El Paso

From the Reuters ticker – News just come in.

Gay matador killed by horny bull.

The  flamboyant matador, Flamingo ‘El Paso’ Autofellatio, was today killed in the bull ring by a large horny bull.

A popular entertainer, the 45 year old never actually terminated any bulls, but dressed in pink and covered in fake diamonds, he was a crowd favourite.

In over 200 appearances, ‘El Paso’ would always pass urine and fill his pants as soon as a bull was released into the arena. Screaming, ‘Mamma Mia’ he would dive over the safety barriers before the bull had even worked out what the fuck it was doing there.

However, in tragic circumstances, as CCTV footage show, ‘El Paso’ had been distracted by a young man winking at him from the front row.

The force of penetration left the hapless matador flapping his arms and twitching his legs on the end of the left side of the bull’s horns until, perhaps in a coincidental irony, it flicked the corpse into the First Aid pit.

Many conscientious, left wing animal lovers called yet again for a ban on the ‘sport’. However, the Minister for Killing Bulls, Chinese born ‘Zing Zang Nogong’ was quick to reply -

‘Zongy, zong singsig, lahata myway – fuck the pope, wing dingzing huh!’.
Roughly translated -

The fucking bull fucked him up the arse to death, for fuck’s sake. Wake up you fucking morons -  smell the cupochina. Huh!.

The Greatest Penalty Ever

When I was at school with the great goalkeeper, the legendary Bruce Grobbelaar, I made a bet with him.

'I will place a ball on the penalty spot, go into goal and I bet you miss. Should you score, I give you a dollar. Should you miss, you give me two.'

Laughing, he agreed and meeting at a school pitch at 1.15 pm, hundreds of bored brainless heads had gathered to watch the humiliation.

With much cackling and jeering from the cheap skates in the front row of the stands, I managed with a bit of blue tac, to attach the ball exactly on the penalty spot.

Taking off my school tie, I stood in goal and started clowning around. I stood on my head, leapt up on the the posts, swinging like a drunken monkey, made 'Uga Uga' sounds and awaited the great Bruce's booting a ball into school history.

Laugh? - I nearly passed a stool at school. He gave it a great kick. Problem was I had filled the ball with helium.

Last I read from NASA, the ball had just passed Uranus.

Bruce complained I had cheated and never paid up.

When is a left leg right?

British Doctors from the University of Legends announced a first in medical history this week.

The patient, a 57 year old alcoholic who fell in front of a tram, severing his right leg, has been given a new donated left leg.

At the news conference, several reporters were confused.

One and many screeched out the same question.
'If he has a left leg left, why attach another one where the right leg was left?'

Professor Fuckedinhead, was quick to acknowledge the confusion by saying - 'We sewed it on backwards.'

Stunned audience were silent for a moment trying to work this out.

'Erm, Professor, Alice Wonderland, from Shite News, could you explain why the tax payer has funded this in the tune of more than the six million dollar man, what many would consider, an act of fucking lunacy?'

Professor Fuckedinhead, calm, and in total control of the news conference -
'It is simple. He is /was an alcoholic. With this venture of advanced stitching useless fuckers together, we can save the NHS millions. Is simple. They can not find a pub as they just walk about in circles.'

The Suicidal Loser

A friend of mine called me- 'I can not take life any more, so I am going to take it.'

(I have rather a lot of friends with these kinds of problems.)

'What do you intend to do?'

'I will jump off the 18th floor from my flat.'

'Good luck' I replied.

I knew this would be another lemon. I hung up the phone and sighed. Such a loser. Last time - he tried to gas himself in an electric oven and landed up with 1st degree burns on his head. Plus - he was a coward and an idiot.

Sure enough - next day in the press -

'Scar head madman arrested after jumping up and down in an elevator.'

Terror in Berlin

Terror in Berlin

I really feel about this. Rhodesians grew up with terror and terrorists. Germany is my home and I love the people.

Pointless to debate – this is neither the time nor the place.

I am not religious – but I certainly understand the Xmas cheer.

It fulfils much – the end of a year, good or bad and hope for the future.

I consider myself lucky – on the bones of my arse – Germans picked me up and gave me hope again.
I will be with D and the kids for Xmas eve (celebrated here, not Xmas day), and I can even afford them presents. Almost a tradition now - we go to the shit hot cinema in Munich to watch the latest Star Wars thing in 3D, then dinner and present giving.

Strange – where that lunatic ploughed his truck into all those people, I know well. I spent altogether two years in Berlin on various building site projects. It is, or was, sort of the centre during the cold war. It is/was not particularly a nice place.

The old church had the hell bombed out of it in WW2. Next to it the Berliners built a new one – a horrible monstrosity of glass bricks.

Around the entire square were dark skinned, shifty characters waiting for customers. On each corner was a Vietnamese selling illegally imported cigarettes. I would go down there every couple of weeks for two reasons.
One – there was a KFC – the only one in Germany at the time. I love KFC. And Two – I could (if lucky), score some dope.

Why am I telling you this? Because life then and now, goes on.

So – take time to watch this …

Carl Sagan - Pale Blue Dot

This is taken from the audio book.

Suspicious Sodomite Sodomises Sod.

Huh! What kind of news headline is this?
Found on Yahoo News ticker.

The blah blah was hilarious. However – I leave it to your imagination.

A strange incident

This was written by my china Eddie on my infamous FB site 'The Gokwe Kid'  - he is learning...

As I strolled down the road oblivious to life in general, it hit me. I think it was a number 9 bus.

As it drove over my legs and shattered them like match sticks, I couldn't help noticing that the brake pipe on the front offside wheel was leaking and made a mental note to tell the driver about this. I wouldn't want him to hurt himself.

I did think to myself...."What a waste of my new haircut". Only yesterday the young lady has snipped away for what seemed like four days (trying to wrack up the bill I suspect) and now here I am bouncing my head off the road and the underside of this lovely red bus leaving most of my scalp behind.

I say red bus....it could have been blue, who knows, there was so much blood splattering every where I thought it was raining.

You have to hand it to the driver, he was good. I don't think he managed to miss not one single bone in my body. Now that takes skill.

Any hoooo. To cut a long story short (a bit like what was left of me), I was having a bit of a rough day.
"Never mind" I thought as my lifes blood poured down the drain.." I can always catch the next one"

The Chinese Restaurant

I was in a Chinese restaurant one night. The only night. I would not think twice of going again.

I ordered chop suey. More like chopped sewage. I ate half, and then in disgust kicked up a right hullabaloo by starting with the waiter.

 A quick explanation with my Doc Martin’s, converted his precious sweetbreads into sweet and sour crushed cashew nuts and as far as I was concerned – that was that.

I would not pay, and simply walk out of the place - peacefully, quietly and with dignity. I was upholding MY rights to complain about the shit they had served me. I am an officer and a gentleman.

It was not to be.

Next thing you know, before I can finish my third liter of chinky sake, slittie eyes are swarming all over me. They pin me down to the table.
Of course I struggle. I am a former member of the BSAP. A highly trained killing machine – I would not go down without a fight.

And then, this insane looking gook type man with a tall white hat, strides towards me waving a bloody stained, huge butcher’s cleaver and in one swoop – hacks my right hand off.

‘Now, what do you think about that?’ The mad man screams.

Cool, collected, my mind sussing out the predicament. Picture this – my head squashed against the table. My eyes, staring at the rest of the chop sewage.  My last hand, still clutching a glass of chinkie saki.

I needed to respond with a stiff upper lip. Don’t let the Asian fuzzy-wuzzies even get a glimpse of our weakness – for give them a finger – they will take your hand.

‘Release me.’ I said, with great authority.

They did. I stood proud and tall. I would show them -

 ‘Would you be so kind as to give me my right hand, so as I can take home the left over(s).

When I was 23

I was crawling down the street one night. Trying to avoid the gutters. Strange things happen when you are 23. I am sure you can recall weird moments within those 365 days when you must have awoken, bathed in sweat, stinking like a worm floating in a bottle of tequila, and wondering that if it was Monday-  it would be a good idea to phone in sick.

But – it is the way that one day you are 22 and fine, and a few hours later you are 23, crawling along a vomit strewn pavement, putting out fags in the puddles, when suddenly, from behind, your behind is being assaulted – violently.

‘Rape – rape’, you scream, as between the humming in your ears comes the sound of tearing cloth. ‘Call the Police, for my arse is being savaged’. (Of course, as my mouth could barely hold a saliva sodden cigarette, it sounded more like ‘Ugh – ooh, ahh, bah- blah’.

Then – the ultimate pain in the arse. Huge needles penetrated my exposed buttocks. I collapsed. A huge weight pressed my face into my own vomit – and, just when I thought it was the end for me – a nice sensation of wet warmness flicked across my brown eye. I smiled – this was nice.

The pressure on my neck, the heat from my bleeding rump – the licking… oh oh – I started to fade away… but as I went into that zone where as when you awake you wish you were dead – a voice – as if from the heavens spoke.

‘Good dog, Rover. Now stop licking his bum hole and sit. And - you Sir, are being arrested for being drunk and disorderly in a public place.’