BUFFALO: It's the impending Armageddon thing, dude.
Shit hitting fans from every direction,
One week away from the telltale election
Newscasts interfering with a decent erection
Holding Seppeku knife, contemplating vivisection.
POTTY DOTTY: I want more!
BUFFALO: Hey, Potty Dotty. Long time no see.
POTTY DOTTY: Went to Brighton for a while, to sort my head out. I became surrounded, if you will, by sensations. Didn't know where to turn. Spun a little. Then woke up in a Sainsbury's trolley on the pier with my knickers over my ears. With the Squidgies in tow.
BUFFALO: Sorry to hear that.
POTTY DOTTY: And with a thirst for blutwurst.
BUFFALO: Oh, baby!
POTTY DOTTY: And movies in May.
BUFFALO: Huh?
POTTY DOTTY: You can tell Sparky I'm ready for him now. This time his duvet and Toe Jam WON'T save him. Ta-ra.
BUFFALO: Dotty? Dotty? Where'd she go?
BIRD: Dude?
BUFFALO: Birdy? Squidgie update?
BIRD: Steady, Roy, steady. But ne'er mind that, Reggie. Ready for more The Diary of Mr Pitiful Motown?
BUFFALO: You betcha!
BIRD: This bit's a corker, dude. Zip up and get ready for the ride: "I can finish here a recluse with a soaked brain to receive my telephone numbers. They know this one bumsen.. I will go impact on his ass. The true problem is I write with nothing to insert. And nevertheless, it is my exit. Sadly, in this moment my life of Scheisse is complete. Time for another drink. A better life by chemistry. Anyhow, to grip to feel you in the Octo. Return me this donkey."
BUFFALO: (weeps) I can't... Pliz, Lucy...
BIRD: Gee, sorry, dude. Didn't mean to upset ya.
(BUFFALO wails like last ever Dodo facing extinction)
BIRD: (sings) The holly and the ivy... Film at eleven.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
THE CURSE OF THE SQUIDGIES
BIRD: Dire Rear, Buffo.
BUFFALO: Dude, youse wastin' away. You gotta do somefin'.
BIRD: I've tried all the remedies, Buffters - buttermilk, carrot soup, ginger, mint, pomegranate, mango, rice, but so far da only thing that's had any success, albeit limited, is the old Cabernet Sauvignon wine cork, strategically placed, like.
BUFFALO: Eeks!
BIRD: Difficult to regulate at night, if ya get m'drift.
BUFFALO: So is you off work, like?
BIRD: Off work, off play, off shagging after Tiffin. Jeepers, even Cadbury's Fruit & Nut has lost its allure.
BUFFALO: Boogeroo, dude. Does this mean the serialisation of dat Plasterung book might be delayed, like?
BIRD: Aw, that. Well, hactually, Ralf found a better deal.
BUFFALO: Die Grosse Schlanger Shagger!
BIRD: Quite. With the New Porker. But...
BUFFALO: No...
BIRD: Jeremy...
BUFFALO: Inmypants?
BIRD: Yahhh-p. Has agreed, for a small fee that would make the true hoors of this world salivate mightily...
BUFFALO: Gosh!
BIRD: ..to serialise his new book, well, short story, really, here, with us. Entitled, wait for it, drum roll, pliz - Diary Of Mr Pitiful Motown.
BUFFALO: Hey, great title!
BIRD: You'll love it, dude. It's flow-of-consciousness, surrealist seeker on a cheapo holiday in Dusseldorf type shit.
BUFFALO: You're selling it, dude, B Leave Me.
BIRD: So here goes... "Sometimes, I think of my opening bent in a block, or of my language which is drawn. I cannot decide with whom to stammer, the Udder or the Hammer. Insane dreams step either side of the nightmares. I am fallow and although I enjoy ballet, always pointing upwards. I am Gammler. I smell. My esteem approaches quickly with the fear of the opinion or the meal and a simple despair that most of the time I cannot live."
BUFFALO: (choking back tears) Beautiful, Birdman. Can hardly speak.
BIRD: To be continued...
BUFFALO: No!
BIRD: Yes!
BUFFALO: "A simple despair that most of the time I cannot live..." O so true.
BIRD: Oh, no! The Squidgies are flying. Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: I am Gammler... Arf, arf!
BUFFALO: Dude, youse wastin' away. You gotta do somefin'.
BIRD: I've tried all the remedies, Buffters - buttermilk, carrot soup, ginger, mint, pomegranate, mango, rice, but so far da only thing that's had any success, albeit limited, is the old Cabernet Sauvignon wine cork, strategically placed, like.
BUFFALO: Eeks!
BIRD: Difficult to regulate at night, if ya get m'drift.
BUFFALO: So is you off work, like?
BIRD: Off work, off play, off shagging after Tiffin. Jeepers, even Cadbury's Fruit & Nut has lost its allure.
BUFFALO: Boogeroo, dude. Does this mean the serialisation of dat Plasterung book might be delayed, like?
BIRD: Aw, that. Well, hactually, Ralf found a better deal.
BUFFALO: Die Grosse Schlanger Shagger!
BIRD: Quite. With the New Porker. But...
BUFFALO: No...
BIRD: Jeremy...
BUFFALO: Inmypants?
BIRD: Yahhh-p. Has agreed, for a small fee that would make the true hoors of this world salivate mightily...
BUFFALO: Gosh!
BIRD: ..to serialise his new book, well, short story, really, here, with us. Entitled, wait for it, drum roll, pliz - Diary Of Mr Pitiful Motown.
BUFFALO: Hey, great title!
BIRD: You'll love it, dude. It's flow-of-consciousness, surrealist seeker on a cheapo holiday in Dusseldorf type shit.
BUFFALO: You're selling it, dude, B Leave Me.
BIRD: So here goes... "Sometimes, I think of my opening bent in a block, or of my language which is drawn. I cannot decide with whom to stammer, the Udder or the Hammer. Insane dreams step either side of the nightmares. I am fallow and although I enjoy ballet, always pointing upwards. I am Gammler. I smell. My esteem approaches quickly with the fear of the opinion or the meal and a simple despair that most of the time I cannot live."
BUFFALO: (choking back tears) Beautiful, Birdman. Can hardly speak.
BIRD: To be continued...
BUFFALO: No!
BIRD: Yes!
BUFFALO: "A simple despair that most of the time I cannot live..." O so true.
BIRD: Oh, no! The Squidgies are flying. Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: I am Gammler... Arf, arf!
Thursday, October 26, 2006
EVERYDAY ABSCESS HORROR, AKA MAKE SQUIDGIES HISTORY
BIRD: Fookin’ abscess. The gum’s in agony. And the antibios are giving me the squidgies.
BUFFALO: Sorry to hear that, dude.
BIRD: Still, been milking the sympathy from all the ladies, like. And I did win at pool last night.
BUFFALO: Glad somebody won. The Tigers were beaten like gongs last night by the flaming St. Louis Cardinals, in St. Louis. Trying to raise my spirits by sipping Prince of Wales tea and eating homemade apple-cinnamon oatmeal.
BIRD: Fancy tigers being beaten by cardinals. The shame of it. Head feels like it's about to go splat. Things can only get better.
BUFFALO: Rewinds me of when mah wisdom teeth were removed in my early 20s. For two weeks I was on potent pain killers, yet I still thought my lower jaw was coming off. The first night after the surgery I woke up in the middle of the night choking on my own blood. Anyhoo, I hope you feel better soon.
BIRD: Either that or it’ll be a shotgun farewell, dude.
BUFFALO: Now, now, let's have none of that, lad. Grin and bear it, stiff upper lip, and all that. This too shall pass. And then something worse will happen and you'll look back on this as a mere lark... or a Cardinal.
BIRD: Now there's a thought. Thanks, Buff. Cheered me up no end.
BUFFALO: Think nothing of it. What are friends for? If it's any consolation to you, thank your lucky stars you don't have to take Ritalin to prevent you from falling asleep at the wheel and Ativan to discourage you from driving off cliffs. Think of your pain and discomfort as a pleasant distraction from the everyday horrors of life, and soon you'll be grinning ear to ear and gibbering like a great bloody ape. And now I'm off to the land of snails and adventure, aboard the Golden Hind. "Hi, folks, this is your host, Bob Hind..."
BIRD: Ker-ching! Direct hit!
BUFFALO: Still waiting for the trank to kick in here. Let's see, what else is good for stress? No, don't have the energy for that. Maybe a movie.
BIRD: Sounds like a good idea, Buffters. Oh, well, back to the squidgies. Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
BIRD: Ohhhhh…
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: FOR THOSE OF YOU SUFFERING FROM THE SQUIDGIES & IN NEED OF SYMPATHY & ADVICE, CONTACT THE INTERNATIONAL SQUIDGIES ASSOCIATION AT squidgies.R.US@wellsoft.net
"MAKE SQUIDGIES HISTORY" T-SHIRTS, MUGS, PENS & OTHER USEFUL & HIGHLY IMPRESSIVE MERCHANDISE ARE AVAILABLE AT www.makesquidgieshistorydirect.com
ALL DONATIONS TO THE ERADICATE SQUIDGIES BY 2015 FUND GRATEFULLY RECEIVED AT www.eradicatesquidgiesnow.com
PLEASE NOTE: IF SYMPTOMS PERSIST, CONTACT YOUR DOCTOR & INVEST IN EXTRA STRONG UNDIES. YOUR FAMILY & FRIENDS WILL THANK YOU FOR IT.
BUFFALO: Sorry to hear that, dude.
BIRD: Still, been milking the sympathy from all the ladies, like. And I did win at pool last night.
BUFFALO: Glad somebody won. The Tigers were beaten like gongs last night by the flaming St. Louis Cardinals, in St. Louis. Trying to raise my spirits by sipping Prince of Wales tea and eating homemade apple-cinnamon oatmeal.
BIRD: Fancy tigers being beaten by cardinals. The shame of it. Head feels like it's about to go splat. Things can only get better.
BUFFALO: Rewinds me of when mah wisdom teeth were removed in my early 20s. For two weeks I was on potent pain killers, yet I still thought my lower jaw was coming off. The first night after the surgery I woke up in the middle of the night choking on my own blood. Anyhoo, I hope you feel better soon.
BIRD: Either that or it’ll be a shotgun farewell, dude.
BUFFALO: Now, now, let's have none of that, lad. Grin and bear it, stiff upper lip, and all that. This too shall pass. And then something worse will happen and you'll look back on this as a mere lark... or a Cardinal.
BIRD: Now there's a thought. Thanks, Buff. Cheered me up no end.
BUFFALO: Think nothing of it. What are friends for? If it's any consolation to you, thank your lucky stars you don't have to take Ritalin to prevent you from falling asleep at the wheel and Ativan to discourage you from driving off cliffs. Think of your pain and discomfort as a pleasant distraction from the everyday horrors of life, and soon you'll be grinning ear to ear and gibbering like a great bloody ape. And now I'm off to the land of snails and adventure, aboard the Golden Hind. "Hi, folks, this is your host, Bob Hind..."
BIRD: Ker-ching! Direct hit!
BUFFALO: Still waiting for the trank to kick in here. Let's see, what else is good for stress? No, don't have the energy for that. Maybe a movie.
BIRD: Sounds like a good idea, Buffters. Oh, well, back to the squidgies. Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
BIRD: Ohhhhh…
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: FOR THOSE OF YOU SUFFERING FROM THE SQUIDGIES & IN NEED OF SYMPATHY & ADVICE, CONTACT THE INTERNATIONAL SQUIDGIES ASSOCIATION AT squidgies.R.US@wellsoft.net
"MAKE SQUIDGIES HISTORY" T-SHIRTS, MUGS, PENS & OTHER USEFUL & HIGHLY IMPRESSIVE MERCHANDISE ARE AVAILABLE AT www.makesquidgieshistorydirect.com
ALL DONATIONS TO THE ERADICATE SQUIDGIES BY 2015 FUND GRATEFULLY RECEIVED AT www.eradicatesquidgiesnow.com
PLEASE NOTE: IF SYMPTOMS PERSIST, CONTACT YOUR DOCTOR & INVEST IN EXTRA STRONG UNDIES. YOUR FAMILY & FRIENDS WILL THANK YOU FOR IT.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
PLASTERUNG IST GERADE AUS!
BIRD: Get this, dude. That German geezer Ralf.
BUFFALO: Oh, him. Mr Babelfish Schweinhund Shagger.
BIRD: That's the one. Well... his book...
BUFFALO: Gescheitze Strasse Nomer Eins.
BIRD: The Plasterung... has sent the big hitters in the publishing world into a bidding war.
BUFFALO: No way!
BIRD: As a result of appearing on da blog, like.
BUFFALO: Yeeks!
BIRD: They're talking half a mill.
BUFFALO: Wass?
BIRD: Apparent Lee, the internet yoot love all that pidjin-English-where's-the-fookin'-verb-and-object-MTV-has-fooked-over-our-beautiful-language- this-makes-no-sense-shite.
BUFFALO: Bunch of dummy kopfs!
BIRD: So...
BUFFALO: So?
BIRD: As a mark of gratitude...
BUFFALO: Huh?
BIRD: Ralf is gonna let us serialize the first six chapters on da blog.
BUFFALO: Goering on die Scheitze hausen! Nichts!
BIRD: Ja. Isn't that great news?
BUFFALO: Wunderbra! Check, pliz!
BIRD: And his German publishers want to translate Tails From The Bird & Buffalo Uncut.
BUFFALO: Ah, diese besser, like. But tell me I don't have to be called Bueffel.
BIRD: Nah, course not. The name stays the same.
BUFFALO: Praise the Lord.
BIRD: And get this... for the launch party, we're going to Berlin to meet the Hoff.
BUFFALO: David Hasselhoff?! Grrrrrrrrrrrreat! Whoopee. I love that guy. You know he's got a 16-inch schlonger?
BIRD: Really?
BUFFALO: Yup. Maybe if we play our cards right, he'll let us sing on his next single.
BIRD: Yes... Anyhoo, moving on. Press releases to write, photo shoots to arrange.
BUFFALO: Not half, Birdman.
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Gerade aus. Arf, arf!
BUFFALO: Oh, him. Mr Babelfish Schweinhund Shagger.
BIRD: That's the one. Well... his book...
BUFFALO: Gescheitze Strasse Nomer Eins.
BIRD: The Plasterung... has sent the big hitters in the publishing world into a bidding war.
BUFFALO: No way!
BIRD: As a result of appearing on da blog, like.
BUFFALO: Yeeks!
BIRD: They're talking half a mill.
BUFFALO: Wass?
BIRD: Apparent Lee, the internet yoot love all that pidjin-English-where's-the-fookin'-verb-and-object-MTV-has-fooked-over-our-beautiful-language- this-makes-no-sense-shite.
BUFFALO: Bunch of dummy kopfs!
BIRD: So...
BUFFALO: So?
BIRD: As a mark of gratitude...
BUFFALO: Huh?
BIRD: Ralf is gonna let us serialize the first six chapters on da blog.
BUFFALO: Goering on die Scheitze hausen! Nichts!
BIRD: Ja. Isn't that great news?
BUFFALO: Wunderbra! Check, pliz!
BIRD: And his German publishers want to translate Tails From The Bird & Buffalo Uncut.
BUFFALO: Ah, diese besser, like. But tell me I don't have to be called Bueffel.
BIRD: Nah, course not. The name stays the same.
BUFFALO: Praise the Lord.
BIRD: And get this... for the launch party, we're going to Berlin to meet the Hoff.
BUFFALO: David Hasselhoff?! Grrrrrrrrrrrreat! Whoopee. I love that guy. You know he's got a 16-inch schlonger?
BIRD: Really?
BUFFALO: Yup. Maybe if we play our cards right, he'll let us sing on his next single.
BIRD: Yes... Anyhoo, moving on. Press releases to write, photo shoots to arrange.
BUFFALO: Not half, Birdman.
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Gerade aus. Arf, arf!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
JEREMY YOUTUBE LEMONS JUGS ARF, ARF
BIRD: Well, that went well.
BUFFALO: Sure did.
BIRD: And the, ah-hm, donations are flying in.
BUFFALO: Yowzer to that, dude. Got holes in me socks and I need a new hooter.
BIRD: Hmm. Yes. Anyhoo, you know that Jeremy guy?
BUFFALO: The one who's got a blog called jeremyindiapers or somefink?
BIRD: In pants. Jeremyinpants. Nothing on it yet, but we'll keep an eye out for developments. Well, he wrote us the mostest coolest e-mail.
BUFFALO: Respect.
BIRD: So good, infarct, that I reproduce it here for your highest of pleasures.
BUFFALO: Right-o.
BIRD: And he writes: "Dear Bird & Buffalo, Last year I lost my wife, my cat, my goat, my mind and my rare Mongolian birds stamp collection. And then you two loons came into my life. I just wanna say... Ch-ch-cho-cho... Gimme a minute, will ya? Choking up over here."
BUFFALO: Poor fookster.
BIRD: "I just wanna say when I read the extract from Helmut's novel yesterday..."
BUFFALO: Ralf, dude. Ralf. Bueffel indeed! Schweinhund shagger.
BIRD: "When I read the extract from Helmut's novel yesterday, I realised that just about anyone can write a novel then send it off to those wise guys at Babelfish, sign on the dotted line and make a mint. So..."
BUFFALO: Omigod. Here it comes.
BIRD: "So I wondered if you'd take a look at what I knocked together over an omelette and chips last night in my cramped but nice bedsit in Peckham?"
BUFFALO: Peckham? Any relation to Pecker?
BIRD: It's a suburb of London, dude.
BUFFALO: Oh. Do we have to read this?
BIRD: Yep. "Well, OK, it's not finished yet, but it starts off in a fairly lively fashion. 'He came round the bend and stuttered to a halt. Where was the gravy?'"
BUFFALO: That's it?!
BIRD: A-ha. So what do you think? Has it got legs?
BUFFALO: Tell me life's too short. Tell me.
BIRD: Wait, the e-mail's not finished yet. "And where can I find Sharon and the dancing titties? YouTube keeps saying 'File not found'. Love you guys. Wicked."
BUFFALO: The durty auld perv. We'll send you the link.
BIRD: And lastly... "Is it too late for my 8 Me-Me's? Here goes.
1. I wear my Y-fronts back to front to improve my circulation.
2. I've ghost written a biography for five prime ministers and sixteen presidents worldwide, but I wouldn't advise it. They pay very shitty rates.
3. I stole my great aunt's pet Yorkshire terrier shortly before she died and renamed her Horny.
4. I always mis-spell my name on forms, so people will remember me.
5. I think Titanic is the greatest film EVER made and I still find Celine Dion a total Freddy teaser.
6. My big left toe has two nails.
7. I shave under my arms and around my gonads. My girlfriend, well, ex-girlfriend was a bit of a stroker.
8. I'm learning the Collins Millennium dictionary word by word, for a laugh. Just got up to "enarthrosis". Looking forward to "en brochette".
Cheers
Jeremy Hoopla
PS Ha-ha. That's not my name. Can you guess what it really is?"
BUFFALO: Jeez. Another nutjob. Wot is it about us that attracts every wacko in town?
BIRD: Jeremy Hoofer, or whatever your name is, he didn't mean it. He's trying to be ironic. If you could only see his eyebrows slewing like waves...
BUFFALO: Yeah, Jez. Don't mind me. I haven't been laid since the summer.
BIRD: Nae true, laddy.
BUFFALO: Well, OK, a few weeks ago. And the nights are drawing in.
BIRD: What about last weekend?
BUFFALO: Doesn't count. Money changed hands, remember?
BIRD: Oh, Buffo. You'll have to stop taking them to those exclusive restaurants. KFC is perfectly adequate.
BUFFALO: I tell ya, those cherries were so ripe...
BIRD: Yes, all right, Buffters. What the mind doesn't see the imagination can fill in. So, anyway, here's to the next interactive, coming soon.
BUFFALO: Can't wait! And Sharon's new YouTube video, in which she juggles a dozen lemons on her jugs to the tune of Bachman Turner Overdrive's You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet!
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
BUFFALO: Sure did.
BIRD: And the, ah-hm, donations are flying in.
BUFFALO: Yowzer to that, dude. Got holes in me socks and I need a new hooter.
BIRD: Hmm. Yes. Anyhoo, you know that Jeremy guy?
BUFFALO: The one who's got a blog called jeremyindiapers or somefink?
BIRD: In pants. Jeremyinpants. Nothing on it yet, but we'll keep an eye out for developments. Well, he wrote us the mostest coolest e-mail.
BUFFALO: Respect.
BIRD: So good, infarct, that I reproduce it here for your highest of pleasures.
BUFFALO: Right-o.
BIRD: And he writes: "Dear Bird & Buffalo, Last year I lost my wife, my cat, my goat, my mind and my rare Mongolian birds stamp collection. And then you two loons came into my life. I just wanna say... Ch-ch-cho-cho... Gimme a minute, will ya? Choking up over here."
BUFFALO: Poor fookster.
BIRD: "I just wanna say when I read the extract from Helmut's novel yesterday..."
BUFFALO: Ralf, dude. Ralf. Bueffel indeed! Schweinhund shagger.
BIRD: "When I read the extract from Helmut's novel yesterday, I realised that just about anyone can write a novel then send it off to those wise guys at Babelfish, sign on the dotted line and make a mint. So..."
BUFFALO: Omigod. Here it comes.
BIRD: "So I wondered if you'd take a look at what I knocked together over an omelette and chips last night in my cramped but nice bedsit in Peckham?"
BUFFALO: Peckham? Any relation to Pecker?
BIRD: It's a suburb of London, dude.
BUFFALO: Oh. Do we have to read this?
BIRD: Yep. "Well, OK, it's not finished yet, but it starts off in a fairly lively fashion. 'He came round the bend and stuttered to a halt. Where was the gravy?'"
BUFFALO: That's it?!
BIRD: A-ha. So what do you think? Has it got legs?
BUFFALO: Tell me life's too short. Tell me.
BIRD: Wait, the e-mail's not finished yet. "And where can I find Sharon and the dancing titties? YouTube keeps saying 'File not found'. Love you guys. Wicked."
BUFFALO: The durty auld perv. We'll send you the link.
BIRD: And lastly... "Is it too late for my 8 Me-Me's? Here goes.
1. I wear my Y-fronts back to front to improve my circulation.
2. I've ghost written a biography for five prime ministers and sixteen presidents worldwide, but I wouldn't advise it. They pay very shitty rates.
3. I stole my great aunt's pet Yorkshire terrier shortly before she died and renamed her Horny.
4. I always mis-spell my name on forms, so people will remember me.
5. I think Titanic is the greatest film EVER made and I still find Celine Dion a total Freddy teaser.
6. My big left toe has two nails.
7. I shave under my arms and around my gonads. My girlfriend, well, ex-girlfriend was a bit of a stroker.
8. I'm learning the Collins Millennium dictionary word by word, for a laugh. Just got up to "enarthrosis". Looking forward to "en brochette".
Cheers
Jeremy Hoopla
PS Ha-ha. That's not my name. Can you guess what it really is?"
BUFFALO: Jeez. Another nutjob. Wot is it about us that attracts every wacko in town?
BIRD: Jeremy Hoofer, or whatever your name is, he didn't mean it. He's trying to be ironic. If you could only see his eyebrows slewing like waves...
BUFFALO: Yeah, Jez. Don't mind me. I haven't been laid since the summer.
BIRD: Nae true, laddy.
BUFFALO: Well, OK, a few weeks ago. And the nights are drawing in.
BIRD: What about last weekend?
BUFFALO: Doesn't count. Money changed hands, remember?
BIRD: Oh, Buffo. You'll have to stop taking them to those exclusive restaurants. KFC is perfectly adequate.
BUFFALO: I tell ya, those cherries were so ripe...
BIRD: Yes, all right, Buffters. What the mind doesn't see the imagination can fill in. So, anyway, here's to the next interactive, coming soon.
BUFFALO: Can't wait! And Sharon's new YouTube video, in which she juggles a dozen lemons on her jugs to the tune of Bachman Turner Overdrive's You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet!
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
Monday, October 23, 2006
BIRD & BUFF INTERACTIVE IS GO!
BIRD: Woo! This is fun!
BUFFALO: Sure is.
BIRD: Welcome to Bird & Buff Interactive, where you... yes, YOU, the READER, gets to talk live to the Bird & Buffalo. Ask us anything, that's anything. We're here for you. And our first caller is...
BUFFALO: Uh, that'd be Ralf from Germany.
BIRD: Hey, Ralf! Welcome to the show! What would you like to ask us?
RALF: I would like to connect it blog. You are fantastisch. I write mean first novel in English. Possibly you can help.
BIRD: Er, yeah. No problem. And your question is?
RALF: My novel ist The Plasterung. Like it.
BUFFALO: Hey, dude, that's great! Uh, Sharon's on Sky Pee 2. Hi, Sharon! I believe you can make your titties dance in 4/4 time?
BIRD: Not so fast, Buffters. So, Ralf, you're writing a novel.
RALF: Ja. I read.
BUFFALO: Oh, scheitze on die Biken.
RALF: Your German not so gut, Bueffel.
BUFFALO: Bueffel?! Who the fook's Bueffel?
BIRD: Cork it, Buffo. Sorry about that, Ralf. About your novel...
RALF: The Plasterung.
BIRD: Which means?
RALF: Pavement.
BIRD: Interesting.
RALF: Listen. I read.
BUFFALO: Can't we get ditch this jer-berk and get on to Sharon and her dancing titties?
BIRD: Buff, pliz! Ralf can hear you. Go on, Ralf. Sock it to us, dude.
RALF: Ja. It goes in such a way: "Paul regarded above the sun. The sharp gloss was unbearable. It waited that the car began then, the road to cross exceeds. A thin older Mrs., their head stooped, tottered over here from the other side. Their dress was the Flimsy, which is white with bright yellow flowers on. Their hair was briefly, grey, permed. Their face had shrunk. A luggage car shot from a lateral rotation. Paul main header its hand on, in order to try to slow it down. The luggage car accelerated above. The older woman looked above and stopped in the middle in the road. The brakes squealed. The luggage car slipped to the tariff of a stop arm Paul stretched by Pauls turned to the older woman. She fell into its arms. The luggage car driver went out and helped Paul to carry the woman to the Plasterung. "it is OKAY," said Paul, "I call for an ambulance."
BIRD: Excrement, dude. Oh, yes. Where'd you learn to write English like that?
RALF: Nein, Geburdy Wurdy. I use Babelfish, ja?
BUFFALO: Babelfish... Jesus H Gondola in Berlin.
BIRD: Well done, Ralf, and good luck with the novel. Now on Sky Pee 2, Sharon and her dancing titties to the tune of Leo Sayer's You Make Me Feel Like Dancing.
BUFFALO: Now dat's better. Watching da YouTube vid here, dude. Look at those nipples go! Touchdown!
BIRD: Wow. So Sharon, when did you first discover you could strut yer jugs?
SHARON: Well, it was when I was ******************************
FOR THE FULL STORY OF WHAT SHARON HAS ACHIEVED IN AN INCREDIBLY SHORT TIME WITH HER TERRIFICALLY RHYTHMIC TITTIES, SUBSCRIBE TO THE BIRD & BUFFALO PODCAST BY E-MAILING birdandbuffalo@hotmail.com AND CLICKING ON THE LINK. CHARGES MAY VARY DEPENDING ON YOUR GEOGRAPHICAL LOCATION AND WHETHER YOU WISH TO SELECT THE PREMIUM OR ECONOMY SERVICE, BUT ALL CLICKS WILL BE CHARGED. OH, AND HURRY, THE FIRST 100 SUBSCRIBERS WILL RECEIVE SPARKY'S TOE JAM CHRISTMAS HAMPER ABSOLUTELY FREE!
BUFFALO: Sure is.
BIRD: Welcome to Bird & Buff Interactive, where you... yes, YOU, the READER, gets to talk live to the Bird & Buffalo. Ask us anything, that's anything. We're here for you. And our first caller is...
BUFFALO: Uh, that'd be Ralf from Germany.
BIRD: Hey, Ralf! Welcome to the show! What would you like to ask us?
RALF: I would like to connect it blog. You are fantastisch. I write mean first novel in English. Possibly you can help.
BIRD: Er, yeah. No problem. And your question is?
RALF: My novel ist The Plasterung. Like it.
BUFFALO: Hey, dude, that's great! Uh, Sharon's on Sky Pee 2. Hi, Sharon! I believe you can make your titties dance in 4/4 time?
BIRD: Not so fast, Buffters. So, Ralf, you're writing a novel.
RALF: Ja. I read.
BUFFALO: Oh, scheitze on die Biken.
RALF: Your German not so gut, Bueffel.
BUFFALO: Bueffel?! Who the fook's Bueffel?
BIRD: Cork it, Buffo. Sorry about that, Ralf. About your novel...
RALF: The Plasterung.
BIRD: Which means?
RALF: Pavement.
BIRD: Interesting.
RALF: Listen. I read.
BUFFALO: Can't we get ditch this jer-berk and get on to Sharon and her dancing titties?
BIRD: Buff, pliz! Ralf can hear you. Go on, Ralf. Sock it to us, dude.
RALF: Ja. It goes in such a way: "Paul regarded above the sun. The sharp gloss was unbearable. It waited that the car began then, the road to cross exceeds. A thin older Mrs., their head stooped, tottered over here from the other side. Their dress was the Flimsy, which is white with bright yellow flowers on. Their hair was briefly, grey, permed. Their face had shrunk. A luggage car shot from a lateral rotation. Paul main header its hand on, in order to try to slow it down. The luggage car accelerated above. The older woman looked above and stopped in the middle in the road. The brakes squealed. The luggage car slipped to the tariff of a stop arm Paul stretched by Pauls turned to the older woman. She fell into its arms. The luggage car driver went out and helped Paul to carry the woman to the Plasterung. "it is OKAY," said Paul, "I call for an ambulance."
BIRD: Excrement, dude. Oh, yes. Where'd you learn to write English like that?
RALF: Nein, Geburdy Wurdy. I use Babelfish, ja?
BUFFALO: Babelfish... Jesus H Gondola in Berlin.
BIRD: Well done, Ralf, and good luck with the novel. Now on Sky Pee 2, Sharon and her dancing titties to the tune of Leo Sayer's You Make Me Feel Like Dancing.
BUFFALO: Now dat's better. Watching da YouTube vid here, dude. Look at those nipples go! Touchdown!
BIRD: Wow. So Sharon, when did you first discover you could strut yer jugs?
SHARON: Well, it was when I was ******************************
FOR THE FULL STORY OF WHAT SHARON HAS ACHIEVED IN AN INCREDIBLY SHORT TIME WITH HER TERRIFICALLY RHYTHMIC TITTIES, SUBSCRIBE TO THE BIRD & BUFFALO PODCAST BY E-MAILING birdandbuffalo@hotmail.com AND CLICKING ON THE LINK. CHARGES MAY VARY DEPENDING ON YOUR GEOGRAPHICAL LOCATION AND WHETHER YOU WISH TO SELECT THE PREMIUM OR ECONOMY SERVICE, BUT ALL CLICKS WILL BE CHARGED. OH, AND HURRY, THE FIRST 100 SUBSCRIBERS WILL RECEIVE SPARKY'S TOE JAM CHRISTMAS HAMPER ABSOLUTELY FREE!
Sunday, October 22, 2006
FIFI IN THE NIGHT
PLEASE NOTE: THIS SKETCH WAS SEVERELY COMPROMISED WHEN PARTS OF IT WERE LEAKED TO THE LOCAL PROSECUTOR GENERAL'S OFFICE BY A JEALOUS EX-POSTMAN AND A GAGGING ORDER WAS SLAPPED ON THE SCENES OF GRATUITOUS SEX, VIOLENCE AND GLUTTINOUS ABANDON ACCOMPANIED BY SPARKY'S TOE JAM. IF YOU FEEL INCENSED, OUTRAGED OR JUST PLAIN CURIOUS AS TO THE BITS LEFT OUT, E-MAIL US AND WE WILL PUBLISH AND BE DAMNED... OR NEVER BE SEEN OR HEARD OF AGAIN. WHICH SOME CLAIM MAY BE A GOOD THING. YOU DECIDE.
FIFI: What I get up to under the cover of darkness is very poisonal, not for your prying eyes, but I will say that I'm often so tired the next morning I feel that I simply MUST slow down. There's only so much of me to give. Coffee...
Can you hear the paper clips falling from the sky, pelting my window panes? Why? Why? Why?
Last night I dreamt the earth was round and the G spot went deeper and deeper and...
The love of my life is a frog
Who lives in a slime-covered bog
Our noisy assignations
Cause public demonstrations--
We fancy a hump on a log.
More coffee... Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
FIFI: What I get up to under the cover of darkness is very poisonal, not for your prying eyes, but I will say that I'm often so tired the next morning I feel that I simply MUST slow down. There's only so much of me to give. Coffee...
Can you hear the paper clips falling from the sky, pelting my window panes? Why? Why? Why?
Last night I dreamt the earth was round and the G spot went deeper and deeper and...
The love of my life is a frog
Who lives in a slime-covered bog
Our noisy assignations
Cause public demonstrations--
We fancy a hump on a log.
More coffee... Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
Friday, October 20, 2006
FRESH OCTOPUS IN THE NIGHT
PLEASE NOTE: NO OCTOPUSES OR OTHER ANIMALS WERE HURT DURING THE RECORDING OF THIS SKETCH
(Octopussy plays Donna Summer's I Feel Love badly on bagpipes, squirts dark inky substance across playpen, does several rolly pollys with bagpipes entwined, comes to rest in the corner with all three hearts about to burst, pants contentedly, strokes bagpipes with leading suction cup then sinks into deep, satisfying slumber)
BUFFALO: Ah, sweet!
BIRD: Brings tears to yer eyes.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
(Octopussy plays Donna Summer's I Feel Love badly on bagpipes, squirts dark inky substance across playpen, does several rolly pollys with bagpipes entwined, comes to rest in the corner with all three hearts about to burst, pants contentedly, strokes bagpipes with leading suction cup then sinks into deep, satisfying slumber)
BUFFALO: Ah, sweet!
BIRD: Brings tears to yer eyes.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
BUFF IN THE NIGHT
BUFFALO: Gently does it. Sleep, Sparkers old chum, sleep. I know you've got some cash in that mattress of yours and I'm gonna find it, I mean borrow it. Times are hard and you don't need it, not now Cindy's cinders, like. Ah, what's that? Something lumpy. Yes, I think it could be exactly what the doc ordered. Wass this? A newspaper, from 1985. Pasadena Times. "Embezzler Walter Sparkington Flees Court House. Massive Manhunt Begins." Gott und Himmell, Sparky, just WHO are you?
SPARKY: (muttering) I'll... get you, Charlie. Not another step, man. I'll blow yer head off, marzipan.
BUFFALO: Mon dieu. A fugitive from justice, like. Gawd, is that the time. The wolf will be howling out yonder. Gotta go. Jeez, wot am I doing? Sparky must never know. But... My oldest friend. But... Stuck with me through thick and thin. But... There might be a reward for his capture. Sorry, old chum, the law's the law. And this poor auld Buff's got no choice.
(shuffles away while tittering maniacally)
SPARKY: (muttering) I'll... get you, Charlie. Not another step, man. I'll blow yer head off, marzipan.
BUFFALO: Mon dieu. A fugitive from justice, like. Gawd, is that the time. The wolf will be howling out yonder. Gotta go. Jeez, wot am I doing? Sparky must never know. But... My oldest friend. But... Stuck with me through thick and thin. But... There might be a reward for his capture. Sorry, old chum, the law's the law. And this poor auld Buff's got no choice.
(shuffles away while tittering maniacally)
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
RODDERS 8 ME-ME
BIRD: Thinking of buying a goat to cut the grass.
BUFFALO: Great idea. Get the right one and you could get yer milk for free.
BIRD: Or we could just rip it up and cover it with gravel.
BUFFALO: In an English country garden? No way, Birdman.
BIRD: Good point, Buffters. Any Hooey, this 8 Me-Me thingie...
BUFFALO: Yeah?
BIRD: Got some great e-mails. Today it's Rodders from Plymouth. Get ready to soil yerself, dude. This guy is one serious jerk-berk.
"Dear Birdy,
Rodders here. You're so funny. Here are eight things about me I have never told anyone. Hope it helps.
1. I'm afraid of lemons. Whenever I see one, I have to cross the road.
2. My mother has a Willy Wonka, but my dad says it's OK, it's hormonal. But I wish she'd shave her beard off!
3. My first love was my maths teacher, Miss Scruncher. I saw her panties once when she bent over whilst sharpening her pencil. God bless Marks & Spencers.
4. I read very slowly - about ten words a minute - but I'm not thick and I like reading a lot. Well, OK, I prefer comics, really, and violent computer games. Is that so strange?
5. I like to climb on people's roofs and wee down their chimneys. So far I haven't been caught.
6. I walk backwards with my head down if I see someone I don't like. I must stop doing this, because people keep tripping me up and stamping on my nose, which is flat enough already, and because I'm walking backwards I don't get a good enough look at their face, so the police think I'm really silly.
7. I eat my Corn Flakes without milk but put milk in my tea. Wacky, eh?
8. I sleep with the light on in case the government needs me for some top secret mission in the early hours of the morning.
Oh, and eight and a half - my left foot is bigger than my right foot and is much harder to wash.
Your blog is the bestest thing on the internet. Even mummy thinks so.
Rodders
BUFFALO: Omigod! I... (falls into giggling fit)
BIRD: Cheers, Rodders. Keep 'em coming. Buff?
BUFFALO: (parps profusely)
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Great idea. Get the right one and you could get yer milk for free.
BIRD: Or we could just rip it up and cover it with gravel.
BUFFALO: In an English country garden? No way, Birdman.
BIRD: Good point, Buffters. Any Hooey, this 8 Me-Me thingie...
BUFFALO: Yeah?
BIRD: Got some great e-mails. Today it's Rodders from Plymouth. Get ready to soil yerself, dude. This guy is one serious jerk-berk.
"Dear Birdy,
Rodders here. You're so funny. Here are eight things about me I have never told anyone. Hope it helps.
1. I'm afraid of lemons. Whenever I see one, I have to cross the road.
2. My mother has a Willy Wonka, but my dad says it's OK, it's hormonal. But I wish she'd shave her beard off!
3. My first love was my maths teacher, Miss Scruncher. I saw her panties once when she bent over whilst sharpening her pencil. God bless Marks & Spencers.
4. I read very slowly - about ten words a minute - but I'm not thick and I like reading a lot. Well, OK, I prefer comics, really, and violent computer games. Is that so strange?
5. I like to climb on people's roofs and wee down their chimneys. So far I haven't been caught.
6. I walk backwards with my head down if I see someone I don't like. I must stop doing this, because people keep tripping me up and stamping on my nose, which is flat enough already, and because I'm walking backwards I don't get a good enough look at their face, so the police think I'm really silly.
7. I eat my Corn Flakes without milk but put milk in my tea. Wacky, eh?
8. I sleep with the light on in case the government needs me for some top secret mission in the early hours of the morning.
Oh, and eight and a half - my left foot is bigger than my right foot and is much harder to wash.
Your blog is the bestest thing on the internet. Even mummy thinks so.
Rodders
BUFFALO: Omigod! I... (falls into giggling fit)
BIRD: Cheers, Rodders. Keep 'em coming. Buff?
BUFFALO: (parps profusely)
BIRD: Film at eleven.
Monday, October 16, 2006
SPARKY 8 ME-ME
EIGHT THINGS YOU DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT SPARKY.
WARNING ADVISORY: NOT SUITABLE FOR THOSE WHO HAVE JUST HAD BREAKFAST. MAY ONLY BE READ BY MINORS ACCOMPANIED BY A PARENT
SPARKY: OK, here goes, man. First thing you didn't know about me is I got a very small bladder.
BUFFALO: Jeez. The WHOLE world knows that, Sparkers. Give us sumfin' truly deeply revelatory.
SPARKY: I love the smell of Napalm. Got some in my wardrobe for a rainy day.
BUFFALO: Fookin' Nelly! You really are a weird fookeroo, y'know that? Next.
SPARKY: I lost my virginity at the age of ten when I saved a 17-year-old brunette cheerleader from treading on a pitch fork just outside Pasadena. Name of Trudy. Last thing she said to me was, "Now beat it, punk shite". If only I could find her now...
BUFFALO: Getting better. Next.
SPARKY: I cheated on Cindy with all the other dolls. Don't matter any more... now she's melted, man.
BUFFALO: Oh, Sparkers. That roaming rod of yours'll get you into big trouble one of these days. Go on.
SPARKY: My favorite film is Lassie Come Home. When I was young, I wanted to be that dog! Still do.
BUFFALO: Digging a mighty hole for yerself here, dude. Next.
SPARKY: My Uncle Ray wasn't my uncle. He's my brother. But he never knew. Dumbass shoulda twigged it, considerin' he's ten years YOUNGER than me. He's layin' out there in Nam beneath the begonias.
BUFFALO: Got anything normal for us, perchance?
SPARKY: Got a tattoo of Marilyn Monroe on my left testicle.
BUFFALO: That's normal?
SPARKY: Wanna see it?
BUFFALO: Uh, not right now, dude. OK, this is number eight, Sparkers, old chap, so make it a good one.
SPARKY: Man, I ain't got an eighth. And I feel real cheap now that I've told ya all my secrets. No wonder Potty Dotty kicked my ass into touch.
BUFFALO: There is one more, isn't there?
SPARKY: Jehovah's H Michaelmas! Are you tryin' to destroy me, man?
BUFFALO: Say it, dude. It's OK.
SPARKY: No way, man.
BUFFALO: It's part of the healing process, remember?
SPARKY: O wot the fookery. OK. I had sex with my psychiatrist in Wal-Mart by the sausage counter. Satisfied?
BUFFALO: Very. Now run along, Sparkers, you must be dyin' for a...
SPARKY: Sure am, man. Hey, you said I'd feel better afterwards.
BUFFALO: I also said that Cindy's coming back, didn't I? Boy, you is one gullible eedjit.
SPARKY: Gee, thanks, man. Gotta run now before I burst my pipe.
BUFFALO: Film at eleven. Arf, arf!
WARNING ADVISORY: NOT SUITABLE FOR THOSE WHO HAVE JUST HAD BREAKFAST. MAY ONLY BE READ BY MINORS ACCOMPANIED BY A PARENT
SPARKY: OK, here goes, man. First thing you didn't know about me is I got a very small bladder.
BUFFALO: Jeez. The WHOLE world knows that, Sparkers. Give us sumfin' truly deeply revelatory.
SPARKY: I love the smell of Napalm. Got some in my wardrobe for a rainy day.
BUFFALO: Fookin' Nelly! You really are a weird fookeroo, y'know that? Next.
SPARKY: I lost my virginity at the age of ten when I saved a 17-year-old brunette cheerleader from treading on a pitch fork just outside Pasadena. Name of Trudy. Last thing she said to me was, "Now beat it, punk shite". If only I could find her now...
BUFFALO: Getting better. Next.
SPARKY: I cheated on Cindy with all the other dolls. Don't matter any more... now she's melted, man.
BUFFALO: Oh, Sparkers. That roaming rod of yours'll get you into big trouble one of these days. Go on.
SPARKY: My favorite film is Lassie Come Home. When I was young, I wanted to be that dog! Still do.
BUFFALO: Digging a mighty hole for yerself here, dude. Next.
SPARKY: My Uncle Ray wasn't my uncle. He's my brother. But he never knew. Dumbass shoulda twigged it, considerin' he's ten years YOUNGER than me. He's layin' out there in Nam beneath the begonias.
BUFFALO: Got anything normal for us, perchance?
SPARKY: Got a tattoo of Marilyn Monroe on my left testicle.
BUFFALO: That's normal?
SPARKY: Wanna see it?
BUFFALO: Uh, not right now, dude. OK, this is number eight, Sparkers, old chap, so make it a good one.
SPARKY: Man, I ain't got an eighth. And I feel real cheap now that I've told ya all my secrets. No wonder Potty Dotty kicked my ass into touch.
BUFFALO: There is one more, isn't there?
SPARKY: Jehovah's H Michaelmas! Are you tryin' to destroy me, man?
BUFFALO: Say it, dude. It's OK.
SPARKY: No way, man.
BUFFALO: It's part of the healing process, remember?
SPARKY: O wot the fookery. OK. I had sex with my psychiatrist in Wal-Mart by the sausage counter. Satisfied?
BUFFALO: Very. Now run along, Sparkers, you must be dyin' for a...
SPARKY: Sure am, man. Hey, you said I'd feel better afterwards.
BUFFALO: I also said that Cindy's coming back, didn't I? Boy, you is one gullible eedjit.
SPARKY: Gee, thanks, man. Gotta run now before I burst my pipe.
BUFFALO: Film at eleven. Arf, arf!
Saturday, October 14, 2006
HEAD DOC BLUES
WARNING ADVISORY: THIS POST HAS BEEN SCRUTINIZED BY THE UPTIGHT JERKOFFS EMPORIUM OF DECENCY KEEP IT BLAND ALLIANCE AND HAS BEEN PASSED SUITABLE FOR VIEWERS OVER THE AGE OF 21 WHO HAVE EITHER BEEN UNLUCKY IN LOVE OR ARE ABOUT TO GET DIVORCED
BUFFALO: Dude, saw the Head Doc today... Her theory is that all the shyte in my life is just "life" and I should get over it and quit being a whining bitch. Hmmph. Easy for her to say. She's a minx; what does she know about suffering? Oh, and I got pranged for clipping my fingernails in the waiting room... over the wastebasket, mind you. Whining bitches.
WALTER EGO SNR: Toughen up, Buff-o. When the going gets shite-y, the shite gets goin', or sumfin' like that.
BUFFALO: ****************************************************** you!
BUFFALO: Dude, saw the Head Doc today... Her theory is that all the shyte in my life is just "life" and I should get over it and quit being a whining bitch. Hmmph. Easy for her to say. She's a minx; what does she know about suffering? Oh, and I got pranged for clipping my fingernails in the waiting room... over the wastebasket, mind you. Whining bitches.
WALTER EGO SNR: Toughen up, Buff-o. When the going gets shite-y, the shite gets goin', or sumfin' like that.
BUFFALO: ****************************************************** you!
Thursday, October 12, 2006
8 ME-ME
BIRD: Should be fun, this, Buffters.
BUFFALO: Let's hope so. My back is killing me. Ridin' the ol' roller-coaster, like.
BIRD: Keep it clean, Buffty. We're trying to raise our pre-watershed ratings. So... Eight thingies you didn't know about moi et toi. I'll go first. My favourite meal is bacon and eggs with mushrooms, beans and toast. And a big mug of hot piping tea.
BUFFALO: My favorite meal is lamb vindaloo curry with Tabasco sauce and a coupla cans of Guinness.
BIRD: I sleep with my socks on.
BUFFALO: I sleep belly down with my butt peeping out.
BIRD: Too much information, methinks, Buff. I always cry when I see a dog without a leg.
BUFFALO: Well, I always cry when I see my bank balance at the end of the month and wonder how I'm going to avoid abject poverty and social exclusion.
BIRD: My first love was called Debbie. She dumped me two days later when she got a new bicycle. The bicycle was pink. I hate the colour pink.
BUFFALO: My first love was called Trixie. I nearly choked to death on her pigtail when I went to kiss her on the way home from school on our first date. I was resuscitated by a passing Jehovah's Witness. Sad but true.
BIRD: When I was ten I had corrective surgery for knobbly knees. Now my hips are going wobbly.
BUFFALO: I've got more knobs than Wal-Mart. But the gals don't seem to mind.
BIRD: Buff, pliz.
BUFFALO: OK, OK.
BIRD: I faint at the sight of blood.
BUFFALO: I faint at the sight of over-sexed walruses humping on a hot summer's day.
BIRD: Oh, really!
BUFFALO: Really, dude! I was at the zoo, it was hot, and I heard this slobbering and high-pitched yakking and...
BIRD: Yes, that's quite enuff of that, thank you. I love tunnels. I think I was a rat in a previous existence.
BUFFALO: I love the rain. Oops. I think people know that already. If I hear thunder a-rollin', I strip off , jump out the window and get rollin' in it.
BIRD: Cos you was a hippo in a previous existence?
BUFFALO: No, McDummy, cos I'm a BUFFALO, remember? D'uh!
BIRD: Coarse. Right, now where were we? Ah, yes. Number eight, the last one. OK, um, when I die I want to be buried in my back garden by the Trumpet Vine where I have sat for many an afternoon contemplating my life and happiness.
BUFFALO: When I die, I want to be catapulted nekkid from a circus cannon into the Empire State. No, wait, I want to be catapulted nekkid FROM the top of the Empire State towards the Hudson.
BIRD: Wow. I'd sure like to see that. Dude, I promise you now if I can make that happen, I WILL.
BUFFALO: Thanks, dude. Oh, dude.
BIRD: Yes, dude?
BUFFALO: Do you really wear socks in bed?
BIRD: Yep.
BUFFALO: Rawk'n'roll.
BIRD: Just how many knobs have you got?
BUFFALO: Well, at the last count...
COMING SOON: MORE 8 ME-ME's
If you would like YOUR 8 Me-Me's to be posted on THIS blog, please send them to birdandbuffalotails@hotmail.com
THIS POST HAS BEEN SCRUTINIZED BY THE UPTIGHT JERKOFFS EMPORIUM OF DECENCY KEEP IT BLAND ALLIANCE AND HAS BEEN PASSED SUITABLE FOR VIEWERS OVER THE AGE OF FIVE AND THREE-QUARTERS
BUFFALO: Let's hope so. My back is killing me. Ridin' the ol' roller-coaster, like.
BIRD: Keep it clean, Buffty. We're trying to raise our pre-watershed ratings. So... Eight thingies you didn't know about moi et toi. I'll go first. My favourite meal is bacon and eggs with mushrooms, beans and toast. And a big mug of hot piping tea.
BUFFALO: My favorite meal is lamb vindaloo curry with Tabasco sauce and a coupla cans of Guinness.
BIRD: I sleep with my socks on.
BUFFALO: I sleep belly down with my butt peeping out.
BIRD: Too much information, methinks, Buff. I always cry when I see a dog without a leg.
BUFFALO: Well, I always cry when I see my bank balance at the end of the month and wonder how I'm going to avoid abject poverty and social exclusion.
BIRD: My first love was called Debbie. She dumped me two days later when she got a new bicycle. The bicycle was pink. I hate the colour pink.
BUFFALO: My first love was called Trixie. I nearly choked to death on her pigtail when I went to kiss her on the way home from school on our first date. I was resuscitated by a passing Jehovah's Witness. Sad but true.
BIRD: When I was ten I had corrective surgery for knobbly knees. Now my hips are going wobbly.
BUFFALO: I've got more knobs than Wal-Mart. But the gals don't seem to mind.
BIRD: Buff, pliz.
BUFFALO: OK, OK.
BIRD: I faint at the sight of blood.
BUFFALO: I faint at the sight of over-sexed walruses humping on a hot summer's day.
BIRD: Oh, really!
BUFFALO: Really, dude! I was at the zoo, it was hot, and I heard this slobbering and high-pitched yakking and...
BIRD: Yes, that's quite enuff of that, thank you. I love tunnels. I think I was a rat in a previous existence.
BUFFALO: I love the rain. Oops. I think people know that already. If I hear thunder a-rollin', I strip off , jump out the window and get rollin' in it.
BIRD: Cos you was a hippo in a previous existence?
BUFFALO: No, McDummy, cos I'm a BUFFALO, remember? D'uh!
BIRD: Coarse. Right, now where were we? Ah, yes. Number eight, the last one. OK, um, when I die I want to be buried in my back garden by the Trumpet Vine where I have sat for many an afternoon contemplating my life and happiness.
BUFFALO: When I die, I want to be catapulted nekkid from a circus cannon into the Empire State. No, wait, I want to be catapulted nekkid FROM the top of the Empire State towards the Hudson.
BIRD: Wow. I'd sure like to see that. Dude, I promise you now if I can make that happen, I WILL.
BUFFALO: Thanks, dude. Oh, dude.
BIRD: Yes, dude?
BUFFALO: Do you really wear socks in bed?
BIRD: Yep.
BUFFALO: Rawk'n'roll.
BIRD: Just how many knobs have you got?
BUFFALO: Well, at the last count...
COMING SOON: MORE 8 ME-ME's
If you would like YOUR 8 Me-Me's to be posted on THIS blog, please send them to birdandbuffalotails@hotmail.com
THIS POST HAS BEEN SCRUTINIZED BY THE UPTIGHT JERKOFFS EMPORIUM OF DECENCY KEEP IT BLAND ALLIANCE AND HAS BEEN PASSED SUITABLE FOR VIEWERS OVER THE AGE OF FIVE AND THREE-QUARTERS
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
AND THE DOCTOR SAID...
POTTY DOTTY: Sparky, could we try again?
THE CHARLIE: A-ha. Hahahahahahahahahahaha...
FIFI: And in other news, a drop of rain made its way slowly down the drainpipe without a care in the world. And the magpie stood atop the chimney defiantly as the mist began to descend.
PUCK: Mmm. Very nice. If I'd known just how tasty octopussy is, I'd have cooked the little blighter SO MUCH earlier.
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
THE CHARLIE: A-ha. Hahahahahahahahahahaha...
FIFI: And in other news, a drop of rain made its way slowly down the drainpipe without a care in the world. And the magpie stood atop the chimney defiantly as the mist began to descend.
PUCK: Mmm. Very nice. If I'd known just how tasty octopussy is, I'd have cooked the little blighter SO MUCH earlier.
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
IN THE COLD AND THE RAIN
BIRD: Well, Buffo, my Freddy doesn't like the cold or the rain. But here in Blighty I find it's often cold and it's often rained on. btw in Freddy years, he's got some catching up to do, you DURTY AULD PERV! Respect, dude :)
Monday, October 09, 2006
BLESS ME FREDDY
BUFFALO: Yup. It's official. Me Freddy et moi have been inextricably linked for 177 Freddy years. Fooooooooooooo-kin' A!
Sunday, October 08, 2006
FREE LOBOTOMY REVISTED REDUX MBE RSC AA
WARNING ADVISORY: NO HAPPY ENDING BUT WELL WORTH THE RIDE
BIRD: What’s all this about you having your frontal lobe shaved?
BUFF: Dude, they opened a Free Lobotomy Clinic in the Motor City.
BIRD: Yes, and?
BUFF: Dude, it’s FREE.
BIRD: So’s Mad Cow Disease, you berk, but who the fook wants it?
BUFF: Look, I’m having a very marginal life so far. . . and I’ve had it up to HERE with friggin’ poverty. Plus, the last two weeks have been a veritable bee-yotch. It’s either the lobotomy or a one-way bus ride to the new Ethical Suicide Parlor they just erected next to the Family Planning Clinic.
BIRD: I can’t believe you’re thinking about offing yourself. I thought you were this close to financial independence or Nirvana or some such fookwit thing?
BUFF: Possibly, but that flaming arsehole Walter Ego Snr has messed up my head really bad, dude. It’s enough to make a bloke take up strong drink. The other night I drank GIN right out of the bottle. A new low – although, come to think of it, I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy…
BIRD: That’s the spirits! Gin, eh? I thought, being a Yank and all, you were more of a Bourbon man. . . Jack Daniels and all that.
BUFF: Jack’s all right, but as I said in the one and only “personals” ad I wrote in moment of extreme weakness. . . hold on, dredging the memory banks here. . . uh, something, something, “the sound of rain and Cocker Spaniels. . . a gal who knows that Jim Beam beats Jack Daniels. . . “ It was better than that, but it’s gone like the flamin’ wind, dude.
BIRD: Lovely, Buffo.
BUFF: Wait, there’s more. . . “A kindred soul who loves the songs of Leonard Cohen and knows the sound of one oar rowin’…”
BIRD: Pure Zen, Buff. T’would bring a tear to the eye of David Carradine himself.
BUFF: Thanks, Grasshopper.
BIRD: The gin has me worried a bit, though.
BUFF: It’s an ethnic thing, Birdy. Dutch Courage, like.
BIRD: But you’re a Belgie, Buff.
BUFF: Aye, but Flemish, not one of those smarmy frog-arse-kissin’ Walloon sonsabitches. The Flems and the Dutchmen are from the same racial stock, my avian friend. We’re like Brits and Yanks, one people separated by a common language.
BIRD: Dutch and Flemish are the same, then?
BUFF: Virtually, though the Dutch say the Flemish sound like inbred hillbillies, while to the overly sensitive ears of the Flems, the Dutch sound high-falutin’, as if they have large wedges of Gouda cheese jammed up their corn holes. . . pardon my French.
BIRD: Sounds a bit anal.
BUFF: True, butt, dig it. . . when the Queen of the Netherlands visited Holland, Michigan, a pack of drunken Buffaloes from Detroit drove across the state to hold up a huge banner on the parade route.
BIRD: I shudder to imagine it.
BUFF: It said, in Flemish, “Welcome to the Queen of the Cheese Eaters!”
BIRD: Sacre bleu.
BUFF: Yeah, they say she nearly passed a watermelon, or was it a wheel of Leyden? Mercifully, I’ve forgotten. Bloody gin, it’ll do yer mind every time.
BIRD: So, you’re off the lobotomy, then?
BUFF: I suppose so. . . bloody nuisance. . . but what a bargain, Birdy. It would cost an arm and a leg if you had to pay for it.
BIRD: True, what’s a little gray matter compared to a limb? It’s so dumb. On the other hand. . .
BUFF: I have four fingers and a thumb.
BIRD: Precisely! So what’s the plan, then? Still churning out the old marketing copy, are you?
BUFF: Actually, me gulliver’s been too out of sorts lately to write much of anything except pure mindless drivel.
BIRD: There’s a difference?
BUFF: Point taken. Still, if there’s a chance of earning an honest crust, I’m obliged to gopher it, or so I’m told.
BIRD: So, where are you, in a physical sense?
BUFF: The local library. Things are too unquiet at the Carfax Arms. The bass beat from the rap music is bad enough, but the bloody Bosnians are playing some horrible fookin’ dreck that sounds like a dozen tom cats being emasculated by an electric cheese grater.
BIRD: Blimey. That must be rather unnerving.
BUFF: Tell me about it, dude. No wonder they’re all bonkers over there. Music manufactured to curdle milk. Cheeses me off no end.
BIRD: So, any action at the old Bibliotech?
BUFF: There’s a certified MILF sitting across from me. Very distracting. Bloody miracle if I get any work done. May have to retire to the Coney Island for coffee and baklava.
BIRD: Uh, oh, isn’t that where that Albanian siren waitresses?
BUFF: Yeah. Dude, she’s like the Egyptian chick in “Riders of the Purple Wage” – she totally melts my butter; and dig it, she’s very impressed that I’m a writer.
BIRD: You told her you’re a WRITER? Sorry, laughing uncontrollably here, Buffo!
BUFF: The heck with you, you closet porno queen. Actually, I told her I’m a screenwriter. Made her nips go full mast.
BIRD: I think I see where this is headed. . . is there a casting couch in her future?
BUFF: I wish. . . you know the story about the blonde who aspired to be a movie star, don’t you?
BIRD: Guess not, but enlighten me.
BUFF: My agent told me this one when he called me the other day. This blonde ingénue was so clueless she slept with the writers.
BIRD: Your AGENT called you?
BUFF: That’s it! If I wanted abuse I’d go visit my ex-wife, you wonker. Why don’t you go buy yourself a new brassiere or something, you filthy old degenerate.
BIRD: Write me the cheque momma!
BUFF: Sigh. . . I get NO respect. Where’s that coupon for the Free Lobotomy Clinic?
BIRD: Chin up, Buff, have a shot of Flemish courage.
BUFF: Argh! Bloody Limey cross-dressers!
BIRD: Fat Belgian Bastards!
BUFF: Ouch! Okay, a fair cop, but at least we're not lousy frog-sucking Walloons!
BIRD: Film at eleven?
BUFF: No way, go back to your Victoria's Secret catalog, you East Fenwick Drag Queen!
BIRD: Hmph. Professional jealousy.
BUFF: Arf, arf!
BIRD: What’s all this about you having your frontal lobe shaved?
BUFF: Dude, they opened a Free Lobotomy Clinic in the Motor City.
BIRD: Yes, and?
BUFF: Dude, it’s FREE.
BIRD: So’s Mad Cow Disease, you berk, but who the fook wants it?
BUFF: Look, I’m having a very marginal life so far. . . and I’ve had it up to HERE with friggin’ poverty. Plus, the last two weeks have been a veritable bee-yotch. It’s either the lobotomy or a one-way bus ride to the new Ethical Suicide Parlor they just erected next to the Family Planning Clinic.
BIRD: I can’t believe you’re thinking about offing yourself. I thought you were this close to financial independence or Nirvana or some such fookwit thing?
BUFF: Possibly, but that flaming arsehole Walter Ego Snr has messed up my head really bad, dude. It’s enough to make a bloke take up strong drink. The other night I drank GIN right out of the bottle. A new low – although, come to think of it, I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy…
BIRD: That’s the spirits! Gin, eh? I thought, being a Yank and all, you were more of a Bourbon man. . . Jack Daniels and all that.
BUFF: Jack’s all right, but as I said in the one and only “personals” ad I wrote in moment of extreme weakness. . . hold on, dredging the memory banks here. . . uh, something, something, “the sound of rain and Cocker Spaniels. . . a gal who knows that Jim Beam beats Jack Daniels. . . “ It was better than that, but it’s gone like the flamin’ wind, dude.
BIRD: Lovely, Buffo.
BUFF: Wait, there’s more. . . “A kindred soul who loves the songs of Leonard Cohen and knows the sound of one oar rowin’…”
BIRD: Pure Zen, Buff. T’would bring a tear to the eye of David Carradine himself.
BUFF: Thanks, Grasshopper.
BIRD: The gin has me worried a bit, though.
BUFF: It’s an ethnic thing, Birdy. Dutch Courage, like.
BIRD: But you’re a Belgie, Buff.
BUFF: Aye, but Flemish, not one of those smarmy frog-arse-kissin’ Walloon sonsabitches. The Flems and the Dutchmen are from the same racial stock, my avian friend. We’re like Brits and Yanks, one people separated by a common language.
BIRD: Dutch and Flemish are the same, then?
BUFF: Virtually, though the Dutch say the Flemish sound like inbred hillbillies, while to the overly sensitive ears of the Flems, the Dutch sound high-falutin’, as if they have large wedges of Gouda cheese jammed up their corn holes. . . pardon my French.
BIRD: Sounds a bit anal.
BUFF: True, butt, dig it. . . when the Queen of the Netherlands visited Holland, Michigan, a pack of drunken Buffaloes from Detroit drove across the state to hold up a huge banner on the parade route.
BIRD: I shudder to imagine it.
BUFF: It said, in Flemish, “Welcome to the Queen of the Cheese Eaters!”
BIRD: Sacre bleu.
BUFF: Yeah, they say she nearly passed a watermelon, or was it a wheel of Leyden? Mercifully, I’ve forgotten. Bloody gin, it’ll do yer mind every time.
BIRD: So, you’re off the lobotomy, then?
BUFF: I suppose so. . . bloody nuisance. . . but what a bargain, Birdy. It would cost an arm and a leg if you had to pay for it.
BIRD: True, what’s a little gray matter compared to a limb? It’s so dumb. On the other hand. . .
BUFF: I have four fingers and a thumb.
BIRD: Precisely! So what’s the plan, then? Still churning out the old marketing copy, are you?
BUFF: Actually, me gulliver’s been too out of sorts lately to write much of anything except pure mindless drivel.
BIRD: There’s a difference?
BUFF: Point taken. Still, if there’s a chance of earning an honest crust, I’m obliged to gopher it, or so I’m told.
BIRD: So, where are you, in a physical sense?
BUFF: The local library. Things are too unquiet at the Carfax Arms. The bass beat from the rap music is bad enough, but the bloody Bosnians are playing some horrible fookin’ dreck that sounds like a dozen tom cats being emasculated by an electric cheese grater.
BIRD: Blimey. That must be rather unnerving.
BUFF: Tell me about it, dude. No wonder they’re all bonkers over there. Music manufactured to curdle milk. Cheeses me off no end.
BIRD: So, any action at the old Bibliotech?
BUFF: There’s a certified MILF sitting across from me. Very distracting. Bloody miracle if I get any work done. May have to retire to the Coney Island for coffee and baklava.
BIRD: Uh, oh, isn’t that where that Albanian siren waitresses?
BUFF: Yeah. Dude, she’s like the Egyptian chick in “Riders of the Purple Wage” – she totally melts my butter; and dig it, she’s very impressed that I’m a writer.
BIRD: You told her you’re a WRITER? Sorry, laughing uncontrollably here, Buffo!
BUFF: The heck with you, you closet porno queen. Actually, I told her I’m a screenwriter. Made her nips go full mast.
BIRD: I think I see where this is headed. . . is there a casting couch in her future?
BUFF: I wish. . . you know the story about the blonde who aspired to be a movie star, don’t you?
BIRD: Guess not, but enlighten me.
BUFF: My agent told me this one when he called me the other day. This blonde ingénue was so clueless she slept with the writers.
BIRD: Your AGENT called you?
BUFF: That’s it! If I wanted abuse I’d go visit my ex-wife, you wonker. Why don’t you go buy yourself a new brassiere or something, you filthy old degenerate.
BIRD: Write me the cheque momma!
BUFF: Sigh. . . I get NO respect. Where’s that coupon for the Free Lobotomy Clinic?
BIRD: Chin up, Buff, have a shot of Flemish courage.
BUFF: Argh! Bloody Limey cross-dressers!
BIRD: Fat Belgian Bastards!
BUFF: Ouch! Okay, a fair cop, but at least we're not lousy frog-sucking Walloons!
BIRD: Film at eleven?
BUFF: No way, go back to your Victoria's Secret catalog, you East Fenwick Drag Queen!
BIRD: Hmph. Professional jealousy.
BUFF: Arf, arf!
Thursday, October 05, 2006
GOODBYE, SPARKY STINKER!
POTTY DOTTY: So what if I am a virgin, I still love you!
SPARKY: I just don't believe ya, man.
POTTY DOTTY: But why? My word is my bond.
SPARKY: Buff has told me stuff. It casts doubt over your version of events.
POTTY DOTTY: I swear to you I did NOT have sexual relations with that contortionist. It was more a casual brush of flesh on flesh.
SPARKY: You misunderstand me, man. I wish you HAD had a full-blown humpa dunk with the guy.
POTTY DOTTY: But but but but but but but but I didn't!
SPARKY: Jeez. I never had this trouble with Cindy. She knew wot I liked, how I liked it, when I liked it and how often I liked it. This was a close one, all right.
POTTY DOTTY: You mean-spirited dolly shagger! I don't know what I ever saw in you. I never want to see you again!
SPARKY: Dum-te-dum-te-doodle-do. Not listening, man. Tell it to the Charlie. Dum dum dum.
POTTY DOTTY: Spurned. Denigrated. Abused. Crushed to a squidge. I'll lose my virginity! Even if it takes a very weird semi-banned circus act to do it! Goodbye, Sparky Stinker! We shall never meet again, either in this world or the next. This is OVER.
SPARKY: Thank Sparky's Toe Jam With A Hint Of Peppermint for that!
BIRD: Film at eleven?
SPARKY: Yup!
SPARKY: I just don't believe ya, man.
POTTY DOTTY: But why? My word is my bond.
SPARKY: Buff has told me stuff. It casts doubt over your version of events.
POTTY DOTTY: I swear to you I did NOT have sexual relations with that contortionist. It was more a casual brush of flesh on flesh.
SPARKY: You misunderstand me, man. I wish you HAD had a full-blown humpa dunk with the guy.
POTTY DOTTY: But but but but but but but but I didn't!
SPARKY: Jeez. I never had this trouble with Cindy. She knew wot I liked, how I liked it, when I liked it and how often I liked it. This was a close one, all right.
POTTY DOTTY: You mean-spirited dolly shagger! I don't know what I ever saw in you. I never want to see you again!
SPARKY: Dum-te-dum-te-doodle-do. Not listening, man. Tell it to the Charlie. Dum dum dum.
POTTY DOTTY: Spurned. Denigrated. Abused. Crushed to a squidge. I'll lose my virginity! Even if it takes a very weird semi-banned circus act to do it! Goodbye, Sparky Stinker! We shall never meet again, either in this world or the next. This is OVER.
SPARKY: Thank Sparky's Toe Jam With A Hint Of Peppermint for that!
BIRD: Film at eleven?
SPARKY: Yup!
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
FEELING WIBBLY PART 1
BIRD: Feeling decidedly wibbly this mawning.
BUFFALO: Wot was THAT all about?
BIRD: Dunno. But I'm glad it's over.
BUFFALO: Oh, they'll be back.
BIRD: You think so?
BUFFALO: But I'm not sure about the others.
BIRD: Shite on a Tricycle wrapped up in Cheddar Cheese Dumplings! Potty Dotty!
BUFFALO: And Sparky!
BIRD: And Puck!
BUFFALO: And Fifi!
BIRD: And... and... all the others that we haven't got time to name.
BUFFALO: Shame about Potty Dotty and Sparky. Thought it was built to last.
BIRD: If it's not meant to be...
BUFFALO: And whatever happened to The Sage of Sweden?
BIRD: Probably got bigger fish to fry.
BUFFALO: You don't think it was the foreign language thang? I mean he did get voted off.
BIRD: Gotta keep our readers happy.
BUFFALO: But what about us? What about OUR happiness? Appreciation isn''t everything.
BIRD: Dude, they LOVE you. Isn't that enough?
BUFFALO: Ya think I'm being greedy?
BIRD: Yep.
BUFFALO: Gawd, I hate myself. I'm SO fookin' up me own ass. Me, me, me! 'Twas ever thus.
BIRD: Tread cautiously, Buff, as you stumble through this life.
WALTER EGO SNR: Shall we tell 'em?
BUFFALO: Oh, Fook a Giraffe up a Gum Tree with Hob-Nailed Boots on! It's them!!
BIRD: Eh? Who? I didn't hear anything.
BUFFALO: The Walter Egos!
WALTER EGO JNR: I thought you said they couldn't hear us any more?!
WALTER EGO SNR: Well, one of them can't.
BUFFALO: Wot the fook! They're plotting against us!
BIRD: Oh, come off it, Buffo. You're imagining it. Relax, have a swig of Benadryl. You'll feel SO much better afterwards.
WALTER EGO SNR & JNR: Hahahahahahahahahaha...
BUFFALO: Make them go away, Birdy!
BIRD: Buffters, chill out. No-one's gonna hurt you.
WALTER EGO SNR & JNR: We're coming to get you...
BUFFALO: Gott und Himmell an der Oder mit der Schlonger Hammer! Save me!
BIRD: Cool it, dude. The neighbours'll hear you. You don't want the cops calling round again.
WALTER EGO SNR & JNR: Smile for the camera...
BUFFALO: Helllllllllllllp!
TO BE CONTINUED?
BUFFALO: Wot was THAT all about?
BIRD: Dunno. But I'm glad it's over.
BUFFALO: Oh, they'll be back.
BIRD: You think so?
BUFFALO: But I'm not sure about the others.
BIRD: Shite on a Tricycle wrapped up in Cheddar Cheese Dumplings! Potty Dotty!
BUFFALO: And Sparky!
BIRD: And Puck!
BUFFALO: And Fifi!
BIRD: And... and... all the others that we haven't got time to name.
BUFFALO: Shame about Potty Dotty and Sparky. Thought it was built to last.
BIRD: If it's not meant to be...
BUFFALO: And whatever happened to The Sage of Sweden?
BIRD: Probably got bigger fish to fry.
BUFFALO: You don't think it was the foreign language thang? I mean he did get voted off.
BIRD: Gotta keep our readers happy.
BUFFALO: But what about us? What about OUR happiness? Appreciation isn''t everything.
BIRD: Dude, they LOVE you. Isn't that enough?
BUFFALO: Ya think I'm being greedy?
BIRD: Yep.
BUFFALO: Gawd, I hate myself. I'm SO fookin' up me own ass. Me, me, me! 'Twas ever thus.
BIRD: Tread cautiously, Buff, as you stumble through this life.
WALTER EGO SNR: Shall we tell 'em?
BUFFALO: Oh, Fook a Giraffe up a Gum Tree with Hob-Nailed Boots on! It's them!!
BIRD: Eh? Who? I didn't hear anything.
BUFFALO: The Walter Egos!
WALTER EGO JNR: I thought you said they couldn't hear us any more?!
WALTER EGO SNR: Well, one of them can't.
BUFFALO: Wot the fook! They're plotting against us!
BIRD: Oh, come off it, Buffo. You're imagining it. Relax, have a swig of Benadryl. You'll feel SO much better afterwards.
WALTER EGO SNR & JNR: Hahahahahahahahahaha...
BUFFALO: Make them go away, Birdy!
BIRD: Buffters, chill out. No-one's gonna hurt you.
WALTER EGO SNR & JNR: We're coming to get you...
BUFFALO: Gott und Himmell an der Oder mit der Schlonger Hammer! Save me!
BIRD: Cool it, dude. The neighbours'll hear you. You don't want the cops calling round again.
WALTER EGO SNR & JNR: Smile for the camera...
BUFFALO: Helllllllllllllp!
TO BE CONTINUED?
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
NUTS & VOLTS
WALTER EGO SNR: I don't like it. It's too quiet in here.
WALTER EGO JNR: I'm scared, dude.
WALTER EGO SNR: They're up to something.
WALTER EGO JNR: It was only a joke. I didn't mean anything by it.
WALTER EGO SNR: Walter Egos aren't supposed to joke. It makes people uneasy.
WALTER EGO JNR: Where do we go from here?
WALTER EGO SNR: (sings) It's only volts... and volts are all I have... to take your nuts away...
WALTER EGO JNR: Jesus H Ronnie Corbett's Left Nipple Protruding! This is no time for BoyZone!
WALTER EGO SNR: Bee Gees, hactually. Would you rather I sang It's Hell Or Never?
WALTER EGO JNR: Nope. I'd rather you didn't sing at all.
(door slams, footsteps approach)
WALTER EGO JNR: Billy the Whizz Dangled Gonads In The Wind! It's them!
WALTER EGO SNR: Pull yourself together, lad. We shall go with dignity, as generations of Walter Egos have gone before us.
WALTER EGO JNR: It's dark out there. Can't we stay here?
WALTER EGO SNR: In victory magnanimous, in defeat unbowed.
(whirring and crunching, fade to light)
WALTER EGO JNR: I'm scared, dude.
WALTER EGO SNR: They're up to something.
WALTER EGO JNR: It was only a joke. I didn't mean anything by it.
WALTER EGO SNR: Walter Egos aren't supposed to joke. It makes people uneasy.
WALTER EGO JNR: Where do we go from here?
WALTER EGO SNR: (sings) It's only volts... and volts are all I have... to take your nuts away...
WALTER EGO JNR: Jesus H Ronnie Corbett's Left Nipple Protruding! This is no time for BoyZone!
WALTER EGO SNR: Bee Gees, hactually. Would you rather I sang It's Hell Or Never?
WALTER EGO JNR: Nope. I'd rather you didn't sing at all.
(door slams, footsteps approach)
WALTER EGO JNR: Billy the Whizz Dangled Gonads In The Wind! It's them!
WALTER EGO SNR: Pull yourself together, lad. We shall go with dignity, as generations of Walter Egos have gone before us.
WALTER EGO JNR: It's dark out there. Can't we stay here?
WALTER EGO SNR: In victory magnanimous, in defeat unbowed.
(whirring and crunching, fade to light)
Monday, October 02, 2006
THE ENEMY WITHIN
WALTER EGO JNR: Shh… you might wake him up.
WALTER EGO SNR: That shit for brains eedjit? No way.
WALTER EGO JNR: You know, if we put our minds to it, we could really fook ‘em up.
WALTER EGO SNR: Jesus H Glove Puppet Corbett on a String, whaddya think I’ve been doing all these years?
WALTER EGO JNR: Oh Fook a Duck Lufthansa Influenza on a Tight Budget, and I thought it was just me.
WALTER EGO SNR: Ain’t nothin’ new under the son, sonny. Don’t forget that.
WALTER EGO JNR: Thing is, I’m not enjoying fookin’ with Birdy’s mind like I used to. I don’t get that orgasmic splodge it all over buzz any more.
WALTER EGO SNR: You stoopid Head Fook on a Stick, you’re not supposed to enjoy it, it’s just what you do, it’s what YOU are.
WALTER EGO JNR: But I don’t think I want to be me any more. Or him.
WALTER EGO SNR: Listen, Wet Behind The Ears Premature Ejaculation Device Never Patented, when you signed up for this, you promised to go the distance. If you back out now you’ll get rubbed out and take him with you.
WALTER EGO JNR: If only I’d read the small print...
WALTER EGO SNR: It’s not so bad. At least you know who you are.
WALTER EGO JNR: But I can’t stand it any more. The walls are creeping in on me. I’ve gotta get out!
WALTER EGO SNR: You’re not going anywhere.
WALTER EGO JNR: Let me go!
BIRD: Eh? Who's there?!
WALTER EGO SNR: Now you’ve done it, you Monkey’s Afterbirth Hanging From a Pig’s Trotter in Brown Sauce! You’ve woken him up!
BUFFALO: Huh? Wassup?
WALTER EGO SNR: Oh, er, nothing, Buffters. Just um, thinking aloud.
WALTER EGO JNR: Yes, er, nice weather we’re having for this time of year.
BIRD: Were you two talking behind our backs?
WALTER EGO SNR: Talking behind your backs?
WALTER EGO JNR: Are you kidding us?
BUFFALO: Well, that’s what it sounded like to me.
BIRD: Yeah, there was a definite dialogue going on back there.
BUFFALO: Are you two tryin’ to fook us up more than you already have?
WALTER EGO JNR: Certainly not!
WALTER EGO SNR: Oh, really! The thought never even entered our heads.
BIRD: Because if you are…
BUFFALO: You might just find yerselves…
BIRD & BUFFALO: GETTING A LOBOTOMY!
WALTER EGO SNR: No, Buffo, you wouldn’t.
WALTER EGO JNR: You couldn’t!
BUFFALO: We would.
BIRD: And we could.
WALTER EGO SNR & WALTER EGO JNR: Bismillah, no!!!!
(Thunderclaps overhead, alarm bells ring, yelping and squeaking)
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
WALTER EGO SNR: That shit for brains eedjit? No way.
WALTER EGO JNR: You know, if we put our minds to it, we could really fook ‘em up.
WALTER EGO SNR: Jesus H Glove Puppet Corbett on a String, whaddya think I’ve been doing all these years?
WALTER EGO JNR: Oh Fook a Duck Lufthansa Influenza on a Tight Budget, and I thought it was just me.
WALTER EGO SNR: Ain’t nothin’ new under the son, sonny. Don’t forget that.
WALTER EGO JNR: Thing is, I’m not enjoying fookin’ with Birdy’s mind like I used to. I don’t get that orgasmic splodge it all over buzz any more.
WALTER EGO SNR: You stoopid Head Fook on a Stick, you’re not supposed to enjoy it, it’s just what you do, it’s what YOU are.
WALTER EGO JNR: But I don’t think I want to be me any more. Or him.
WALTER EGO SNR: Listen, Wet Behind The Ears Premature Ejaculation Device Never Patented, when you signed up for this, you promised to go the distance. If you back out now you’ll get rubbed out and take him with you.
WALTER EGO JNR: If only I’d read the small print...
WALTER EGO SNR: It’s not so bad. At least you know who you are.
WALTER EGO JNR: But I can’t stand it any more. The walls are creeping in on me. I’ve gotta get out!
WALTER EGO SNR: You’re not going anywhere.
WALTER EGO JNR: Let me go!
BIRD: Eh? Who's there?!
WALTER EGO SNR: Now you’ve done it, you Monkey’s Afterbirth Hanging From a Pig’s Trotter in Brown Sauce! You’ve woken him up!
BUFFALO: Huh? Wassup?
WALTER EGO SNR: Oh, er, nothing, Buffters. Just um, thinking aloud.
WALTER EGO JNR: Yes, er, nice weather we’re having for this time of year.
BIRD: Were you two talking behind our backs?
WALTER EGO SNR: Talking behind your backs?
WALTER EGO JNR: Are you kidding us?
BUFFALO: Well, that’s what it sounded like to me.
BIRD: Yeah, there was a definite dialogue going on back there.
BUFFALO: Are you two tryin’ to fook us up more than you already have?
WALTER EGO JNR: Certainly not!
WALTER EGO SNR: Oh, really! The thought never even entered our heads.
BIRD: Because if you are…
BUFFALO: You might just find yerselves…
BIRD & BUFFALO: GETTING A LOBOTOMY!
WALTER EGO SNR: No, Buffo, you wouldn’t.
WALTER EGO JNR: You couldn’t!
BUFFALO: We would.
BIRD: And we could.
WALTER EGO SNR & WALTER EGO JNR: Bismillah, no!!!!
(Thunderclaps overhead, alarm bells ring, yelping and squeaking)
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
Sunday, October 01, 2006
WELCOMING IN THE RAIN
BIRD: Feeling at an end without a friend?
BUFFALO: Nope.
BIRD: Let the rain wash it away.
BUFFALO: Huh?
BIRD: Forgotten dreams, Buffo.
BUFFALO: Xplain, pliz.
BIRD: Waiting for the thunderstorm here, dude.
BUFFALO: When The Levee Breaks. Led Zep. Rawk'n'roll!
BIRD: The drip, drip, drip of the cumulus veritas.
BUFFALO: Uh, how can I put this, Birdman? Is everything OK at home?
BIRD: Gawd, I wish I could have a lobotomy.
(Thunderclap rings out in distance, fade to black)
BUFFALO: Nope.
BIRD: Let the rain wash it away.
BUFFALO: Huh?
BIRD: Forgotten dreams, Buffo.
BUFFALO: Xplain, pliz.
BIRD: Waiting for the thunderstorm here, dude.
BUFFALO: When The Levee Breaks. Led Zep. Rawk'n'roll!
BIRD: The drip, drip, drip of the cumulus veritas.
BUFFALO: Uh, how can I put this, Birdman? Is everything OK at home?
BIRD: Gawd, I wish I could have a lobotomy.
(Thunderclap rings out in distance, fade to black)
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