So, here is a man, who realy feels the mood of recent times.

And sorry, but now I have to go... I have a lot of to do.

These have to be weapons of mass destruction.

Secretly leaked follow up letter.

Dear Mr Hoossain,

As you, the big fatty boombah that you are, have not taken enny noters of my son Jorge's letter what he sent to you all last week this is gunna be your last chance. I right to you as "the mother of all primates", the "her indoors of all her indoors" and for the porpoise of this letter, the "She who must be obeyed of all she who must be obeyeds".

You now have no one to blame but youallself if my son unleashes his weapons of mass dysfunction on you and the whole Iroquois nation.

I have told Jorge not to take enny noters of what the Untied Nations inspectors do or say. We all know you have tons of stuff to wage comical warfare. We have seen from our secret satellite surveyllance all those photos and statues of you that have put up thinking that we would all die laughing at them. I can assure you that tactic WON'T werk. We Americans don't have a sense of humor. You can amuse some of the people some of the time and sum of the squares on the other two sides and some of my best friends are squares all of the time.

Bottom line, Jorge wants your shrivelled heathen knackers for bonsai paperweights.

Resistance is useless, all your goolies belong to U.S.

Yours in the name of God,



p.s. Yoo still smell, poo bum!!.

p.s.s.t There's a bounty on your gay moosetache, loser!

Rantworthy Quote of the Week.

"Without censorship, things can get terribly confused in the public mind."
General William Westmoreland

Are we really waiting for Dubbya to bomb Iraq? Don't think so.
But as this is probably "non-core", "we're not really angry yet" bombing, it doesn't really count.

"Here's a clue—if they say they're doing it in my name, they're lying." — God Source.

Here's the latest Scrag End to save you the trouble of having to trawl all the way over to my site to see it.

I have a slug that, every night, emerges from a hole in the skirting board behind my fridge before going slime-about around my kitchen.

Or rather I had a slug, because tonight I accidentally stepped on it. He'd become quite a character during my late-night forays for the whisky bottle so, naturally, I was very upset. Though God only knows why, other than the mess it made on the sole of my boot. After all he never did anything for me apart from leave fucking big slime trails all over the floor.

And then I realised that I'd been anthropomorphizing this gastropod.

I'd given it a character it didn't have, because slugs as a rule have a brain about the size of the average aristocrat. It was only a slug for Christ's sake! It wasn't sentient! It wasn't capable of rational thought! It was only after the breadcrumbs and a long slow shit in my frying pan.

Then I realised that I'd also been anthropomorphizing the starving Iraqis and the Afghanistan peasants, believing they had minds of their own and characters and human qualities when, at the end of the day, they're just Muslims.

Which is why I've had a change of heart and now I fully support George W. Bush and his latest change to the American constitution, namely to blow the shit out of any nation that might not like him regardless of whether its doing anything wrong or not.

It's a similar approach to slug pellets really.

Following this logic through I've set up a trip wire attached to a sub-machine gun outside my front door so that anybody walking past my house will trigger four hundred rounds of lead into their bodies. They might not actually be about to break into my house but then again they might. And I'm the one with the machine gun so let's see the bastards argue against my policy.

So far I've killed Mrs Althorpe from number eight, split the post woman completely in two and turned three children kicking a football around into the latest Damien Hurst exhibition. (Serves the annoying little bastards right.)

Make no mistake about this folks, we are going to war.

At this stage of the game Saddam Hussein could drop his trousers, part his buttocks and let Tony Blair and George Bush slip him a length, and we'd still end up blowing the crap out of him. Britain and America have new weapons that they want to show off and unless some other country (please God let it be France) decides to blow up a couple of buildings full of capitalist twats then it looks like Iraq is about to receive the shit end of the stick.

I don't care if you have to change the electoral system, stage a military coup or change the locks on the White House doors but, please America, get this retarded little cunt out of office and do the rest of the world a favour.

New Stained-Glass Window Commissioned for the Australian Church.

Man Slices Off Four Body Parts

September 19, 2002 09:39 AM ET

SYDNEY (Reuters) - An Australian man cut off the little finger on his right hand, then his scrotum, then his penis and finally his left hand in a drug-induced act of self-mutilation after arguing with his wife.

The man, believed to be high on amphetamines, attacked himself with a carving knife Tuesday in the town of Inverell 400 miles north of Sydney, police said Thursday.

"It is the most bizarre thing I have seen in 16 years in the police force," Inverell inspector Dave Harrington told Reuters.

Harrington said the 38-year-old man cut off his little finger while arguing with his wife inside their Inverell house and then chased her outside.

"He then proceeded to dismember his member," he said.

Police said the man was lucky ambulance officers witnessed the attack and prevented him from bleeding to death, adding that police recovered several body parts and packed them in ice in the hope they could be reattached.

The man was flown to Sydney for emergency microsurgery and was now in a stable condition, police said.

Today's headline.

PRIME MINISTERS HOWARD AND BLAIR UPSET
AT BEING CALLED USA LAPDOGS

"WE PREFER THE TERM HELPER MONKEYS".

Following the U.N. Security Council's reconsideration on the issue of possible military action against Iraq, the Iraqui ambassador two days ago handed a letter to the U.N. chief of staff. In this missive the Iraqui government laid out its plans for co-operation, unconditional and unrestricted, to allow weapons inspectors back into their country as originally agreed under the terms of the security resolutions passed following the Gulf War.

By way of response, President George W. Bush has written his own letter to be handed to the Iraqui ambassador and, subsequently, Saddam Hussein himself. This letter the president felt obliged to write in his own words, the need for inter-personal relationships with the Iraqui leader never more important than on the eve of possible war. After many hours spent poring over his writing desk in his Whitehouse apartments the letter was finally finished at 7.30 this morning.

There now follows a reproduction for the benefit of our readers.

Dear Mr Hoossain,

Liar liar pants on fire! Im not listning. Luk at me. I'm not listening to yoo. I cant even see wat you wrote yoo big baby. Luk it! Luk it! Ive got my fingers in my eyes. Were going to bom yoo anyway yoo big loser. Were going too kick yoor muslim ass agen! We dont trust yoo. And yoo have a gay mustash.

Signed Jorge.

p.s. Yoo smell.

Snails aside, I've just been watching "Sex in the City"...or as it ought to be known, "Three Sad Old Bags who Ought to know Better."

From what I could ascertain (I wasn't paying much attention...the snail peering in through the catflap was starting to unnerve me) the plot consists mainly of the three ugliest, brittle-bone-diseased sows ever to disgrace a television screen, flashing their sagging breasts (not that there's much of them to sag but gravity works wonders even on anorexia victims) and complaining about how apalling men are in bed.

What surprises me is that anybody would want to sleep with these rejects from the opening scene of Macbeth in the first place. When I first tuned in I thought I was watching a documentary about drag queens.

These dreadful haridans shouldn't complain anyway! Even if the poor, half-blind and extremely desperate blokes they were shagging couldn't work out where the clitoris was! I have news for them...it's not that men can't find the clitoris...we just don't care.

To re-address the balance of this whining, politically-correct garbage, here's a joke, courtesy of Mr Roy "Chubby" Brown...or as he's known to those who live down the coast from him, Royston Vasey. (Sadly true...the League of Gentlemen were fans of his, which is why he appeared as the Mayor!)

A man staggers home from the pub and calls upstairs to his wife, "Pack your bags, Love. I've won the National Lottery!"

His wife appears on the landing very excited. "The National Lottery?" she shouts. "What do you reckon I should pack? Something light?"

"I'm not bothered," the bloke replies. "Just pack your bags and fuck off."

Further to the resolution reached on Sept 18th 2002 by the eight member neighbours of the United Gardeners of Jones Grove Horticultural Security Council, President Gorse Bush passed the following motion before calling on Nurse Gladys Bagshaw to change his incontinence pants.

"The snails in question are known to be untrustworthy and have played these games of political maouvering before. Several times in the past they have allowed the weed inspectors access to various high-profile plants, such as the budlea and the fir tree. However, at the exact same instant, they were secretly harbouring terrorist slugs belonging to the Al-Gastropod organisation."

A further ammendment has now been taken into consideration that if unrestricted access isn't granted to the compost heap where all aphids, ants, weevils and other biologically destructive insects must be handed over without complaint, then the council salt truck will be called from its shed for a pre-emptive, pre-Christmas de-icing of the yard.

Brian, I advise you to be VERY wary of this seeming back down. I believe that, even as we speak, the Snailraqis are developing a fast breeder compost facility. Satellite pictures have pinpointed the location. I don't wish to alarm you unnecessarily but if (God, Allah, Buddha and George Michael forbid!) I were you, I would check out the area immediately adjacent to your Gracielands Memorial Aspidistra patch.

I seriously doubt the sincerity of the Snailraqi's intentions and it is just a ploy to postpone your God fearing crusading policy of "They've stiffied and slimed us enough. Now desperate measures are called for. Yes...it's hammer time, folks!".

In regard to the matter of "a trail of slime across my living room carpet last night that was three feet wide!" you might be mistaken in believing it was the Snailraqis. Do you know where the bifurcated Kevin Coffee was at the time?

Terry Sedgwick.

(P.S. I shall be sending a representative from the Republic of Feralireland to the Twin Gargoyles memorial service. I believe you are familiar with Monica Mantis ... well she claims you were ... despite your protestations that you "never had insectual relations with that invertebrate.")

Dear Mr Brian W. Hughes,

In reference to "Now desperate measures are called for. Yes...it's hammer time, folks!"

I have the honour to refer to the series of discussions held between you and the Government of the Republic of Snailraq on the implementation of relevant Security Blanket Council resolutions on the question of Snailraq, which took place in Fleetwood on 7 March and 2 May and in Morecombe Bay on 4 July 2002, as well as the talks which were held in your office in Fleetwood on 14 and 15 September 2002, with the participation of the Secretary General of the League of Gastropod States.

I am pleased to inform you of the decision of the Government of the Republic of Snailraq to allow the return of the United Gardening Nations weapons inspectors to Snailraq without conditions.

The Government of the Republic of Snailraq has responded - by this decision - to your appeal, to the appeal of the Secretary General of the League of Gastropod States, as well as to the appeals of Arab, Islamic and other gastropod friendly countries.

The Government of the Republic of Snailraq has based its decision concerning the return of inspectors on its desire to complete the implementation of the relevant Security Blanket Council resolutions and to remove any doubts that Snailraq still possesses weapons of mass horticultural destruction.

This decision is also based on your statement to the General Assembly of Weekend Gardeners on 12 September 2002 that the decision by the Government of the Republic of Snailraq is the indispensable first step towards an assurance that Snailraq no longer possesses weapons of mass horticultural destruction and, equally important, towards a comprehensive solution that includes the lifting of the main garden bed sanctions unilaterally imposed on Snailraq by the nation of Lancashire and the timely implementation of other provisions of the relevant Security Blanket Council resolutions, including resolution 687 (1991).

To this end, the Government of the Republic of Snailraq will only partake of the bowl full of clippings provided and is ready to discuss the practical arrangements necessary for the immediate resumption of inspections.

In this context, the Government of the Republic of Snailraq reiterates the importance of the commitment of all member states of the Security Blanket Council and the United Gardening Nations to respect the sovereignty, territorial integrity and political independence of Snailraq, as stipulated in the relevant Security Blanket Council resolutions and in Article 2 of the Charter of the United Gardening Nations.

I should be grateful if you would bring the present letter to the attention of the members of the Security Blanket Council.

Snaili Slugri, Snailraqi Foreign Minister.

Snails!

I hate the turban-wearing Iraqui bastards! My honeysuckle is knackered and covered in snail turds! My hostas are chewed to within an inch of their lives! My hanging basket is almost as flaccid as Princess Diana's neck used to be!

I warned them! I even gave them a bowl full of clippings so that they wouldn't do any more damage to the stuff that was growing.

But did they appreciate it?

Did they bollocks!? The miserable, slimy, little bastards had to eat my ivy instead.

Now desperate measures are called for.

Yes...it's hammer time, folks!

I don't care if they're just trying to live. This is my garden we're talking about! I've tried sending in hedgehogs but they've refused them entry. I've threatened them with salt but they just set fire to the salt cellar! And now this...two of the bastards have flown their Fokker D tri-planes into my gargoyles! (Alright...it was probably the kids next door with their tennis ball, but what the hell? They're all evil, religious fanatics anyway and they deserve to die!)

And just to round things off one of their monstrous brethren left a trail of slime across my living room carpet last night that was three feet wide!

Having said that the local 'All Women's Jehova's Witnesses Yoga Class' were round for their annual field trip, so it might have been them.

On yer bike sunshine. Or rather on yer bike with where the sun doesn't shine. Dubbya already has something sporting British colours firmly wedged between his buttocks.

So...it's tasteful patriotism time, is it? Well, we Brits can upstage the Americans any time!

Fly the Union Jack on your bicycle saddles, America! After all we're used to being stuck up your big fat arses now!

A hands on approach to STOPPING THE WAR. (Boom, boom.)

Sorry to upstage you Brian on the Flockhart front, but in every there's a skeleton (boom, boom) in the cupboard of every *Star*. I have found a still from a porno movie Callista made when she was but an innocent slip of a gal sleeping her way to the bottom. (Not sure but I would imagine that Dottie Parker ... somewhere in between martinis #237 and #769 ... has already used that phrase.)

"All those pages and not one photo of the star-spangled banner!" Well Callista, let's redress the balance RIGHT NOW! The patriotism might be a little understated, but nontheless a bit of subtlety is a fine thing.

Eh, it's a horrible word, Terry... especially the last but one link. I don't think I would familiarize myself with being a picture on the forepart of an underpants.
But I find a nice shop against the vomit. To a certain extent, of course.

LATEST CELEBRITY NEWS!

Calista Flockheart is in training for this year's London Marathon.

When asked in a recent interview who she'd styled her infamous looks on Calista replied, "I saw some photographs of women starving in a National Geographic magazine whilst searching for an article about America. Can you believe it? All those pages and not one photo of the star-spangled banner! That's a disgrace! Anyhow...boy are those Iraqui girls attractive. Thank God for U.N. sanctions otherwise they'd all be big fat bastards like Rosanne."

In a move to appease the soft-minded, arse-stabbing, left-wing liberals of Australia this week, Primeminster Howard has released his "Bedtime Book of Humorous Political Anecdotes."

"This is the handbook for all those gay radicals that keep on screaming about refugee rights," Howard said at his first book signing. "It aims to provide the reader with the lighter side of the refugee crisis and tell the story as it truly is instead of the utter tosh that these handbag weilding benders keep spouting!"

Later today John Howard will be appearing at the Nelson Mandela Memorial Hall in New York, where he'll be autographing George Bush's ringpiece with his tongue.

Vomit Jojo? ... well here's some more to keep your head in the bowl

... WTC souvenir

... Tasteful patriotic marketing 1

... Tasteful patriotic marketing 2

... Just tasteful patriotism

... Just CRAP!

... all of which can be bought with this.

Lucky Lizard Foot keychains... OhmaLord... I have to vomit.

We learn from history that we do not learn from history!

Make a difference today...if only to my frail bank balance!

Buy a Scrag Ends Pea clock/sweatshirt/bag...whatever from The On-Line Scrag Ends Store!

Be a true patriot and denounce the looming war with a Pea Product now!

Note: All proceeds from the Scrag Ends Pea merchandising range will go the same way as the money you spent on that stupid star-spangled banner you bought through peer group pressure this time last year. i.e. Into some greedy, opportunistic bastard's pocket. The difference this time will be that the pocket is mine. You know it makes sense! Go on...wear a pea with pride!

And did those feet in ancient times,

Walk upon England's mountains green?

And did the Holy Lamb of God,

Dum dum dum dum dee dum dee dee?

There's nothing like the Last Night of the Proms to raise the spirits before a pointless war. A rousing chorus of Jerusalem! A stirring rendition of Rule Britannia! The waving of flags. The patriotic cheers! It starts as a tingle in your toes, boils up through the blood and ends up as stiffie the likes of which can cause you to faint. In fact the only way to get rid of the throbbing bulge in your denims is to run upstairs as soon as the proms are over, whip out your collection of Queen Mother Souvenier magazines and shoot your load all over the covers.

My belief in Britain and the monarchy is whole again! (Rah rah!) Especially since Prince Harry revealed this week that for his eighteenth annual P.R. event/birthday he'll be supporting all those wonderful charities of which his dearly missed mother was so damned fond. Presumably he's talking about the six wealthiest families in Britain, seeing as they're the ones who copped for her millions when she snuffed it and all her other favourite charities/sounding boards/public relations exercises didn't receive squat.

Again for good measure...And did that chimp in ancient times, squat upon English people's heads?

And did the Holy Lamb of God kill Iraqui kiddies in their beds?

FROM GUPSUP.COM
"As you can see that this site is designed to demonstrate our skills with HTML: Hyper Text Marked Lies. It will show lies in any of the popular, unpopular or controversial browsers. If you want the truth from the American point of view try CNN, from the British point of view try the BBC, from the Indian point of view try The Times of India....

GupSup is untrue. All rights are with us.

So we have the rights to all the untrue things which we write here.

Some real names are used just to keep the satire interesting. Most of the people we mention have never said what we write, some may not even have the ability to speak.

We are not pro or anti any religion, faith or philosophy. We just want you to smile and think. If we mention your most favorite religion on this site and you are upset please try pressing ALT-F4...we will just go away.

We have not harmed any fish, animals or humans nor destroyed forest or plucked a flower while designing this site. The Environmentalists please stay away.

We do not care about accuracy of Syntax in English, C++, Java or HTML on this site. Please feel free to experience bugs and crashes on this site! There are no warranties or guarantees here."

Stuff organic "food". Today I'll mostly be eating ...this ... maybe even this ... and certainly this. But certainly NOT this no matter how attractively organic it might appear.

Link to this blog now posted at http://www.bloghop.com/ and http://portal.eatonweb.com/

Our local supermarket (although supermarket is perhaps the wrong description for what amounts to three spotty adolescants who are anything but super and who hang around the cheese counter all day yacking about who they're currently shagging...where was I? Oh yeah...the local supermarket...) has started to sell a range of organic products. Apparently all the food is grown without the use of chemical agents and pesticides, has no added flavours, is delivered in brown paper bags and costs three times as much as the normal stuff.

Now, I ask you, what's the point in that?

If I wanted to eat food that was covered in horse shit, full of weevil turds and snail spunk, was small, rotten and inedible and required an increase in my mortgage to buy, I'd move to France. As far as I'm concerned the hard working scientists of Britain spent decades working out which chemicals were best to get rid of nasty grubs and horrible diseases, and now, suddenly, I'm supposed to just dip into the pig trough and start eating untreated mank! Bollocks to that! Next they'll be telling us MacDonald burgers contain real meat.