TOADLY WHIMSY by Birdy
Whimsy is flimsy
Toadly
And if
Ya don't
Believe
Me
Just ask
Dave
***
AND IN UDDER SNOOZE...
A 60ft man was found cowered under gold leaf yesterday just outside Harrods. When asked by PC Plodder what he was up to, he replied, "Just call me Whimsy."
An outbreak of utterances was registered on the Whimsy Scale in the South Atlantic late last night as a wayward polar bear discovered a message in a bottle washed up on a plank which read. "I may be whimsy but I'm certainly not flimsy!"
The first single to be released by The Flimsy Whimsies generated even less interest than the latest U2 album, which has been universally condemned as "an insult to whimsy in the rear"'.
AND SPEAKING OF REAR...
One tried and trusted method of cleansing one's whimsies is 100 grams of vodka and a page 34 from Pride And Prejudice.
AND FINALLY...
If you feel the urge, then feel it some more. There's nothing worse than unfelt whimsy.
COMING SOON...
The flimsy whimsy that couldn't say no to the billy goat and the laughing Chihuahua.
Arf, arf!
“Eaten
away” doesn’t convey much by way of an explanation.
Eh?
Monday, October 06, 2014
Saturday, April 26, 2014
JOE BLOGGS AND THE IRREGULAR SHAPED CONFECTIONERY SQUAD
NOT MANY PEOPLE KNOW THIS BUT JOE BLOGGS HAS FINALLY BROKEN HIS SILENCE. HERE'S WHAT HE TOLD BIRDY AT A TOP SECRET LOCATION:
BIRDY: Are you ready?
JOE BLOGGS: Er, I think so.
BIRDY: Tell us about yourself.
JOE BLOGGS: Er, well, my name's Joe Bloggs, and contrary to popular belief I do exist, although I'm thinking about changing my name because everybody keeps taking the piss.
BIRDY: There are a lot of ignorant people in the world, Joe. Just turn the other cheek. So, tell us, what do you do?
JOE BLOGGS: Well, I'm a detective, undercover.
BIRDY: Wow. Now, that's really interesting. I would never have guessed. What operation are you working on, Joe?
JOE BLOGGS: Well, Birdy, it's to do with biscuits.
BIRDY: OK. Price fixing? Illegal manufacture? Fake ingredients? That sort of thing?
JOE BLOGGS: Sort of. I'm investigating why so few of them are round, actually.
BIRDY: (suppresses a snigger) Oh, for feck's sake. You know, you nearly had me going back there. I really thought we'd found the one and only Joe Bloggs.
JOE BLOGGS: What's so funny? I am the one and only Joe Bloggs and I am investigating why biscuits are seldom round.
BIRDY: WTF! OK, well, I'm sorry, folks, for wasting your time. Joe here seems to think that we're all a bunch of gullible todger wodgers who believe the cops go round checking on the shape of biccies, innit.
JOE BLOGGS: I do wish you wouldn't trivialise this issue. An unround biscuit has consequences for all of us.
BIRDY: Yeah, right!
JOE BLOGGS: And somebody needs to get to the bottom of it.
BIRDY: What a fecking wacko backo. Again, folks, please accept my humble apologies.
JOE BLOGGS: Why does nobody believe me? Don't you care if you never eat a biscuit again?
BIRDY: (guffaws) That's a good one. OK, just say for argument's sake I do care, what the feck are you going to do about it?
JOE BLOGGS: You're just like the rest, you know? So rude! You obviously wouldn't know what a proper biscuit was if it jumped up and bit you on your silly little dirt box.
BIRDY: Listen, pal. I know my biscuits. I've eaten thousands of them, hundreds of thousands of them. I know what makes a good biscuit.
JOE BLOGGS: Really? No offence, but you look like the kind of twit that shovels biscuits down your throat without letting them touch the sides. I bet in a blind tasting you wouldn't have a clue which biscuit was which.
BIRDY: A blind tasting? Bring it on, mate. I guarantee that I can distinguish between any biscuits you care to plonk my way.
JOE BLOGGS: You probably don't even look at the ingredients. You're a biscuit ignoramus. People like you are a threat to national security.
BIRDY: (smirks) You little jumped up squirt. Now you've done it. Now, I'm going to close my eyes and open my mouth and if you don't give me a fecking biscuit right now you'll be in deep shit, my friend.
JOE BLOGGS: Don't you threaten me. I came here in good faith.
BIRDY: Maybe, but that's not how you'll be leaving. One biccie in the gob now!
JOE BLOGGS: Certainly not!
BIRDY: A-ha! Running scared now, are we? All mouth and no trousers. I've pricked your balloon, ain't it?
JOE BLOGGS: Not at all, and the only biscuit you'll get out of me is an extremely soggy, very unround one that's been in my pocket for over a week.
BIRDY: OK. Soggy doesn't bother me. 20 quid says I can name that biscuit in one!
JOE BLOGGS: Bet you can't.
BIRDY: Bet I can.
JOE BLOGGS: Can't.
BIRDY: Can.
JOE BLOGGS: Can't. And anyway, I can't let you taste it.
BIRDY: Why not?
JOE BLOGGS: Because it's material evidence.
BIRDY: Material evidence?
JOE BLOGGS: That's what I said.
BIRDY: Of what?
JOE BLOGGS: Of a highly unround biscuit.
BIRDY: Oh, you don't say! This gets more bizarre by the minute. You'll find others, I'm sure. Just give me the flipping biscuit.
JOE BLOGGS: What, and blow my cover?
BIRDY: Eh?
JOE BLOGGS: Lights on in your head, dipshit. I work undercover. D'uh!
BIRDY: Allegedly. And one mouldy old biscuit that probably tastes like rabbit piss is going to take you out of the game? Bollox!
JOE BLOGGS: You wouldn't say that if my superior were here.
BIRDY: Oh, yes, I would. Now are you going to give me that fecking biscuit or not?
JOE BLOGGS: Not. I'm not going to ruin an investigation that's taken 10 years on the whim of a rather mediocre interviewer who never did find out what it means to be the one and only Joe Bloggs. We are THIS close to cracking the case, you know. I can't let anything jeopardise that.
BIRDY: What case? So biscuits aren't all round. Big deal! Who gives a flying fudge cake?!
JOE BLOGGS: You will if you get poisoned by one. A sure sign that a biscuit has been tampered with is if it's clearly out of shape, ie not round.
BIRDY: Ah, so that's it. You're afraid that the nutters are going to try to infiltrate our democracy by poisoning our biscuits.
JOE BLOGGS: Exactly.
BIRDY: (guffaws) Well, I've never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life.
JOE BLOGGS: OK, well, chew on this. Did it ever occur to you that this infiltration has already begun, that millions of our fellow citizens are already being poisoned slowly and that within the next year whole cities will be wiped out due to the consumption of poisoned biscuits of the unround variety?
BIRDY: Well, er... Screw a boogaloo! You mean...
JOE BLOGGS: That's right.
BIRDY: But I've been eating unround biscuits for months and thought nothing of it!
JOE BLOGGS: Then, Mr Birdy Wirdy, I suggest you have only days to live.
BIRDY: But... but... I don't want to die. I've got too much to live for.... Well, maybe not all that much now that I've finished watching the box set of Breaking Bad, but still...
JOE BLOGGS: Well, if I were you I'd tie up all your loose ends and get ready to make your peace.
BIRDY: I will, I will.
JOE BLOGGS: Not so nutty now, am I?
BIRDY: No.
JOE BLOGGS: You won't forget Detective Joe Bloggs of The Irregular Shaped Confectionery Squad in a hurry, will you?
BIRDY: No, I won't. There's just one thing.
JOE BLOGGS: What?
BIRDY: Is there any chance of an antidote?
JOE BLOGGS: Apparently Benadryl and lots of prunes can help slow the progress of the attack, but it's ultimately fatal.
BIRDY: I see. Well, thanks, anyway, Joe. Joe Bloggs, everyone! And if you've got any seriously unround biscuits in your cupboard, flush 'em down the fudge shoot ASAP. So long, farewell, and thanks for all the mammary!
JOE BLOGGS: Arf, arf!
****
SHORTLY AFTER THIS INTERVIEW WAS RECORDED DETECTIVE JOE BLOGGS WAS DISMISSED FROM THE IRREGULAR SHAPED CONFECTIONERY SQUAD FOR CAUSING WIDESPREAD PANIC AND BRINGING THE NAME JOE BLOGGS INTO SERIOUS DISREPUTE. BLOGGS EVERYWHERE HAVE CONTRIBUTED TO A REWARD OF 1.5 MILLION DOLLARS FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO JOE'S QUICK DEMISE. THE MAJOR BISCUIT MANUFACTURERS ARE PRETTY FECKED OFF ABOUT IT, TOO.
BIRDY: Are you ready?
JOE BLOGGS: Er, I think so.
BIRDY: Tell us about yourself.
JOE BLOGGS: Er, well, my name's Joe Bloggs, and contrary to popular belief I do exist, although I'm thinking about changing my name because everybody keeps taking the piss.
BIRDY: There are a lot of ignorant people in the world, Joe. Just turn the other cheek. So, tell us, what do you do?
JOE BLOGGS: Well, I'm a detective, undercover.
BIRDY: Wow. Now, that's really interesting. I would never have guessed. What operation are you working on, Joe?
JOE BLOGGS: Well, Birdy, it's to do with biscuits.
BIRDY: OK. Price fixing? Illegal manufacture? Fake ingredients? That sort of thing?
JOE BLOGGS: Sort of. I'm investigating why so few of them are round, actually.
BIRDY: (suppresses a snigger) Oh, for feck's sake. You know, you nearly had me going back there. I really thought we'd found the one and only Joe Bloggs.
JOE BLOGGS: What's so funny? I am the one and only Joe Bloggs and I am investigating why biscuits are seldom round.
BIRDY: WTF! OK, well, I'm sorry, folks, for wasting your time. Joe here seems to think that we're all a bunch of gullible todger wodgers who believe the cops go round checking on the shape of biccies, innit.
JOE BLOGGS: I do wish you wouldn't trivialise this issue. An unround biscuit has consequences for all of us.
BIRDY: Yeah, right!
JOE BLOGGS: And somebody needs to get to the bottom of it.
BIRDY: What a fecking wacko backo. Again, folks, please accept my humble apologies.
JOE BLOGGS: Why does nobody believe me? Don't you care if you never eat a biscuit again?
BIRDY: (guffaws) That's a good one. OK, just say for argument's sake I do care, what the feck are you going to do about it?
JOE BLOGGS: You're just like the rest, you know? So rude! You obviously wouldn't know what a proper biscuit was if it jumped up and bit you on your silly little dirt box.
BIRDY: Listen, pal. I know my biscuits. I've eaten thousands of them, hundreds of thousands of them. I know what makes a good biscuit.
JOE BLOGGS: Really? No offence, but you look like the kind of twit that shovels biscuits down your throat without letting them touch the sides. I bet in a blind tasting you wouldn't have a clue which biscuit was which.
BIRDY: A blind tasting? Bring it on, mate. I guarantee that I can distinguish between any biscuits you care to plonk my way.
JOE BLOGGS: You probably don't even look at the ingredients. You're a biscuit ignoramus. People like you are a threat to national security.
BIRDY: (smirks) You little jumped up squirt. Now you've done it. Now, I'm going to close my eyes and open my mouth and if you don't give me a fecking biscuit right now you'll be in deep shit, my friend.
JOE BLOGGS: Don't you threaten me. I came here in good faith.
BIRDY: Maybe, but that's not how you'll be leaving. One biccie in the gob now!
JOE BLOGGS: Certainly not!
BIRDY: A-ha! Running scared now, are we? All mouth and no trousers. I've pricked your balloon, ain't it?
JOE BLOGGS: Not at all, and the only biscuit you'll get out of me is an extremely soggy, very unround one that's been in my pocket for over a week.
BIRDY: OK. Soggy doesn't bother me. 20 quid says I can name that biscuit in one!
JOE BLOGGS: Bet you can't.
BIRDY: Bet I can.
JOE BLOGGS: Can't.
BIRDY: Can.
JOE BLOGGS: Can't. And anyway, I can't let you taste it.
BIRDY: Why not?
JOE BLOGGS: Because it's material evidence.
BIRDY: Material evidence?
JOE BLOGGS: That's what I said.
BIRDY: Of what?
JOE BLOGGS: Of a highly unround biscuit.
BIRDY: Oh, you don't say! This gets more bizarre by the minute. You'll find others, I'm sure. Just give me the flipping biscuit.
JOE BLOGGS: What, and blow my cover?
BIRDY: Eh?
JOE BLOGGS: Lights on in your head, dipshit. I work undercover. D'uh!
BIRDY: Allegedly. And one mouldy old biscuit that probably tastes like rabbit piss is going to take you out of the game? Bollox!
JOE BLOGGS: You wouldn't say that if my superior were here.
BIRDY: Oh, yes, I would. Now are you going to give me that fecking biscuit or not?
JOE BLOGGS: Not. I'm not going to ruin an investigation that's taken 10 years on the whim of a rather mediocre interviewer who never did find out what it means to be the one and only Joe Bloggs. We are THIS close to cracking the case, you know. I can't let anything jeopardise that.
BIRDY: What case? So biscuits aren't all round. Big deal! Who gives a flying fudge cake?!
JOE BLOGGS: You will if you get poisoned by one. A sure sign that a biscuit has been tampered with is if it's clearly out of shape, ie not round.
BIRDY: Ah, so that's it. You're afraid that the nutters are going to try to infiltrate our democracy by poisoning our biscuits.
JOE BLOGGS: Exactly.
BIRDY: (guffaws) Well, I've never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life.
JOE BLOGGS: OK, well, chew on this. Did it ever occur to you that this infiltration has already begun, that millions of our fellow citizens are already being poisoned slowly and that within the next year whole cities will be wiped out due to the consumption of poisoned biscuits of the unround variety?
BIRDY: Well, er... Screw a boogaloo! You mean...
JOE BLOGGS: That's right.
BIRDY: But I've been eating unround biscuits for months and thought nothing of it!
JOE BLOGGS: Then, Mr Birdy Wirdy, I suggest you have only days to live.
BIRDY: But... but... I don't want to die. I've got too much to live for.... Well, maybe not all that much now that I've finished watching the box set of Breaking Bad, but still...
JOE BLOGGS: Well, if I were you I'd tie up all your loose ends and get ready to make your peace.
BIRDY: I will, I will.
JOE BLOGGS: Not so nutty now, am I?
BIRDY: No.
JOE BLOGGS: You won't forget Detective Joe Bloggs of The Irregular Shaped Confectionery Squad in a hurry, will you?
BIRDY: No, I won't. There's just one thing.
JOE BLOGGS: What?
BIRDY: Is there any chance of an antidote?
JOE BLOGGS: Apparently Benadryl and lots of prunes can help slow the progress of the attack, but it's ultimately fatal.
BIRDY: I see. Well, thanks, anyway, Joe. Joe Bloggs, everyone! And if you've got any seriously unround biscuits in your cupboard, flush 'em down the fudge shoot ASAP. So long, farewell, and thanks for all the mammary!
JOE BLOGGS: Arf, arf!
****
SHORTLY AFTER THIS INTERVIEW WAS RECORDED DETECTIVE JOE BLOGGS WAS DISMISSED FROM THE IRREGULAR SHAPED CONFECTIONERY SQUAD FOR CAUSING WIDESPREAD PANIC AND BRINGING THE NAME JOE BLOGGS INTO SERIOUS DISREPUTE. BLOGGS EVERYWHERE HAVE CONTRIBUTED TO A REWARD OF 1.5 MILLION DOLLARS FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO JOE'S QUICK DEMISE. THE MAJOR BISCUIT MANUFACTURERS ARE PRETTY FECKED OFF ABOUT IT, TOO.
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
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