Thursday, June 09, 2005


Vengeance is mine.

When one is as old as I most clearly am, one starts to ponder the past, to consider how one could have done things differently and maybe, just maybe, made the World a better place for others to live in. One also thinks of all the two-bit, arse-sucking bastards who thought they could get the better of me. Think again piss-end 'cos the latest installment of my astonishing (and inexpensive) memoirs are guaranteed to make you all look like open-ended tit bags that you actually are:

Joanna Lumley
Billiard-ball sucking Lummers was once my sister's nanny until father caught her at the business end of a fire-poker. She was immediately banished from Chez Goodballoon and told never to darken our door again. We let her keep the poker.

'Ratty' Harris
'Ratty' or 'Rolf' as he later insisted on being known was one of my bunk-mates at St. Humphreys' College, Cambridge, and it is with absolutely no nostalgia whatsoever that I remember him constantly prodding me in the side with his favourite tin-whistle. He even made me blow it once.

Percy Thrower
I'm glad I ruined your garden, you shit!

Michael Hestletine
When Tarzan told me of his plans for the miners I laughed and laughed and laughed. He then told me of his plans for my wife Cecille and, I must admit, my sense of humour somewhat failed me. Thankfully their plans to elope fell after Michael had a heart attack just after having rather energetic anal sex with Cecille at our villa in Spain. Who had the last laugh there then, Michael? Eh? Eh?

Groucho Marx
Groucho once told me I was a talentless hack with only my calloused fist for company. In return I can reveal that Groucho's moustache was, in fact, painted on. So were his eyebrows! One all I think, Groucho old chap.

Ernest Hemingway

Denis Norden
Denis has persisted in airing a clip on his, so-called, 'Laughter File' of myself and Eddie Large engaged in a comedy skit based upon the hit film of the time 'Stir Crazy', with me filling the role of Gene Wilder and Eddie blacked up as Richard Pryor. Unfortunately for Eddie I was at the time, on a rather large dosage of antidepressants which caused certain momentary lapses in judgement. This performance was one such occasion and my screaming of the word "eddiecuntholetitsucker" for fifteen minutes haunts me to this day. I wish I could convince Eddie to black up again except this time it'd be "deniscuntholetitsucker" that I'd be shouting.

Monday, June 06, 2005


Blog a job.

I had an interview this morning which, I feel, went quite well. I did, however, learn a few do's and don'ts that I think you might be interested in:

Turn up in a suit and tie. Apparently a track-suit doesn't apply. Nice of them to let me know.

Keep eye contact as it turns out they don't like you staring at tits during the meeting (particularly not if the tits are in this months 'Hustler' magazine).

Ask pertinent, insightful questions at the end of the interview. "How much can you bench?" isn't one of these.

Pull out your own bottle saying "I've got my own" when they offer you a drink.

Excuse yourself from the interview to "drain the snake".

Offer them fifty quid for the TV set in their boardroom.

How are we supposed to remember all of that lot? Ridiculous.

Thursday, June 02, 2005


Penis and testical japes.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I had lost my virginity, but to a great uncle. From that moment to this my voracious sexual appetite has gotten me into one or two scrapes and a number of very, very sticky situations. Here, for the first time, I try to come to terms with one of the more damaging aspects of my character which, alongside a poor attitude to cleanliness and a spiraling heroin addiction, has left everyone chortling for sometime.

Ah yes, young Sophia; an Italian Contessa who's father had ensured her prominent rise through society by attaching a dowry of 20,000,000 lira (£32) to her, Sophia was everything you ever wanted in a woman. In fact, at twenty-seven stones she was at least double of everything you'd ever want in a woman but, nonetheless, I bedded her. She was a passionate, firey, classically latinate woman but her insistance on stopping for cake halfway through love-making was enough for me to call the whole thing off. After seconds.

Pretty Janey was a slight, fragile creature with only her insanity for company. Serving ten years for the sexual assault of an Olympic greek-wrestler, our coitus had to be conducted with the written consent of the warden and under the watchful gaze of at least three guards. Eventually Janey moved on to relations with the three guards under mine own watchful gaze and it was then that I knew we must part.

During my brief tenure as Her Majesty's Ambassador toThe People's Republic of Spiriz Island (Population: 112) just off of the coast of Brazil I met the beautiful Paulette. She had everything that the women of 1940's Britain did not, including a full ration of tits. Our love-making was nothing short of remarkable. In fact, I remember a number of people actually remarking upon it, many of them asking us to take it outside whilst they continued with the christening we were attending at the time.

A loyal, beloved companion who is now in a better place, in that big litter box in the sky.

David Niven.
It was just after he had completed filming for the initial 'Pink Panther' movie that I met David. His sparkling blue eyes and genteel, charming manner turned me to putty in his hands. The following four weeks were some of the best times I have ever had and I can never see his picture without thinking of his lovely wrinkled forehead framed by my kneecaps.

Beautiful memories, I'm sure you'll agree.

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