Never mind the ballots: Here's the Sexy Tories/November 29th 2011.
Richie - This morning I was explaining the nation's pension difficulties to my precocious grandson, Bob jnr. Young Bob has dreams of becoming Labour PM before the age of 40 and, according to his tutors, even at 11 years old is already a dead cert for a place at Oxbridge. After an hour's deep thinking he handed me a scrap of paper on which he'd written: "PM Bob Roberts' Patriotic Retirement Plan". It read: "There are about 10 million people over 50 in the UK workforce. Pay them £1 million each severance for early retirement with the following provisos: 1) They must retire. Ten million job openings - unemployment fixed. 2) They must buy a new car. Ten million cars ordered - car industry fixed. 3) They must buy a house/pay off their mortgage - housing crisis fixed. 4) They must send their kids to school/college/university - education fixed. 5) They must buy £100 worth of alcohol/tobacco/petrol a week...govt gets back money in duty/tax." He then skipped off to put his radical pension proposals to the attractive young girl next door. Pure genius I say, eh Rich ?
Monday
Tuesday
This elf 'n' safety madness is par for the course.../November 22nd 2011.
Richie - Here in the Worcestershire village of Cum-to-Piddle locals are preparing for next week's Day of Action against Shameron's vile Coagulation of the Unelected. Old Arthur Groat, octogenarian spoon-player and farmer of these parts, has generously loaned one of his barns for activists to print off flyers and hammer together their "Shameron The Pension Snatcher" banners! Unfortunately though Rich, dark undemocratic forces have been at work. The barn has been targeted by anti-union thugs (probably tattooed, shaven-headed BNP-EDL louts) who've sprayed "Lefty Scum" and "Sack Striking Teechers" graffiti on Arthur's barn doors. But Old Wob came to the rescue. As head honcho of Bob Roberts Security4U I deployed three of my crack Polish security guards to take on the yellow-bellied right-wing critters! They soon legged it over the fields, one even falling into a cow pat such was his eagerness to escape! But it's a sad day when we have to rely on hard-working Poles to uphold our democratic rights, eh Rich? Rich ? Are you there Richie ?
Richie - Here in the Worcestershire village of Cum-to-Piddle locals are preparing for next week's Day of Action against Shameron's vile Coagulation of the Unelected. Old Arthur Groat, octogenarian spoon-player and farmer of these parts, has generously loaned one of his barns for activists to print off flyers and hammer together their "Shameron The Pension Snatcher" banners! Unfortunately though Rich, dark undemocratic forces have been at work. The barn has been targeted by anti-union thugs (probably tattooed, shaven-headed BNP-EDL louts) who've sprayed "Lefty Scum" and "Sack Striking Teechers" graffiti on Arthur's barn doors. But Old Wob came to the rescue. As head honcho of Bob Roberts Security4U I deployed three of my crack Polish security guards to take on the yellow-bellied right-wing critters! They soon legged it over the fields, one even falling into a cow pat such was his eagerness to escape! But it's a sad day when we have to rely on hard-working Poles to uphold our democratic rights, eh Rich? Rich ? Are you there Richie ?
Friday
Springtime for Merkel, starring in no particular order.../November 18th 2011.
Richie - Would you Adam and Eve it! Mrs Bob No 3's amateur operatic group were considering staging Springtime for Hitler as their March 2012 production. However, our happy clappy vicar, Rev Pritchard, who has always harboured a secret longing to tread the boards, has now written a brand new operetta entitled "The Sick Old Maid of Europe". Rather like Dickens' Miss Havisham, old maid Brittania is locked away frothing at the gills while the domineering - but rather sexy - Frau Saurkraut entertains her euro friends to a cultural parle in her boudoir. Things come to a rather unseemly head when old maid Brittania staggers down the stairs and demands to join in the fun! There follows an almighty hissy fit when she's ignored, culminating in Brittania's wig, teeth, falsies and wooden leg falling orf causing her to shrivel up and die. Best of all, Old Wob has bagged for himself the role of Richie, a British bulldog who pines for his dead mistress and sings the final number "I Might Be A Right-Wing Windbag, But I'm Ingurlish Through And Through". The show ends with Richie being put to sleep by Madmoselle Sarky for making a whoopsie on the carpet! Zoot Alors, Herr Rumpy, I say!
Richie - Would you Adam and Eve it! Mrs Bob No 3's amateur operatic group were considering staging Springtime for Hitler as their March 2012 production. However, our happy clappy vicar, Rev Pritchard, who has always harboured a secret longing to tread the boards, has now written a brand new operetta entitled "The Sick Old Maid of Europe". Rather like Dickens' Miss Havisham, old maid Brittania is locked away frothing at the gills while the domineering - but rather sexy - Frau Saurkraut entertains her euro friends to a cultural parle in her boudoir. Things come to a rather unseemly head when old maid Brittania staggers down the stairs and demands to join in the fun! There follows an almighty hissy fit when she's ignored, culminating in Brittania's wig, teeth, falsies and wooden leg falling orf causing her to shrivel up and die. Best of all, Old Wob has bagged for himself the role of Richie, a British bulldog who pines for his dead mistress and sings the final number "I Might Be A Right-Wing Windbag, But I'm Ingurlish Through And Through". The show ends with Richie being put to sleep by Madmoselle Sarky for making a whoopsie on the carpet! Zoot Alors, Herr Rumpy, I say!
Tuesday
Along with hard-working Polish plumbers we have countless criminals from former Iron Curtain countries/November 15th 2011.
Richie - I was snoozing in my comfy chair after my post-Newsnight snifter when I was awoken by my dear Thai wife Mrs Bob No 3. "Wob! Wob!" she said in a terrified whisper. "I just see fanny-looking man in garden! Me sure he a metal-feef!" Well, as you can imagine Old Wob sprung into action. I put on my safety goggles and sneaked into the kitchen where I confirmed the faint outline of a Romanian Labour-supporting benefits cheat trying to prise off the tat from my ornamental sun dial. After locking Mrs Bob in a cupboard for her own safety I then made my way into the loft where I activated my anti-Romanian metal thief defences. Our hydraulic roof opened exposing an array of machine guns and tomahawk missiles which I trained on the unsuspecting lout below. After shouting a warning (in compliance with dastardly EU yuman rights legislation) I let rip with my armoury, vapourising not only the unsuspecting feef but much of the surrounding village. Another victory for the bulldog spirit I say!
Richie - I was snoozing in my comfy chair after my post-Newsnight snifter when I was awoken by my dear Thai wife Mrs Bob No 3. "Wob! Wob!" she said in a terrified whisper. "I just see fanny-looking man in garden! Me sure he a metal-feef!" Well, as you can imagine Old Wob sprung into action. I put on my safety goggles and sneaked into the kitchen where I confirmed the faint outline of a Romanian Labour-supporting benefits cheat trying to prise off the tat from my ornamental sun dial. After locking Mrs Bob in a cupboard for her own safety I then made my way into the loft where I activated my anti-Romanian metal thief defences. Our hydraulic roof opened exposing an array of machine guns and tomahawk missiles which I trained on the unsuspecting lout below. After shouting a warning (in compliance with dastardly EU yuman rights legislation) I let rip with my armoury, vapourising not only the unsuspecting feef but much of the surrounding village. Another victory for the bulldog spirit I say!
Armed police! Drop the bread and step away from the duck pond/November 1st 2011.
Richie - This month is National Novel Writing Month and Old Wob is busy bashing his tablet all hours of the day in order to write 50k words before Nov 30th. Of course, Rich, my efforts will never match your own literary masterpiece, The Essex Joke Book For Dozy Birds, but I've come up with a plot which I think has a fair chance of success! My central character is a gobby duck named Dickie who squeaks and squarks each Tuesday and Friday, much to the annoyance of the locals. Things come to a head when Dickie's downtrodden neighbours feed him cheap white bread, causing his feathers to drop orf and his bill to subside until the once-famous duck is but a shadow of himself. Eventually elf n safety decide to relieve Dickie's suffering and put the rancid quacker to sleep. However, the local populace, sad that such a merry character should come to such a pitiful end, have him stuffed and mounted in the local snug where they drink snifters to his memory twice a week! A sure-fire bestseller I say!
Richie - This month is National Novel Writing Month and Old Wob is busy bashing his tablet all hours of the day in order to write 50k words before Nov 30th. Of course, Rich, my efforts will never match your own literary masterpiece, The Essex Joke Book For Dozy Birds, but I've come up with a plot which I think has a fair chance of success! My central character is a gobby duck named Dickie who squeaks and squarks each Tuesday and Friday, much to the annoyance of the locals. Things come to a head when Dickie's downtrodden neighbours feed him cheap white bread, causing his feathers to drop orf and his bill to subside until the once-famous duck is but a shadow of himself. Eventually elf n safety decide to relieve Dickie's suffering and put the rancid quacker to sleep. However, the local populace, sad that such a merry character should come to such a pitiful end, have him stuffed and mounted in the local snug where they drink snifters to his memory twice a week! A sure-fire bestseller I say!
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