade went well for the first hundred meters or so, when suddenly the tinsel broke and I was left sitting on my skateboard. Not being able to ride the skateboard I madly scraped my hands along the ground to get traction. As the bikes left into the distance; I was left floundering around with my bloodied stumps trying to push my rather sad mode of transport along the main street. What’s the moral of this story you may ask? Never get in to a vehicle you can’t propel with your feet. A car is ok cf. the Flintstones.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006


With the winter coming on I’m in need of some extra income

Arr me hearties!
Do you find your self exuding mucus from every orifice?
Do you feel like death himself has kicked you in the kidneys?
Would you sell your first born for a rejuvenating elixir?

If you answered yes to all of these questions try Dirty Sams Seal Extract™. Dirty Sam takes the finest baby fur seals and gentley squeezes them to make the finest remedy money can buy.

How do I get some of Dirty Sams Seal Extract™?
Just send you first born and $29.95 to Seal Slaughter Enterprises, 10 Happy Seal Way, Newmarket, Auckland.

Sunday, May 21, 2006


Dear Sir
I am writing to complain about the recent television advertisement where a farmer was portrayed as walking through a suburban backyard. This advert whilst amusing neglects to include a few important points.

The other day Mildrid and I were putting on a Pinky and Perky show for the local school children. When lo and behold a farmer crossed our fence; immediately he set about felling our fernery and allowing his cows to defecate in our swimming pool. He then evicted us from our own home under the premise that we weren’t doing anything with the land anyway. Not being one to raise a fuss we took our pigs and went to the neighbour’s house. After about five minutes he was over there, now demanding to be called lord Chumly-Warner. He offered the neighbours a small sum of money and brought their house. After several weeks of land grabbing has gone by, we decided to go for a swim in our old swimming pool.

When we arrived at our old house the farmer told us that our faces were hideous and that we would scare his stock. Thus we were denied access to our own swimming pool/house for the simple fact we lacked the resources that he had earlier taken from us.

In future I expect your advertisement will show more puppets and self appointed lords of the manner.

Thank you
Concerned Viewer

Friday, May 19, 2006


Too many exams too little time

I read today that a cross between a grizzly bear and a polar bear has been sighted in Canada. This got me thinking that most people represent a cross between a human and one of three animals. There is your common chimp/man, your Dillon the rabbit-man and the unfortunate few who fall into the chupacabra-man category.

Chupa, chupa what is a Chupacabra.
The Chupacabra is a fearsome creature whose name literally means goatsucker. Most Chupacabra have been spotted by peasants that are not to disimilar to Dillon the rabbit-men.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006


An nescis, mi fili, quantilla sapientia mundus regatur?

Click the title for something interesting. To tide you over ‘till next time here’s some weed.

Monday, May 15, 2006


There’s one born every minute, well maybe in your space-time.

When a universe gives birth its child is in a different space/time zone; this is a source of many interuniversal feuds. The family gatherings usually go a little like this. “My, haven’t you expanded dear” say’s aunt universe to baby universe. “I see little Benny isn’t able to support intelligent life yet; how old did you say he was now?” say’s grandpa universe. “He’s already four billion years old” laughs Benny’s older brother. “No I’m not, my time goes four time quicker than yours!” shouts Benny.
Click on picture
So if like me you are little slow or addle brained just claim you are part of a different universe, if they doubt you just ask them when was the last time you remembered a birthday or for that matter what year it is in their universe. Posted on the 40/13/6002 at 20:80.

Friday, May 12, 2006


Day at the races

Next Friday is the annual animal race. Mildrid is riding an ostrich and I am riding a yak. Please use the tag board to take bets on the result.

Thursday, May 11, 2006


Get thee to a menagerie

Dear Sister May
I am writing this letter to humbly apologise for the little incident last week. Once I explain what happened I’m sure you will no longer want to press charges.

It all started when Stumpy Pete, my boss at the animal amusement park, decided to splice the decks, so to speak. During the ensuing party a number of the penguins escaped. I, now slightly intoxicated, mounted one of the larger sea lions and set off on a daring rescue mission. As I came down George Street I noticed what looked like two slightly larger than normal penguins. I spurred my trusty steed on and prepared the lasso. On the first pass I lassoed, what now seemed like the largest talking penguin I had ever seen, and pulled it flapping and squawking all the way back to the park.

So you see sister you can’t blame me for doing my civic duty and rescuing a poor defenceless penguin.

Yours sincerely
Man from the animal park that dragged you down George Street behind a sea lion.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006


The spring of discontent

Sometimes people ask me what happened to Muffin the mule and Zebedee (everybody’s favourite head on a spring).

. After doing some research I’ve found that muffin is now working as a television psychic. See as it tells this poor woman that her beloved pet asparagus has gone to the great green waste bin in the sky.

Zebedee on the other hand is refusing to go to bed. No Zebedee.. Ahh! Ahh! his spring is stuck in my eye…

Tuesday, May 09, 2006


de mortuis nil nisi bonum

Last night my uncle Ethylburt died. Ethylburt was a mean spirited pirate with no sense of taste. In accordance with his wishes I ask you all to join me in this song.

Ethylburt, Ethylburt you’ll be fondly remembered.

Ethylburt, Ethylburt your collection of shrunken heads was displayed every November.

Ethylburt, Ethylburt you wife’s legs were broken by the money lender.

Ethylburt, Ethylburt you liked your turkey tender.

Ethylburt, Ethylburt your body we will now dismember.

Yes uncle Ethylburt your memory lives on and each November I will see your face glaring down at me from my fire place.

Monday, May 08, 2006


A ferret that’s nothing

About twenty years ago I was travelling in India when I stopped to watch a snake charmer. After watching the rather unimpressive show I refused to pay him, this made him rather irate. Before you could say bad idea, he had thrown a cobra at me. Up my left trouser leg it went, not one for exhibitionism I refused to take my trousers off. Instead I grabbed a mongoose and stuffed that down my right leg. A great hissing and growling ensued as the mighty mongoose did battle with the serpent.

The wild flailing of my legs and strange noises emanating from my now rather overfull trousers began to attract a crowd. All the attention aggravated my inner ear problem causing me to lose balance. Soon I was writhing on the ground. My animal pals decided to put aside their age old differences and began biting me. To my amazement the crowd began to cheer. You see my friends there is nothing more entertaining than a mongoose-fighting-a-cobra-up-your-trousers-combined-with-loss-of-equilibrium or as I like to call it break dancing.

Thursday, May 04, 2006


Line in the sand

It has come to my attention that a person, persons or a large cetacean have been systematically destroying my sandcastles. Every Wednesday Mildrid and I go down to the beach and make sand castles. Not any sandcastles mind you, these are accurate representations of 13th century architecture.

Warning flashback approaching!

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Insert wavy dream like lines here.
No sorry here would be better.

When I was a lad; people respected things like bombs and pikes and weapons of mass destruction but these days they’ll kick sand in your face at the merest sight of an accurate reconstruction of a 13th century siege work shop complete with miniature piles of tar and a feculent mule.

And that’s another thing when will people get off their high horses about tar, when I was a lad a plate full of tar was inhaled with impunity and we never died of lung cancer. No we were struck by strange maladies such as turkeys-foot and blunt-scissor-to- the-frontal-lobe.

Insert wavy dream like lines here.

Any way as I was saying to the Tom, Moby Dick or king Canute who has been knocking over my sand castles. Bog off or at least go out with the tide.

Monday, May 01, 2006


Penguin Duty the two most loathed words in the English language.

Penguin duty all started when Mildrid, my head seal, ate the park’s two remaining penguins. We knew they were a big crowd pleaser so we had to act quickly. Pete the stumpy pirate was quick to point out that your average punter doesn’t know what a penguin looks like and for that matter what a chicken looks like before its been dismembered. So, as quick as a split he had me down at the battery hen farm stealing chickens (dressed in a chicken suit so as not to scare the chickens).

That’s where the duty part comes in painting the little buggers, its easy enough sanding them down but painting them is another matter. Today seems no different, already I have paint in my ears and it can only get worse.

Look out Mildrid don’t eat that it has paint on it! Looks like I’ll be painting up a donkey as well tonight.

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