Black magic, online poker - just another slow day at the Town Hall/June 29th 2010.
Richie my old mukka - As a successful small businessman of this parish I must take issue with your constant spit-wippling of the public sector. My company, Bob Roberts Security Services 4 U, would be lost without public sector contracts and has been feeding off the fatted public sector calf for many years, as have many businesses throughout the land. What's more, my private sector clients tend to be unreliable, notoriously bad at settling their bills, and forever trying to get owt for nowt, as our nothern bretheren would say. The public sector is the spine, the solid base of all economic activity in this great land I say! And what with Slasher Osbourne - the man who stole your disability benefit - ready to embark on another frenzied attack it looks as though there will be plenty of disused and empty public buildings - including libraries, hospitals and schools - for my lads to take care of I say! (My company motto: When Bob does well everyone else suffers!) Mad in ConClegg's UK innit!
Tuesday
Friday
If Britain's broke, how can so many people afford a new iPhone?/June 25th 2010.
Richie - Our village, Come-to-Piddle, has been at the centre of a sex scandal! It seems that Marcia Braithwaite, the baker's assistant, has been dilly-dallying in smutty sex sessions and her cellar has been exposed as a wheelie-bin dungeon, no less! Perverts from as far as Barking have been bringing their bins and carrying out sordid acts with their rubbish depositories! Marcia, a demure woman in her late 50s, has been exposed as a wheelie-bin fetishist of the highest order and, after a raid by Health and Safety officers, a number of shackled and hooded bins were rescued from an abject life of sex slavery! Needless to say, our upstanding village is reeling from this news and Rev Pritchard will be conducting a special service on Sunday so we can atone for the heinous bin-abuse that has been taking place on our doorstep. Defending her actions Marcia said she needed to find a new income stream due to the fact that Iain Dunkin Donut was raising the retirement age! Mad in ShamCams uk innit!
Richie - Our village, Come-to-Piddle, has been at the centre of a sex scandal! It seems that Marcia Braithwaite, the baker's assistant, has been dilly-dallying in smutty sex sessions and her cellar has been exposed as a wheelie-bin dungeon, no less! Perverts from as far as Barking have been bringing their bins and carrying out sordid acts with their rubbish depositories! Marcia, a demure woman in her late 50s, has been exposed as a wheelie-bin fetishist of the highest order and, after a raid by Health and Safety officers, a number of shackled and hooded bins were rescued from an abject life of sex slavery! Needless to say, our upstanding village is reeling from this news and Rev Pritchard will be conducting a special service on Sunday so we can atone for the heinous bin-abuse that has been taking place on our doorstep. Defending her actions Marcia said she needed to find a new income stream due to the fact that Iain Dunkin Donut was raising the retirement age! Mad in ShamCams uk innit!
Tuesday
It's Chris Huhne's hypocrisy and lies that matter - not his sex life/June 22nd 2010.
Richie - There was serious concern over the weekend when Arthur Groat, octogenarian spoon-playing virtuoso farmer of these parts, announced in the snug that he was "gay". Arthur, who usually says very little and, when he does, has a habit of mumbling into his pint glass, proudly announced with a smile that he was now "swinging the other way" and was partial to "a bit of rough". Dr Singh was summoned pronto to try and get to the bottom of the matter, although Arthur's thick worcester accent and the docs dulcet Mumbai inflections meant the conversation was difficult to say the least. Thankfully Arthur's sexuality was eventually clarified. It transpired that he was not "gay" but guest of honour at the annual "hay" throwing festival in which competitors "swing" a bale in the opposite direction to their opponent, the winner being the person whose bale lands nearest the rough edge of the field. Needless to say, we red-blooded locals breathed a sigh of relief and ordered pints all round!
Richie - There was serious concern over the weekend when Arthur Groat, octogenarian spoon-playing virtuoso farmer of these parts, announced in the snug that he was "gay". Arthur, who usually says very little and, when he does, has a habit of mumbling into his pint glass, proudly announced with a smile that he was now "swinging the other way" and was partial to "a bit of rough". Dr Singh was summoned pronto to try and get to the bottom of the matter, although Arthur's thick worcester accent and the docs dulcet Mumbai inflections meant the conversation was difficult to say the least. Thankfully Arthur's sexuality was eventually clarified. It transpired that he was not "gay" but guest of honour at the annual "hay" throwing festival in which competitors "swing" a bale in the opposite direction to their opponent, the winner being the person whose bale lands nearest the rough edge of the field. Needless to say, we red-blooded locals breathed a sigh of relief and ordered pints all round!
Friday
Have you seen this man? Gordon Brown does a disappearing act.../June 18th 2010.
Richie - Myself and Mrs Bob No 3 were out stalking the Lesser-Known Spotted Windbag over the weekend, a rather noisome creature that inhabits middle England. This strange animal can usually be found obsessively feeding its petty prejudices in wheelie bins and recycling centres and making derogatory remarks about refuse collectors. Reports of its predatory instincts have included the theft of box sets of 1970s sit coms and regurgitating the same hysterical nonsense for years on end. It retains a rather comical interest in gay culture although it fiercely denies that its sexuality is anything other than red-blooded hetero. Rumour has it that the Spotted Windbag migrates to warmer climes at various intervals throughout the year, especially to Florida, USA. Unfortunately, despite sitting for eight hours with our sarnies and thermos, we didn't once spot this legendary creature. However, professional Windbag-Spotters have since told us that Tuesdays and Fridays are best. Mad here innit!
Richie - Myself and Mrs Bob No 3 were out stalking the Lesser-Known Spotted Windbag over the weekend, a rather noisome creature that inhabits middle England. This strange animal can usually be found obsessively feeding its petty prejudices in wheelie bins and recycling centres and making derogatory remarks about refuse collectors. Reports of its predatory instincts have included the theft of box sets of 1970s sit coms and regurgitating the same hysterical nonsense for years on end. It retains a rather comical interest in gay culture although it fiercely denies that its sexuality is anything other than red-blooded hetero. Rumour has it that the Spotted Windbag migrates to warmer climes at various intervals throughout the year, especially to Florida, USA. Unfortunately, despite sitting for eight hours with our sarnies and thermos, we didn't once spot this legendary creature. However, professional Windbag-Spotters have since told us that Tuesdays and Fridays are best. Mad here innit!
Tuesday
I've heard of living in a box. But living in a wheelie bin is plain daft/June 15th 2010.
Richie - Would you Adam and Eve it! An incident involving a body and a wheelie bin took place in our village only this week! Our local was filled to capacity for Saturday's Ingurland v USA World Cup match and it so happened that among the onlookers in the snug was young Lord Barking-Tulley III and a few of his roustabouts. Their obnoxious behaviour during the match began to cause offence, especially when they began making anti-Obama remarks and singing "God doesn't want a coolie in the White House." Needless to say they were promptly ejected to great cheers. However, on Monday morning our local refuse officers arrived to carry out their weekly waste management duties and, following new guidelines, tapped on the side of each bin. And lucky they did, I say! Because out of one bin emerged young Lord Barking dressed in a basque, fishnets and Jimmy Choos having ended his Saturday night at a racy party! Those new guidelines, Richie, may just have saved a future Tory leader from the crusher!
Richie - Would you Adam and Eve it! An incident involving a body and a wheelie bin took place in our village only this week! Our local was filled to capacity for Saturday's Ingurland v USA World Cup match and it so happened that among the onlookers in the snug was young Lord Barking-Tulley III and a few of his roustabouts. Their obnoxious behaviour during the match began to cause offence, especially when they began making anti-Obama remarks and singing "God doesn't want a coolie in the White House." Needless to say they were promptly ejected to great cheers. However, on Monday morning our local refuse officers arrived to carry out their weekly waste management duties and, following new guidelines, tapped on the side of each bin. And lucky they did, I say! Because out of one bin emerged young Lord Barking dressed in a basque, fishnets and Jimmy Choos having ended his Saturday night at a racy party! Those new guidelines, Richie, may just have saved a future Tory leader from the crusher!
How not to be sick as a parrot or drunk as a skunk/June 8th 2010.
Richie - You'll be glad to hear that plans are well underway in our village pub for the World Cup kick off on Friday. A big screen has been installed and my Thai wife Mrs Bob No 3 has been busy helping out in the kitchen, cooking up battered bamboo worms and poached crickets for pre-match snacks. However, for my good friend the delectable aristo Lady Tabitha Wilmott-Brown the World Cup is a time of melancholy. In 1970, during the England-West Germany match, her father, Lord Wilmott-Brown, a prominent Tory Turnip of these parts, was so disheartened by the kraut victory that he scaled the east turret of their medieval Grade 2 listed mansion and, being three sheets to the wind and heavy with pizza, fell into the moat. He remained in a coma for 10 years before his dear daughter pulled the plug. One can only wonder how much money the NHS would have saved had common sense advice such as that offered by the Food Standards Agency been available! Mad in merrie Cleggie's Ingurland, innit!
Richie - You'll be glad to hear that plans are well underway in our village pub for the World Cup kick off on Friday. A big screen has been installed and my Thai wife Mrs Bob No 3 has been busy helping out in the kitchen, cooking up battered bamboo worms and poached crickets for pre-match snacks. However, for my good friend the delectable aristo Lady Tabitha Wilmott-Brown the World Cup is a time of melancholy. In 1970, during the England-West Germany match, her father, Lord Wilmott-Brown, a prominent Tory Turnip of these parts, was so disheartened by the kraut victory that he scaled the east turret of their medieval Grade 2 listed mansion and, being three sheets to the wind and heavy with pizza, fell into the moat. He remained in a coma for 10 years before his dear daughter pulled the plug. One can only wonder how much money the NHS would have saved had common sense advice such as that offered by the Food Standards Agency been available! Mad in merrie Cleggie's Ingurland, innit!
Friday
This was a tragedy, not time for Plodspeak/June 4th 2010.
Richie - Would you believe it, last night was Littlejohn Appreciation Night in our local! Regulars were encouraged to engage in "Richiespeak" with a pint and a dish of Mrs Bob's Thai green curry going to the winner! Well, what fun we had! Dr Singh peppered his sentences with the tag-line "You couldn't make it up" while Arthur Groat, spoon-playing octogenarian of these parts, sat mumbing "It's elf n safety gorn mad!" into his beer! Marcia Braithwaite sang "Mind How You Go" to the tune of Je Ne Regrette and Rev. Pritchard, our happy-clappy vicar, recited a poem entitled "God Don't Love You Alky-Aida". All of the competitors merrily denounced Liberals as gays and the Police as lazy pen-pushers. But the winner was our landlady Frances - the former male BNP hard-nut now transformed into a female tree-hugging, eco-warrior - who came out with one of your most famous lines, namely: "They were only six prossies from Ipswich and weren't gonna find a cure for cancer, wuz they!" Mad here innit!
Richie - Would you believe it, last night was Littlejohn Appreciation Night in our local! Regulars were encouraged to engage in "Richiespeak" with a pint and a dish of Mrs Bob's Thai green curry going to the winner! Well, what fun we had! Dr Singh peppered his sentences with the tag-line "You couldn't make it up" while Arthur Groat, spoon-playing octogenarian of these parts, sat mumbing "It's elf n safety gorn mad!" into his beer! Marcia Braithwaite sang "Mind How You Go" to the tune of Je Ne Regrette and Rev. Pritchard, our happy-clappy vicar, recited a poem entitled "God Don't Love You Alky-Aida". All of the competitors merrily denounced Liberals as gays and the Police as lazy pen-pushers. But the winner was our landlady Frances - the former male BNP hard-nut now transformed into a female tree-hugging, eco-warrior - who came out with one of your most famous lines, namely: "They were only six prossies from Ipswich and weren't gonna find a cure for cancer, wuz they!" Mad here innit!
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