Monday, January 06, 2014

MISTA FINGAS FINGERS ME LIKE AND DA HAPPY NEW YEAR

BIRDY HAD DA MOST EX-KER-ROO-SHEE-AY-TING PAIN OVER DA OLLIDAYS SO HE WENT TO DA FIZIO, INNIT, MISTA FINGAS. HERE'S WOT OCCURRED, LIKE
 
So... Mista Fingas asks me to get off me undies then stand up straight.  Then he says me hip's out of alignment – in udder words, one of me legs was longer than the other because of a muscle spasm in my left hip.  “Now,” he says, “there are two ways of doing this.  I can go in there with my thumb and release the muscle, which will be extremely painful but only lasts six seconds, or I can put a magnet on it for 20 minutes.”

So I says, “Well, um, how long have we got?”  He glances at his watch.  “There’s probably just enough time, but I won’t be able to do anything else today.  I see you’re worried about the pain.”

“Er, well, yeah, a bit, like just how painful is it?”

“Very, but as I said, it only lasts six seconds, and then you’ll be fine.”

“Um, er, OK, let’s try it, see how I get on.”

“Roll onto your stomach and poke your head through the rest.”

“Er, OK.”

So I roll over and he begins to dig into the side of me left buttock, as you do.

“I think it’s this one,” he says.  “I’ve got to be sure or the whole session’s been wasted.”  He digs deeper.  “Yep, this is the one.”

I brace myself for the  pain.  He digs even deeper, then suddenly I wail like a bear that's had a bow anchor shoved up his arse. I begin the slow count to six.  And it's over.

“That wasn’t so bad,” I says, thinking that perhaps it would’ve been kinder on me if he’d given me a gag.
 
"Right, let's do that again," he says.
 
"Whhaa..."
 
Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!
 
"Got it," he says. "Now let's do the other side."
 
Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!
 
“Oh, yes,” he says, “yes, this is bad.  You’ll need more treatment on this.  I won't be able to do much today, except this.” He digs in again.

"Jesus! Stop!" I says.
 
"Right," he says, "that's enough for now. You'll find it quite tough to walk, eat, sleep, drink, fart, for the next week or two, maybe even for a month. And you may even have sustained permanent injury, but I've done my best. Oh, well. Run along now. Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
 
"Cheers, Mista Fingas," I says.
 
I'm not sure how I fell over. Maybe I was dazed, confused, bereft, forlorn, dopey. But several hours later a very nice road sweeper helped me up and into a taxi and I've been flat on my back for the last six days, so maybe tomorrow the pain will pass. Anyhoo, HAPPY NEW YEAR, one and all. It can't get any worse... Can it?
 
Birdy
 
 
 
 
 
 

Monday, October 21, 2013

Uberwaltigend! Yeah, Mon! PLUS... Help Fur Da Buffters Innit

Uberwaltigend! Yeah, Mon! (Winner of the Plasterung Gescholssen International Poetry Competition 2013)
by Birdy

Birds, buffaloes, sights and sounds
Uberwaltigend!
Memories, chances, ups and downs
Uberwaltigend!
Nudges, winks, blinks and sighs
Uberwaltigend!
Whispers, pauses, shouts and cries
Uberwaltigend!
Pain, longing, loving and losing
Uberwaltigend!
Wanting, hoping, praying and musing
Uberwaltigend!
Touching, caressing, groaning and smiling
Uberwaltigend!
Strolling, crawling, drawling and styling
Uberwaltigend!
Standing, falling, holding and dropping
Uberwaltigend!
Catching, throwing, starting and stopping
Uberwaltigend!
Pumping, popping, ducking and diving
Uberwaltigend!
Gasping, drooling, fading and thriving
Uberwaltigend!
Agonizing, wondering, despairing and caring
Uberwaltigend!
Fumbling, stuttering, crumbling and daring
Uberwaltigend!
Yeah, mon!

***

AND IN UDDER NEWS...
BUFFTERS REFUSED EXIT VISA FROM BOUVET ISLAND
Quoting government sources, APN were reporting late last night that the Government of Bouvet Island has refused the man they call Buffters an exit visa on the grounds of diminished inflammability. Mr Bo, a spokesman, claims Buffters is being held at a secure location where his Freddy is being examined for physical abnormalities and Locked In Boudoir Syndrome, a rare disease that can lead to involuntary recitals of long-lost Outer Babylonian sheep herders. The US State Department in an entirely separate utterance has indicated that it might be willing to transport Buffters to Guantanamo Bay for an undisclosed fee, providing he never sees the light of day or night again.

This blog hereby declares the establishment of a fund to be known henceforth as the SAVE BUFFTERS FROM GUANTANAMO BAY FUND. Lobby your governments, your local representatives, your family, your friends, your enemies, and even those who truly whiff around the edges. Act now. Before it's too late. You might regret it, but Wot Da Fook, like.

BUFFTERS, WE LOVE YA!

Arf, arf!

Monday, October 14, 2013

FROM DA ARCHIVE... BUFFTERS IN DA FIX

SOME TIME IN THE DISTENDED PAST...

Just got home and it is very fooking spooky here. There are like 14 cars parked outside.... I have NEVER seen so many cars parked here. This building is only about half occupied - and the whole building is eerily quiet. It is never this quiet -- no traffic next door, no parties in progress, nothing - and yet I can still smell smoke.


I have Old Betsy loaded and by my side. I don't like this one bit and am of a mind to call 911 and voice my suspicions. Sparky's apparently in bed, I hope, not murdered in his sleep by the crack heads. So, did the raid take place? Don't know. Who the fook belongs to all those cars out front? Undercover drug agents? Crack heads? Drug dealers? Not a clue. I am afraid to go to bed, seriously... and yet I don't want to call 911 and sound paranoid or nutters.... last thing I need is cops showing up here at my door tipping off the crack heads that I blew the whistle on them. Also, it was like a bake oven when I got here, had to turn the heat off.


Running on fumes now, but still afraid to sack out in case the crack heads are planning to break in and dust me.



Hunter S. Gonzo

Fear and Loathing, New Mexico


DAT'S MAH BOY! COME BACK, BUFFTERS! WE LOVES YA!  WE REALLY DO-O-O-O!

Arf, arf!

Sunday, October 13, 2013

THE CURIOUS CASE OF THE MISSING BUFFTERS WITH THE MOST UNSAVOURY FREDDY

READ ALL ABOUT IT! BUFFTERS SPOTTED ON BOUVET ISLAND BOFFING HIS WAY THRU THE LOCAL LADY STOCK! WORLD EXCLUSIVE! UN URGENTLY RECALLS SECURITY COUNCIL TO SEND TROOPS, BOMB, EXTERMINATE, DEFUMIGATE, ASSURE, REINSURE AND UDDER IMPORTANT STUFF! HOLMES AND DR WATSON SENT TO INVESTIGATE... 

SAY VRAY - DAT'S FRENCH TO YOUSE ET MOI.  THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF OUR DEAR OLD BUFFTERS FROM DA MICHIGAN AREA CAUSED WIDESPREAD CONCERN AND MANIC TWEETING FOR SEVERAL MONTHS BEFORE AN INNOCENT BYSTANDER HOLIDAYING ON BOUVET ISLAND HAD A MOST UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER WITH A BONE-EH-FIDAH REPROBATE ANSWERING TO BUFFTERS' DESCRIPTION, AND NAME EVEN, AND IN SHEER PANIC JUMPED OFF THE NEAREST CLIFF AND SWAM FOR IT, LEAVING BEHIND A BOTTLE FOR DEXTERITY CONTAINING THE FOLLOWING NOTE: "He says he is Buffters. Gawd help me and Gawd help da whirled. Get Sherlock Holmes, pleez! Tiz our only hope."

BELOW IS ALL THAT REMAINS OF A DIARY ENTRY MADE BY WATSON PERTAINING TO THE MYSTERIOUS CASE OF THE MISSING BUFFTERS WITH THE MOST UNSAVOURY FREDDY...

WARNING: EXCESSIVE DOSES OF ALCOHOL AND OTHER SUBSTANCES SUCH AS BENADRYL REQUIRED TO MAKE ANY SENSE OF THIS STORY.


THE CURIOUS CASE OF THE MISSING BUFFTERS WITH THE MOST
UNSAVOURY FREDDY.

WATSON:  I say, Holmes, what what what?

HOLMES: Yes, Watson, what?

WATSON: Terribly awful business about that inveterate reprobate, what what what?

HOLMES: Yes, Watson. But as with any other degenerate, one must square up to this reprobate, look him squarely in the eye and encourage him to mend his ways.

WATSON: Yes, quite. Damned rough crossing from the mainland. Feeling rather queasy, what what what?

HOLMES: Indeed. Most regrettable, but we have arrived in one piece and we must get to work. There's not a moment to lose. We must find this Buffters fellow and deal with him in the most humane way possible.

WATSON: But how are we going to find him, old thing, when we don't even know what he looks like?

HOLMES: O ye of little faith, Watters. Finding him is the easy part. What to do with him is the real challenge.

WATSON: Sorry, I don't think I follow you, Holmes.

HOLMES: Do you see these footprints in the sand, Watson?

WATSON: Well, yes, but what of them?

HOLMES: They are those of a white man, with a slight limp, a reasonable IQ but base desires and hedonistic tendencies.

WATSON: Why, you don't think...

HOLMES: Indeed I do.

WATSON: Good grief, Holmes, how could you possibly tell all those things from such innocuous footprints?

HOLMES: Elementary, my dear Strudel. Because he is over there, if I'm not mistaken boffing one of the local maidens.

WATSON: Oh, I say! Has the man no shame?!

HOLMES: Evidently not. Thankfully, he is so preoccupied with "giving her a good seeing to" as modern parlance would have it that we may sneak up on him with the greatest of ease.

(HOLMES AND WATSON APPROACH BUFFTERS WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE. THEY OBSERVE WITH HORROR AS BUFFTERS POUNDS AND PUMPS AWAY WITH RELENTLESS JOY, THE LOCAL MAIDEN MOANING WITH GREAT RELISH.)

WATSON: (whispering) I say, Holmes, it does appear as if the young lady is a willing participant in this overtly degrading copulatory act, what what what?

HOLMES: (whispering) Affirmative, Mein Herring. One can but admire his technique, no doubt honed over many thousands of sleepless nights with countless maidens.

WATSON: (whispering) Is it just me, or do you feel that we are intruding on something which nature always intended to come to pass?

HOLMES: (whispering) Watson, if I told you otherwise it would be a lie. Clearly, it is incumbent upon us to wait for nature to take its course before confronting this shameful reprobate who has become a horrendous blot on the landscape and an intolerable nuisance to the world community of decency and decorum.

WATSON: (whispering) Oh, jolly well put, Holmes. You have such a way with words. But, um, well, he doesn't show any signs of letting up, you know. We could be here for some time, what what what?

HOLMES: (whispering) Patience, old chum. Patience. He'll tire soon enough.

(TWO HOURS AND MANY GRUNTS AND WAILS LATER)

WATSON: Quite incredible. This repugnant reprobate knows no limits. Why, you'd think by now his Freddy would have dropped off, what what what?

HOLMES: I fear we are dealing with a phenomenon which transcends the boundaries of what we, science and Encyclopaedia Britannica think of as human. This man's energy and strength of purpose are truly remarkable, a testament to Quakers Oats and English Morning Breakfast Tea.

WATSON: Yes, and even though we are no longer whispering, in fact almost shouting, he refuses to desist.

HOLMES: With every beginning there must be an end, Botty Watty. And if I'm not mistaken, he will finish right...

(BUFFTERS YELPS)

HOLMES: ..now!

WATSON: I don't believe it! How could you know?

(THE LOCAL MAIDEN, HORRIFIED AT THE ONLOOKERS, GATHERS HER THINGS AND FLEES INTO THE JUNGLE, BUFFTERS COLLAPSES IN A HEAP, SIGHING CONTENTEDLY)

WATSON: You disgusting reprobate!

BUFFTERS:  (looks up) Huh? Who are you?

WATSON: I am Doctor Watson, and this is the world famous Sherlock Holmes. And who, may I ask, are you?

BUFFTERS: I am but a simple man of simple means and simple pleasures. They call me by many names but you can call me Buffters.

WATSON: You see, Holmes? He's admitted it. He is Buffters, the incorrigible reprobate which we seek.

HOLMES: He really couldn't be anyone else, doc. Now, tell me, Mr Buffters, is it true that you arrived a few months ago on this fair isle and immediately set about corrupting as many maidens as you could lay your hands...

WATSON: And your Freddy!

HOLMES: ..on?

BUFFTERS: Well, it's like this, Sherlock...

HOLMES: Don't call me Sherlock.

BUFFTERS: All right. It's like this, Mr Holmes, they was gagging for it, I was gagging for it after a prolonged period of abstinence and, uh, well, we came to a mutually satisfying agreement.

WATSON: Why, you filthy blackguard, you!

HOLMES: Watson, please. I'm trying to interrogate the revolting reprobate here. It will all go a lot smoother and quicker if you put a sock in it. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. So it is your contention that you have committed no crime nor compromised any maiden's virtue without permission?

BUFFTERS: Nope. And I can prove it. Ask any of them and they'll tell you. Since I arrived on this island, they've had the time of their lives. (pulls out a diary from his pocket) You see? Full up with assignations. If it carries on like this, I will literally bonk meself to death, innit. Not that I'm complaining, like.

WATSON: Holmes, permission to cut this degenerate's balls off right now and release these poor maidens from their carnal servitude.

HOLMES: Permission denied!

WATSON: But... but...

HOLMES: Shut it! Now, Mr Buffters, I must conclude from all you have told us and all I have observed that we have been dispatched here under false pretences.

WATSON: What?! Have you taken leave of your senses, Holmes?!

HOLMES: Watson, I won't warn you again. One more word out of you and I'll deck you! Now, Mr Buffters, I really must apologise for detaining you any longer when you have such a busy schedule.

BUFFTERS: Most thoughtful of ya, Mr Holmes.

HOLMES: There is just one small matter that I need to impart to you before we leave you to continue your life of orgasmic abandon.

BUFFTERS: Go on.

HOLMES: A lot of people have been worried about you since your disappearance without so much as a postcard. Perhaps you'd be good enough to give me a message which I can convey to all those back in Blighty and in the US of A who are convinced you have been abducted by aliens and are in fear of being vaporized for misdemeanours to the universe?

BUFFTERS: OK. Tell 'em not to worry, I am possessed by the gods. Go figger!

HOLMES: Thank you. I shall make sure they get your message.

BUFFTERS: Oh, and one more thing.

HOLMES: Yes?

BUFFTERS: Film at eleven.

HOLMES: I beg your pardon?

WATSON: How extraordinary...

BUFFTERS: Arf, arf!


HOLMES AND DR WATSON HAVE NOT BEEN SEEN OR HEARD OF SINCE THEY DEPARTED FOR BOUVET ISLAND. THIS DIARY ENTRY WAS TORN OUT AND SENT IN A BOTTLE WHICH WASHED ASHORE ON THE SOUTH-WEST COAST OF BLIGHTLY. SOME SAY THEY HAVE BEEN BEWITCHED BY THE EARTHLY DELIGHTS OF BOUVET ISLAND AND HAVE TAKEN TO A LIFE OF UNBRIDLED DEBAUCHERY. OTHERS SAY THEIR BOAT CAPSIZED AND THEY WERE SNATCHED BY PIRATES, PUT IN CHAINS AND SET TO WORK IN THE GALLEYS. STILL OTHERS SAY THEY ARE SLOWLY MAKING THEIR WAY BACK TO BLIGHTY VIA FINLAND WHERE THEY HAVE FOUND THE PEOPLE TO BE UNIQUE, THOUGHTFUL, WISTFUL, PLAYFUL, PATRIOTIC AND TOTALLY INSANE. OR IT'S JUST POSSIBLE THAT THEY CAN'T BE ARSED TO TELL US WHERE THEY ARE AND WHAT THEY'RE DOING. GO FIGGER!

Monday, July 01, 2013

DESPERATELY SEEKING BUFFTERS

BIRDY HERE. I FOUND THIS HASTILY WRITTEN EMAIL LATE LAST NIGHT FROM DA BUFFTERS AND I IS WELL ANXIOUSIFIED:

Been up all night - couldn't sleep and now am totally strung out, heart pounding, probably on the verge of a heart attack or a stroke... ironically I'm supposed to see the shrink at 1PM - if I'm still alive. My greatest fear NOW is that he'll put me in the snake pit.

For the past hour or so I've either been hearing mice scurrying around inside my bedroom walls or I've slipped into sleep deprivation psychosis, or I'm trapped in an Edgar Allen Poe story.

 If I suddenly stop posting, it most likely means:

 a) I am dead (heart attack, stroke, or suicide)

 b)  I'm in the hospital (regular or mental)

c)  I've gone catatonic (and  Sparky may or may not notice)

 
***

NO NOOSE IS GOON GNUS. IF ANYBODY KNOWS DA WHEREWITHALS OF DA BUFF AND HOW TO GET 'IM BACK, SPILL DA BEANS, COS DIS BIRDY CANNAE LIVE WIDOUBT HYMN, LIKE!

AND IN UDDER GNUS...

BUFF, WHERE ARE YA? AIN'T NO SUBLIME SINCE YER GONE. A-HA... A-HA

Arf, arf?

 

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

THE SHORTEST ZITCOM EPISODE EVER! Q THE SOLARIS EFFECT

BIRD: Morning, dude.

BUFFALO: Mawnin'. Wasshapnin'?

BIRD: Did you ever think of me?

BUFFALO: Only when I was sad.

BIRD: Whenever we show pity, we empty our souls.

BUFFALO: The salvation of humanity is in its shame.

BIRD: Solaris?

BUFFALO: Ten points!

BIRD: Film at eleven.

BUFFALO: Arf, arf!

***

PLUS THE SHORTEST SOLARIS POEM EVER!!!

Solaris
by Birdy

So...
Laris
How goes it?

AND THE CRITICS SAID...

SHELDON, LEONARD, HOWARD, PENNY, RAJ AND KEVIN BACON: Totes amazeballs!


Monday, May 13, 2013

HAIL THE ZITCOM! THE BIG BANG THEORY STARS LUVVIT!

BUFFALO: Dude?

BIRD: Yes, dude?

BUFFALO: I'm so fecking depressed I feel like I could die. I'm so alone. And what's more, I got this zit on me Freddy and I can't zap da sucker, no matter how hard I try, if you get m'drift.

BIRD: Dude, half the frigging world is lonely and the other half is depressed, so what you're feeling now - it's nothing new. You've just got to weather the storm, innit.

BUFFALO: Thanks for that little gem of advice, Birdy. I shall take it to me grave.

BIRD: No worries. In udder news did you see the feedback we got from The Big Bang Theory stars?

BUFFALO: Dude, for the last month I've had my head so far up me ass, the gas buildup is enough to kaboom a planet.

BIRD: Snap out of it, dude. We're finally at the races. Listen. Here's what Sheldon said: "Totes amazeballs. These guys rock."

BUFFALO: Wow.

BIRD: And Leonard: "Such devastating wit. Sign 'em before somebody else does!"

BUFFALO: Woo-hoo!

BIRD: And Penny: "They're so... different."

BUFFALO: Ahhh, that's sweet. What about Raj and Howard? Did they say anything?

BIRD: Raj said "Not in my name."

BUFFALO: Huh?

BIRD: And Howard said "I don't get it but you say they're cheap, so uh, great!"

BUFFALO: Hm.

BIRD: Dude, it's only the beginning, but you gotta step up to the plate, it's something we should share.

BUFFALO: I dunno, Birdman, I mean I'm kinda washed out since Cinders left me.  I don't get it, it all went south when I refused to click on a link she sent regarding amazing business opportunities in Nigeria.

BIRD: Dude, it was a scam. You had a narrow escape.

BUFFALO: But she said she loved me.

BIRD: Cinders probably didn't even exist. As the great Barack Obama says, love online don't mean sheeet!

BUFFALO: Hey, don't knock it. Love online is all I got right now. If the cable company pull the plug my love life is so over.

BIRD: Dude, if that happens it'll be a blessing. It means you'll have to step out of your cave and go meet some real people.

BUFFALO: Real people?! What do I want with real people? They're nothing but trouble. Online, you can be whoever you want to be with whoever you want to be. Ya dig?

BIRD: Nope, I don't. And neither do you. Fantasy and self-love are all very well, but when push comes to shove...

BUFFALO: Or sleeve to glove...

BIRD: ..you ain't got bazinga all but an empty heart and a lost soul.

BUFFALO: Damn you, Birdster, you've cut right through my quick once again, leaving nothing but a fetid shell of humamicus despairus. Thanks!

BIRD: It had to be done. You're blowing a great opportunity with the Big Bangers. We're going to make it. We're THIS close.

BUFFALO: Oh, yeah? Then what about the zit on me Freddy?

BIRD: Rub some cream on it.

BUFFALO: Tried it. It didn't work.

BIRD: Go see the doc.

BUFFALO: Tried it. He suggested corrective surgery. Zinteq or something.

BIRD: Dude, that's for love handles.

BUFFALO: Aw, shit bags! Better go Google it again.

BIRD: Googling a problem is not the same as seeing the doc.

BUFFALO: No, it's better, cos then you don't have to face the doc laughing at you whilst pointing and prodding at yer pride and joy.

BIRD: Thou doest exaggerate, methinks.

BUFFALO: And not only that, but every time I see him, he wants to ram a bow anchor up me ass to check that me prostate's in order. I can't subject myself to that excruciating pain any more. I won't. Nope, it's Google for me or nuffink.

BIRD: I give up. It's no wonder you're banged up at home all alone, seeking solace in all the wrong places.

BUFFALO: Dude, if I don't get rid of this Freddy zit, I swear I'm going to turn to radical measures.

BIRD: Such as?

BUFFALO: Such as... such as... something drastic and very mysterious. I might even whip it off, like.

BIRD: Don't do that, you never know when you might need it.

BUFFALO: Now that Cinders has left me, I'd say, uh, never again.

BIRD: Always the optimist.

BUFFALO: Dude, this charade I call my wife, I mean life, has got to stop. It's gone on for far too long. The buck stops here, innit.

BIRD: Be patient, o bovine one, hold on just a little longer.

BUFFALO: I'm done with being patient. I'm 15 years done with being patient. I dared to dream the dream and it was all baloney. I've wasted 15 years of my life for nothing and I have nothing to show for it. Nada.

BIRD: Dude, can you see the subtext here?

BUFFALO: Stop it, just stop it. Subtext, schmucktext, I am done, done, done, done, done! No more waiting, no more hoping, no more what ifs, no more "They really like you, dude!" It's finished. Kaputten. Shazamaloo geschlossen!

BIRD: Well, if you feel that way about it.

BUFFALO: I do.

BIRD: You won't want to read and sign this contract from The Big Bang Theory production company then.

BUFFALO: The what?!

BIRD: Hang on, I'll just get a match...

BUFFALO: Wait. Now let's not be hasty here.

BIRD: ..and pssssshhhhh!

BUFFALO: Birdy, what are you doing?

BIRD: Respecting your wishes. And there it goes! How silly of me to even think we could make it with those guys.

BUFFALO: Argh! Tell me this isn't happening.

BIRD: Oh, the flames, the flames. How brightly they burn for thee.

BUFFALO: N-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o!

BIRD: Yes. All gone! That makes two cinders, geddit?

BUFFALO: O feckkkkkkkk!

BIRD: Ciao, bene!

BUFFALO: What a dumbass!

BIRD: Film at eleven.

BUFFALO: Arf, arf!

TO BE CONTINUED...