IN AN UNPRECEDENTED MOVE BY THE PEOPLE WHO SHOULD KNOW BETTER WHEN IT COMES TO THE WRITTEN WURST...TURD, SORRY, WORD, THE NOBEL PRIZE FOR LITERATURE HAS ALMOST BEEN AWARDED TO THE BIRD & BUFFALO. HERE ARE THE REASONS WHY THE JUDGES CHANGED THEIR COLLECTIVE SPLIT MIND AT THE LAST MINUTE:
1. Judge Klaus Von Schtikiarschen had to declare a precarious connection to the auld Buff. Apparent Lee, he laid a certain Cindy Spreadumwider shortly after the auld Buff did. Buff's name was subsequently mentioned by the harlot to him as a possible future literary genius in a postcoital Scrabble game.
2. No-one with above average sized testicles has EVER been awarded this prize. The Bird & Buffalo BOTH have scientifically-verified larger than life balls.
3. The book submitted on behalf of the Bird & Buffalo by an anonymous admirer entitled FEK-U: THE COLLECTED WORKS OF BIRD & BUFFALO DURING THE SPLODGE WARS - 2001-PRESENT was considered to be so devoid of any real meaning - roughly 98.8888% blabbermouth trash and inventive obscenities - that it was deemed unfair to the other authors, who wrote 100% meaningful prose, and nay, a travesty of all the core values and underlying principles behind the Nobel Movement.
4. The judges didn't like the cover.
5. The one and only copy of the aforementioned book had to be shared by the judges and being badly bound was all but physically unreadable once it had been retrieved from the outside toilet in Budapest by the anonymous admirer.
6. It was getting late and Singalong-A-Beethoven was on TV.
7. The Prime Minister of Bouvet Island was insulted no less than five times, and I quote: "He is wanton." "That wanton man." "Wanton is he!" "Oh, so - wanton." "Wanton? He. Is?"
8. The aforementioned authors can't add up.
9. Persistent fart jokes about Sherlock Holmes are not funny.
10. We are all going to die.
SO WE SAY F-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-X!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
SARAH PALIN IN TEN SECONDS
Today, we turn our quandaries to Sarah Palin. Yes, mons amiss, it is time to get poetical.
SARAH PALIN is hot BUT...
she is not...
worthy.
The auld Buff devoted a poem to this very subject but ten seconds ago.
It's called
SARAH PALIN IN TEN SECONDS
O
Sarah
In ten seconds
No
Make that five
No
Two
No
One
Be gone
Diaphoretic
Strumpet
SARAH PALIN is hot BUT...
she is not...
worthy.
The auld Buff devoted a poem to this very subject but ten seconds ago.
It's called
SARAH PALIN IN TEN SECONDS
O
Sarah
In ten seconds
No
Make that five
No
Two
No
One
Be gone
Diaphoretic
Strumpet
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
OF PROBITY AND UDDER BLUNDERS
BUFFALO: The udder day, my head doc Maxine said, "You know, Buff, I'm not sure who's probing who here any more." So I said... "Shouldn't that be whom." A cheap shot, I know, but hey, it's not every day Maxine probes so deep. Oooh la la.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
THE CRUSTYCOK SCANDAL AND OTHER FLAKERIES
BIRD: Dude, you'll have to say something sooner or later.
BUFFALO: What's the point?
BIRD: So Hollywoody nicked your idea. Get over it.
BUFFALO: But instead of my name in big lights it'll be Norman Crustykok. It took me 30 years to come up with that gem. And they stole it, dude. Ripped me off as if I was a log chopper at Stuckey's. Fookin' fookers.
BIRD: But it was hardly an original idea, wazzit? I mean, a film within a film within an ice cream. It's been done before, innit.
BUFFALO: You mean, Fellini?
BIRD: Nah, Crinkletit. Back in the '50s.
BUFFALO: Yeah. The Flying Cone From Rectal Levity. Starring Charles Batty. It was never released, remember?
BIRD: Maybe not, but it was reworked and remade as The Way We Were.
BUFFALO: That's bullshit and you know it. For a start, where was the ice cream?
BIRD: As a metaphor, it didn't cut it, so they cut it.
BUFFALO: And where was Big Tim Dangling, the guy who couldn't go to the bank without pissing his pants?
BIRD: He was a minor character and the producers instructed the writers that there must be no bodily functions in the final script. Robert Redford and Barbra Streisand don't do toilets.
BUFFALO: Poisonally, I'd like to see Babs do her stuff in the bathroom, but that's just me. And anyhoo, what about the central premise of the plot which involved a spaceship depositing the rectal object on an unsuspecting water hog in North Carolina?
BIRD: OK, OK. They were making the film at a time when the water hog, and for that matter North Carolina were protected. They had to improvise.
BUFFALO: And there was no writer or political activist in the original. They were store workers. Women. Lesbians. No less.
BIRD: Maybe, but you must admit the original WAS a love story.
BUFFALO: It was not. It was about the exploitation of Mongolian migrant workers in the wine industry in the Napa Valley.
BIRD: Oh, come on. Nobody had even heard of the Napa Valley then. Or of Mongolian migrant workers.
BUFFALO: Well, they've heard of the Napa Valley now. And as for the Mongolian migrant workers... they were all shafted, dude. Disappeared overnight in August '50 after they asked for blankets to sleep in. How the United Nations left them to their plight is a sin!
BIRD: Dude, are we talking about the same film?
BUFFALO: How the hell do I know? I've seen so many and written so many I have no idea what is and isn't a film. But I know they stole my idea.
BIRD: Which was for a modern romance based on the story of Albert Einstein and Charles Dickens.
BUFFALO: Genius, don't you think?
BIRD: Both heterosexual, from different continents, and because Charlie pops his clogs in 1870 and Albie was born in 1879, were destined never to meet.
BUFFALO: That's where the spaceship comes in, dude.
BIRD: Ohforfukksake, Buff, you know it was a ripoff of Dynasty.
BUFFALO: Dude, I've got one word for you - Rosebud.
BIRD: Don't go there, dude. Just don't. Don't drag Orson Welles into this. He has nothing to do with the Hollywood swindle.
BUFFALO: Dude, he was the one who made it possible to introduce fantastical elements into a linear narrative. He opened it wide open. Without him, there'd be no Lynch. Or Buttmuncher.
BIRD: How dare you mention Buttmuncher's name in the same line as Lynch! Have you no shame?
BUFFALO: Buttmuncher's underrated. Everybody knows it.
BIRD: Not just underrated. Unheard of.
BUFFALO: He's a genius.
BIRD: Who never made a film and ended up in a high-security facility for nutjobs.
BUFFALO: He had his flaws. But we all do. That's no reason to bang him up for the rest of his life.
BIRD: Dude, when they caught him he was about to demolish his father's house with his father in it.
BUFFALO: They had a disagreement. Don't all families? All he wanted was an apology.
BIRD: Yeah, in his dad's blood. Why don't you write a screenplay about him? Nobody would steal that.
BUFFALO: Nah, fuggit. I ain't writing no more screenplays. I'm thru with all that pseudo mutilation. I've got myself some wood and I'm gonna use it.
BIRD: Eh?
BUFFALO: Well, OK, it's a plank. But it'll do the trick.
BIRD: What the hell are you going to do with a plank of wood?
BUFFALO: It's got Buzz Hathawaynutz's name on it - the fookwad in Tinsel Town who robbed me of my rightful heritage. I'm going teach him a lesson.
BIRD: Oh, for Freddy's sake, violence is not the answer.
BUFFALO: You're right, cos I ain't asking any questions. And neither is he once he gets a head full of finest North American oak.
BIRD: They'll lock you up, dude.
BUFFALO: Whatever.
BIRD: You'll never see your family or loved ones again.
BUFFALO: Let's hope, huh?
BIRD: It'll be the end of the blog too, dude.
BUFFALO: Really? You mean no more you and me?
BIRD: That's right.
BUFFALO: Seems like a high price to pay, donnit?
BIRD: Sure is.
BUFFALO: Sorry, Birdy. Gotta stick up for my principles. Buzz Hathawaynutz is going daaahhhhn! So long, Birdman, pray for my mammary.
BIRD: Bye, then.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
BIRD: Oh, and don't forget to check out the latest issue of Insolent Rudder. It's a corker. You can find it here:
http://www.insolentrudder.net/fall2008_home.html
BUFFALO: What's the point?
BIRD: So Hollywoody nicked your idea. Get over it.
BUFFALO: But instead of my name in big lights it'll be Norman Crustykok. It took me 30 years to come up with that gem. And they stole it, dude. Ripped me off as if I was a log chopper at Stuckey's. Fookin' fookers.
BIRD: But it was hardly an original idea, wazzit? I mean, a film within a film within an ice cream. It's been done before, innit.
BUFFALO: You mean, Fellini?
BIRD: Nah, Crinkletit. Back in the '50s.
BUFFALO: Yeah. The Flying Cone From Rectal Levity. Starring Charles Batty. It was never released, remember?
BIRD: Maybe not, but it was reworked and remade as The Way We Were.
BUFFALO: That's bullshit and you know it. For a start, where was the ice cream?
BIRD: As a metaphor, it didn't cut it, so they cut it.
BUFFALO: And where was Big Tim Dangling, the guy who couldn't go to the bank without pissing his pants?
BIRD: He was a minor character and the producers instructed the writers that there must be no bodily functions in the final script. Robert Redford and Barbra Streisand don't do toilets.
BUFFALO: Poisonally, I'd like to see Babs do her stuff in the bathroom, but that's just me. And anyhoo, what about the central premise of the plot which involved a spaceship depositing the rectal object on an unsuspecting water hog in North Carolina?
BIRD: OK, OK. They were making the film at a time when the water hog, and for that matter North Carolina were protected. They had to improvise.
BUFFALO: And there was no writer or political activist in the original. They were store workers. Women. Lesbians. No less.
BIRD: Maybe, but you must admit the original WAS a love story.
BUFFALO: It was not. It was about the exploitation of Mongolian migrant workers in the wine industry in the Napa Valley.
BIRD: Oh, come on. Nobody had even heard of the Napa Valley then. Or of Mongolian migrant workers.
BUFFALO: Well, they've heard of the Napa Valley now. And as for the Mongolian migrant workers... they were all shafted, dude. Disappeared overnight in August '50 after they asked for blankets to sleep in. How the United Nations left them to their plight is a sin!
BIRD: Dude, are we talking about the same film?
BUFFALO: How the hell do I know? I've seen so many and written so many I have no idea what is and isn't a film. But I know they stole my idea.
BIRD: Which was for a modern romance based on the story of Albert Einstein and Charles Dickens.
BUFFALO: Genius, don't you think?
BIRD: Both heterosexual, from different continents, and because Charlie pops his clogs in 1870 and Albie was born in 1879, were destined never to meet.
BUFFALO: That's where the spaceship comes in, dude.
BIRD: Ohforfukksake, Buff, you know it was a ripoff of Dynasty.
BUFFALO: Dude, I've got one word for you - Rosebud.
BIRD: Don't go there, dude. Just don't. Don't drag Orson Welles into this. He has nothing to do with the Hollywood swindle.
BUFFALO: Dude, he was the one who made it possible to introduce fantastical elements into a linear narrative. He opened it wide open. Without him, there'd be no Lynch. Or Buttmuncher.
BIRD: How dare you mention Buttmuncher's name in the same line as Lynch! Have you no shame?
BUFFALO: Buttmuncher's underrated. Everybody knows it.
BIRD: Not just underrated. Unheard of.
BUFFALO: He's a genius.
BIRD: Who never made a film and ended up in a high-security facility for nutjobs.
BUFFALO: He had his flaws. But we all do. That's no reason to bang him up for the rest of his life.
BIRD: Dude, when they caught him he was about to demolish his father's house with his father in it.
BUFFALO: They had a disagreement. Don't all families? All he wanted was an apology.
BIRD: Yeah, in his dad's blood. Why don't you write a screenplay about him? Nobody would steal that.
BUFFALO: Nah, fuggit. I ain't writing no more screenplays. I'm thru with all that pseudo mutilation. I've got myself some wood and I'm gonna use it.
BIRD: Eh?
BUFFALO: Well, OK, it's a plank. But it'll do the trick.
BIRD: What the hell are you going to do with a plank of wood?
BUFFALO: It's got Buzz Hathawaynutz's name on it - the fookwad in Tinsel Town who robbed me of my rightful heritage. I'm going teach him a lesson.
BIRD: Oh, for Freddy's sake, violence is not the answer.
BUFFALO: You're right, cos I ain't asking any questions. And neither is he once he gets a head full of finest North American oak.
BIRD: They'll lock you up, dude.
BUFFALO: Whatever.
BIRD: You'll never see your family or loved ones again.
BUFFALO: Let's hope, huh?
BIRD: It'll be the end of the blog too, dude.
BUFFALO: Really? You mean no more you and me?
BIRD: That's right.
BUFFALO: Seems like a high price to pay, donnit?
BIRD: Sure is.
BUFFALO: Sorry, Birdy. Gotta stick up for my principles. Buzz Hathawaynutz is going daaahhhhn! So long, Birdman, pray for my mammary.
BIRD: Bye, then.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
BIRD: Oh, and don't forget to check out the latest issue of Insolent Rudder. It's a corker. You can find it here:
http://www.insolentrudder.net/fall2008_home.html
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
A BLOG WITHIN A BLOG, OR IZZIT THE?
BIRD: Dude, I've got an idea for a blog within a blog.
BUFFALO: I'm all ears.
BIRD: It's about this poor fookwad who's got bipolar disorder, sleep apnea and narcolepsy, right? He's coming off two weeks of Horrormania and is as depressed and suicidal as dried shit on a potting stick. You know, seriously fugged up, like.
BUFFALO: Hold the jiminy, Roger. I've got all those things, innit?
BIRD: Blimey, so you have! But this guy is a fictional character.
BUFFALO: But I know this guy. Fook, I AM this guy. I should write his dialogue. Lemme write his dialogue. I'll portray him in the film too. But only online. Those movie fuggsters are way too fond of early starts.
BIRD: Wizard. It'll be authentic, like, woenit?
BUFFALO: Fook the Casbah, Nigel. Now, what we've gotta decide is, does this poor shitfook loosely based on this here poor shitfook dribbling here before you live or die?
BIRD: Well, he can live till he dies, like. Long as you're still breathing, the dialogue'll be flowing like cat piss in a dog fight, innit. You can't make up shit like that. I mean, you're crazier than a shit-house rat, right?
BUFFALO: I sure am. Off the scale. A lost fruit and nut. TOTALLY screwed in all orifices, off the record, like. So we'll make him a regular character. Hey, wait, does he get shagged or not?
BIRD: Possibly.
BUFFALO: I think he should get shagged.
BIRD: Yeah, well, you would, wouldn't you?
BUFFALO: A lot. Till his brains splatter on life's sullied sidewalk.
BIRD: Harelip! Harelip!
BUFFALO: Get us another coupla pints, willya?
BIRD: Toppo idea, Buff. Now, this wacko has a buddy, right?
BUFFALO: Right.
BIRD: A very clever buddy who through the power of superior intellect and all manner of trickery and chemical concoctions gradually brings this guy back from the brink into what unwittingly turns out to be something much worse.
BUFFALO: I see. But what could possibly be worse?
BIRD: Ah, now that's where the dancing Rottweilers and lyrical rabbits trapped in the theatre of the Ab-Turd come in.
BUFFALO: The what?
BIRD: But is it real or in his head?
BUFFALO: Dude, I can't write dialogue for that. I don't know nobody who's got a dancing Rottweiler or a lyrical rabbit.
BIRD: Dude, the Theatre of the Ab-Turd is a metaphor.
BUFFALO: A metaphor for wot?
BIRD: Dunno yet. We'll think of something. Anyway, this nutjob gets treated by the genius guy who despite his best efforts can't save him.
BUFFALO: You mean, the loon snuffs himself?
BIRD: Yeah. Or does he?
BUFFALO: And that's it, is it, the idea in full elaboratory splendour?
BIRD: Reassuringly simple yet empirically elusive, doncha think?
BUFFALO: It's not without intrigue and confusion, I'll give ya that. OK, let's try it. When do we start?
BIRD: We already have.
BUFFALO: Huh?
BIRD: See those dancing Rottweilers?
BUFFALO: And the lyrical rabbits... behind the red curtain. Omifook. It really has started. But when's it going to end?
BIRD: When the dialogue runs out, dude. I already told you.
BUFFALO: If only Audrey Horne were here...
BIRD: Oh, but she is.
BUFFALO: Audrey?!
BIRD: Behind the red curtain. Blog da blog at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
BUFFALO: I'm all ears.
BIRD: It's about this poor fookwad who's got bipolar disorder, sleep apnea and narcolepsy, right? He's coming off two weeks of Horrormania and is as depressed and suicidal as dried shit on a potting stick. You know, seriously fugged up, like.
BUFFALO: Hold the jiminy, Roger. I've got all those things, innit?
BIRD: Blimey, so you have! But this guy is a fictional character.
BUFFALO: But I know this guy. Fook, I AM this guy. I should write his dialogue. Lemme write his dialogue. I'll portray him in the film too. But only online. Those movie fuggsters are way too fond of early starts.
BIRD: Wizard. It'll be authentic, like, woenit?
BUFFALO: Fook the Casbah, Nigel. Now, what we've gotta decide is, does this poor shitfook loosely based on this here poor shitfook dribbling here before you live or die?
BIRD: Well, he can live till he dies, like. Long as you're still breathing, the dialogue'll be flowing like cat piss in a dog fight, innit. You can't make up shit like that. I mean, you're crazier than a shit-house rat, right?
BUFFALO: I sure am. Off the scale. A lost fruit and nut. TOTALLY screwed in all orifices, off the record, like. So we'll make him a regular character. Hey, wait, does he get shagged or not?
BIRD: Possibly.
BUFFALO: I think he should get shagged.
BIRD: Yeah, well, you would, wouldn't you?
BUFFALO: A lot. Till his brains splatter on life's sullied sidewalk.
BIRD: Harelip! Harelip!
BUFFALO: Get us another coupla pints, willya?
BIRD: Toppo idea, Buff. Now, this wacko has a buddy, right?
BUFFALO: Right.
BIRD: A very clever buddy who through the power of superior intellect and all manner of trickery and chemical concoctions gradually brings this guy back from the brink into what unwittingly turns out to be something much worse.
BUFFALO: I see. But what could possibly be worse?
BIRD: Ah, now that's where the dancing Rottweilers and lyrical rabbits trapped in the theatre of the Ab-Turd come in.
BUFFALO: The what?
BIRD: But is it real or in his head?
BUFFALO: Dude, I can't write dialogue for that. I don't know nobody who's got a dancing Rottweiler or a lyrical rabbit.
BIRD: Dude, the Theatre of the Ab-Turd is a metaphor.
BUFFALO: A metaphor for wot?
BIRD: Dunno yet. We'll think of something. Anyway, this nutjob gets treated by the genius guy who despite his best efforts can't save him.
BUFFALO: You mean, the loon snuffs himself?
BIRD: Yeah. Or does he?
BUFFALO: And that's it, is it, the idea in full elaboratory splendour?
BIRD: Reassuringly simple yet empirically elusive, doncha think?
BUFFALO: It's not without intrigue and confusion, I'll give ya that. OK, let's try it. When do we start?
BIRD: We already have.
BUFFALO: Huh?
BIRD: See those dancing Rottweilers?
BUFFALO: And the lyrical rabbits... behind the red curtain. Omifook. It really has started. But when's it going to end?
BIRD: When the dialogue runs out, dude. I already told you.
BUFFALO: If only Audrey Horne were here...
BIRD: Oh, but she is.
BUFFALO: Audrey?!
BIRD: Behind the red curtain. Blog da blog at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
IFFY - INLAND EMPIRE REVISITED
Computer. Monitor. Satellite receiver. Desk. Microphone. TV. Lights. Tape. Handle. Paper. Remote control. Bin. Plastic cup. Speaker. Headphones. Chair. Jacket. Bag. Pen. Clock. Poster. Thermostat. Coat hanger. Mouse. Carpet. Blinds. Grille. Cable. Book. Memory stick. Door. Iffy.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
THE END OF THE NITE SHIFT... ISH
BIRD: Got my sleeping bag and the whisky and the spliffs. I’ll claim back the expenses, natch. I was gonna raid the cookie jar over by booth 21 but all the best biccies have gone. Bloody editorial! Greedy buggers. Bunch of shite buckets. For some reason, they leave the ginger biscuits behind, even though ginger is supposed to stop you having heart attacks. Fookin’ racists. When I look at a ginger biscuit, I see a thing of beauty. When they look at it, all they see is something that's the WRONG colour. Bastids. How soon can I escape? Well, my pal says I can go now… ish. Wonder what’s going on at the Olympics. Team GB’s doing OK but ladies fooked up the archery and the men fooked up too. Felt doozy just now. As if I’d sniffed the dishwasher. Which of course I wouldn’t, cos she’s too nice to be subjected to such inhumanity. But spanking’s not out of bounds. At a price. Stuff this. I’m outta here. Ish.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
RAZOR BLADDER
BUFFALO: Muddily bloodily indomitably irrevocably presumably imperceptibly exponentially existentially verily merrily quite contrarily incredibly sparingly artificially incomprehensibly intoxicatingly lonely and...
When the senator known as Barack
Gave a speech from the back of a yak
Though try as he might
The yak was so tight
That his speech came out yakkity-yak.
BIRD: Dude, you need to get laid.
BUFFALO: The Lonely Adverb... does anyone REALLY care?
BIRD: Is that the Michigan Laffing Academy? Yeah, you need to get an ambulance to the auld Buff's place quick. The adverbs are flowing and he hasn't got a stick.
BUFFALO: Arf-ily, barf-ily, carf-ily, diddly, dee, ly.
BIRD: Hang on, Buffters. They're coming.
BUFFALO: Lone-ily. SO lone-ily. Piddle me biddle ly. Eeee. See that asparagus. It's stalking me!
BIRD: Rimshot! But is it too late?
When the senator known as Barack
Gave a speech from the back of a yak
Though try as he might
The yak was so tight
That his speech came out yakkity-yak.
BIRD: Dude, you need to get laid.
BUFFALO: The Lonely Adverb... does anyone REALLY care?
BIRD: Is that the Michigan Laffing Academy? Yeah, you need to get an ambulance to the auld Buff's place quick. The adverbs are flowing and he hasn't got a stick.
BUFFALO: Arf-ily, barf-ily, carf-ily, diddly, dee, ly.
BIRD: Hang on, Buffters. They're coming.
BUFFALO: Lone-ily. SO lone-ily. Piddle me biddle ly. Eeee. See that asparagus. It's stalking me!
BIRD: Rimshot! But is it too late?
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
MICHIGAN LAFFING ACADEMY
BIRD: Dude, I hear they've closed the Michigan Laffing Academy. We could erect it in here, innit.
BUFFALO: Nein, mein Klockenspilengrossengrupenfuhrer. Der Laffing Academy ist Kaput, capice?
BIRD: Al zo... Ja, ist sehr geshitten zu offen, like.
BUFFALO: In der Toileten, liken ein Vogel scheissen.
BIRD: Mit der grosse fudgepacken gewipen nichts.
BUFFALO: Ja, ja, das is sehr gut, mein kleine schickelgrubber. Der Laffen Academie oder den Michigan Scheissehausen ist sticken up der arschen mit der weinerschnitzel und der roladen, mit der dillpicklen und der mustard, upen in den grossenintestin ver der solarligthen ist nicts zo gershinen.
BIRD: Film bei elf stunde.
BUFFALO: Arfe, arfe!
Monday, July 28, 2008
LONG LOST RELLY
BUFFALO: Dude, I woke up this mawnin' and found this fooker at the bottom of my bed. I'm askin' ya, IS IT A SIGN?
Thursday, July 24, 2008
ZAFTIG CARLOTTA
FIFI: It's called Zaftig Carlotta.
A zaftig young singer, Carlotta
Excelled when she sang a cantata
Once felled by the flu
She knew what to do
And used her vagina dentata.
BIRD & BUFFALO: Mah-vellous!
A zaftig young singer, Carlotta
Excelled when she sang a cantata
Once felled by the flu
She knew what to do
And used her vagina dentata.
BIRD & BUFFALO: Mah-vellous!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
MEET ME LITTER RARE E AGENT - MR I CHING
BIRD: Strap yourself in, dude, and listen in to me chewin' da breeze wid mah homey litter rare E agent, like.
BUFFALO: Dude, wot the fook are you talking about?!
BIRD: You, me, the universe and uddery. We got an agent, innit. After all these years of obscurantory.
BUFFALO: Woo-hoo! Nice! What'shisname?
BIRD: Mr I Ching. Dunno wot the I stands for, but dude, we're in! Pour yerself a strong one, lean back and listen to the chat we had but one hour ago.
BUFFALO: Cracking open a bottle of Muscatel as I lower myself into the recliner...
BIRD: Here goes!
Um, er, is that Mr Ching?
I CHING: Ask I Ching.
BIRD: Mr I Ching. Excellent. I've been trying to reach you for some time.
I CHING: Perseverance furthers.
BIRD: Sure does. Da auld Buff and I have been looking for an agent to publish our book, Tails From The Bird And Buffalo: The Walrus Years, like.
I CHING: If someone is not as he should be, He has misfortune, And it does not further him, To undertake anything.
BIRD: Well, yeah, I used to think that but now I've finally got through to you, hopefully, all that is about to change.
I CHING: Under heaven thunder rolls, All things attain the natural state of innocence.
BIRD: My thoughts entirely. So you're happy to represent us?
I CHING: The great departs; the small approaches.
BIRD: Absolutely. I can't tell you how excited we are about this.
I CHING: The superior man falls back upon his inner worth, In order to escape the difficulties.
BIRD: Oh, wow! Hey, could you hang on? I need to grab a pen. Just to jot down the basic elements of the contract, like.
I CHING: He does not permit himself to be honoured with revenue.
BIRD: Yes, well... So you think you can place our book?
I CHING: The superior man keeps the inferior man at a distance, Not angrily but with reserve.
BIRD: A-ha. So how long do we have to wait before we hear something?
I CHING: In the midst of the greatest obstructions, Friends come.
BIRD: So, what are we talking, a few weeks?
I CHING: Joy comes softly, It furthers one to make offerings and libations.
BIRD: Brill! So I'll be waiting for your call. An email even.
I CHING: The light has sunk into the earth, The image of Darkening of the Light, He veils his light, yet still shines.
BIRD: Right O! It's been a pleasure talking to you, Mr Ching. Um, just curious. What does the I stand for?
I CHING: The Clinging, The Arousing.
BIRD: I see. Waiting for your call.
I CHING: Above the arousing, Below the Abysmal.
BIRD: Bye then.
I CHING: Oppression. Success. Perseverance.
BIRD: Right back at ya!
*****
BUFFALO: Wow! This I Ching dude is well cool. Well done, Birdy. You have done well.
BIRD: Tanks, Buff. Onwards and upwards.
BUFFALO: Success on a plate.
BIRD: Gotta run. The Orifice beckons.
BUFFALO: Watch out for low flying.
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
THE MISSING P-COCK
BUFFALO: Dude.
BIRD: Yes, dude?
BUFFALO: I've lost the fookin' peacock!
BIRD: Eh?
BUFFALO: The one we were gonna use for the pilot episode. Zip. Ka-kronken-ho! Vanished.
BIRD: Dude, you can't just lose a peacock without a trace. Try and think. When did you see it last?
BUFFALO: Well, I gave it a shower, like, after a hearty meal of Spam and sardines and a fossilized mouse I found behind the cupboard in Sparky's room, all washed down with a Bud, you understand.
BIRD: OK. Then what?
BUFFALO: Then I kicked that jerk-berk Sparky out of his room and put Ms Paycock to bed, tucked her in, an' all.
BIRD: A-ha. And in the morning?
BUFFALO: Da peacock was gone.
BIRD: Have you checked the balcony?
BUFFALO: Yep.
BIRD: The kiddies' playground?
BUFFALO: Yah-p.
BIRD: The shooting range.
BUFFALO: O fahhhh-k. The shooting range. Those guys, the ones with the fahhhh-k off Uzis... They like to take pot shots at things and animals... And in her burst for freedom... Wot time is it? There may still be hope. Pray for me birdy, Birdy!
BIRD: Crossing everything that doesn't snap here, dude!
SOME TIME LATER...
BUFFALO: Birdy, it's OK.
BIRD: Thank Gosh!
BUFFALO: Ms Paycock ain't at the shooting range. All I found were a coupla stray hogs and a trunk with a dozen dead parakeet in and a ransom note.
BIRD: Phew!
BUFFALO: But the range was sans peacock. Now wot?
BIRD: Gotta phone the cocks... I mean cops.
BUFFALO: Yeah, right. No, wait. It's just recurred to me that Sparky may have mistaken it for an ostrich, what with his lumbago an' all.
BIRD: An ostrich? Nice, lean meat. Very nutritious!
BUFFALO: I wondered what that was roasting on the spit while I was stirring me porridge. The stoopid bat-twat. The waxwork shagger's fookin' munched our peacock, dude.
BIRD: Omigosh! Fukkit! Where are we gonna get another peacock in time for the shoot this afternoon?
BUFFALO: I'm gonna kick that bastid's ass so hard, he'll wish he was born a nun.
BIRD: We're fooked. Finished before we started.
BUFFALO: No, no, no, no. Wait. For 50 clams we can have the perfect peacock that never was. If Sparky can mistake a peacock for an ostrich...
BIRD: Brillo, dude.
BUFFALO: And with a little make-up... We're gonna do this, dude. Nothing's gonna stop us now. Woo-hoo! Buff does it again.
BIRD: Great. Once you swish open that red curtain and...
BUFFALO: Red curtain...
BIRD: You have got the red curtain?
BUFFALO: Not egg sack Lee. Cindy's still working on it.
BIRD: Oh, for Freddy's sake. The best laid lambs an' all.
BUFFALO: Fukkit, dude. We'll go cgi. Nobody'll know. It's all cgi these days. Even the actors. I've got Photoshop and Adobe and shit, MS Word even. I'll do the whole thing on my laptop.
BIRD: Brilliant! Dude, you're a genius! Let's run thru the script one more time and then hit those pixels!
BUFFALO: Hmm. The script...
BIRD: You did save it?
BUFFALO: I er... it's nearly there, Birdy. I mean, it's so close I can lick it.
BIRD: How close?
BUFFALO: VERY close. Just needs tweaking.
BIRD: Out of a 30-minute pilot, how many minutes would you say are missing?
BUFFALO: Um... well... uh...
BIRD: How many?
BUFFALO: About 29.
BIRD: Ofukkit!
BUFFALO: But we can improvise. Some of the best comedy is improvised, innit. Look at Curb Your Enthusiasm. It's all spontaneous. It's great stuff. We can do this, dude. Just keep the faith.
BIRD: Dude, I'm going back to the Bore Fest now, the Orifice that must be obeyed, the place where I will eke out the rest of my days because you decided to fookup the only real chance we ever had of stardom. Thanks, dude. It was mammorable.
BUFFALO: Dude... Dude? You don't understand. Dude? So that's it. The only true friend I ever had. The one guy who stood by me no matter what. I haven't felt this bad since I had a "venous Doppler scan" done of my "lower extremities" including my Freddy. I'll talk him round. I know I will. Tomorrow's another day, right? Arf, arf!
TO BE CONTINUED...
BIRD:
Thursday, July 03, 2008
COMING SOON: B&B THE SITCOM
I was at the Bore Fest doing captions for "Juno and the Paycock" when I suddenly became aware that I was surrounded by red curtains -just like in the Black Lodge from "Twin Peaks". It hit me then that I had stumbled into the auld Buff's dream in which he fancied himself to be Special Agent Dale Cooper, having breakfast with Audrey Horne at the Great Northern. This wigged me out a bit. I tried to shake off the feeling of impending doom but then I began to get rather peggish. I had a sudden craving for a bucket of hot black coffee and a cherry pie and sent the gopher out to fetch them.
About an hour later as I was finishing off the pie, Caroline (our receptionist and office tart) buzzed me. She was all in a dither about some cheeky bloke who'd wandered into the lobby and made a pass at her after introducing himself as my uncle from America - Professor Splendor G. Mainwaring. This was a bit odd seeing as how I don't have a fookin' uncle in America, so I asked her to describe the fellow and then realized that the mystery man could be no other than the auld Buff himself, who'd been threatening for months to cross the pond and drop in on me in London when I least expected it.
The auld lunatic told Caroline that I should meet him after work at the Hound & Hare, just around the corner from the Bore Fest. Caroline asked if she could come along, as she seemed to fancy the Buff, proving once again that there is no accounting for taste.
At the stroke of five Caroline and I made our way to the pub, she as happy as a lark - but myself dreading that the Buff might try to ram his great woolly, horned head up Caroline's skirt. Thus did I prepare myself for the wurst... or the blutwurst, if you get m'drift.
AND DON'T FORGET DA RUDDER UNLIKE NO UDDER AT...
http://www.insolentrudder.net/
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
MORE THRUST INSOLENT RUDDER, SCOTTIE!
BUFFALO: So tell me again, dude, why should I read Insolent Rudder at http://www.insolentrudder.net/?
BIRD: Cos it's jam packed with lots of goodies.
BUFFALO: Oh, yeah? Like wot?
BIRD: The Body Psalms Promo for a start. Made by the janitor.
BUFFALO: Wow. What happened to the editor, like?
BIRD: He is the editor.
BUFFALO: Shucks. And he's gotta clean up afterwards too?
BIRD: Feeds 'em too.
BUFFALO: Must be a Nordic ting. And wot else?
BIRD: Stories by Nonnie Augustine, Sydnee Elliot, Susan Elmendorf, GC Smith, Craig Terlson, Foster Trecost and Donna Vitucci. All at http://www.insolentrudder.net/
BUFFALO: Salivating loudly here, dude.
BIRD: Rightfully so. These guys is premier league. Wanna hear about the rest?
BUFFALO: There's more?
BIRD: You betcha. There's that crazy Pube Maxim Ripyorebollokov trying to get reverb before the lights go out.
BUFFALO: Oh, I like him. He's well wacko.
BIRD: And some great cartoons by Marja Hagborg. And she's written a column too about NNS.
BUFFALO: Woo-hoo to dat! NNS, wot's dat?
BIRD: Non Native Speakers.
BUFFALO: Nice!
BIRD: And...
BUFFALO: More? No way!
BIRD: Way! There's a novel excerpt from Bonnie ZoBell's excellent Blue Jay. And a review of Liesl Jobson's 100 Papers. And check out Beth Thomas in the Author Spotlight.
BUFFALO: Omigod! I can't take much more. My ickle heart's about to burst! And it's all at Insolent Rudder, you say, at http://www.insolentrudder.net/?
BIRD: That's right, dude.
BUFFALO: Checking it out right now!
BIRD: You'd be a fool not to.
BUFFALO: Hey, dude.
BIRD: Yes, dude?
BUFFALO: How come I'm not there?
BIRD: You will be, dude. But ya gotta write something first, innit.
BUFFALO: OK. So that's Insolent Rudder.
BIRD: At http://www.insolentrudder.net/. Yep.
BUFFALO: Reading it as we speak. Omigod! I think I've just soiled myself.
BIRD: Insolent Rudder. The Write Choice. Don't Judder Da Rudder.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
BIRD: Cos it's jam packed with lots of goodies.
BUFFALO: Oh, yeah? Like wot?
BIRD: The Body Psalms Promo for a start. Made by the janitor.
BUFFALO: Wow. What happened to the editor, like?
BIRD: He is the editor.
BUFFALO: Shucks. And he's gotta clean up afterwards too?
BIRD: Feeds 'em too.
BUFFALO: Must be a Nordic ting. And wot else?
BIRD: Stories by Nonnie Augustine, Sydnee Elliot, Susan Elmendorf, GC Smith, Craig Terlson, Foster Trecost and Donna Vitucci. All at http://www.insolentrudder.net/
BUFFALO: Salivating loudly here, dude.
BIRD: Rightfully so. These guys is premier league. Wanna hear about the rest?
BUFFALO: There's more?
BIRD: You betcha. There's that crazy Pube Maxim Ripyorebollokov trying to get reverb before the lights go out.
BUFFALO: Oh, I like him. He's well wacko.
BIRD: And some great cartoons by Marja Hagborg. And she's written a column too about NNS.
BUFFALO: Woo-hoo to dat! NNS, wot's dat?
BIRD: Non Native Speakers.
BUFFALO: Nice!
BIRD: And...
BUFFALO: More? No way!
BIRD: Way! There's a novel excerpt from Bonnie ZoBell's excellent Blue Jay. And a review of Liesl Jobson's 100 Papers. And check out Beth Thomas in the Author Spotlight.
BUFFALO: Omigod! I can't take much more. My ickle heart's about to burst! And it's all at Insolent Rudder, you say, at http://www.insolentrudder.net/?
BIRD: That's right, dude.
BUFFALO: Checking it out right now!
BIRD: You'd be a fool not to.
BUFFALO: Hey, dude.
BIRD: Yes, dude?
BUFFALO: How come I'm not there?
BIRD: You will be, dude. But ya gotta write something first, innit.
BUFFALO: OK. So that's Insolent Rudder.
BIRD: At http://www.insolentrudder.net/. Yep.
BUFFALO: Reading it as we speak. Omigod! I think I've just soiled myself.
BIRD: Insolent Rudder. The Write Choice. Don't Judder Da Rudder.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
KINKY BOOTS
BIRD: Went to see this film last nite. For money, like. Me bra was killing me. Anyway, this punter keeps going "Goebbels! Goebbels" Then at one point this babbling idiot slung his left arm out to his side and his hand fell on my lap in a most provocative manner and yelled, "Mein Fuhrer, please loan me your Luger!" I tell you I was THIS close to walking out. The things a writer has to do to earn an honest crust!
Monday, June 23, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL
It was the great poet Jerry Elderberry (1202-1222) who once wrote “With thine eyes, Would I rather barf”. Sometimes, complexity is a necessary evil. Sometimes, you just want to pleasure yourself unhindered by plot or chronological uber-montage. Indiana Jones And The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is a failed attempt at a cinematic treatise on Jean-Paul Sartre’s Being & Nothingness, veiled as comic caper of caustic soda proportions. Sartre maintained “I think therefore I was” in the same way that this film thinks it’s a film therefore it’s not. Nowhere is this better illustrated in the multi-layered nature of the dialogue, which instead of conveying a sense of purpose and communication is fixated on what Sartre called the temporality of existence. So that when Indiana Jones says, “Get outta here!” what he’s really saying is “You don’t exist, neither do I, you would like to leave but you and I aren’t here anyway so where is this script going?” Or as Sartre would have put it, “The past is no longer; the future is not yet; and the instantaneous present does not exist.” With not even any decent fornication on offer here, the possibilities of temporary transcendence from the linearity of time are scarce. At the end, one is numb with missed meetings and what Martin Buber would have called “the basic word I-Thou”. But this Thou is neither I nor Thou or Thou-I. Perhaps if Harrison Ford had worn less tight trousers things might have turned out better. Unfortunately, not an existential wet dream in sight.
(five squid shits)
Hey, only kidding! This film is GREAT. Go see it. If for nothing else to see Harrison Ford land on his balls and pretend it doesn't hurt. Nice!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
FIFI'S BACK - WOO-HOO!
BUFFALO: Woo-hoo!
BIRD: Wibbly-dee!
FIFI: OK, boys, just for you...
A horny and ravenous cat
Was biting the head off a rat
Then he noticed a svelte puss slink by
Dropped his jaw when she gave him the eye.
"Freedom now!" and that rat grabbed his hat.
Now whaddya think about that?
BIRD & BUFFALO: Mah-vellous!
BIRD: Wibbly-dee!
FIFI: OK, boys, just for you...
A horny and ravenous cat
Was biting the head off a rat
Then he noticed a svelte puss slink by
Dropped his jaw when she gave him the eye.
"Freedom now!" and that rat grabbed his hat.
Now whaddya think about that?
BIRD & BUFFALO: Mah-vellous!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
DICK VON FUXX REVELS ALL
FROM THE SECRET BLOG OF DICK VON FUXX, THE PREMIUM ADULT ENTERTAINMENT DIRECTOR
They say all the talent is deserting Limehouse for LA. But as everybody knows, with the spiralling production costs in the States, the industry is unsustainable in LA and once the great studios of Muffdom and Anal Sis are crippled by debt and thrown into receivership the doors will be thrown open to all sorts of amateur sickos waiting to flood the market with cgi-enhanced faked orgasm bullshit. So all I have to do is play the waiting game. In a matter of months, weeks even Limehouse will be the buzz on everyone’s lips and I, Dick von Fuxx III, shall assume my rightful place in filthy old pervs’ history.
After the years in the wilderness of sweat and toil, trying to turn seedy adult films into an art form, the world is about to acknowledge me for the outstanding auteur that I am. No more shall I have to endure the demeaning label of porn peddlar. My films shall stand alongside the truly filthy stuff of Bertolucci and others as unforgettable, groundbreaking works of art. The public shall come to see that the on screen gang bang is no more than a cinematic means to a spiritual enlightenment end that is not possible in blockbuster action films and soppy romcoms. “From the collective orgasm to universal freedom!” as Big Cock Drummond utters in the inimitable The Importance Of Being An Onanist, based on Oscar Wilde’s marvellous play. But I must admit, my shaggy poodle Paint Pot, keeps me sane. And having unlimited totty on tap helps keep my Freddy off the ground. Blimey! Is that the time? Time for a spot of champers. Cheers, everyone!
DICK VON FUXX WILL RETURN IN
THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN WANGER
STARRING ERIC LANGENSCHLONGENHOSER & TINA TITFEST
They say all the talent is deserting Limehouse for LA. But as everybody knows, with the spiralling production costs in the States, the industry is unsustainable in LA and once the great studios of Muffdom and Anal Sis are crippled by debt and thrown into receivership the doors will be thrown open to all sorts of amateur sickos waiting to flood the market with cgi-enhanced faked orgasm bullshit. So all I have to do is play the waiting game. In a matter of months, weeks even Limehouse will be the buzz on everyone’s lips and I, Dick von Fuxx III, shall assume my rightful place in filthy old pervs’ history.
After the years in the wilderness of sweat and toil, trying to turn seedy adult films into an art form, the world is about to acknowledge me for the outstanding auteur that I am. No more shall I have to endure the demeaning label of porn peddlar. My films shall stand alongside the truly filthy stuff of Bertolucci and others as unforgettable, groundbreaking works of art. The public shall come to see that the on screen gang bang is no more than a cinematic means to a spiritual enlightenment end that is not possible in blockbuster action films and soppy romcoms. “From the collective orgasm to universal freedom!” as Big Cock Drummond utters in the inimitable The Importance Of Being An Onanist, based on Oscar Wilde’s marvellous play. But I must admit, my shaggy poodle Paint Pot, keeps me sane. And having unlimited totty on tap helps keep my Freddy off the ground. Blimey! Is that the time? Time for a spot of champers. Cheers, everyone!
DICK VON FUXX WILL RETURN IN
THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN WANGER
STARRING ERIC LANGENSCHLONGENHOSER & TINA TITFEST
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