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
Monday, October 21, 2013
Uberwaltigend! Yeah, Mon! PLUS... Help Fur Da Buffters Innit
Uberwaltigend! Yeah, Mon! (Winner of the Plasterung Gescholssen International Poetry Competition 2013)
by Birdy
Birds, buffaloes, sights and sounds
Uberwaltigend!
Memories, chances, ups and downs
Uberwaltigend!
Nudges, winks, blinks and sighs
Uberwaltigend!
Whispers, pauses, shouts and cries
Uberwaltigend!
Pain, longing, loving and losing
Uberwaltigend!
Wanting, hoping, praying and musing
Uberwaltigend!
Touching, caressing, groaning and smiling
Uberwaltigend!
Strolling, crawling, drawling and styling
Uberwaltigend!
Standing, falling, holding and dropping
Uberwaltigend!
Catching, throwing, starting and stopping
Uberwaltigend!
Pumping, popping, ducking and diving
Uberwaltigend!
Gasping, drooling, fading and thriving
Uberwaltigend!
Agonizing, wondering, despairing and caring
Uberwaltigend!
Fumbling, stuttering, crumbling and daring
Uberwaltigend!
Yeah, mon!
***
AND IN UDDER NEWS...
BUFFTERS REFUSED EXIT VISA FROM BOUVET ISLAND
Quoting government sources, APN were reporting late last night that the Government of Bouvet Island has refused the man they call Buffters an exit visa on the grounds of diminished inflammability. Mr Bo, a spokesman, claims Buffters is being held at a secure location where his Freddy is being examined for physical abnormalities and Locked In Boudoir Syndrome, a rare disease that can lead to involuntary recitals of long-lost Outer Babylonian sheep herders. The US State Department in an entirely separate utterance has indicated that it might be willing to transport Buffters to Guantanamo Bay for an undisclosed fee, providing he never sees the light of day or night again.
This blog hereby declares the establishment of a fund to be known henceforth as the SAVE BUFFTERS FROM GUANTANAMO BAY FUND. Lobby your governments, your local representatives, your family, your friends, your enemies, and even those who truly whiff around the edges. Act now. Before it's too late. You might regret it, but Wot Da Fook, like.
BUFFTERS, WE LOVE YA!
Arf, arf!
by Birdy
Birds, buffaloes, sights and sounds
Uberwaltigend!
Memories, chances, ups and downs
Uberwaltigend!
Nudges, winks, blinks and sighs
Uberwaltigend!
Whispers, pauses, shouts and cries
Uberwaltigend!
Pain, longing, loving and losing
Uberwaltigend!
Wanting, hoping, praying and musing
Uberwaltigend!
Touching, caressing, groaning and smiling
Uberwaltigend!
Strolling, crawling, drawling and styling
Uberwaltigend!
Standing, falling, holding and dropping
Uberwaltigend!
Catching, throwing, starting and stopping
Uberwaltigend!
Pumping, popping, ducking and diving
Uberwaltigend!
Gasping, drooling, fading and thriving
Uberwaltigend!
Agonizing, wondering, despairing and caring
Uberwaltigend!
Fumbling, stuttering, crumbling and daring
Uberwaltigend!
Yeah, mon!
***
AND IN UDDER NEWS...
BUFFTERS REFUSED EXIT VISA FROM BOUVET ISLAND
Quoting government sources, APN were reporting late last night that the Government of Bouvet Island has refused the man they call Buffters an exit visa on the grounds of diminished inflammability. Mr Bo, a spokesman, claims Buffters is being held at a secure location where his Freddy is being examined for physical abnormalities and Locked In Boudoir Syndrome, a rare disease that can lead to involuntary recitals of long-lost Outer Babylonian sheep herders. The US State Department in an entirely separate utterance has indicated that it might be willing to transport Buffters to Guantanamo Bay for an undisclosed fee, providing he never sees the light of day or night again.
This blog hereby declares the establishment of a fund to be known henceforth as the SAVE BUFFTERS FROM GUANTANAMO BAY FUND. Lobby your governments, your local representatives, your family, your friends, your enemies, and even those who truly whiff around the edges. Act now. Before it's too late. You might regret it, but Wot Da Fook, like.
BUFFTERS, WE LOVE YA!
Arf, arf!
Monday, October 14, 2013
FROM DA ARCHIVE... BUFFTERS IN DA FIX
SOME TIME IN THE DISTENDED PAST...
DAT'S MAH BOY! COME BACK, BUFFTERS! WE LOVES YA! WE REALLY DO-O-O-O!
Arf, arf!
Just got
home and it is very fooking spooky here. There are like 14 cars parked
outside.... I have NEVER seen so many cars parked here. This building is only
about half occupied - and the whole building is eerily quiet. It is never
this quiet -- no traffic next door, no parties in progress, nothing - and
yet I can still smell smoke.
I have Old
Betsy loaded and by my side. I don't like this one bit and am of a mind
to call 911 and voice my suspicions. Sparky's apparently in bed, I hope,
not murdered in his sleep by the crack heads. So, did the raid take place?
Don't know. Who the fook belongs to all those cars out front? Undercover drug
agents? Crack heads? Drug dealers? Not a clue. I am afraid to go to bed,
seriously... and yet I don't want to call 911 and sound paranoid or nutters....
last thing I need is cops showing up here at my door tipping off the crack
heads that I blew the whistle on them. Also, it was like a bake oven when
I got here, had to turn the heat off.
Running on
fumes now, but still afraid to sack out in case the crack heads are planning to
break in and dust me.
Hunter S.
Gonzo
Fear and
Loathing, New Mexico
DAT'S MAH BOY! COME BACK, BUFFTERS! WE LOVES YA! WE REALLY DO-O-O-O!
Arf, arf!
Sunday, October 13, 2013
THE CURIOUS CASE OF THE MISSING BUFFTERS WITH THE MOST UNSAVOURY FREDDY
READ ALL ABOUT IT! BUFFTERS SPOTTED ON BOUVET ISLAND BOFFING HIS WAY THRU THE LOCAL LADY STOCK! WORLD EXCLUSIVE! UN URGENTLY RECALLS SECURITY COUNCIL TO SEND TROOPS, BOMB, EXTERMINATE, DEFUMIGATE, ASSURE, REINSURE AND UDDER IMPORTANT STUFF! HOLMES AND DR WATSON SENT TO INVESTIGATE...
SAY VRAY - DAT'S FRENCH TO YOUSE ET MOI. THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF OUR DEAR OLD BUFFTERS FROM DA MICHIGAN AREA CAUSED WIDESPREAD CONCERN AND MANIC TWEETING FOR SEVERAL MONTHS BEFORE AN INNOCENT BYSTANDER HOLIDAYING ON BOUVET ISLAND HAD A MOST UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER WITH A BONE-EH-FIDAH REPROBATE ANSWERING TO BUFFTERS' DESCRIPTION, AND NAME EVEN, AND IN SHEER PANIC JUMPED OFF THE NEAREST CLIFF AND SWAM FOR IT, LEAVING BEHIND A BOTTLE FOR DEXTERITY CONTAINING THE FOLLOWING NOTE: "He says he is Buffters. Gawd help me and Gawd help da whirled. Get Sherlock Holmes, pleez! Tiz our only hope."
BELOW IS ALL THAT REMAINS OF A DIARY ENTRY MADE BY WATSON PERTAINING TO THE MYSTERIOUS CASE OF THE MISSING BUFFTERS WITH THE MOST UNSAVOURY FREDDY...
WARNING: EXCESSIVE DOSES OF ALCOHOL AND OTHER SUBSTANCES SUCH AS BENADRYL REQUIRED TO MAKE ANY SENSE OF THIS STORY.
THE CURIOUS CASE OF THE MISSING BUFFTERS WITH THE MOST
UNSAVOURY FREDDY.
WATSON: I say, Holmes, what what what?
HOLMES: Yes, Watson, what?
WATSON: Terribly awful business about that inveterate reprobate, what what what?
HOLMES: Yes, Watson. But as with any other degenerate, one must square up to this reprobate, look him squarely in the eye and encourage him to mend his ways.
WATSON: Yes, quite. Damned rough crossing from the mainland. Feeling rather queasy, what what what?
HOLMES: Indeed. Most regrettable, but we have arrived in one piece and we must get to work. There's not a moment to lose. We must find this Buffters fellow and deal with him in the most humane way possible.
WATSON: But how are we going to find him, old thing, when we don't even know what he looks like?
HOLMES: O ye of little faith, Watters. Finding him is the easy part. What to do with him is the real challenge.
WATSON: Sorry, I don't think I follow you, Holmes.
HOLMES: Do you see these footprints in the sand, Watson?
WATSON: Well, yes, but what of them?
HOLMES: They are those of a white man, with a slight limp, a reasonable IQ but base desires and hedonistic tendencies.
WATSON: Why, you don't think...
HOLMES: Indeed I do.
WATSON: Good grief, Holmes, how could you possibly tell all those things from such innocuous footprints?
HOLMES: Elementary, my dear Strudel. Because he is over there, if I'm not mistaken boffing one of the local maidens.
WATSON: Oh, I say! Has the man no shame?!
HOLMES: Evidently not. Thankfully, he is so preoccupied with "giving her a good seeing to" as modern parlance would have it that we may sneak up on him with the greatest of ease.
(HOLMES AND WATSON APPROACH BUFFTERS WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE. THEY OBSERVE WITH HORROR AS BUFFTERS POUNDS AND PUMPS AWAY WITH RELENTLESS JOY, THE LOCAL MAIDEN MOANING WITH GREAT RELISH.)
WATSON: (whispering) I say, Holmes, it does appear as if the young lady is a willing participant in this overtly degrading copulatory act, what what what?
HOLMES: (whispering) Affirmative, Mein Herring. One can but admire his technique, no doubt honed over many thousands of sleepless nights with countless maidens.
WATSON: (whispering) Is it just me, or do you feel that we are intruding on something which nature always intended to come to pass?
HOLMES: (whispering) Watson, if I told you otherwise it would be a lie. Clearly, it is incumbent upon us to wait for nature to take its course before confronting this shameful reprobate who has become a horrendous blot on the landscape and an intolerable nuisance to the world community of decency and decorum.
WATSON: (whispering) Oh, jolly well put, Holmes. You have such a way with words. But, um, well, he doesn't show any signs of letting up, you know. We could be here for some time, what what what?
HOLMES: (whispering) Patience, old chum. Patience. He'll tire soon enough.
(TWO HOURS AND MANY GRUNTS AND WAILS LATER)
WATSON: Quite incredible. This repugnant reprobate knows no limits. Why, you'd think by now his Freddy would have dropped off, what what what?
HOLMES: I fear we are dealing with a phenomenon which transcends the boundaries of what we, science and Encyclopaedia Britannica think of as human. This man's energy and strength of purpose are truly remarkable, a testament to Quakers Oats and English Morning Breakfast Tea.
WATSON: Yes, and even though we are no longer whispering, in fact almost shouting, he refuses to desist.
HOLMES: With every beginning there must be an end, Botty Watty. And if I'm not mistaken, he will finish right...
(BUFFTERS YELPS)
HOLMES: ..now!
WATSON: I don't believe it! How could you know?
(THE LOCAL MAIDEN, HORRIFIED AT THE ONLOOKERS, GATHERS HER THINGS AND FLEES INTO THE JUNGLE, BUFFTERS COLLAPSES IN A HEAP, SIGHING CONTENTEDLY)
WATSON: You disgusting reprobate!
BUFFTERS: (looks up) Huh? Who are you?
WATSON: I am Doctor Watson, and this is the world famous Sherlock Holmes. And who, may I ask, are you?
BUFFTERS: I am but a simple man of simple means and simple pleasures. They call me by many names but you can call me Buffters.
WATSON: You see, Holmes? He's admitted it. He is Buffters, the incorrigible reprobate which we seek.
HOLMES: He really couldn't be anyone else, doc. Now, tell me, Mr Buffters, is it true that you arrived a few months ago on this fair isle and immediately set about corrupting as many maidens as you could lay your hands...
WATSON: And your Freddy!
HOLMES: ..on?
BUFFTERS: Well, it's like this, Sherlock...
HOLMES: Don't call me Sherlock.
BUFFTERS: All right. It's like this, Mr Holmes, they was gagging for it, I was gagging for it after a prolonged period of abstinence and, uh, well, we came to a mutually satisfying agreement.
WATSON: Why, you filthy blackguard, you!
HOLMES: Watson, please. I'm trying to interrogate the revolting reprobate here. It will all go a lot smoother and quicker if you put a sock in it. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. So it is your contention that you have committed no crime nor compromised any maiden's virtue without permission?
BUFFTERS: Nope. And I can prove it. Ask any of them and they'll tell you. Since I arrived on this island, they've had the time of their lives. (pulls out a diary from his pocket) You see? Full up with assignations. If it carries on like this, I will literally bonk meself to death, innit. Not that I'm complaining, like.
WATSON: Holmes, permission to cut this degenerate's balls off right now and release these poor maidens from their carnal servitude.
HOLMES: Permission denied!
WATSON: But... but...
HOLMES: Shut it! Now, Mr Buffters, I must conclude from all you have told us and all I have observed that we have been dispatched here under false pretences.
WATSON: What?! Have you taken leave of your senses, Holmes?!
HOLMES: Watson, I won't warn you again. One more word out of you and I'll deck you! Now, Mr Buffters, I really must apologise for detaining you any longer when you have such a busy schedule.
BUFFTERS: Most thoughtful of ya, Mr Holmes.
HOLMES: There is just one small matter that I need to impart to you before we leave you to continue your life of orgasmic abandon.
BUFFTERS: Go on.
HOLMES: A lot of people have been worried about you since your disappearance without so much as a postcard. Perhaps you'd be good enough to give me a message which I can convey to all those back in Blighty and in the US of A who are convinced you have been abducted by aliens and are in fear of being vaporized for misdemeanours to the universe?
BUFFTERS: OK. Tell 'em not to worry, I am possessed by the gods. Go figger!
HOLMES: Thank you. I shall make sure they get your message.
BUFFTERS: Oh, and one more thing.
HOLMES: Yes?
BUFFTERS: Film at eleven.
HOLMES: I beg your pardon?
WATSON: How extraordinary...
BUFFTERS: Arf, arf!
HOLMES AND DR WATSON HAVE NOT BEEN SEEN OR HEARD OF SINCE THEY DEPARTED FOR BOUVET ISLAND. THIS DIARY ENTRY WAS TORN OUT AND SENT IN A BOTTLE WHICH WASHED ASHORE ON THE SOUTH-WEST COAST OF BLIGHTLY. SOME SAY THEY HAVE BEEN BEWITCHED BY THE EARTHLY DELIGHTS OF BOUVET ISLAND AND HAVE TAKEN TO A LIFE OF UNBRIDLED DEBAUCHERY. OTHERS SAY THEIR BOAT CAPSIZED AND THEY WERE SNATCHED BY PIRATES, PUT IN CHAINS AND SET TO WORK IN THE GALLEYS. STILL OTHERS SAY THEY ARE SLOWLY MAKING THEIR WAY BACK TO BLIGHTY VIA FINLAND WHERE THEY HAVE FOUND THE PEOPLE TO BE UNIQUE, THOUGHTFUL, WISTFUL, PLAYFUL, PATRIOTIC AND TOTALLY INSANE. OR IT'S JUST POSSIBLE THAT THEY CAN'T BE ARSED TO TELL US WHERE THEY ARE AND WHAT THEY'RE DOING. GO FIGGER!
SAY VRAY - DAT'S FRENCH TO YOUSE ET MOI. THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF OUR DEAR OLD BUFFTERS FROM DA MICHIGAN AREA CAUSED WIDESPREAD CONCERN AND MANIC TWEETING FOR SEVERAL MONTHS BEFORE AN INNOCENT BYSTANDER HOLIDAYING ON BOUVET ISLAND HAD A MOST UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER WITH A BONE-EH-FIDAH REPROBATE ANSWERING TO BUFFTERS' DESCRIPTION, AND NAME EVEN, AND IN SHEER PANIC JUMPED OFF THE NEAREST CLIFF AND SWAM FOR IT, LEAVING BEHIND A BOTTLE FOR DEXTERITY CONTAINING THE FOLLOWING NOTE: "He says he is Buffters. Gawd help me and Gawd help da whirled. Get Sherlock Holmes, pleez! Tiz our only hope."
BELOW IS ALL THAT REMAINS OF A DIARY ENTRY MADE BY WATSON PERTAINING TO THE MYSTERIOUS CASE OF THE MISSING BUFFTERS WITH THE MOST UNSAVOURY FREDDY...
WARNING: EXCESSIVE DOSES OF ALCOHOL AND OTHER SUBSTANCES SUCH AS BENADRYL REQUIRED TO MAKE ANY SENSE OF THIS STORY.
THE CURIOUS CASE OF THE MISSING BUFFTERS WITH THE MOST
UNSAVOURY FREDDY.
WATSON: I say, Holmes, what what what?
HOLMES: Yes, Watson, what?
WATSON: Terribly awful business about that inveterate reprobate, what what what?
HOLMES: Yes, Watson. But as with any other degenerate, one must square up to this reprobate, look him squarely in the eye and encourage him to mend his ways.
WATSON: Yes, quite. Damned rough crossing from the mainland. Feeling rather queasy, what what what?
HOLMES: Indeed. Most regrettable, but we have arrived in one piece and we must get to work. There's not a moment to lose. We must find this Buffters fellow and deal with him in the most humane way possible.
WATSON: But how are we going to find him, old thing, when we don't even know what he looks like?
HOLMES: O ye of little faith, Watters. Finding him is the easy part. What to do with him is the real challenge.
WATSON: Sorry, I don't think I follow you, Holmes.
HOLMES: Do you see these footprints in the sand, Watson?
WATSON: Well, yes, but what of them?
HOLMES: They are those of a white man, with a slight limp, a reasonable IQ but base desires and hedonistic tendencies.
WATSON: Why, you don't think...
HOLMES: Indeed I do.
WATSON: Good grief, Holmes, how could you possibly tell all those things from such innocuous footprints?
HOLMES: Elementary, my dear Strudel. Because he is over there, if I'm not mistaken boffing one of the local maidens.
WATSON: Oh, I say! Has the man no shame?!
HOLMES: Evidently not. Thankfully, he is so preoccupied with "giving her a good seeing to" as modern parlance would have it that we may sneak up on him with the greatest of ease.
(HOLMES AND WATSON APPROACH BUFFTERS WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE. THEY OBSERVE WITH HORROR AS BUFFTERS POUNDS AND PUMPS AWAY WITH RELENTLESS JOY, THE LOCAL MAIDEN MOANING WITH GREAT RELISH.)
WATSON: (whispering) I say, Holmes, it does appear as if the young lady is a willing participant in this overtly degrading copulatory act, what what what?
HOLMES: (whispering) Affirmative, Mein Herring. One can but admire his technique, no doubt honed over many thousands of sleepless nights with countless maidens.
WATSON: (whispering) Is it just me, or do you feel that we are intruding on something which nature always intended to come to pass?
HOLMES: (whispering) Watson, if I told you otherwise it would be a lie. Clearly, it is incumbent upon us to wait for nature to take its course before confronting this shameful reprobate who has become a horrendous blot on the landscape and an intolerable nuisance to the world community of decency and decorum.
WATSON: (whispering) Oh, jolly well put, Holmes. You have such a way with words. But, um, well, he doesn't show any signs of letting up, you know. We could be here for some time, what what what?
HOLMES: (whispering) Patience, old chum. Patience. He'll tire soon enough.
(TWO HOURS AND MANY GRUNTS AND WAILS LATER)
WATSON: Quite incredible. This repugnant reprobate knows no limits. Why, you'd think by now his Freddy would have dropped off, what what what?
HOLMES: I fear we are dealing with a phenomenon which transcends the boundaries of what we, science and Encyclopaedia Britannica think of as human. This man's energy and strength of purpose are truly remarkable, a testament to Quakers Oats and English Morning Breakfast Tea.
WATSON: Yes, and even though we are no longer whispering, in fact almost shouting, he refuses to desist.
HOLMES: With every beginning there must be an end, Botty Watty. And if I'm not mistaken, he will finish right...
(BUFFTERS YELPS)
HOLMES: ..now!
WATSON: I don't believe it! How could you know?
(THE LOCAL MAIDEN, HORRIFIED AT THE ONLOOKERS, GATHERS HER THINGS AND FLEES INTO THE JUNGLE, BUFFTERS COLLAPSES IN A HEAP, SIGHING CONTENTEDLY)
WATSON: You disgusting reprobate!
BUFFTERS: (looks up) Huh? Who are you?
WATSON: I am Doctor Watson, and this is the world famous Sherlock Holmes. And who, may I ask, are you?
BUFFTERS: I am but a simple man of simple means and simple pleasures. They call me by many names but you can call me Buffters.
WATSON: You see, Holmes? He's admitted it. He is Buffters, the incorrigible reprobate which we seek.
HOLMES: He really couldn't be anyone else, doc. Now, tell me, Mr Buffters, is it true that you arrived a few months ago on this fair isle and immediately set about corrupting as many maidens as you could lay your hands...
WATSON: And your Freddy!
HOLMES: ..on?
BUFFTERS: Well, it's like this, Sherlock...
HOLMES: Don't call me Sherlock.
BUFFTERS: All right. It's like this, Mr Holmes, they was gagging for it, I was gagging for it after a prolonged period of abstinence and, uh, well, we came to a mutually satisfying agreement.
WATSON: Why, you filthy blackguard, you!
HOLMES: Watson, please. I'm trying to interrogate the revolting reprobate here. It will all go a lot smoother and quicker if you put a sock in it. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. So it is your contention that you have committed no crime nor compromised any maiden's virtue without permission?
BUFFTERS: Nope. And I can prove it. Ask any of them and they'll tell you. Since I arrived on this island, they've had the time of their lives. (pulls out a diary from his pocket) You see? Full up with assignations. If it carries on like this, I will literally bonk meself to death, innit. Not that I'm complaining, like.
WATSON: Holmes, permission to cut this degenerate's balls off right now and release these poor maidens from their carnal servitude.
HOLMES: Permission denied!
WATSON: But... but...
HOLMES: Shut it! Now, Mr Buffters, I must conclude from all you have told us and all I have observed that we have been dispatched here under false pretences.
WATSON: What?! Have you taken leave of your senses, Holmes?!
HOLMES: Watson, I won't warn you again. One more word out of you and I'll deck you! Now, Mr Buffters, I really must apologise for detaining you any longer when you have such a busy schedule.
BUFFTERS: Most thoughtful of ya, Mr Holmes.
HOLMES: There is just one small matter that I need to impart to you before we leave you to continue your life of orgasmic abandon.
BUFFTERS: Go on.
HOLMES: A lot of people have been worried about you since your disappearance without so much as a postcard. Perhaps you'd be good enough to give me a message which I can convey to all those back in Blighty and in the US of A who are convinced you have been abducted by aliens and are in fear of being vaporized for misdemeanours to the universe?
BUFFTERS: OK. Tell 'em not to worry, I am possessed by the gods. Go figger!
HOLMES: Thank you. I shall make sure they get your message.
BUFFTERS: Oh, and one more thing.
HOLMES: Yes?
BUFFTERS: Film at eleven.
HOLMES: I beg your pardon?
WATSON: How extraordinary...
BUFFTERS: Arf, arf!
HOLMES AND DR WATSON HAVE NOT BEEN SEEN OR HEARD OF SINCE THEY DEPARTED FOR BOUVET ISLAND. THIS DIARY ENTRY WAS TORN OUT AND SENT IN A BOTTLE WHICH WASHED ASHORE ON THE SOUTH-WEST COAST OF BLIGHTLY. SOME SAY THEY HAVE BEEN BEWITCHED BY THE EARTHLY DELIGHTS OF BOUVET ISLAND AND HAVE TAKEN TO A LIFE OF UNBRIDLED DEBAUCHERY. OTHERS SAY THEIR BOAT CAPSIZED AND THEY WERE SNATCHED BY PIRATES, PUT IN CHAINS AND SET TO WORK IN THE GALLEYS. STILL OTHERS SAY THEY ARE SLOWLY MAKING THEIR WAY BACK TO BLIGHTY VIA FINLAND WHERE THEY HAVE FOUND THE PEOPLE TO BE UNIQUE, THOUGHTFUL, WISTFUL, PLAYFUL, PATRIOTIC AND TOTALLY INSANE. OR IT'S JUST POSSIBLE THAT THEY CAN'T BE ARSED TO TELL US WHERE THEY ARE AND WHAT THEY'RE DOING. GO FIGGER!
Monday, July 01, 2013
DESPERATELY SEEKING BUFFTERS
BIRDY HERE. I FOUND THIS HASTILY WRITTEN EMAIL LATE LAST NIGHT FROM DA BUFFTERS AND I IS WELL ANXIOUSIFIED:
NO NOOSE IS GOON GNUS. IF ANYBODY KNOWS DA WHEREWITHALS OF DA BUFF AND HOW TO GET 'IM BACK, SPILL DA BEANS, COS DIS BIRDY CANNAE LIVE WIDOUBT HYMN, LIKE!
AND IN UDDER GNUS...
BUFF, WHERE ARE YA? AIN'T NO SUBLIME SINCE YER GONE. A-HA... A-HA
Arf, arf?
Been up all night - couldn't sleep
and now am totally strung out, heart pounding, probably on the verge of a heart
attack or a stroke... ironically I'm supposed to see the shrink at 1PM
- if I'm still alive. My greatest fear NOW is that he'll put me in the
snake pit.
For the past hour or so I've either
been hearing mice scurrying around inside my bedroom
walls or I've slipped into sleep deprivation psychosis, or I'm trapped in
an Edgar Allen Poe story.
If I suddenly stop posting, it most
likely means:
a) I am dead (heart attack, stroke,
or suicide)
b) I'm in the hospital (regular or
mental)
c) I've gone catatonic (and Sparky
may or may not notice)
NO NOOSE IS GOON GNUS. IF ANYBODY KNOWS DA WHEREWITHALS OF DA BUFF AND HOW TO GET 'IM BACK, SPILL DA BEANS, COS DIS BIRDY CANNAE LIVE WIDOUBT HYMN, LIKE!
AND IN UDDER GNUS...
BUFF, WHERE ARE YA? AIN'T NO SUBLIME SINCE YER GONE. A-HA... A-HA
Arf, arf?
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
THE SHORTEST ZITCOM EPISODE EVER! Q THE SOLARIS EFFECT
BIRD: Morning, dude.
BUFFALO: Mawnin'. Wasshapnin'?
BIRD: Did you ever think of me?
BUFFALO: Only when I was sad.
BIRD: Whenever we show pity, we empty our souls.
BUFFALO: The salvation of humanity is in its shame.
BIRD: Solaris?
BUFFALO: Ten points!
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
***
PLUS THE SHORTEST SOLARIS POEM EVER!!!
Solaris
by Birdy
So...
Laris
How goes it?
AND THE CRITICS SAID...
SHELDON, LEONARD, HOWARD, PENNY, RAJ AND KEVIN BACON: Totes amazeballs!
BUFFALO: Mawnin'. Wasshapnin'?
BIRD: Did you ever think of me?
BUFFALO: Only when I was sad.
BIRD: Whenever we show pity, we empty our souls.
BUFFALO: The salvation of humanity is in its shame.
BIRD: Solaris?
BUFFALO: Ten points!
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
***
PLUS THE SHORTEST SOLARIS POEM EVER!!!
Solaris
by Birdy
So...
Laris
How goes it?
AND THE CRITICS SAID...
SHELDON, LEONARD, HOWARD, PENNY, RAJ AND KEVIN BACON: Totes amazeballs!
Monday, May 13, 2013
HAIL THE ZITCOM! THE BIG BANG THEORY STARS LUVVIT!
BUFFALO: Dude?
BIRD: Yes, dude?
BUFFALO: I'm so fecking depressed I feel like I could die. I'm so alone. And what's more, I got this zit on me Freddy and I can't zap da sucker, no matter how hard I try, if you get m'drift.
BIRD: Dude, half the frigging world is lonely and the other half is depressed, so what you're feeling now - it's nothing new. You've just got to weather the storm, innit.
BUFFALO: Thanks for that little gem of advice, Birdy. I shall take it to me grave.
BIRD: No worries. In udder news did you see the feedback we got from The Big Bang Theory stars?
BUFFALO: Dude, for the last month I've had my head so far up me ass, the gas buildup is enough to kaboom a planet.
BIRD: Snap out of it, dude. We're finally at the races. Listen. Here's what Sheldon said: "Totes amazeballs. These guys rock."
BUFFALO: Wow.
BIRD: And Leonard: "Such devastating wit. Sign 'em before somebody else does!"
BUFFALO: Woo-hoo!
BIRD: And Penny: "They're so... different."
BUFFALO: Ahhh, that's sweet. What about Raj and Howard? Did they say anything?
BIRD: Raj said "Not in my name."
BUFFALO: Huh?
BIRD: And Howard said "I don't get it but you say they're cheap, so uh, great!"
BUFFALO: Hm.
BIRD: Dude, it's only the beginning, but you gotta step up to the plate, it's something we should share.
BUFFALO: I dunno, Birdman, I mean I'm kinda washed out since Cinders left me. I don't get it, it all went south when I refused to click on a link she sent regarding amazing business opportunities in Nigeria.
BIRD: Dude, it was a scam. You had a narrow escape.
BUFFALO: But she said she loved me.
BIRD: Cinders probably didn't even exist. As the great Barack Obama says, love online don't mean sheeet!
BUFFALO: Hey, don't knock it. Love online is all I got right now. If the cable company pull the plug my love life is so over.
BIRD: Dude, if that happens it'll be a blessing. It means you'll have to step out of your cave and go meet some real people.
BUFFALO: Real people?! What do I want with real people? They're nothing but trouble. Online, you can be whoever you want to be with whoever you want to be. Ya dig?
BIRD: Nope, I don't. And neither do you. Fantasy and self-love are all very well, but when push comes to shove...
BUFFALO: Or sleeve to glove...
BIRD: ..you ain't got bazinga all but an empty heart and a lost soul.
BUFFALO: Damn you, Birdster, you've cut right through my quick once again, leaving nothing but a fetid shell of humamicus despairus. Thanks!
BIRD: It had to be done. You're blowing a great opportunity with the Big Bangers. We're going to make it. We're THIS close.
BUFFALO: Oh, yeah? Then what about the zit on me Freddy?
BIRD: Rub some cream on it.
BUFFALO: Tried it. It didn't work.
BIRD: Go see the doc.
BUFFALO: Tried it. He suggested corrective surgery. Zinteq or something.
BIRD: Dude, that's for love handles.
BUFFALO: Aw, shit bags! Better go Google it again.
BIRD: Googling a problem is not the same as seeing the doc.
BUFFALO: No, it's better, cos then you don't have to face the doc laughing at you whilst pointing and prodding at yer pride and joy.
BIRD: Thou doest exaggerate, methinks.
BUFFALO: And not only that, but every time I see him, he wants to ram a bow anchor up me ass to check that me prostate's in order. I can't subject myself to that excruciating pain any more. I won't. Nope, it's Google for me or nuffink.
BIRD: I give up. It's no wonder you're banged up at home all alone, seeking solace in all the wrong places.
BUFFALO: Dude, if I don't get rid of this Freddy zit, I swear I'm going to turn to radical measures.
BIRD: Such as?
BUFFALO: Such as... such as... something drastic and very mysterious. I might even whip it off, like.
BIRD: Don't do that, you never know when you might need it.
BUFFALO: Now that Cinders has left me, I'd say, uh, never again.
BIRD: Always the optimist.
BUFFALO: Dude, this charade I call my wife, I mean life, has got to stop. It's gone on for far too long. The buck stops here, innit.
BIRD: Be patient, o bovine one, hold on just a little longer.
BUFFALO: I'm done with being patient. I'm 15 years done with being patient. I dared to dream the dream and it was all baloney. I've wasted 15 years of my life for nothing and I have nothing to show for it. Nada.
BIRD: Dude, can you see the subtext here?
BUFFALO: Stop it, just stop it. Subtext, schmucktext, I am done, done, done, done, done! No more waiting, no more hoping, no more what ifs, no more "They really like you, dude!" It's finished. Kaputten. Shazamaloo geschlossen!
BIRD: Well, if you feel that way about it.
BUFFALO: I do.
BIRD: You won't want to read and sign this contract from The Big Bang Theory production company then.
BUFFALO: The what?!
BIRD: Hang on, I'll just get a match...
BUFFALO: Wait. Now let's not be hasty here.
BIRD: ..and pssssshhhhh!
BUFFALO: Birdy, what are you doing?
BIRD: Respecting your wishes. And there it goes! How silly of me to even think we could make it with those guys.
BUFFALO: Argh! Tell me this isn't happening.
BIRD: Oh, the flames, the flames. How brightly they burn for thee.
BUFFALO: N-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o!
BIRD: Yes. All gone! That makes two cinders, geddit?
BUFFALO: O feckkkkkkkk!
BIRD: Ciao, bene!
BUFFALO: What a dumbass!
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
TO BE CONTINUED...
BIRD: Yes, dude?
BUFFALO: I'm so fecking depressed I feel like I could die. I'm so alone. And what's more, I got this zit on me Freddy and I can't zap da sucker, no matter how hard I try, if you get m'drift.
BIRD: Dude, half the frigging world is lonely and the other half is depressed, so what you're feeling now - it's nothing new. You've just got to weather the storm, innit.
BUFFALO: Thanks for that little gem of advice, Birdy. I shall take it to me grave.
BIRD: No worries. In udder news did you see the feedback we got from The Big Bang Theory stars?
BUFFALO: Dude, for the last month I've had my head so far up me ass, the gas buildup is enough to kaboom a planet.
BIRD: Snap out of it, dude. We're finally at the races. Listen. Here's what Sheldon said: "Totes amazeballs. These guys rock."
BUFFALO: Wow.
BIRD: And Leonard: "Such devastating wit. Sign 'em before somebody else does!"
BUFFALO: Woo-hoo!
BIRD: And Penny: "They're so... different."
BUFFALO: Ahhh, that's sweet. What about Raj and Howard? Did they say anything?
BIRD: Raj said "Not in my name."
BUFFALO: Huh?
BIRD: And Howard said "I don't get it but you say they're cheap, so uh, great!"
BUFFALO: Hm.
BIRD: Dude, it's only the beginning, but you gotta step up to the plate, it's something we should share.
BUFFALO: I dunno, Birdman, I mean I'm kinda washed out since Cinders left me. I don't get it, it all went south when I refused to click on a link she sent regarding amazing business opportunities in Nigeria.
BIRD: Dude, it was a scam. You had a narrow escape.
BUFFALO: But she said she loved me.
BIRD: Cinders probably didn't even exist. As the great Barack Obama says, love online don't mean sheeet!
BUFFALO: Hey, don't knock it. Love online is all I got right now. If the cable company pull the plug my love life is so over.
BIRD: Dude, if that happens it'll be a blessing. It means you'll have to step out of your cave and go meet some real people.
BUFFALO: Real people?! What do I want with real people? They're nothing but trouble. Online, you can be whoever you want to be with whoever you want to be. Ya dig?
BIRD: Nope, I don't. And neither do you. Fantasy and self-love are all very well, but when push comes to shove...
BUFFALO: Or sleeve to glove...
BIRD: ..you ain't got bazinga all but an empty heart and a lost soul.
BUFFALO: Damn you, Birdster, you've cut right through my quick once again, leaving nothing but a fetid shell of humamicus despairus. Thanks!
BIRD: It had to be done. You're blowing a great opportunity with the Big Bangers. We're going to make it. We're THIS close.
BUFFALO: Oh, yeah? Then what about the zit on me Freddy?
BIRD: Rub some cream on it.
BUFFALO: Tried it. It didn't work.
BIRD: Go see the doc.
BUFFALO: Tried it. He suggested corrective surgery. Zinteq or something.
BIRD: Dude, that's for love handles.
BUFFALO: Aw, shit bags! Better go Google it again.
BIRD: Googling a problem is not the same as seeing the doc.
BUFFALO: No, it's better, cos then you don't have to face the doc laughing at you whilst pointing and prodding at yer pride and joy.
BIRD: Thou doest exaggerate, methinks.
BUFFALO: And not only that, but every time I see him, he wants to ram a bow anchor up me ass to check that me prostate's in order. I can't subject myself to that excruciating pain any more. I won't. Nope, it's Google for me or nuffink.
BIRD: I give up. It's no wonder you're banged up at home all alone, seeking solace in all the wrong places.
BUFFALO: Dude, if I don't get rid of this Freddy zit, I swear I'm going to turn to radical measures.
BIRD: Such as?
BUFFALO: Such as... such as... something drastic and very mysterious. I might even whip it off, like.
BIRD: Don't do that, you never know when you might need it.
BUFFALO: Now that Cinders has left me, I'd say, uh, never again.
BIRD: Always the optimist.
BUFFALO: Dude, this charade I call my wife, I mean life, has got to stop. It's gone on for far too long. The buck stops here, innit.
BIRD: Be patient, o bovine one, hold on just a little longer.
BUFFALO: I'm done with being patient. I'm 15 years done with being patient. I dared to dream the dream and it was all baloney. I've wasted 15 years of my life for nothing and I have nothing to show for it. Nada.
BIRD: Dude, can you see the subtext here?
BUFFALO: Stop it, just stop it. Subtext, schmucktext, I am done, done, done, done, done! No more waiting, no more hoping, no more what ifs, no more "They really like you, dude!" It's finished. Kaputten. Shazamaloo geschlossen!
BIRD: Well, if you feel that way about it.
BUFFALO: I do.
BIRD: You won't want to read and sign this contract from The Big Bang Theory production company then.
BUFFALO: The what?!
BIRD: Hang on, I'll just get a match...
BUFFALO: Wait. Now let's not be hasty here.
BIRD: ..and pssssshhhhh!
BUFFALO: Birdy, what are you doing?
BIRD: Respecting your wishes. And there it goes! How silly of me to even think we could make it with those guys.
BUFFALO: Argh! Tell me this isn't happening.
BIRD: Oh, the flames, the flames. How brightly they burn for thee.
BUFFALO: N-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o!
BIRD: Yes. All gone! That makes two cinders, geddit?
BUFFALO: O feckkkkkkkk!
BIRD: Ciao, bene!
BUFFALO: What a dumbass!
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
TO BE CONTINUED...
Sunday, April 28, 2013
PENNY AND DA BUFF AND DA BIG BANG
Poor, poor Penny. What did she do to deserve an encounter with an incorrigible reprobate like our very own Buff? Answer - not a lot. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. To be precise, leaving her dressing room for a quick snog with Leonard, but... as we've seen from the previous post, our intrepid alleviators and educators caught her metaphorically with her panties down. Oh, and what a sight it was. To find out what happened, read on. To stop being so nosy, read on. To spread the shame and embarrassment just that little bit more, read on. To see Penny and the Big Bang Theory and every other combination of atoms in a different light, read on. To feel extremely naughty and debauched at the same time, read on.
WARNING: THIS POST HAS BEEN CENSORED IN 190 COUNTRIES. CAN YOU GUESS WHICH ONES DIDN'T CENSOR IT?
DISCLAIMER: All dialogue is said in character and in no way expresses the actors, actresses or others' views on anything or anyone else. Thank the Lord.
BUFFALO: Hey, dere, Penny!
PENNY: Huh? Do I know you?
BUFFALO: Nope. And I know very little about you, but I'm willing to learn.
PENNY: And who are you?
BIRD: I'm with him.
PENNY: Uh, should I call Security? Or do you naturally dribble down your face when you see a woman.
BUFFALO: Now don't be like that, Penny Wenny. I've waited a long time for this. And I must say I'm liking what I'm seeing.
PENNY: Can somebody remove this creep from the building, like, now?
BIRD: It won't be easy. He's got a pass, you see.
PENNY: Got a pass? How'd he manage that?
BUFFALO: We, that's Birdy and me, have just been filming a Christmas special with Sheldon and Leonard.
PENNY: No shit! How come I don't know anything about it?
BIRD: You were invited to participate but you declined.
PENNY: Ah, now I get it. You're the wackos from the blog our producer's been raving about. Jesus, I knew you guys were weird, but...
BUFFALO: Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet, Penny poos. Suffice to say, the Freddy's a-rising over here.
PENNY: What?! Someone, help, I'm being leered over by some deranged reprobate!
BUFFALO: Well, I'd take it as a compliment if I were you. Freddy's not poked his head up towards daylight for some time now. You really are very special. Me Freddy lives again! I just can't thank you enough!
PENNY: Police! Security! Anyone?!
BUFFALO: Don't be alarmed, my dearest, sweetest, sweety pie blonde of the balcony most ample. Just answer me this. May I be allowed to linger astride your bing cherries awhile?
PENNY: Oh, per-leeze! You're not lingering astride my bing cherries or anything else. You're a disgusting old pervert. Now go away.
BIRD: Please don't encourage him, Penny. You'll only make him worse. And whatever you do, don't start talking dirty.
BUFFALO: Oh, I wish you would. Nothing gets the old nectar flowing quicker than a bit of nasty- wasty, get down and dirty till you're really filthy tittle-tattle.
PENNY: You are unbelievable, you know that? You know how we deal with low-lifes like you back in Nebraska?
BUFFALO: Go on.
PENNY: It usually involves a sharp kick to a very tender spot. Now is that what you want?
BUFFALO: Well, I suppose it'd be a start. Really, Birdy, she is truly as divinely hot as you said she was. If only the gods would allow me to worship unfettered at her altar! I swear, Penny, my angel, my intentions are purely honourable.
PENNY: Yeah, right!
BUFFALO: Never knowingly caught short in the dispensing of satisfaction department, if you get my drift.
PENNY: Eck! You're his friend, what do I have to do to make him realise it's not going to happen?
BIRD: Well, you could try being nice to him.
PENNY: Really?
BIRD: Yep.
PENNY: OK. Now listen here, whatsyername...
BUFFALO: Call me Buff.
PENNY: Buff. Now listen here, Buff... Do you think you could stop dribbling when I'm talking to you?
BUFFALO: Sure.
PENNY: Good. Now listen here, Buff, the thing is, uh, I'm with Leonard.
BUFFALO: Yes?
PENNY: And he's kinda funny about this sort of thing. You know, advances from other men, so on this occasion I regret to tell you that unfortunately I can't take you up on your kind offer with the bing cherries and all. Leonard means way too much to me to jeopardise everything over such a terrible reprobate as your good self.
BUFFALO: Oh well, why didn't you say? And there I was under the impression that you'd had your wicked way with everyone on the set, even with Sheldon although that episode was later dropped because the producer said the biology didn't add up, if you get my steer.
PENNY: Well, I'm sorry to tell you that you've been misinformed. And if Shedon and Raj, and Howard for that matter try to tell you otherwise don't believe a word of it. I may have played fast and loose back in Nebraska but my contract's most specific on this subject, and I quote "Leonard only or you're toast".
BUFFALO: I see. Oh, I so longed to show you the true meaning of the big bang theory in all its cosmic orgasmic glory, but alas, I have been undone by an unseemly and totally unreasonable clause. 'Twas ever thus.
PENNY: Aw, shucks. You're not so bad after all.
BUFFALO: Here. My card. Should you ever decide to renegotiate, or quit the show, or get fired even, ring me.
PENNY: I may just do that, Buffo!
(PENNY DIVES INTO HER DRESSING ROOM AND LOCKS THE DOOR)
BIRD: What a lovely lady.
BUFFALO: Isn't she just? Such a shame the lawyers got in the way.
BIRD: Oh, you never know. She can't be on the show forever.
BUFFALO: True, and she did give me a surreptitious wink as she slipped away.
BIRD: Oh, I say!
BUFFALO: Oh, the fireworks we would've unleashed together. The seismic tremors that would've been felt at the Earth's core...
BIRD: Never mind, there's always that doll of yours.
BUFFALO: Doris? The inflatable?
BIRD: Any port in a storm, eh, Tempest?
BUFFALO: Indeed.
BIRD: Film at eleven?
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
WARNING: THIS POST HAS BEEN CENSORED IN 190 COUNTRIES. CAN YOU GUESS WHICH ONES DIDN'T CENSOR IT?
DISCLAIMER: All dialogue is said in character and in no way expresses the actors, actresses or others' views on anything or anyone else. Thank the Lord.
BUFFALO: Hey, dere, Penny!
PENNY: Huh? Do I know you?
BUFFALO: Nope. And I know very little about you, but I'm willing to learn.
PENNY: And who are you?
BIRD: I'm with him.
PENNY: Uh, should I call Security? Or do you naturally dribble down your face when you see a woman.
BUFFALO: Now don't be like that, Penny Wenny. I've waited a long time for this. And I must say I'm liking what I'm seeing.
PENNY: Can somebody remove this creep from the building, like, now?
BIRD: It won't be easy. He's got a pass, you see.
PENNY: Got a pass? How'd he manage that?
BUFFALO: We, that's Birdy and me, have just been filming a Christmas special with Sheldon and Leonard.
PENNY: No shit! How come I don't know anything about it?
BIRD: You were invited to participate but you declined.
PENNY: Ah, now I get it. You're the wackos from the blog our producer's been raving about. Jesus, I knew you guys were weird, but...
BUFFALO: Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet, Penny poos. Suffice to say, the Freddy's a-rising over here.
PENNY: What?! Someone, help, I'm being leered over by some deranged reprobate!
BUFFALO: Well, I'd take it as a compliment if I were you. Freddy's not poked his head up towards daylight for some time now. You really are very special. Me Freddy lives again! I just can't thank you enough!
PENNY: Police! Security! Anyone?!
BUFFALO: Don't be alarmed, my dearest, sweetest, sweety pie blonde of the balcony most ample. Just answer me this. May I be allowed to linger astride your bing cherries awhile?
PENNY: Oh, per-leeze! You're not lingering astride my bing cherries or anything else. You're a disgusting old pervert. Now go away.
BIRD: Please don't encourage him, Penny. You'll only make him worse. And whatever you do, don't start talking dirty.
BUFFALO: Oh, I wish you would. Nothing gets the old nectar flowing quicker than a bit of nasty- wasty, get down and dirty till you're really filthy tittle-tattle.
PENNY: You are unbelievable, you know that? You know how we deal with low-lifes like you back in Nebraska?
BUFFALO: Go on.
PENNY: It usually involves a sharp kick to a very tender spot. Now is that what you want?
BUFFALO: Well, I suppose it'd be a start. Really, Birdy, she is truly as divinely hot as you said she was. If only the gods would allow me to worship unfettered at her altar! I swear, Penny, my angel, my intentions are purely honourable.
PENNY: Yeah, right!
BUFFALO: Never knowingly caught short in the dispensing of satisfaction department, if you get my drift.
PENNY: Eck! You're his friend, what do I have to do to make him realise it's not going to happen?
BIRD: Well, you could try being nice to him.
PENNY: Really?
BIRD: Yep.
PENNY: OK. Now listen here, whatsyername...
BUFFALO: Call me Buff.
PENNY: Buff. Now listen here, Buff... Do you think you could stop dribbling when I'm talking to you?
BUFFALO: Sure.
PENNY: Good. Now listen here, Buff, the thing is, uh, I'm with Leonard.
BUFFALO: Yes?
PENNY: And he's kinda funny about this sort of thing. You know, advances from other men, so on this occasion I regret to tell you that unfortunately I can't take you up on your kind offer with the bing cherries and all. Leonard means way too much to me to jeopardise everything over such a terrible reprobate as your good self.
BUFFALO: Oh well, why didn't you say? And there I was under the impression that you'd had your wicked way with everyone on the set, even with Sheldon although that episode was later dropped because the producer said the biology didn't add up, if you get my steer.
PENNY: Well, I'm sorry to tell you that you've been misinformed. And if Shedon and Raj, and Howard for that matter try to tell you otherwise don't believe a word of it. I may have played fast and loose back in Nebraska but my contract's most specific on this subject, and I quote "Leonard only or you're toast".
BUFFALO: I see. Oh, I so longed to show you the true meaning of the big bang theory in all its cosmic orgasmic glory, but alas, I have been undone by an unseemly and totally unreasonable clause. 'Twas ever thus.
PENNY: Aw, shucks. You're not so bad after all.
BUFFALO: Here. My card. Should you ever decide to renegotiate, or quit the show, or get fired even, ring me.
PENNY: I may just do that, Buffo!
(PENNY DIVES INTO HER DRESSING ROOM AND LOCKS THE DOOR)
BIRD: What a lovely lady.
BUFFALO: Isn't she just? Such a shame the lawyers got in the way.
BIRD: Oh, you never know. She can't be on the show forever.
BUFFALO: True, and she did give me a surreptitious wink as she slipped away.
BIRD: Oh, I say!
BUFFALO: Oh, the fireworks we would've unleashed together. The seismic tremors that would've been felt at the Earth's core...
BIRD: Never mind, there's always that doll of yours.
BUFFALO: Doris? The inflatable?
BIRD: Any port in a storm, eh, Tempest?
BUFFALO: Indeed.
BIRD: Film at eleven?
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
Monday, April 22, 2013
THE BIG BANG THEORY PLUS GUEST STARS...
Yahhhp. You've guessed it. The Bird & Buffalo were invited to feature in a Big Bang Theory special. Unfortunately, Penny, Howard, Raj and Amy refused to entertain such an idea and stayed away. Sheldon and Leonard were kept in the dark as to the true nature of the episode and even when they were told it would be largely improvised and possibly largely degrading and unseemly, still agreed to go along with it. Although highly secretive and all in the worst possible taste, below is a transcript of the rehearsals for the one-hour special to be screened on New Year's Eve. Unfortunately, at the time of going to press we have no idea how much, if any of what features in rehearsals, will be broadcast. You decide.
DISCLAIMER: All dialogue is said in character and in no way expresses the actors, actresses or others' views on anything or anyone else. Thank the Lord.
(KNOCK AT DOOR)
LEONARD: Sheldon, get the door, will ya, I'm on the poop box!
SHELDON: Leonard, really! Your misuse of the English language is beginning to reach unacceptable levels. Don't make me refer you to the roommate agreement again.
LEONARD: Sheldon, I'm a little preoccupied at the moment to stand, I mean sit on ceremony. Just get the door. I'll be right out.
SHELDON: Hm! This isn't the end of it. I'll deal with your tawdry transgression later.
(SHELDON OPENS THE DOOR)
BIRD AND BUFFALO: Surprise!
SHELDON: Yes, it is. Who are you?
BIRD: Well, I'm Bird, but you can call me Birdy.
BUFFALO: And I'm the Buffalo, but you can call me Buff. And who are you?
SHELDON: Who am I? If you haven't heard of the great Sheldon Cooper, the foremost theoretical physicist of the present generation and no doubt of all time, you haven't been paying attention.
BUFFALO: Well, I've watched a few clips on YouTube, so I guess I haven't been paying attention.
BIRD: What Buff means is he admires your body of work.
BUFFALO: As opposed to the work of your body, like.
SHELDON: Interesting. How did we ever agree to do this? Can we have a timeout here?
VOICE FROM BEHIND THE CAMERA: Run with it, Jim. Wait till Johnny gets out of the john!
(LEONARD ZIPS OUT FROM THE CORRIDOR)
LEONARD: Hey! So... Wait a minute, where's Penny?
BUFFALO: I wish I knew. I was really looking forward to checking out her stack.
LEONARD: Uh, that's my girlfriend you're talking about there.
BUFFALO: Really? I thought you'd split up.
LEONARD: No, no, we're very much an item in the dating phase.
BUFFALO: Which is as far as you're going to get, right? So I say, while you're still dating Penny's still up for grabs.
BIRD: Drop it, Buff. Leonard's been through a lot with Penny. Cut him some slack, will ya?
BUFFALO: But I thought I was supposed to make him jealous and wait for him to rip me a new a...
SHELDON: Stop right there! This is a family show. We do not use language like that here.
BUFFALO: Arr, crapshite, you say bastid all the time. I've heard Leonard say it on several occasions.
SHELDON: Is that right, Leonard?
LEONARD: Uh, sure. What's wrong with that?
SHELDON: I'm going to have to watch the master tapes more thoroughly from now on. I've got my reputation to think about.
BUFFALO: Sheldon, you need to get laid.
SHELDON: Are you sure this is in the script, Leonard?
LEONARD: What script? And he's right, you need to get seriously drilled.
SHELDON: Oh, my! And I had to hear such filth in my own apartment.
LEONARD: Aw, come on, Sheldon, wouldn't you like to dip you little twinkle star into Amy Farrah's welcoming snug as a bug universe?
SHELDON: I certainly would not. I can't think of anything more unappealing than intimacy with Amy's welcoming universe.
BUFFALO: Well, I'm with you there, Sheldy, I wouldn't drink at her watering hole if you paid me, but I wouldn't say no to some rumpy pumpy with that gal from Nebraska.
LEONARD: Again, my girlfriend. Out of bounds.
BIRD: Yeah, dude, Leonard's a great guy. He and Penny deserve each other.
LEONARD: Thank you, Birdy. You're a real gent.
BIRD: Why, thank you, but I'm with Buff on Amy Farrah's doo-dah. She's got about as much oomph appeal as a lop-sided walrus on Benadryl. No offence, Sheldon.
SHELDON: None taken. Now if we may move on to more pressing matters...
BUFFALO: Hey, hold on, Shelds, was that a yes, I do need to get laid? Or no, I'd rather not, I'm afraid of what I might catch?
SHELDON: I cannot believe we are doing this.
LEONARD: Doing what?
SHELDON: Discussing my personal life with two total strangers.
LEONARD: Why not? We discuss my personal life enough on this show. Now it's your turn.
BIRD: He does have a point.
SHELDON: It's not about turns, it's about what's fair. I have given no basis for this invasive inquiry.
BUFFALO: Seems to me you'd be much happier grabbing yerself a piece of Raj, if you get my drift.
BIRD: Dude....
SHELDON: Leonard, make him stop!
LEONARD: Sheldon, for him to stop he has to have started something and I really don't think he has.
SHELDON: Betrayed, abandoned by my own roommate. I really don't understand where this social interaction is leading. And I still don't know why you're in our apartment.
BUFFALO: Well, I thought Penny would be here. I was looking forward to ascending to her balcony.
BIRD: And I'm here because I think you guys are the bee's knees. You always send me to bed with a smile on my face.
SHELDON: Oh, that's so sweet. Well, now I'm glad you came.
LEONARD: Uh, yeah, so am I. I mean, I'm glad you came, Birdy. Not so sure about your friend here.
BIRD: Oh, he's harmless enough. He's just got a bit of a rampant Freddy. He's fine all the while he's on his medication.
LEONARD: Yeah, well, just as long as he understands that Penny is off limits.
SHELDON: And if I may be so bold, would you mind telling us why we always send you to bed with a smile on your face?
BIRD: Well, it's because you're both so goddamn funny. Right, Buff?
BUFFALO: Hey, I didn't say they were funny. I said I wanted Penny. You need to wash yer ears out, dude.
SHELDON: Wanted Penny?! You and several million other men on this earth, although why is a complete mystery to me. They haven't even invented a scale to measure her IQ level yet. What Leonard sees in her is beyond me.
LEONARD: Like you would really understand. Well, uh, it's been great meeting you guys, but that old thing on the wall that goes tick-tock boing is against us, I'm afraid so, uh...
SHELDON: What Leonard is trying to say in this faltering attempt at well-brought-up politeness is that you've overstayed your welcome, we're the stars, you're the nobodies, and the stars have got much more exciting and stimulating things to do and it's time for the nobodies to exit the stage. Stage left. Exit. Go. Right now.
BUFFALO:: Oh, it's like that, is it?
SHELDON: It most certainly is.
BIRD: I'd just like to apologise for...
SHELDON: There's really no need. Just scoot.
BUFFALO: Didn't feel like an hour special to me.
BIRD: Nope.
LEONARD: Sorry, fellas, the chemistry just wasn't there.
SHELDON: Neither the chemistry, nor the hour, nor the special. Get over it.
LEONARD: Bye, guys.
(BIRD AND BUFFALO TRAIPSE OFF, DEJECTED)
BIRD: So rude!
BUFFALO: I know! Let that be a lesson to you, Birdy. This is what happens to people who don't get laid on a regular basis. Oh, hey! Wow! Is that Penny over there?
BIRD: You know what, Buff, I think it is.
BUFFALO: Quick, Birdy, the game is afoot!
BIRD: All right, Sherlock.
BUFFALO: Penny! It's me, Buff, Buffy, Bufters, your greatest fan! I want to get to know you better. Get to know the real Penny, get real close to you, share with you my innermost stirrings.
BIRD: Buff, stop! She's not been sullied by a reprobate like you before.
BUFFALO: There's always a first time, n'est pas? Film at eleven.
BIRD: Oh, gawwwwd!
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
DISCLAIMER: All dialogue is said in character and in no way expresses the actors, actresses or others' views on anything or anyone else. Thank the Lord.
(KNOCK AT DOOR)
LEONARD: Sheldon, get the door, will ya, I'm on the poop box!
SHELDON: Leonard, really! Your misuse of the English language is beginning to reach unacceptable levels. Don't make me refer you to the roommate agreement again.
LEONARD: Sheldon, I'm a little preoccupied at the moment to stand, I mean sit on ceremony. Just get the door. I'll be right out.
SHELDON: Hm! This isn't the end of it. I'll deal with your tawdry transgression later.
(SHELDON OPENS THE DOOR)
BIRD AND BUFFALO: Surprise!
SHELDON: Yes, it is. Who are you?
BIRD: Well, I'm Bird, but you can call me Birdy.
BUFFALO: And I'm the Buffalo, but you can call me Buff. And who are you?
SHELDON: Who am I? If you haven't heard of the great Sheldon Cooper, the foremost theoretical physicist of the present generation and no doubt of all time, you haven't been paying attention.
BUFFALO: Well, I've watched a few clips on YouTube, so I guess I haven't been paying attention.
BIRD: What Buff means is he admires your body of work.
BUFFALO: As opposed to the work of your body, like.
SHELDON: Interesting. How did we ever agree to do this? Can we have a timeout here?
VOICE FROM BEHIND THE CAMERA: Run with it, Jim. Wait till Johnny gets out of the john!
(LEONARD ZIPS OUT FROM THE CORRIDOR)
LEONARD: Hey! So... Wait a minute, where's Penny?
BUFFALO: I wish I knew. I was really looking forward to checking out her stack.
LEONARD: Uh, that's my girlfriend you're talking about there.
BUFFALO: Really? I thought you'd split up.
LEONARD: No, no, we're very much an item in the dating phase.
BUFFALO: Which is as far as you're going to get, right? So I say, while you're still dating Penny's still up for grabs.
BIRD: Drop it, Buff. Leonard's been through a lot with Penny. Cut him some slack, will ya?
BUFFALO: But I thought I was supposed to make him jealous and wait for him to rip me a new a...
SHELDON: Stop right there! This is a family show. We do not use language like that here.
BUFFALO: Arr, crapshite, you say bastid all the time. I've heard Leonard say it on several occasions.
SHELDON: Is that right, Leonard?
LEONARD: Uh, sure. What's wrong with that?
SHELDON: I'm going to have to watch the master tapes more thoroughly from now on. I've got my reputation to think about.
BUFFALO: Sheldon, you need to get laid.
SHELDON: Are you sure this is in the script, Leonard?
LEONARD: What script? And he's right, you need to get seriously drilled.
SHELDON: Oh, my! And I had to hear such filth in my own apartment.
LEONARD: Aw, come on, Sheldon, wouldn't you like to dip you little twinkle star into Amy Farrah's welcoming snug as a bug universe?
SHELDON: I certainly would not. I can't think of anything more unappealing than intimacy with Amy's welcoming universe.
BUFFALO: Well, I'm with you there, Sheldy, I wouldn't drink at her watering hole if you paid me, but I wouldn't say no to some rumpy pumpy with that gal from Nebraska.
LEONARD: Again, my girlfriend. Out of bounds.
BIRD: Yeah, dude, Leonard's a great guy. He and Penny deserve each other.
LEONARD: Thank you, Birdy. You're a real gent.
BIRD: Why, thank you, but I'm with Buff on Amy Farrah's doo-dah. She's got about as much oomph appeal as a lop-sided walrus on Benadryl. No offence, Sheldon.
SHELDON: None taken. Now if we may move on to more pressing matters...
BUFFALO: Hey, hold on, Shelds, was that a yes, I do need to get laid? Or no, I'd rather not, I'm afraid of what I might catch?
SHELDON: I cannot believe we are doing this.
LEONARD: Doing what?
SHELDON: Discussing my personal life with two total strangers.
LEONARD: Why not? We discuss my personal life enough on this show. Now it's your turn.
BIRD: He does have a point.
SHELDON: It's not about turns, it's about what's fair. I have given no basis for this invasive inquiry.
BUFFALO: Seems to me you'd be much happier grabbing yerself a piece of Raj, if you get my drift.
BIRD: Dude....
SHELDON: Leonard, make him stop!
LEONARD: Sheldon, for him to stop he has to have started something and I really don't think he has.
SHELDON: Betrayed, abandoned by my own roommate. I really don't understand where this social interaction is leading. And I still don't know why you're in our apartment.
BUFFALO: Well, I thought Penny would be here. I was looking forward to ascending to her balcony.
BIRD: And I'm here because I think you guys are the bee's knees. You always send me to bed with a smile on my face.
SHELDON: Oh, that's so sweet. Well, now I'm glad you came.
LEONARD: Uh, yeah, so am I. I mean, I'm glad you came, Birdy. Not so sure about your friend here.
BIRD: Oh, he's harmless enough. He's just got a bit of a rampant Freddy. He's fine all the while he's on his medication.
LEONARD: Yeah, well, just as long as he understands that Penny is off limits.
SHELDON: And if I may be so bold, would you mind telling us why we always send you to bed with a smile on your face?
BIRD: Well, it's because you're both so goddamn funny. Right, Buff?
BUFFALO: Hey, I didn't say they were funny. I said I wanted Penny. You need to wash yer ears out, dude.
SHELDON: Wanted Penny?! You and several million other men on this earth, although why is a complete mystery to me. They haven't even invented a scale to measure her IQ level yet. What Leonard sees in her is beyond me.
LEONARD: Like you would really understand. Well, uh, it's been great meeting you guys, but that old thing on the wall that goes tick-tock boing is against us, I'm afraid so, uh...
SHELDON: What Leonard is trying to say in this faltering attempt at well-brought-up politeness is that you've overstayed your welcome, we're the stars, you're the nobodies, and the stars have got much more exciting and stimulating things to do and it's time for the nobodies to exit the stage. Stage left. Exit. Go. Right now.
BUFFALO:: Oh, it's like that, is it?
SHELDON: It most certainly is.
BIRD: I'd just like to apologise for...
SHELDON: There's really no need. Just scoot.
BUFFALO: Didn't feel like an hour special to me.
BIRD: Nope.
LEONARD: Sorry, fellas, the chemistry just wasn't there.
SHELDON: Neither the chemistry, nor the hour, nor the special. Get over it.
LEONARD: Bye, guys.
(BIRD AND BUFFALO TRAIPSE OFF, DEJECTED)
BIRD: So rude!
BUFFALO: I know! Let that be a lesson to you, Birdy. This is what happens to people who don't get laid on a regular basis. Oh, hey! Wow! Is that Penny over there?
BIRD: You know what, Buff, I think it is.
BUFFALO: Quick, Birdy, the game is afoot!
BIRD: All right, Sherlock.
BUFFALO: Penny! It's me, Buff, Buffy, Bufters, your greatest fan! I want to get to know you better. Get to know the real Penny, get real close to you, share with you my innermost stirrings.
BIRD: Buff, stop! She's not been sullied by a reprobate like you before.
BUFFALO: There's always a first time, n'est pas? Film at eleven.
BIRD: Oh, gawwwwd!
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
Thursday, April 18, 2013
MAKING THE SUPREME EFFORT TO END SLOTH MODE
I've never heard of a circum speck, but I know what it feels like. It's like a gooey, creamy, fluffy, goopy, chunky, milky, velvety, soft, feathery, mushy, greasy, clunky, plush, ripe, gaping, longing, teasing, dribbling hole. It needs filling, feeding, caring for, deleting, shunning, turning, burning, zapping, papping, crapping on or over. One doesn’t step into
the mundane, you know, it’s always there. You see these
fists? They’ve never been raised in
anger. I am a pacifist of the most
distinguished cowardly order. And as for sloth mode, crack me an egg and I'll show you my stye!
AND IN UDDER NEWS:
7,700,777,090 people tweeted the word "help" yesterday. Have we got enough rescuers to go round? Well, Sherlock Holmes says... "Watson, would you mind removing your pinky from your rinky tinky winky? It's a long time till tea, what what what."
AND THE POEM THEY SAID COULD NEVER BE WRITTEN...
TRUE GROOF
by Birdy
True Groof
Is like
A swollen river
You never know
When you'll need
A bucket
Film at eleven.
Arf, arf!
Sunday, April 14, 2013
PRETTY COLOURS
Pretty Colours
by Birdy
Pretty colours
Pretty colours
Sliding down the window
And into the dustpan
Pretty colours
Pretty colours
Splashing on the slab
Of life's dead can
Pretty colours
Pretty colours
Slithering down the board
And into the drain
Here comes the pain
Here comes the pain
Pretty colours
Again
And again
And again
***
PLUS ADDED EXTRA TOTALLY FREE!
CULTURAL HIGHLIGHT OF THE WEEK
From the North Korean Times
"The Americans are coming, the Russians are coming, the Japanese are coming, the South Koreans are coming, and we're coming and none of us have got any brakes!"
GO FIGGER!
Film at eleven!
by Birdy
Pretty colours
Pretty colours
Sliding down the window
And into the dustpan
Pretty colours
Pretty colours
Splashing on the slab
Of life's dead can
Pretty colours
Pretty colours
Slithering down the board
And into the drain
Here comes the pain
Here comes the pain
Pretty colours
Again
And again
And again
***
PLUS ADDED EXTRA TOTALLY FREE!
CULTURAL HIGHLIGHT OF THE WEEK
From the North Korean Times
"The Americans are coming, the Russians are coming, the Japanese are coming, the South Koreans are coming, and we're coming and none of us have got any brakes!"
GO FIGGER!
Film at eleven!
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
IT'S FOR A GOOD CAUSE AKA KIDNEY CANCER, MAN!
It's For A Good Cause AKA Kidney Cancer, Man!
by Birdy
Good evening, ma'am
Kidney cancer
Good evening, sir
Kidney cancer
Please
It's for a good cause
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Got any change?
Kidney cancer
Thank you, ma'am
Kidney cancer
Please
It's for a good cause
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Good evening, young man
Kidney cancer
Every penny helps
Kidney cancer
Please
It's for a good cause
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Hey, you there!
Kidney cancer
Any spare change?
Kidney cancer
Please
It's for a good cause
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Kerr-er-er-er-errrrr-ching
Kerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-err-ching
Ching O
Ching O
Yes, ching O
O ching O
Yeah, ching
Good evening, ma'am
Kidney cancer
Ker-ching, sir
Kidney cancer
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Doooof!
Oh, yeah
Kidney cancer
Doof! Doof! Doof!
Welter-belter-roo!
Bamboo!
Per-leeeeze me, baby
Gimme, gimme
Gimme
It's for a good cause
Boom boom boom
And you'd a-better
ber-lieve it
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Doof! Doof!
Kidney cancer, man!
by Birdy
Good evening, ma'am
Kidney cancer
Good evening, sir
Kidney cancer
Please
It's for a good cause
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Got any change?
Kidney cancer
Thank you, ma'am
Kidney cancer
Please
It's for a good cause
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Good evening, young man
Kidney cancer
Every penny helps
Kidney cancer
Please
It's for a good cause
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Hey, you there!
Kidney cancer
Any spare change?
Kidney cancer
Please
It's for a good cause
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Kerr-er-er-er-errrrr-ching
Kerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-err-ching
Ching O
Ching O
Yes, ching O
O ching O
Yeah, ching
Good evening, ma'am
Kidney cancer
Ker-ching, sir
Kidney cancer
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Doooof!
Oh, yeah
Kidney cancer
Doof! Doof! Doof!
Welter-belter-roo!
Bamboo!
Per-leeeeze me, baby
Gimme, gimme
Gimme
It's for a good cause
Boom boom boom
And you'd a-better
ber-lieve it
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Ker-ching
Doof! Doof!
Kidney cancer, man!
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
DAVID LYNCH DESPERATE FOR BIRD & BUFF
RUMOUR HAS IT THAT THE GREAT CREATIVE THRUSTER DAVID LYNCH IS IN FRENZIED TALKS WITH DA BIRD & BUFF ABOUT REVIVING TWIN PEAKS. OUR ROVING INSIDER TELLS US MORE.
ROVING INSIDER: Due to contractual commitments and promises made whilst in a drunken stupor high on Benadryl, I will remain anonymous, but sources tell me, and a secretly recorded tape, that David Lynch is close to reviving the smash hit TV series Twin Peaks and that he is very keen to enlist the talents of our very own Bird & Buffalo. Below is a transcript of the incredibly secret and mind blowingly emotional encounter between David Lynch and B&B in an unspecified location at an unspecified time. Or it may just be a three-way conversation on Skype. It really doesn't matter. What does matter is that Birdy and Buffters will finally get the recognition, fame and notoriety that they have always craved.
DAVID LYNCH: Is that Birdy?
BIRD: Er, yeah.
DAVID LYNCH: It's David Lynch.
BIRD: David Lynch?!
DAVID LYNCH: Yeah.
BIRD: Hold on, I'll get Buffters.
BUFFALO: Get the fook outta here! David Lynch?! Kiss my bovine ass!
DAVID LYNCH: He's right, Buff.
BUFFALO: Jeepers! I'd recognise that voice anywhere. Wow! I mean, Mr Lynch, I'm your biggest fan.
BIRD: No, I am.
BUFFALO: We love all your work, especially Twin Peaks.
BIRD: Yeah, and your cameo in it was terrific.
DAVID LYNCH: Good, cos that's what I wanted to talk to you boys about.
BIRD & BUFFALO: Wowwww!
BUFFALO: We must be dreaming.
BIRD: I know I am.
BUFFALO: Keep it going, Birdy. This is great. I'm getting the theme tune and the opening.
BIRD: Yeah, me too. Any way we can fast forward this baby?
DAVID LYNCH: Boys, boys, it's not a dream. And time is short, so here's the deal. An associate of mine recently gave me a copy of your Short Poetry In Brief about the Octopiddles, and I gotta tell you, it made me laugh so hard I thought I'd burst. Broke a few ribs, I did. Anyhow, the upshot is that I'm thinking about bringing Twin Peaks back and I'd like you boys on board. You're such a pair of whack jobs, you'd fit right in. So what do you say?
BIRD: Well, I...
BUFFALO: Yep. We'll do it, we'll go the whole nine inches. Further. We're in.
BIRD: Er, yeah. All that. But what do you want us to do, Mr Lynch?
DAVID LYNCH: Well, I can't reveal that just yet, but if all goes to plan both of you will get to have your cherry pie and eat it.
BIRD & BUFFALO: Wowwww!
DAVID LYNCH: Now, have you got insurance?
BIRD: I've got car insurance, fully comprehensive.
BUFFALO: I'm working on it.
DAVID LYNCH: Good, because by the end you boys are going to be seriously screwed up. That OK by you?
BUFFALO: You bet.
BIRD: Er, I guess.
DAVID LYNCH: You'll be mostly in the Red Room talking like stoned reprobates and bleeding a lot before the gruesome discovery is made.
BUFFALO: Sounds cool.
BIRD: Certainly beats the Rabbits.
DAVID LYNCH: Oh, and by the way, this conversation never took place.
BUFFALO: What conversation?
DAVID LYNCH: And if anyone asks, you don't know me.
BIRD: Know who?
DAVID LYNCH: Good, good.
BIRD: Oh, Mr Lynch?
DAVID LYNCH: What?
BIRD: Can I read you an extract from my novel before you go?
DAVID LYNCH: Only if I can read you my address to the David Lynch Foundation for Conscious-Based Education and World Peace.
BIRD: OK. (Reads)
TEN MINUTES LATER WE HEAR DAVID LYNCH SNORING LOUDLY
BIRD: So, er, what do you think?
BUFFALO: Dude, he's snoring like a bandicoot.
BIRD: My Lynch? Mr Lynch!
DAVID LYNCH: (Snores then grunts) Wha... What? Gee, I'm sorry about that, boys, I guess I must have nodded off. Anyway, as I was saying, it's been swell talking to you both. You'll be hearing from my lawyer.
BIRD: Great!
BUFFALO: Cool.
DAVID LYNCH: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
Twin Peaks Returning?
ROVING INSIDER: Due to contractual commitments and promises made whilst in a drunken stupor high on Benadryl, I will remain anonymous, but sources tell me, and a secretly recorded tape, that David Lynch is close to reviving the smash hit TV series Twin Peaks and that he is very keen to enlist the talents of our very own Bird & Buffalo. Below is a transcript of the incredibly secret and mind blowingly emotional encounter between David Lynch and B&B in an unspecified location at an unspecified time. Or it may just be a three-way conversation on Skype. It really doesn't matter. What does matter is that Birdy and Buffters will finally get the recognition, fame and notoriety that they have always craved.
DAVID LYNCH: Is that Birdy?
BIRD: Er, yeah.
DAVID LYNCH: It's David Lynch.
BIRD: David Lynch?!
DAVID LYNCH: Yeah.
BIRD: Hold on, I'll get Buffters.
BUFFALO: Get the fook outta here! David Lynch?! Kiss my bovine ass!
DAVID LYNCH: He's right, Buff.
BUFFALO: Jeepers! I'd recognise that voice anywhere. Wow! I mean, Mr Lynch, I'm your biggest fan.
BIRD: No, I am.
BUFFALO: We love all your work, especially Twin Peaks.
BIRD: Yeah, and your cameo in it was terrific.
DAVID LYNCH: Good, cos that's what I wanted to talk to you boys about.
BIRD & BUFFALO: Wowwww!
BUFFALO: We must be dreaming.
BIRD: I know I am.
BUFFALO: Keep it going, Birdy. This is great. I'm getting the theme tune and the opening.
BIRD: Yeah, me too. Any way we can fast forward this baby?
DAVID LYNCH: Boys, boys, it's not a dream. And time is short, so here's the deal. An associate of mine recently gave me a copy of your Short Poetry In Brief about the Octopiddles, and I gotta tell you, it made me laugh so hard I thought I'd burst. Broke a few ribs, I did. Anyhow, the upshot is that I'm thinking about bringing Twin Peaks back and I'd like you boys on board. You're such a pair of whack jobs, you'd fit right in. So what do you say?
BIRD: Well, I...
BUFFALO: Yep. We'll do it, we'll go the whole nine inches. Further. We're in.
BIRD: Er, yeah. All that. But what do you want us to do, Mr Lynch?
DAVID LYNCH: Well, I can't reveal that just yet, but if all goes to plan both of you will get to have your cherry pie and eat it.
BIRD & BUFFALO: Wowwww!
DAVID LYNCH: Now, have you got insurance?
BIRD: I've got car insurance, fully comprehensive.
BUFFALO: I'm working on it.
DAVID LYNCH: Good, because by the end you boys are going to be seriously screwed up. That OK by you?
BUFFALO: You bet.
BIRD: Er, I guess.
DAVID LYNCH: You'll be mostly in the Red Room talking like stoned reprobates and bleeding a lot before the gruesome discovery is made.
BUFFALO: Sounds cool.
BIRD: Certainly beats the Rabbits.
DAVID LYNCH: Oh, and by the way, this conversation never took place.
BUFFALO: What conversation?
DAVID LYNCH: And if anyone asks, you don't know me.
BIRD: Know who?
DAVID LYNCH: Good, good.
BIRD: Oh, Mr Lynch?
DAVID LYNCH: What?
BIRD: Can I read you an extract from my novel before you go?
DAVID LYNCH: Only if I can read you my address to the David Lynch Foundation for Conscious-Based Education and World Peace.
BIRD: OK. (Reads)
TEN MINUTES LATER WE HEAR DAVID LYNCH SNORING LOUDLY
BIRD: So, er, what do you think?
BUFFALO: Dude, he's snoring like a bandicoot.
BIRD: My Lynch? Mr Lynch!
DAVID LYNCH: (Snores then grunts) Wha... What? Gee, I'm sorry about that, boys, I guess I must have nodded off. Anyway, as I was saying, it's been swell talking to you both. You'll be hearing from my lawyer.
BIRD: Great!
BUFFALO: Cool.
DAVID LYNCH: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
Twin Peaks Returning?
Friday, January 04, 2013
And Now Or
And Now Or
by Birdy
And now or
Go gently into
the night
Ahead is
That which
Was once
Behind
New blogger
Same as
the old
Blogger
Blog, blog
Blogger
Blog
Blog
Say no more
Dear friend
For we shall
Meet
We shall
Meet
We shall
Meet
In sickness
or in
Death
Again
Again
by Birdy
And now or
Go gently into
the night
Ahead is
That which
Was once
Behind
New blogger
Same as
the old
Blogger
Blog, blog
Blogger
Blog
Blog
Say no more
Dear friend
For we shall
Meet
We shall
Meet
We shall
Meet
In sickness
or in
Death
Again
Again
Thursday, January 05, 2012
House Fire + New Year's Retributions
House Fire
by Birdy
House Fire
Burning
Beginning
And Ending
In orange peel
And zest
An unwanted guest
Trod on the nest
And well
You know
The rest
Just guess
Last breath
Leben odour
Tod
Wunderbar
Ha ha!
Now this
human crumb
Really is
Toast
SEVEN NEW YEAR'S RETRIBUTIONS
by Buffters
1 Get laid.
2 Get laid some more.
3 Get laid even more.
4 Get laid till my Freddy falls off.
5 Get Freddy sewn back on and get laid again.
6 Make something of my life.
7 Screw it, just get laid till my head explodes.
Film at eleven.
Arf, arf!
PLUS!!!! DIALOGUE WITHOUT PURPOSE
BUFF: What you said just then, dude, that was disgusting. I could never do that to another human being.
BIRD: But you did, many times, which is what is really disgusting.
BUFF: Nowt so disgusting as folk, Birdy. What's the most disgusting thing you've ever done then, huh?
BIRD: Still doing it. It's called living a lie.
BUFF: That's not even mildly disgusting. Life by definition is a lie. A big fat, blobby one with two massive horns ready to gore you to pisswillydom. I've been gored so many times, there's no flesh on these here bones. The sight of moi in the mirror, now that's disgusting. But things are looking up, dude. 2012 is our year, so get ready, cos it's gonna be one helluva ride. Hollywoody beckons, then London, Amsterdam, Finnishland. Fasten your seatbelts, o feathered one, you and me are off! Woo-hoo!!!!
BIRD: Nothing's happening.
BUFF: Gotta go. They're breathing down my neck and it's not fragrant. Ta-ra, dude.
BIRD: I'm trapped, dude. And it's not even my own mind. Maybe if I hold my breath for a little longer...
by Birdy
House Fire
Burning
Beginning
And Ending
In orange peel
And zest
An unwanted guest
Trod on the nest
And well
You know
The rest
Just guess
Last breath
Leben odour
Tod
Wunderbar
Ha ha!
Now this
human crumb
Really is
Toast
SEVEN NEW YEAR'S RETRIBUTIONS
by Buffters
1 Get laid.
2 Get laid some more.
3 Get laid even more.
4 Get laid till my Freddy falls off.
5 Get Freddy sewn back on and get laid again.
6 Make something of my life.
7 Screw it, just get laid till my head explodes.
Film at eleven.
Arf, arf!
PLUS!!!! DIALOGUE WITHOUT PURPOSE
BUFF: What you said just then, dude, that was disgusting. I could never do that to another human being.
BIRD: But you did, many times, which is what is really disgusting.
BUFF: Nowt so disgusting as folk, Birdy. What's the most disgusting thing you've ever done then, huh?
BIRD: Still doing it. It's called living a lie.
BUFF: That's not even mildly disgusting. Life by definition is a lie. A big fat, blobby one with two massive horns ready to gore you to pisswillydom. I've been gored so many times, there's no flesh on these here bones. The sight of moi in the mirror, now that's disgusting. But things are looking up, dude. 2012 is our year, so get ready, cos it's gonna be one helluva ride. Hollywoody beckons, then London, Amsterdam, Finnishland. Fasten your seatbelts, o feathered one, you and me are off! Woo-hoo!!!!
BIRD: Nothing's happening.
BUFF: Gotta go. They're breathing down my neck and it's not fragrant. Ta-ra, dude.
BIRD: I'm trapped, dude. And it's not even my own mind. Maybe if I hold my breath for a little longer...
Thursday, August 25, 2011
There Was A Young Man From Peru...
There Was A Young Man From Peru
by Marcel DeClercq
There was a young man from Peru
Who had nothing whatever to do
So he flew in the garret
And buggered the parrot
And sent the result to the zoo.
Winner of the Peruvian Golden Potty Award For Outstanding Fripperology, There Was A Young Man From Peru was perceived in desperation and became an instant hit with disaffected yoot worldwide, spawning thousands of copycat verses too lood to mention. All proceeds are donated to the Save The Parrot From Self-Immolation Fund. To donate, all you have to do is download the following book...
Arf, arf!
by Marcel DeClercq
There was a young man from Peru
Who had nothing whatever to do
So he flew in the garret
And buggered the parrot
And sent the result to the zoo.
Winner of the Peruvian Golden Potty Award For Outstanding Fripperology, There Was A Young Man From Peru was perceived in desperation and became an instant hit with disaffected yoot worldwide, spawning thousands of copycat verses too lood to mention. All proceeds are donated to the Save The Parrot From Self-Immolation Fund. To donate, all you have to do is download the following book...
Arf, arf!
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
EXPLOSIVE DREAMS: FROM THE SECRET DIARY OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
Sherlock writes:
It was a Monday morning, after the night before the night before that. Watson was in good form, as usual, having sat too close to the fire and burned his backside once more. That man gets through more panties than a hoor in Limehouse. Anyhoo, I was plagued by a recurring dream about digging holes. Let them dig holes, Hudders said. But what was the question? I really hadn't the foggiest. And then some street urchin would be given a spade and told to dig, deeper and deeper and deeper until the poor creature exploded, along with the hole and a trillion grains of earth would pelt the nearest robin, which in turn exploded with a tweet, but not before a deafening trill was unleashed over Baker Street. And from the shadows emerged Moriarty in black bra and polo shorts. He told me to dig a hole and so I did, the grimiest, slimiest, squidgiest hole anyone ever did dig, and I too exploded into a trillion zillion atoms which hurtled into a universe no larger than one of Toby's prize winning turds and I thought to myself... wake up, you're on fire! And sure enough, smoke and flames were billowing from my nether regions and the stench of burnt tobacco and matches hung in the air. The alarm was raised. Watson and Hudders threw themselves at my door but budge it would not. Not to put too fine a point on it, I thought I was toast. I looked on in terror as the flames engulfed my pubic hair. "Not my Freddy!" I yelled. "Anything but my Freddy!" And at the very moment when Freddy seemed all but lost, Watson and Hudders burst in with buckets of water which quickly doused the flames and Freddy was saved! Singed but not stirred, he lived to rise another day. I was mightily relieved, Watson was ecstatic, Hudders was pensive. "Good grief, Holmes," said Watson, "that was a close one for Freddy, what, what, what!" "Indeed it was, Watters," said I. "'I think you'll find, Mr Holmes," said Hudders, "that my first aid training is going to come in very handy here." Was it a dream? Was it a fantasy? Was it elementary? I shall never know, but now when Hudders brings me my Horlicks afore slumbers, she winks at me ever so gently and says, "Let them dig holes."
Currently reading...
It was a Monday morning, after the night before the night before that. Watson was in good form, as usual, having sat too close to the fire and burned his backside once more. That man gets through more panties than a hoor in Limehouse. Anyhoo, I was plagued by a recurring dream about digging holes. Let them dig holes, Hudders said. But what was the question? I really hadn't the foggiest. And then some street urchin would be given a spade and told to dig, deeper and deeper and deeper until the poor creature exploded, along with the hole and a trillion grains of earth would pelt the nearest robin, which in turn exploded with a tweet, but not before a deafening trill was unleashed over Baker Street. And from the shadows emerged Moriarty in black bra and polo shorts. He told me to dig a hole and so I did, the grimiest, slimiest, squidgiest hole anyone ever did dig, and I too exploded into a trillion zillion atoms which hurtled into a universe no larger than one of Toby's prize winning turds and I thought to myself... wake up, you're on fire! And sure enough, smoke and flames were billowing from my nether regions and the stench of burnt tobacco and matches hung in the air. The alarm was raised. Watson and Hudders threw themselves at my door but budge it would not. Not to put too fine a point on it, I thought I was toast. I looked on in terror as the flames engulfed my pubic hair. "Not my Freddy!" I yelled. "Anything but my Freddy!" And at the very moment when Freddy seemed all but lost, Watson and Hudders burst in with buckets of water which quickly doused the flames and Freddy was saved! Singed but not stirred, he lived to rise another day. I was mightily relieved, Watson was ecstatic, Hudders was pensive. "Good grief, Holmes," said Watson, "that was a close one for Freddy, what, what, what!" "Indeed it was, Watters," said I. "'I think you'll find, Mr Holmes," said Hudders, "that my first aid training is going to come in very handy here." Was it a dream? Was it a fantasy? Was it elementary? I shall never know, but now when Hudders brings me my Horlicks afore slumbers, she winks at me ever so gently and says, "Let them dig holes."
Currently reading...
Thursday, August 11, 2011
MORE SHERLOCK, WHAT WHAT WHAT: THE MAN WITH THE TWISTED REAR
It was a cold, autumnal Sunday morning. Holmes sat exasperated. Boredom was his want. The doorbell rang and Hudders escorted in a most ungainly gentlemen who lilted to one side. Holmes immediately pricked up his ears and gestured to the poor fellow to sit down. The gent politely declined, preferring to stand. When Holmes enquired why, he dropped his trousers, turned round and afforded us a most unsavoury sight of his bottom, twisted beyond all anatomical recognition. The poor chap appeared to have two rectums, what, what, what, and festering spots galore. Holmes reacted in a frightfully unhelpful fashion by demanding the man leave forthwith. Several scones and cups of tea later, Holmes and I entertained the following exchange:
“I say, Holmes,” said I, “that was a damn awful way to treat that wretch, what, what, what.”
“Alimentary, my dear Watson,” said he, “I feared I was about to deposit a truly yummy breakfast on our brand-new Axminster. Hudders would have hit the roof, so I had to take extreme measures.”
“Ah, I see,” said I, “then it wasn’t because of any revulsion you felt for this mangled chap?”
“On the contrary, old boy,” said he, “I have nothing but admiration for the dignified way in which this freak presented himself in such trying circumstances.”
“More importantly,” said I, “are you inclined to help the poor chap out of his predicament?”
There was a long pause as Holmes struggled with his demons, or pondered what to do with Toby, who was once again tugging on his right slipper, a practice Holmes could not abide.
“Watson,” said he, “I fear to solve this case we must descend lower into the murky depths than we’ve ever done before. We must, in the modern vernacular, get our hands dirty. I have no doubt that the fiend Moriarty is behind this, if you get my drift. But no matter, we must get to the bottom of this, for the sake of this bum, don’t you know!”
“Oh, really, Holmes!” said I, “how can you joke at a time like this? This man’s future ablutions depend upon you.”
“Watson,” said he, “I am not a surgeon. I can find the culprit, but I can’t reconfigure his waste disposal facilities. I fear he is twisted for life.”
“Not if I’ve got anything to do with it,” said I. “Hudders! Hudders! The man who just left with his trousers around his ankles…”
“The man with the twisted…” said she.
“The very one. Quick. Time is of the essence.”
But Hudders was too late. The man was found in the early hours of the next morning in a ditch by King’s Cross railway station, in a highly distressed state, the victim of excessive wind. On this occasion, Holmes was proven wrong. It was not the dastardly Moriarty behind the perverted prank but none other than the Serial Twister of Twickenham, who obtained many a jolly from rearranging the anatomical parts of 73 victims before LaStrade cornered him outside a public house in Limehouse as he was about to reverse an unsuspecting wenche’s front and back parts. Holmes never forgave himself for allowing his hatred of Moriarty to cloud his deductive powers which prevented him from cracking the case earlier. No more was said of this and Toby was given his own set of slippers to tug and chew to his heart’s content.
BOOKS SHERLOCK HOLMES LIKES:
Un-furr-toon-ate-lee, some puppies have already copped it. To prevent more canine demise, get da book RIGHT NOW, pliz.
Arf, arf!
“I say, Holmes,” said I, “that was a damn awful way to treat that wretch, what, what, what.”
“Alimentary, my dear Watson,” said he, “I feared I was about to deposit a truly yummy breakfast on our brand-new Axminster. Hudders would have hit the roof, so I had to take extreme measures.”
“Ah, I see,” said I, “then it wasn’t because of any revulsion you felt for this mangled chap?”
“On the contrary, old boy,” said he, “I have nothing but admiration for the dignified way in which this freak presented himself in such trying circumstances.”
“More importantly,” said I, “are you inclined to help the poor chap out of his predicament?”
There was a long pause as Holmes struggled with his demons, or pondered what to do with Toby, who was once again tugging on his right slipper, a practice Holmes could not abide.
“Watson,” said he, “I fear to solve this case we must descend lower into the murky depths than we’ve ever done before. We must, in the modern vernacular, get our hands dirty. I have no doubt that the fiend Moriarty is behind this, if you get my drift. But no matter, we must get to the bottom of this, for the sake of this bum, don’t you know!”
“Oh, really, Holmes!” said I, “how can you joke at a time like this? This man’s future ablutions depend upon you.”
“Watson,” said he, “I am not a surgeon. I can find the culprit, but I can’t reconfigure his waste disposal facilities. I fear he is twisted for life.”
“Not if I’ve got anything to do with it,” said I. “Hudders! Hudders! The man who just left with his trousers around his ankles…”
“The man with the twisted…” said she.
“The very one. Quick. Time is of the essence.”
But Hudders was too late. The man was found in the early hours of the next morning in a ditch by King’s Cross railway station, in a highly distressed state, the victim of excessive wind. On this occasion, Holmes was proven wrong. It was not the dastardly Moriarty behind the perverted prank but none other than the Serial Twister of Twickenham, who obtained many a jolly from rearranging the anatomical parts of 73 victims before LaStrade cornered him outside a public house in Limehouse as he was about to reverse an unsuspecting wenche’s front and back parts. Holmes never forgave himself for allowing his hatred of Moriarty to cloud his deductive powers which prevented him from cracking the case earlier. No more was said of this and Toby was given his own set of slippers to tug and chew to his heart’s content.
BOOKS SHERLOCK HOLMES LIKES:
Un-furr-toon-ate-lee, some puppies have already copped it. To prevent more canine demise, get da book RIGHT NOW, pliz.
Arf, arf!
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