Monday, January 22, 2007

CASTRO'S ARTIFICIAL ANUS IN HIS OWN WURST... UH WORDS

ONCE WE HEARD THAT CASTRO’S SPANKING NEW ARTIFICIAL ANUS WAS PREPARED TO GIVE US A WORLD EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW, THERE REALLY WAS ONLY ONE MAN TO CONDUCT THAT INTERVIEW – THE IRREPRESSIBLE, THE INDEFATIGABLE, THE EPIPHENOMENALOGICAL, THE BIODEGRADABLE, THE ONE, THE ONLY JERRY ARSCHLICKER. SO LET’S HEAR IT FOR JERRY & THE POOP SCOOP OF THE 21ST CENTURY!

(PROLONGED APPLAUSE FOLLOWED BY SPORADIC GUNFIRE FOLLOWED BY THE OPENING BARS OF THE BUENA VISTA SOCIAL CLUB'S "CHAN CHAN")

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Hi, there, Mr… Well, let’s kick this baby off by asking you this – what’s your real name? Some people call you Farterado, some Fudge Chute, some Whoopsie Boy. What do you say?

EL PINDEJO: Well, the Cubans call me El Pindejo, which I’m reliably informed is an affectionate term for arsehole. It's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Lovely!

EL PINDEJO: But you can call me Arty.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Oh, OK. I get it. Arty-ficial. Cool. Btw do I detect an English accent there?

EL PINDEJO: Indeed you do. I was “groomed”, or shall we say “developed” by a team of scientists at Cambridge University known as the Analites. Thus the English accent.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Hey, that’s really great, Arty. Tell me this, it can’t be easy being an English speaking artificial anus on a geriatric, shrivelled up Cuban butt. I mean, let’s take the language barrier. How do you communicate with each other?

EL PINDEJO: Well, Jerry, that’s a very interesting question. I'm glad you asked it. Mr Castro, or Cazza as all his mates call him, can’t speak a word of English and my Spanish is very basic, so for the time being all we’ve got is gestures.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Jeez. It could get pretty sticky, not to say hairy, when there’s a fudge rocket on the way, no?

EL PINDEJO: Oh, that’s not a problem. I’ve got a special microchip that alerts me to any oncoming traffic, so to speak, from either direction, if you get my meaning.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Oh, I get it all right, Arty. Loud and clear. What about cultural differences? Have you found it hard to blend into Cuban society, being a product of the capitalist, decadent West?

EL PINDEJO: Well, as it happens, I’ve found Cubans most welcoming. Speaking as an artificial anus, I couldn’t have wished for a more positive inception. Anything I want I get. I just have to ask. Anything.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: And I’ve heard that you and Fidel have really hit it off. You’re gelling well.

EL PINDEJO: Yes, well, there is a certain amount of lubrication involved but I think for the sake of your less robust readers, I’d rather not go into the grizzly details.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Very thoughtful of you. But really, it’s been said there’s a real chemistry between the two of you.

EL PINDEJO: Some chemistry is involved, but to tell you the truth it’s mostly biology. Although for an old fart whose hygiene is not of the highest order, Cazza’s got a wonderful sense of humour. I only have to break wind and the silly old bugger's laughing his nuts off.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: That’s good to know. Now another thing I read, on this blog as a matter of fact, and you can correct me if it’s wrong, is that you enjoy a good cigar.

EL PINDEJO: Well, you know, when in Cuba… I like a good Cohiba or a Monte Cristo.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: How interesting. It just so happens that I’ve got a Cohiba right here.

EL PINDEJO: Oh, excellent. Have you got a match?

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Sure, my face, your anus. (BURSTS INTO A GIGGLING FIT) Geddit? Geddit?!

EL PINDEJO: Oh, yes. Like no-one’s ever made that little quip before!

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Sorry. Cheap shot I know, but it sells Podcasts. Ah-hem. Joking aside, isn’t smoking a cigar a teenie weenie wincy bincy bit dangerous?

EL PINDEJO: Only if Cazza’s been at the old frijoles again.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Frijoles?

EL PINDEJO: Refried beans. One good blast of methane and I'm a flaming arsehole, if you pardon my French.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Oh my Goddddddd! I hope they’re paying you well.

EL PINDEJO: Oh, very well, thank you very much. I'm the second highest paid state servant on the island, after Cazza, of course. And Cazza's already said that when he expires, they'll find a nice home for me, probably on his brother's arse.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Well, thank goodness for that. Sorry to dwell on your penchant for good cigars but I was wondering just how you get to smoke them when you obviously haven’t got any arms of your own.

EL PINDEJO: Oh, that’s quite simple. Cazza is kind enough to shove the old Cohiba, or Monte Cristo, right up me, light it up and hold it there while I puff merrily away.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: What a guy! So he, what, lemme try to visualize this, he bends over, shoves a cigar up you, then holds it there, pulls it out at regular intervals and then… Sounds like quite a military operation. Um, uh, how can I put this. What would happen if he couldn’t get the cigar out?

EL PINDEJO: Bloody hell! I hadn’t thought of that. It took the surgeons 16 hours to attach me to the smelly old sod. Removing me and bringing me back to full health could take… Aw, fook it. Guess I’ll have to give up the cigars. The thing is there’s only so much Buena Vista Fooking Social Club I can put up with. You know what I mean? I thought it would be fun, a voyage of discovery, with my favourite cigars and scrummy rum on tap. Be honest with me. I've seriously fooked up, haven't I?

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Uh, listen, I didn’t want to put you on a downer there, my friend. I mean, there are bound to be incompatibility issues in the beginning. I’m sure once you’ve bedded down, everything is gonna be JUST fine. Now I’d like to talk about your childhood, if that’s OK with you.

EL PINDEJO: Can you give me a few minutes? I think I’m gonna throw up.

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: Buddy, you can have all the time you like.

(FIDEL & EL PINDEJO ARE WHEELED OFF IN HASTY FASHION TO NEAREST EXECUTIVE WASTE DISPOSAL UNIT)

JERRY ARSCHLICKER: I'm afraid that's all the time we can spare this little poop box today. Next time we'll continue our in-depth interview and try to put our finger on the source of El Pindejo's soiled and troubled past. We'll see if we can't get him to open up a bit, spill the beans, and tell us what it's like to be the first decadent capitalist anus to grace the rotting fudge chute of the world's premiere socialist bunghole. We're on a roll, folks, and with a bit of luck we'll wipe the smile off that smarmy, Commie arsehole. Join us next time for the Jerry Arschlicker Show! All done in the wurst possible taste! And good night!

(RAPTUROUS APPLAUSE FOLLOWED BY LARGE EXPLOSION IN NEAREST EXECUTIVE WASTE DISPOSAL UNIT FOLLOWED BY SIRENS FOLLOWED BY PROLONGED GUNFIRE FOLLOWED BY MORE RAPTUROUS APPLAUSE)

1 comment:

Erskine said...

What if i get you with a great Idea. You continue your interview but light up a cigar while interviewing. If you think positively, this gives a great impression. But it depends which cigar you are lightning. If I were you, I would light up a cohiba corona. You can have a strong impression on the other person because of the dashing stick and because of the smell of the smoke.