Saturday, 20 September 2008
Mark: What? The Chris Evans thing?
Dave: The Evans thing, obviously. But there’s that whole other thing about being scared to admit to people that you fancied her a little bit. You know? Not much, just a little bit, even though everyone you know fancied her a little bit. But no one at the time could ever admit it. Because if you ever did that during the mid to late nineties you’d basically be admitting that you shared similar tastes to Chris Evans
Mark: Yeah, I remember when that was on the front of Heat. They never followed that one up much. What happened to Sharleen?
Dave: She got fat, didn’t she? Trouble is, by that point she couldn’t even get on the front cover of Heat if she got shin and forehead cellulite and turned up to a celebrity kids’ preview of the next pile of Pixar bullshit with thick Devonshire custard running down her inner thigh into the mouth of some disillusioned kid wearing skinny jeans and twatty pointy shoes that thinks pretending to be a junkie that needs to suck custard from Sharleen Spiteri’s leg to maintain his addiction to being in Heat will give his band (that are “heavily influenced by The Libertines” But “Not in that Way”) some kind of kudos with the kind of cunt that reads Heat and that the exposure from his fake-junkie custard sucking will skyrocket his band’s video onto TMF and maybe even 4Music.
What do you think happened next chief?
Mark: I don’t know. I don’t care.
Dave: Oh come on. It’s obvious.. She saw the way the wind was blowing with the whole Any Winehouse/Duffy shit copying of sixties women singers while having a beehive hairdo, so she started copying sixties women singers and she sported a beehive hairdo. She was copying them sixties women singers like a bastard, and as an added bonus, she was shit. But as you can imagine, it got her on Jools Holland. There’s a point to this, by the way chief.
Mark: I was just about to ask if this was another anec-dave. Seeing as it probably is; when is this going to end?
Dave: No it’s quite good this chief, worth sticking around for.
Mark: I’m sure, but can you finish early or something? Like some premature cock-gasm, but out of your mouth?
Dave: Shut up.
Still I saw her on Jools Holland. All fat, very shit and sporting a beehive hairdo and I thought, I still would, you know? Wallop! Spunk up right on her back! So I suppose my question is, if there has to be a question, is do you think it’s still taboo to fancy Sharleen Spiteri,? Bearing in mind that on the plus side she’s no longer shagging Evans, but on the negative side she somehow managed to become even shitter musically since her days with Texas and she's gotten fat.
Mark: Is this turning into one of those times where it’s not a competition, but, it is really?
Dave: “Not a competition, but, it is really?” I like it chief. What are we competing over?
Mark: Who can say the crudest thing about Sharleen Spiteri, even though she’s all fat and even shitter musically than ever.
So “Wallop” and “Spunk up on her back” are the best you can come up with, yeah?
Dave: Yeah. That’s about all I want to do to her now she’s all fat and somehow even shitter musically than ever.
Mark: Well then in the interests of winning the competition, I’d like to suggest that instead of feeling any “wallop” or however you described your inept cervix poking earlier, with me she’d feel like all her orifices were alleys that had been smashed up by hooligans several times over. And instead of “spunk up on her back” she’d feel like all her organs, including her brain, had been glossed all shiny in gloopy white Mark essence. I’d even do it after you had; does that win me the competition?
Dave: You’d do all that to Sharleen Spiteri? Just to win a competition?
Mark: I’d say I would.
Dave: You fucking pervert. She’s all fat. And she is shitter musically than she’s ever been ever. And she has a shit beehive hairdo. And she’s shagged Chris Evans; a stain like that never goes away. It’s taboo to ever admit to fancying Sharleen Spiteri, you stupid fucking pervert.
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
Mark: Where’ve you been chief?
Dave: It’s 7.00pm on a Wednesday, I’ve been down the park laughing at the joggers.
Mark: Fair enough; I’ve been trying to find a guest to interview for next week’s show. This week’s was a bit shit.
Dave: We had a guest?
Mark: Yeah, technically, you count as a guest and you were shit. I could tell you how you count as a guest, but it’s complicated and I’m tired. Needless to say, you were a bit shit.
Dave: Fuck you. Who’ve you got then? Chris Morris?
Mark: I asked him, but it turns out he still hates us. Sent us a poo in the post by way of a reply. I’ve been trying to get that Mika arsehole. Big entertainment news story about him this week. You know him?
Dave: Not personally. He did the Grace Kelly song right? Sings like Freddie Mercury?
Mark: That’s the cunt. You hear about what happened to him?
Dave: Nah, what’s he been up to?
Mark: Fuck me; you really are a pop culture retard. It’s been all over the Internet. The poor cunt has been officially declared the World’s most obsolete, superfluous fucknut by the U.N.
Dave: Lucky boy. I dream of that kind of recognition, how’d he manage that?
Mark: He didn’t have to do anything; Freddie Mercury came back to life.
Dave: Fuck off! How’s that supposed to have happened? He bought himself back?
Mark: Nah, weirder than that chief. Out-going President of South Africa Thabo Mbeki bought him back. Had something to prove about Anti-retroviral drugs being shit and racist before they kick him out of office.
Dave: You’re such a fucking liar. Come on then cunt; tell me how he bought Freddie Mercury back to life.
Mark: The holistic way mate. He chucked his corpse in a hot bath full of garlic. That cured the Aids that Mercury died of. They’re controlling the unrelated HIV he’s still got with some vitamin pills they got off a German. It’s alternative medicine so it must work way better than anything you’ll get from those profiteering big pharmaceutical companies that sell proper drugs that have been trailed and peer-reviewed and all that bollocks.
Dave: But why Mercury? You’d think the President of South Africa would have better things to do than bring dead popsters back to life.
Mark: Good question, but he has a point to prove; why not pick the World’s most famous AIDS victim to prove it. Plus Mbeki fucking loves Queen, he was even happy when they played
Dave: Natch. So how is any of this Mika’s problem? Surely Mercury will just go back to Queen.
Mark: Nah mate, Mercury found out about We Will Rock You the Musical. Did his fucking bollocks. Kicked Ben Elton’s cock off and gave
He won’t be going back to Queen; he’s sticking as a solo artist. And that’s this Mika Kid’s problem; with Mercury back and solo there’s just no need for Mika to exist, let alone rewrite Fat Bottom Girls another time. The U.N has officially declared him a useless cunt and they want him culled.
Dave: Shit. So you think we can get an interview with him? Would be a bit of a coup that one.
Mark: Can’t get in touch with him. They reckon he’s hiding out in
Dave: The thick cunts. Why don’t we just interview Mercury then instead?
Mark: I asked. Even though Mercury’s totally all well happy about being alive again and all that, he still thinks you’re a massive wanker. Bit rich of him really, to my knowledge you’ve never indirectly supported apartheid.
Dave: But I have sported a really shit ‘tache though.
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
Friday, 12 September 2008
- Italian comic Sabina Guzzanti
Covered with far more wit, intelligence and accuracy than I can muster right now (I'm five beers in the hole) by proper journalists
If prosecuted, she could get five years.
As anyone that knows me will tell you I'm always the optimistic, sunny side of the street kind of guy that will constantly look for the silver lining, so I can't help thinking that if we'd have had laws like this back in the eighties this hateful fraud
might not have written all those shit books for cunts. Or made We Will Rock You.
Thursday, 11 September 2008
Patronising cocksockets. Do they think I'm some doddering elderly fuckwit that needs a paper copy of everything?
I'll bet they also reckon I keep my life savings under the bed so the "gas man" can rob the lot; think bananas are exotic because we didn't have them during the blitz and I spend my days nursing a single pint of light and bitter in the pub while I wait for the piss I accidentally did all over myself on the way there to dry into a shameful stain on my trouser front; a sorry indictment of my urine soaked obsolescence.
Only to piss all over myself accidentally on the way home again.
I'm going to email them back with that actually and tell them they can print it out as many times as they fucking like.
This three quid wine I bought from the corner shop is rank, what a fucking surprise.
Oh yeah, and happy 9th November to any cunts reading this from 'merca.