It should've been me, shouted the groom's brother/May 27th 2011.
Richie - It's been 'Obama and Michelle Week' at our local in tribute to the US President's visit to this humble isle! Stars and stripes bunting hung from the rafters and local schoolkids sang patriotic American hymns in the beer garden before the village duck pond was touchingly re-christened "Freedom Lake". We regulars donned fancy American dress and watched the proceedings in the snug! Dr Singh looked swell as John Wayne while octogenarian Arthur Groat wore a over-tight Superman outfit and had to be taken to A & E. Marcia Braithwaite came as Marge Simpson and Mrs Bob did her best sozzled Sue Ellen impersonation, although many people mistook her for fruitcake-in-chief Sarah Palin. There was much merriment when plonker Shameron tried playing table-tennis with Obama and boos rang out when dopey Ken Clarke was filmed fast asleep. But there were tears of joy as Michelle gave her inspirational speech at Oxford. In fact, Rich, was so overcome that the zip broke on my Marilyn Monroe cossie and my falsies bounced onto the floor!
Friday
Wednesday
So, XXXX XXXXX, does your missus know you're here?/May 24th 2011.
Richie - I was snoozing in my comfy chair when Mrs Bob No 3, my dear Thai wife, entered the lounge with a face like gathering thunder. "Wob Boberts!" she squealed. "Have you no remember the day today ?" Well, Rich, it took a while but I did remember: it was the day of Mrs Bob's citizenship ceremony! I dressed double pronto, fired up the Jag, and we made it with a good half hour to spare! And what a glorious gathering of new citizens we met! There was Khalid from Pakistan, Chin Yung from China, Mrs Patel from Lozells, and Omar from Africa amongst the thirty or so decent souls who were about to pledge their honour to Queen and country. Of course the post-ceremony chit-chat revolved around the quite disgraceful outing of Ryan Giggs. None of our new citizens could understand why the national press are so keen to upset preparations for Saturday's CL final and condemned the vicious news eds as traitors who should be hung from their goolies off Tower Bridge! That's the bulldog spirit I say!
Richie - I was snoozing in my comfy chair when Mrs Bob No 3, my dear Thai wife, entered the lounge with a face like gathering thunder. "Wob Boberts!" she squealed. "Have you no remember the day today ?" Well, Rich, it took a while but I did remember: it was the day of Mrs Bob's citizenship ceremony! I dressed double pronto, fired up the Jag, and we made it with a good half hour to spare! And what a glorious gathering of new citizens we met! There was Khalid from Pakistan, Chin Yung from China, Mrs Patel from Lozells, and Omar from Africa amongst the thirty or so decent souls who were about to pledge their honour to Queen and country. Of course the post-ceremony chit-chat revolved around the quite disgraceful outing of Ryan Giggs. None of our new citizens could understand why the national press are so keen to upset preparations for Saturday's CL final and condemned the vicious news eds as traitors who should be hung from their goolies off Tower Bridge! That's the bulldog spirit I say!
Friday
It's not only rape victims betrayed by the system/May 20th 2011.
Richie - Last night saw the premiere of our Operatic Society's spring production! And what a gala evening it was for all concerned! Hello Dolly was the original musical of choice with the storyline transposed to the Gorbals. However, months of luvvie tantrums saw Hello Dolly being ditched and a hastily assembled new show (a comedy in the best G & S tradition called All Aboard The Big Society), rise from the ashes. Well, it proved to be a rip-roaring success, with Mrs Bob taking the lead and a saucy chorus of ladyboys flown in to add lashings of glam. Old Wob even made a cameo appearance, playing a right-wing windbag journo whose twice-weekly blatherings are ridiculed throughout the land! I appeared to great applause out of a wheelie bin and had to chase a busty health and safety official round the stage whilst singing "I might not be Tolstoy but I can parody a sit-com or two!" before my second number, "She Woz Only A Prozzie From Ipswich!" brought the bally house down! Mad I say!
Richie - Last night saw the premiere of our Operatic Society's spring production! And what a gala evening it was for all concerned! Hello Dolly was the original musical of choice with the storyline transposed to the Gorbals. However, months of luvvie tantrums saw Hello Dolly being ditched and a hastily assembled new show (a comedy in the best G & S tradition called All Aboard The Big Society), rise from the ashes. Well, it proved to be a rip-roaring success, with Mrs Bob taking the lead and a saucy chorus of ladyboys flown in to add lashings of glam. Old Wob even made a cameo appearance, playing a right-wing windbag journo whose twice-weekly blatherings are ridiculed throughout the land! I appeared to great applause out of a wheelie bin and had to chase a busty health and safety official round the stage whilst singing "I might not be Tolstoy but I can parody a sit-com or two!" before my second number, "She Woz Only A Prozzie From Ipswich!" brought the bally house down! Mad I say!
Monday
Robber spared deportation: When did 'family' mean some bird I met in the pub?/May 17th 2011.
Richie - Saturday I dusted off my blazer and cravat in the manner of Tim Nice But Dim and headed to London for the spectacularly unsuccessful Rally for Cuts debacle. To be honest, it should have been renamed the Really Freaky People Rally such was the assortment of nutters and loons on show! Our hallowed Auntie Beeb estimated the number to be 350 but 150 was nearer the mark, all bussed in from the outer reaches of political ga-ga land. Fruitcake-in-chief Nige Farage was there, of course, so too a number of Pimms swillers from that 'independent' organisation Taxpayers Alliance which, as we all know, is really a right wing ponzi scheme sponsored by the Tories. There were a few shouts of "Cut Libraries Now" and "Privatise the NHS" as well as one or two mutterings advocating the return of the workhouse. Unfortunately old Wob was found out when I gave a rousing rendition of The Red Flag near the MOD and was carted off pronto on a trumped-up charge of being drunk in a public place! Mad I say!
Richie - Saturday I dusted off my blazer and cravat in the manner of Tim Nice But Dim and headed to London for the spectacularly unsuccessful Rally for Cuts debacle. To be honest, it should have been renamed the Really Freaky People Rally such was the assortment of nutters and loons on show! Our hallowed Auntie Beeb estimated the number to be 350 but 150 was nearer the mark, all bussed in from the outer reaches of political ga-ga land. Fruitcake-in-chief Nige Farage was there, of course, so too a number of Pimms swillers from that 'independent' organisation Taxpayers Alliance which, as we all know, is really a right wing ponzi scheme sponsored by the Tories. There were a few shouts of "Cut Libraries Now" and "Privatise the NHS" as well as one or two mutterings advocating the return of the workhouse. Unfortunately old Wob was found out when I gave a rousing rendition of The Red Flag near the MOD and was carted off pronto on a trumped-up charge of being drunk in a public place! Mad I say!
Tuesday
In Haringey and Hackney humility hardly ever happens/May 10th 2011.
Richie - I squeezed myself into one of Mrs Bob's blue floral dresses, glued on my best wig and zipped up my thigh-skimming leather boots before infiltrating the local post-AV Tory party. And I'm pleased to report that our local Tory coven showed humility and humbleness as they marked Lord ShamCam of Misrata's victory! Lady Mimsy Fullerton-Breakwater set the evening off by showering the revellers with champagne while stockbroker Rupert Smidgin-Jones performed his acclaimed rap-song "Let's privatise the NHS" to great applause. Tarquin Lloyd-Buttersqueaker then provided the piece de resistance by unveiling a buffet that consisted of two suckling pigs, one named Nick and the other Vince. The merriment continued until the early hours with rousing choruses of "Bomb Haringey not Libya", "The LibDems are our favourite fag!" and numerous other German folk songs before old Wob was forced to scarper pronto when the chairman got amorous and one of my falsies exploded on the dancefloor! Mad I say!
Richie - I squeezed myself into one of Mrs Bob's blue floral dresses, glued on my best wig and zipped up my thigh-skimming leather boots before infiltrating the local post-AV Tory party. And I'm pleased to report that our local Tory coven showed humility and humbleness as they marked Lord ShamCam of Misrata's victory! Lady Mimsy Fullerton-Breakwater set the evening off by showering the revellers with champagne while stockbroker Rupert Smidgin-Jones performed his acclaimed rap-song "Let's privatise the NHS" to great applause. Tarquin Lloyd-Buttersqueaker then provided the piece de resistance by unveiling a buffet that consisted of two suckling pigs, one named Nick and the other Vince. The merriment continued until the early hours with rousing choruses of "Bomb Haringey not Libya", "The LibDems are our favourite fag!" and numerous other German folk songs before old Wob was forced to scarper pronto when the chairman got amorous and one of my falsies exploded on the dancefloor! Mad I say!
It's definitely Hitler, sir. He's only got one.../May 6th 2011.
Richie - While leafleting the outer regions of civilisation for Labour I met one of your biggest fans! Miserable Stinky Old Walter, as he's known locally, lives in a ramshackle prefab in the depths of the Worcester countryside. Walt is an advocate of self-sufficiency and can regularly be seen wandering along the A449 in search of roadkill. But contact with the grizzled old mucker is rare as callers are invariably put off by the razor-wire, BNP posters, and Keep Out signs, including one that proclaims all Pinkos should 'Burn in Hell'! Nevertheless, intrepid Wob went where no man has gone before and knocked on Walt's stinking abode, whereupon the unkempt, alcohol-salt-and tobacco-addicted ogre opened the door. 'Can we count on your vote Thursday Walt ?' I asked. And, as he went to fetch his shotgun, and I prepared to flee pronto, I caught a glimpse of a shrine to you, Rich, situated among the tons of rubbish, empty spirit bottles and rotting carcasses Walt keeps in his lounge. Mad I say!
Richie - While leafleting the outer regions of civilisation for Labour I met one of your biggest fans! Miserable Stinky Old Walter, as he's known locally, lives in a ramshackle prefab in the depths of the Worcester countryside. Walt is an advocate of self-sufficiency and can regularly be seen wandering along the A449 in search of roadkill. But contact with the grizzled old mucker is rare as callers are invariably put off by the razor-wire, BNP posters, and Keep Out signs, including one that proclaims all Pinkos should 'Burn in Hell'! Nevertheless, intrepid Wob went where no man has gone before and knocked on Walt's stinking abode, whereupon the unkempt, alcohol-salt-and tobacco-addicted ogre opened the door. 'Can we count on your vote Thursday Walt ?' I asked. And, as he went to fetch his shotgun, and I prepared to flee pronto, I caught a glimpse of a shrine to you, Rich, situated among the tons of rubbish, empty spirit bottles and rotting carcasses Walt keeps in his lounge. Mad I say!
A bullet in the brain was all this coward deserved/May 3rd 2011.
Richie - I nearly choked on my shreddies when I saw you'd devoted such a large chunk of your illustrious column to the insignificant tittle-tattle of Osama wheelie-bin's demise! As any journo worth his salt will tell you, the pressing question on the nation's lips today is: just what was Princess Bea thinking when she allowed her stylist to set that intergalactic deep-space-9 hat on to her pretty royal head! It reminded me of the aerial on my old portable black-and-white tv! It's lucky there were no US Navy Seals present at the Abbey - the poor girl would have been subjected to extraordinary rendition and carted off to Area 51 for alien testing! However, Rich, I must say we enjoyed a tip-top weekend of festivities here in the village snug as we watched the hallowed nuptuals on the big screen. With hindsight, Mrs Bob reckons Bea's hat was a secret US military satellite-tracking system that monitored Osama's final movements, giving vital info to Black Ops! Well done our royals I say!
Richie - I nearly choked on my shreddies when I saw you'd devoted such a large chunk of your illustrious column to the insignificant tittle-tattle of Osama wheelie-bin's demise! As any journo worth his salt will tell you, the pressing question on the nation's lips today is: just what was Princess Bea thinking when she allowed her stylist to set that intergalactic deep-space-9 hat on to her pretty royal head! It reminded me of the aerial on my old portable black-and-white tv! It's lucky there were no US Navy Seals present at the Abbey - the poor girl would have been subjected to extraordinary rendition and carted off to Area 51 for alien testing! However, Rich, I must say we enjoyed a tip-top weekend of festivities here in the village snug as we watched the hallowed nuptuals on the big screen. With hindsight, Mrs Bob reckons Bea's hat was a secret US military satellite-tracking system that monitored Osama's final movements, giving vital info to Black Ops! Well done our royals I say!
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