Monday, August 31, 2009

Bank Holiday

Hooray, hooray! It's a bank holiday! I've come to love bank holidays. When I was a child I hated them - literally everything closed down on a bank holiday in those days. Consequently, unless you wanted to sit in traffic jams all the way to the coast and back, there were incredibly boring. Nowadays, as a working adult, I love the fact that they give me a day off work. Best of all, as most people are also off work, they provide a kind of communal experience.

So, what did I do this bank holiday? Whilst such high profile events as the Reading and Leeds music festivals, and the Notting Hill carnival were on, none of them were really my thing. Besides, I'd had another one of those insane weekends where i kept sitting up until four in the morning watching creaky old films on DVD and drinking beer. Consequently, by Sunday night I was exhausted. So, I decided to recharge my batteries today by enjoying the last of the August sun and going for a walk in the country. I contrived to get lost for a while, and spent what seemed like hours tramping across fields until I found the footpath again. Nevertheless, it was a very peaceful, albeit not very exciting, way to spend a bank holiday afternoon. I even took a few pictures, one of which I include here. It pretty sums up what I love about late August - blue skies and the harvest done. The fact that Autumn is just around the corner makes it all the more poignant. It'll be Christmas soon...


Thursday, August 27, 2009

The Death of the Silly Season?

Well, I'm disappointed in the press this year. The best they can come up with for the 'silly season', it seems, is a picture from Google Earth allegedly showing the Loch Ness monster. It really is pathetic. Not just the picture - which is clearly just a boat trailing a wake behind it - but the whole lack of effort on the part of the media. What happened to the good old days of the 'silly season' when we were inundated with tales of crop circles, alien abductions, pixies and phantom sex offenders, (maybe I made the last one up, but you get the idea)? I blame television, the web, video games, or something, for this dearth of imagination. Actually, I suspect the problem is that all of the things which used to make up 'silly season' are just not fashionable any more. Aliens and flying saucers in particular have been so done to death by films and TV over the past few decades that they no longer have any impact.

Nowadays, it seems, the hacks in the press seem to expend all of their imagination on making up bizarre stories about various celebrities. Consequently, 'celebrity silly season' now lasts all year round. Nevertheless, I miss those halcyon days when Warminster was the UFO capital of the world every August and we didn't know about the drunken exploits or sexual antics of various Z-listers. Maybe if they combined the celebrity stories with the weird stuff we could get 'silly season' off the ground again. How about 'Amy Winehouse: I Walked With a Zombie (or Was it Pete Doherty?)'; or 'Lilly Allen: My Life as a Serial Killer'; or even 'Penelope Keith: My Alien Abduction Hell' ? Perhaps some loser from Big Brother could tell us how they created a crop circle in the shape of a huge cock and balls, or Russell Brand could describe how he seduced and shagged the Loch Ness Monster, before cheating on it with Bigfoot. Circulation winners, all of them.

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Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Intergalactic Sex Pests and Summer Holidays

Well, I've finally managed to get a new story written and posted on The Sleaze. This latest masterpiece has taken an inordinately long time to come up with - mainly because the (reasonably) good weather has been tempting me into doing other things. Most of them outdoors where I have no access to a PC or the net. Which is undoubtedly a good thing. Other factors delaying the appearance of new material was my inability to make up my mind as to what o write. After discarding several ideas for my traditional 'silly season' story (all of which will eventually turn up in one form or another in the months to come), I eventually opted for another 'flying saucer' story, but with a slightly different angle than usual.

Anyway, I Was a Sex Pest From Outer Space is finally up on the site, and I'm quite proud of it. I think it is sufficiently different from my previous UFO-themed stories, (and it is getting more difficult to come up with new variations on the subject), has the requisite amount of smut to keep the regulars happy, whilst retaining a clear satiric intent. Having finally got it out of the way, I can finally get on with my holiday, which officially started at the end of last week. Consequently, with me off trying to enjoy what sun I can find, posting here on Sleaze Diary will not be as frequent as usual for the next few weeks. Which is probably no bad thing, as I feel that I've been running out steam lately. A rest will, hopefully, restore my creative powers.


Monday, August 24, 2009

Duking the Duke

Well, we finally received another reply to our enquiry 'Have You Ever Been Shagged by a Celebrity'? This time it's a real corker from 'Grand Duchess', revealing a little known side to one of Hollywood's biggest stars:

"Back in the Summer of 1973 I was hitch hiking home to San Francisco from Seattle when, late one afternoon, a black Trans Am soddenly pulled up beside me. The door opened a vaguely familiar voice asked "Do you want a ride kid?" Imagine my surprise to discover the driver was none other than John Wayne - the Duke himself! Although I was a freaked out, long-haired hippie peacenik, the Duke had no hesitation in offering me a lift back to 'Frisco.

Several times during the trip he touched my thigh with his right hand - he claimed that it had slipped whilst changing gear, but the car was an automatic. When we finally arrived outside my apartment building, he leaned across from the driver's seat and kissed me on the cheek. I immediately asked him up to my apartment for "a coffee".

Of course, as soon as we got through the door we began to rip eachother's clothes off and engaged in mad passionate lovemaking for the next four hours. We continued this homosexual affair in secret until his death in 1979. The Duke claimed that he had wanted to 'come out' for years and said that he'd thought he'd given enough clues as to his true sexuality in all those westerns and war movies where he never got the girl, but preferred to hang out with guys and horses. Indeed, he claimed that he'd been shooting a movie about a gay cop in Seattle, but I don't recall ever seeing him in such a movie -maybe the studio suppressed or re-shot it. Knowing your encyclopedic knowledge of crap movies, Doc, perhaps you could enlighten me?"

Well 'Grand Duchess', the film in question was McQ, which, as you surmised, was completely re-edited by the studio to remove any references to homosexuality. However, it is notable that film never mentions what 'McQ' is short for, I think we can all guess what the Q is short for. Moreover, all the women in the film are either treacherous or whores. Indeed, one of the latter refers to the Duke as being a 'bear' - a gay slang term for large rough men. The Duke spends a lot of the film beating up hippies and other 'non-manly' men - in the original script this was a cover for his own repressed homosexuality. The original climax featured him embracing his sexuality and running off with the obviously gay Mafia boss played by the late Al Lettieri.

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Friday, August 21, 2009

How to be Happy?

Last week The Guardian's Saturday magazine supplement had a lengthy series of articles devoted to the subject of 'How to be Happy'. Now, I generally avoid reading this supplement - it's usually full of articles middle-class tosspots smugly telling us of how they made their own sofa from reconditioned floorboards they rescued from a skip - but for some reason, I actually flicked through this edition. Amazingly, it wasn't, as I'd feared, full of tips from middle class tossers telling us that true happiness is to be found in making your own furniture from reclaimed rubbish, instead including a critical appraisal of all those wanky self-help books which equate happiness with wealth. Anyway, cutting to the chase, one of the things which studies had shown helped raise the 'happiness' and general well-being of people was keeping a journal of the things which irritated them or improved their lives. Funnily enough, I can vouch for this - ever since starting this blog as away to vent my spleen, I've been a far less angry individual. Giving shape and expression to one's daily anger and frustrations is a tremendously cathartic experience - it quire literally cleanses you of their poison.

All of which brings us to the vexed question of just how one does achieve 'happiness'? Frankly, I don't know. I do know that it has nothing to do with wealth or material possessions. I also know that I spent a lot of time looking in all the wrong places for happiness - career advancement, doomed relationships, fast cars and basically trying to be someone I wasn't. More recently, I thought that I could find some kind of peace in the classroom. I was wrong again. Just lately, I've been feeling the best and most contented I've been in years. A few weeks ago the usual exhaustion I felt at the end of the average working week suddenly lifted, all my aches and pains vanished and, most amazingly, I stopped wasting my time analysing past failed relationships. It was as if some raging inferno inside of me had finally burned itself out. Whilst the possibility remains that it could eventually re-ignite itself, for now, I'm glad it has blown out. For the first time in years I feel fully in control, and maybe that's the secret of happiness - achieving some degree of control over inner selves and no longer being a slave to anger, fear and irrationality. Perhaps those Vulcans in Star Trek had the right idea...


Thursday, August 20, 2009

The Whacko Jacko Action Doll...

Whacko Jacko - the circus just carries on, doesn't it? I see now that his family are going to licence Jacko merchandising. as long as it is tasteful, of course. I eagerly await the appearance in shops of a scale model of his solid gold coffin. An ideal present for the kiddies this Christmas. Apparently it will come with an opening lid and will be fully lined in velvet. Indeed, it will be the ideal receptacle for the Jacko action doll - just pull its scale plonker, kiddies, and it will speak one of a dozen phrases! (These will include the ever popular "Owwww", during which the doll's right arm will automatically fly skywards whilst the other grips his groin). It will also come with a range of alternative noses and adjustable skin tone. Other accessories will include a miniature Bubbles and several self-assembly children.

If none of that grabs you, how about a squeezy brain pet toy? It squeaks when you squeeze it. Great fun for your dog! Or maybe the bouncing 'Jacko Baby' - drop it from any balcony and watch it bounce right back into your hands! Fun for all the family! If this range takes off then the sky's the limit for celebrity merchandising. How long will it be before we get the Curt Cobain toy shotgun? Fire it in your mouth and blow smoke rings with the exhaust fumes. Maybe the Phil Spector water pistol - shoot your girl friend safely in the head with no risk of subsequent murder trials. Or the O J Simpson steak knife range? Trust me - they'd sell!

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Tuesday, August 18, 2009

More From the Inbox of Doc Sleaze

Amongst the spam e-mails and genuine requests for link exchanges, I've increasingly been receiving variations on the form letter below. I say 'variations', all they ever change are the name of the sender and the name of the potential 'partner' site. Anyway, this is the usual text:

Hello. I`m XXXX XXXX, Director at XXXXXX.

I`ve just been searching for potential partners and having seen your website I thought I`d drop you a line to see if you would be interested in a relationship with us.

We had a couple of alternative ideas which I hope you will find useful:-

1) We can have our editorial team research and hand write some content for you to add to a page on We will agree a subject with you that is relevant to both of our sites (it won`t be a sales pitch for us!) and will include a single simple text link back to a relevant content page on our site. The content will be uniquely written for you and will not be re-used elsewhere. It should be helpful to your visitors and of course the search engines, as will the presence of a relevant link back to us. Hopefully we will also benefit from the link in the longer term.

- OR -

2) We can exchange links with you, directly from a relevant content page on We will explain where links are located on our site (on properly indexed and ranked pages) when you reply - we don`t have a links page as such - we link from the most relevant page to each partner.

There are of course no costs for you associated with either approach.

I realise you may prefer to simply reply to this email which is no problem and I`ll respond as quickly as I can. However, I have found that email isn`t always as reliable as everyone thinks plus I`m out and about a lot of the time. We have therefore created a simple and quick-to-use response page that provides detailed information and answers to questions on the various options and allows you to send messages to our team . . and lots more.
The page is at XXXXXX and we have created an access code for which is XXXX.

If you feel I should not have sent you this email, I`m really sorry - please just reply with REMOVE in the subject.

If neither option is appropriate for you, please accept my sincere apologies for having troubled you.

Please let me know your thoughts.

Kind Regards - XXXX XXXX
Director, XXXX

Now, I don't know about you, but several flaws in these proposals seem obvious. Most obvious is that it is extremely poorly researched - the sites seeking a link are always commerce sites with no clear relevance to a satire and humour site. With nothing in common, a link exchange would seem pointless. It just feels as if The Sleaze has been selected at random - hardly a good start to any potential relationship!

Moreover, the whole idea of having someone else 'create' content for your site (plugging their site) seems extraordinary. Indeed, if any of the people sending these e-mails had ever read The Sleaze, they'd know that I couldn't possibly agree to such a thing - it would be complete betrayal the site's fundamental principles! As for the idea of linking from a 'relevant' page on their site - well, if they aren't a satire site, ow can any page be relevant?

Ultimately, the most insulting thing about these e-mails is the very fact that they're all identical! That really makes a site feel special! Needless to say, I haven't bothered responding to any of them and my spam filters are now set so that I don't have to read the bloody things any more. So, if you are intending to send one to me - don't. You will be wasting your time.


Monday, August 17, 2009

Falling on Deaf Ears

Clearly, I need more excitement in my life. The other night I found myself getting worried about one of those people they have signing for the deaf in the corner of the screen during late night TV. Those signers are, in urn, both highly irritating and fascinating. I think I've mentioned before how they can also be quite educational - if you've ever watched a signed version of Deadwood, then you will have learned to swear in British sign language. Not just your common or garden swearing, but really good stuff like 'cocksucker', 'mother fucker' and 'cunt'. After a couple of episodes you'll be able to verbally abuse deaf people with confidence.

Anyway, getting back to the point, I stumbled across this signed programme whilst channel-hopping in the early hours the other night, as you do. What kept me watching was the fact that she looked about a hundred and three and on her last legs. I really feared that she might not make it to the end of the programme. Indeed, I even checked the schedules to see how much longer she'd have to go on for. Luckily, it wasn't long; it turned out to be a repeat of Crossing Jordan and lasted less than an hour. If it had been Ryan's Daughter, she'd never have made it. The saddest thing was that if she had suddenly pegged out, clutching at her chest as she collapsed, most of the three viewers watching would have thought that she was signing something happening on the screen. I was left wondering if they had a contingency plan for such an eventuality - is there a substitute signer standing by to leap in at a moment's notice? Like I said, I clearly need to get out more!


Friday, August 14, 2009

Fringe Benefits

Over the past week I've realised that I'm in completely the wrong place right now. Where I need to be is the Edinburgh Fringe. Whilst it is easy to dismiss the fringe as a load of self-indulgent tosh for Oxbridge-types and professional 'comics' (as, for many years, I did), I've come to realise that it is actually an opportunity to get your product out there to a live audience. Maybe that's the breakthrough The Sleaze needs? I mean, it wouldn't be a selling-out of our underground principles, as 'everyone' will tell you (at great length) that the Fringe most definitely isn't mainstream, (even though you'll find such struggling comedians like Lucy Porter there year after year - I mean you never see her on the telly, do you?). Anyway, getting back to the point, it appears that just about everybody has a show on at the fringe this year, often in tiny 'venues' and playing to audiences of three (we'd feel right at home).

Now, I haven't a clue how The Sleaze could be transformed into a show for the fringe, but there must be a way. Apparently musicals are very popular - there's even an A-Team based musical on this year. So, leaving aside the fact that I detest musicals, maybe that's the way ahead - perhaps we could set some of the stories to music. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of seeing someone perform 'I took it up the bum for Britain' as a show tune. Or maybe a chorus line belting out 'They stole Jacko's brain - what a tragedy'. How about an operetta based on the 'Two Faces of David Cameron'? The Wild Women of Wandsworth could be interpreted through the medium of dance. The possibilities are endless. Obviously, it's too late to do anything this year, but maybe next year we'll be presenting Sleaze- The Musical on the fringe...


Thursday, August 13, 2009

Yet More Moronic Mumblings

In business news, jovial chubby Greek stereotype Stelios, owner of EasyGroup, has vehemently denied suggestions in certain tabloids that his next venture would be EasyTerror - a service designed to make bombings and mass murder headache free for terrorists. “This is outrageous - what do they think I am? Some kind of opportunist who would cynically try to profit from any potential new market? Although, I cannot deny that the rapid growth in international terrorism would rather neatly counterbalance the decline in tourism since September 11, if properly exploited... Anyway, you can tell the racist bastards that I’ve never worked on a kebab van either,” the tycoon apparently did not recently tell reporters.

He described as 'offensive' suggestions that he was planning to offer special deals for terrorists using his airlines to fly to their targets - suicide bombers would not get a special ‘no return’ discount and a special luggage allowance for their explosives. He also dismissed speculation that he was planning a special ‘one stop’ on line shopping service for armchair terrorists where they could purchase all the firearms, bombs and chemical/biological agents they would ever need and even arrange to have them delivered directly to the target.

For his part, rival celebrity entrepreneur Sir Richard Branson has denied that he ever planned to compete with EasyTerror by buying out near-defunct Irish terrorist outfit the IRA and re-branding them Virgin Terror. “This is a flagship terror organisation and it still has life in it - the government cannot let it be phased out! How else can Britain hope to compete in the international terror game?” he denies saying, adding that he also never suggested that the IRA should drop its Catholic affiliation and Irish Republican agenda so as to broaden its appeal and boost membership.

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Tuesday, August 11, 2009

More Moronic Mumblings

The News of the World has angrily denied that it attempted to set up the kidnapping of former Spice Girl Geri Haliwell. “Such an allegation is utterly insane,” says a spokesman. “Who in their right mind would pay money to get her back?” The Sunday tabloid’s owners - News International - have rejected claims that it had planned to use the kidnapping as a circulation boosting gimmick - possibly by threatening to release the self-styled singer if sales didn’t increase by at least 10%. They have also poured scorn on suggestions that an alternative plan involved readers pledging money to charity in order to prevent Miss Haliwell’s release from captivity. “I can also state quite categorically that this newspaper never prepared plans to run a weekly competition, asking readers to nominate which celebrity they would most like kidnapped and to name a suitable ransom,” says the spokesman.

The News of the World is also one of several tabloids denying that they had ever run a campaign to discredit the public image of Heather McCartney in the wake of her divorce from former Beatle Sir Paul McCartney. “At no time did we ever suggest that she had actually cut off her own leg and eaten it as part of her initiation into a bizarre cult,” said a legal advisor for The Mirror. “Nor did we ever imply that she was hell bent on converting strict vegetarian Sir Paul to cannibalism, thereby desecrating the memory of his late wife Linda.” For their part, the McCartney’s have denied that their marriage has instigated a new fashion craze of ‘Amputee Chic’ as fellow celebs and fans seek to emulate glamourous Lady Heather by lopping off their own arms and legs. “The McCartneys cannot be held responsible for any acts of self-mutilation carried out by mentally disturbed individuals - even if they were listening to a Wings album at the time,” asserted the couple’s press officer, adding that Sir Paul’s daughter Stella was most definitely not planning to introduce a new range of designer axes and scalpels as fashion accessories.

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Monday, August 10, 2009

Dodging a Bullet

If there are two kinds of social events I hate most in this world, it is family gatherings and weddings. I'm happy to say that I avoided both the other day by not attending a family wedding. It was such a relief not to go - like dodging that proverbial bullet. Once it finally hit home that I'd successfully avoided it, I suddenly felt so alive! I was so ecstatic at my new lease of life that I even cleaned my living room carpet, something I've been putting of for months. Don't get me wrong here - my relief is no reflection on the people getting married. I just don't like weddings. Quite apart from all the religious bollocks and the hell of having to pretend to be remotely interested in people you've never met before and would cross the street to avoid under normal circumstances, I just don't see the point. All too often people seem to get married for all the wrong reasons, often simply because they think they should. They've seen their friends and siblings get hitched so think that they need o follow suit, in order to conform. Frankly, I've always thought that doing something in order to fit in with others is pretty dumb - what's good for them isn't necessarily good for you. We all have to follow our own paths.

Then there's the family aspect. Over the years I've come to the conclusion that family is fine in small doses. Very small doses. To be fair, I've come to the same conclusion about friends. Both are fine now and again, but you wouldn't want to have to put up with them all the time. The trouble with families is that they're always imposing all sorts of expectations o you and assuming that you want to do the same things they do. Once again, we all have to follow our own paths. I've spent years trying to convince various members of my family that I actually like being on my own. I enjoy my own company. The sad fact is that, apart from an accident of birth, as we grow older, we often find that we have less and less in common with our relatives. So there you have it - another chapter in my life of misanthropy! Except, of course, that, far from being a miserable bastard, the less I participate in these social functions that the rest of the world seem to cherish so much, the happier I am!


Friday, August 07, 2009

Sex on Fire

Sometimes a headline just leaps out at you. The other day it was one on Teletext about a British tourist being set on fire in Greece. My first thought was that maybe some unfortunate drunken Mancunian had stumbled into some kind of Hellenic Wicker Man scenario, looking to get laid, they instead found themselves burned to death in a huge wicker penis as some kind of sacrifice to the Gods of Olympus. The fact that it had happened in Crete stirred vague memories of a 1970s badly-dubbed international co-production involving nubile young women being sacrificed to a stone effigy of the Minotaur by naughty local Greek cultist Peter Cushing. Land of the Minotaur, or something similar. I seem to remember that Donald Pleasance was an Irish priest who eventually makes the villains explode by waving his crucifix at them. I could be confusing several films here and it probably isn't anywhere near as exciting as my fractured memories make it sound.

However, having also recently read in the papers about yet more complaints about the loutish behaviour of British tourists abroad, I realised that it was probably something a bit more mundane - a nasty accident suffered by some pillock lighting his own farts, perhaps. As it turned out, I found the story did have some interesting points when I started reading it. Apparently, a local woman had doused a British tourist in a bar with an alcoholic drink, then ignited it with her lighter. Good improvisation by a psycho woman, was my first thought. Then I read on - it was actually his genitals she torched, after the git had dropped his trousers in front of her. Suddenly my sympathies decisively switched in favour of the perpetrator. A fried cock is no more that this arsehole deserves if he thinks it's funny to go around exposing himself to random women abroad. Of course, he probably does it all he time at home, where is undoubtedly considered a local Oscar Wilde by his mates for his witty exploits. Sadly, any woman he does this to in a British bar is likely to be too drunk herself to react appropriately. Indeed, it might even be considered a form of mating ritual. Hopefully, a few more incidents like this might deter our louts from travelling overseas and embarrassing us all.

Oh,and that film with Peter Cushing and Donald Pleasance I mentioned before - it was released as The Devil's Men here in the UK, and is available on DVD under that title. The general consensus is that it's shit.

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Thursday, August 06, 2009

Moronic Mumblings From the World of Showbiz...

Welsh crooner Tom Jones has found himself coming under fire from several sources. His attempts to move into rap and hip hop have apparently met with a hostile reaction from several top US rap artists. However, Dr Dre has denied that protégé Eminem chainsawed a giant replica of Welsh crooner Tom Jones’ penis to pieces during a recent performance in Philadelphia as a protest at Jones’ latest album. “Its all a misunderstanding - the penis represented his no-good crack whore momma,” Dre is rumoured to have explained. Meanwhile, back in Britain, there have been allegations that Jones blatantly exploited his female fans during his early years by collecting up the knickers thrown at him during performances, washing and ironing them, and the selling them on a market stall at Pontypridd market every Saturday. The performer has vehemently denied this and other allegations that whilst working as a door to door vacuum cleaner salesman, he had sexually harassed vulnerable housewives by offering to demonstrate his ‘powerful suction’ and ‘three-piece extendable hose with special twin action head ’. Furthermore, he has categorically denied that his vacuum cleaner demonstrations ever involved him persuading potential female customers to strip off, then showering them with cocaine (on the pretext that it was ‘Shake and Vac’) before sucking it off of them with his nose.

The final threat to the Sex Bomb from the Valleys has come from fellow Brit singer Robbie Williams, who has allegedly been boasting that his penis is superior to Tom’s. According to newspaper reports Robbie made the comparison after he and Jones were standing side by side at the urinals in the gents toilet of a Fishguard pub. “His was old and wrinkly, and his pubes were grey and greasy - you’d think he’d at least get them dyed,” the mischievous Stoke singer has denied saying. Contrary to press reports, Jones did not retort that “it was a bloody cold day boyo”, and did not comment “at least I can still get mine up naturally, despite nearly fifty years of alcohol abuse and constant shagging - I’ve heard that Robbie’s cock is so shot to pieces from drugs and booze, he has to lacquer it to get it to stand upright!” Robbie Williams’ management have dismissed claims that the singer is simply jealous of Tom Jones’ old man, and have described reports that he has gone so far as to paint his own knob orange in imitation of Jones’ member as “outrageous lies”.

Williams’ arch nemesis, rock hard man Liam Gallagher, reportedly cleared the whole ground floor of a Croyden branch of ‘Woolworths’ with a huge beer-fuelled fart. Although Gallagher’s management has denied this report, claiming that it is “pure fabrication...probably made up by Damon Albarn or Robbie Williams”, we have it on good authority that at least three people had to be taken to hospital. One, an eighty-seven year old granny, is still on a respirator. In a breaking development, police have denied that they have launched a nationwide search for pretentious rock bang Radiohead who, they say, have not been missing for the last forty-eight hours. Some claim that the band, last seen in Oxford, have been abducted by aliens, but a more popular and credible theory is that they have simply disappeared up their own arseholes. Finally, guess which popular UK Garage star was arrested by police after being caught masturbating in front of the baboons enclosure at Bristol Zoo? Well, you are just going to have to keep on guessing as we’re too shit-scared of being sued to tell you.

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Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Getting the Bird

Last month we asked 'Have You Ever Been Shagged by a Celebrity?' and invited readers to send us their stories of celebrity sex romps for publication. Well, we finally got a response and, after consulting our lawyers, are pleased to present the celebrity bonking experiences of one 'Kid Leather', a professional brass rubber from Tonbridge, Kent:

"I once had a three in a bed romp with Rod Hull and Emu. He insisted on wearing that bloody bird puppet during sex. In fact, his foreplay consisted entirely of him using Emu to attack my breasts and attempt to peck off my nipples. At one point during our lovemaking he stuck its beak right up my arse. Jesus, that was so painful I shrieked! He thought I was climaxing. I have to say though, that of the two Emu was the more considerate lover.

Apparently someone once caught him in his dressing room, using Emu to wank himself off before a kiddies TV show. Or perhaps that bit was just made up. But both he an Emu did have sex with me."

So, does anybody have any other tales of puppet-related passion? Anybody had their arse felt by Sooty and Sweep, perhaps? Or been taken from behind by Big Bird, maybe?

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Monday, August 03, 2009

Gold Fingered (Part Two)

After sharing my love of that really bad daytime TV advert urging people to send in their 'unwanted gold' for cash, (possibly to finance some nefarious criminal conspiracy on the part of a Bond villain), imagine y joy when I stumbled across another commercial for a rival service! I encountered this one on Dave (home of endless repeats of BBC programmes) on Saturday afternoon. The best thing about it was that, unlike the Channel Five ad, this one actually employed a front man who looked like a Bond villain! You know the sort - some middle-aged bald bloke in a suit who looks like he's about to shout "Kill Bond! Now!" whilst banging his fist on a desk. Also, rather than just show us their supposed 'call centre' (somebody's converted loft in the case of the first advert, which looked suspiciously similar to the 'call centre' in another ad for a holiday flight information service), this lot treated us to lots of stock footage of gold being smelted.

I say 'stock footage', but they claimed to have their own private smelting plant (which makes them seem like a far more professional evil-organisation-bent-on-global-domination outfit than the other lot). Best of all was the list of the kinds of precious metals they'd buy; apart the obvious ones like gold, silver and platinum, they added 'dental'. This really confirmed their status as an evil SPECTRE-type group, conjuring up visions of gold filings being wrenched from the mouths of Jewish prisoners in WWII concentration camps. It also conjured up visions of cash-strapped idiots pulling out their own fillings with pliers and posting them to this company. Or worse, stalking the streets looking for sleeping tramps to rob of their fillings. These ads truly are wonderful - seek them out. I guarantee you'll be as entertained as I was!