A break with tradition, a useful link.

"What if you want to put an email link on your website, but you don't want to risk exposing yourself to this sort of email spam abuse? Simple. Make sure that your email address link works for humans but not for spambots! In other words, you obfuscate it."
http://alicorna.com/cgi/obfuscator.cgi

Joe...rather than respond to your question about the perils of self abuse in the Christian church, I would like to offer some free advice to Christians as a whole.

Christians! Don't!

This dangerous, addictive and mind-altering practise isn't big and clever! I know there's a lot of pressure from your friends to 'sip of the life blood' but just imagine what sort of world we'd live in if everyone believed in the Baby Jesus, the tooth fairy, Father Christmas and Golum! It'd be like Florida. For pity's sake stop this destructive worship right now and get a life. You know it makes sense!

In the meantime...here's this week's Scrag End for your enjoyment.

And what do you advise Uncle Brian the wonderful young Christian boys who's minds are impregnated by Satan?

Some Friendly Advice for the Fat Bloke who works in Beaumorris Green Grocers, Fleetwood.

1) Keep a float. When people go to the hole-in-the-wall in the morning it hands out £10.00 notes, not loose change. You're a shop for crying out loud. I'd have thought that after being in the business for several hundred years, as you so proudly exclaim above your rotten front door, you'd realise this simple fact. There's no point in asking me, "Have you got anything less?" every time I hand over a tenner. No I haven't! That's how the Automatic Telling machines work you bulbous frog of a man!

2) Try serving your customers instead of yacking with your mates. That way you might build some customer loyalty and avoid getting on my tits when I've got better things to do than hang around the grocers for three hours listening to how Mrs Proops from number seven got her bunion caught in the mangle.

3) Order some stock for once. There's no point in repeating the phrase, 'You know, we had some satsumas in just the other week' over and over again for three months in a row if you're not going to actually buy any. It's a waste of my time having to walk down to your shop every day to see if you've bothered to order them. And it's a waste of your time having to pick up all the items off the floor that I've swept off your shelf in disgust.

4) Try smiling for once you ignorant b*stard. It doesn't hurt. I'm not asking you to say, "Have a nice day" in that ingratiating manner that American shopkeepers do. I'm not stupid and I don't enjoy being patronised. But a simple "Goodbye" or "Thank you" in response to my own solicitation would be nice.

5) Paper bags are extremely cheap. Try giving them away with your products. When I'm standing there desperately trying to keep thirteen substitute oranges, a bag of spuds, two cabbages and a lettuce in my arms without falling over a paper bag would be nice. If nothing else I could jam it over your pockmarked swollen cow's tit of a head and not have to suffer your repulsive face any longer.

6) Buy some toothpaste. That way your teeth won't rot so quickly and your breath won't smell like a brothel keeper's jockstrap on a midsummer's night.

Uncle Brian: Offering Simple Advice for Simple People.

"a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
William bin Shakespeare.

This court case may seem bizarre and unprecedented, however I fought and won a similar case against master plagiarist Brian "Setev is a God" Hughes some years ago. Below is the incontrovertable evidence that had me awarded record damages.

  

TURD OF A MAN... yes... I know him.

A survey was published today into how humour varies according to culture.

Americans, apparently, find jokes about 'superiority' most amusing. (Well...that hardly comes as any surprise.) Comparing an intelligent person to a stupid person is as funny as it gets in the U.S. (It also goes some way towards explaining why everyone smiles when Bush appears.)

Europeans, on the other hand, enjoy jokes about edgy subjects, such as death. (This also explains a great deal. No doubt they'll be laughing their tits off once the War in Iraq kicks off again.)

The Brits and the Australians, however, prefer word play. Yeah...that one stumped me as well, but as an example the chap being interviewed about this on the news cited the following joke:

A man walks into the doctors and says, "Doctor, I've got a strawberry wedged up my bum."

"Not to worry," the doctor replies. "I've got some cream for that."

That, apparenly, is word play. And I thought we just found bumholes funny.

The Canadians don't find anything funny, unfortunately. But that's because they have no sense of humour.

The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bush...

He went out tiger hunting with his elephant and gun. In case of accidents he always took his mum. He's the all-American, bullet-headed, Saxon mother's son.

The children asked him if to kill was not a sin. "Not when he looked so fierce," his mummy butted in. "If looks could kill it would have been us instead of him."

Lyrics by John Lennon and Paul McCartney Copyright 1968)

Shortly after September the eleventh newsreaders started referring to the date as: "The Day that Changed the World."

Well, it certainly did for the average American. Not only did it make New York a bit shorter but it also opened up America's eyes to the fact that it couldn't keep behaving like a playground bully.

Unfortunately George Bush didn't much enjoy having his underpants pulled down in public. Still filled with indignation, one year later he continues to grow increasingly hawkish, drawing ever closer to becoming a totalitarian dictator. With this in mind I had planned on quoting from George Orwell's "1984" tonight. The bit where Winston Smith is standing in the market square and all the people are chanting, "War with the eastern Block" (or whatever it was) to the accompaniment of a speaker. Halfway through the chant, the speaker changes the continent and nobody seems to notice, their own chants changing along with it.

Unfortunately somebody's borrowed my George Orwell Omnibus and not returned it. Which, although typical, is a total ball-ache.

So, instead, here's a quote from "The Once and Future King" by T. H. White:

"You must remember I am the King of England. When you are king you can't go executing people as the fancy takes you. A king is the head of his people and he must stand as an example to them and do as they wish."

He forgave the startled expression in Lancelot's face and took his hand once more.

"You will find," he explained, "that when kings are bullies who believe in force, the people are bullies too. If I don't stand for law, I won't have law among my people."

Now, I'm fully aware that George Bush wouldn't understand the point I'm trying to make here. He wouldn't even know what the "Once and Future King" was unless Disney decided to make a follow up. In fact he probably doesn't even know what a book is, apart from it being something with which to swat flies. All those scribbly lines with loops and dangly bits are very confusing, I must admit.

However, in the interests of World Security, he might understand this:

BUGGER OFF AND SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST YOU SICK LITTLE TURD OF A MAN!

Other news and today Prince Charles, still recovering from the controversy of sending letters to Tony Blair in support of the Countryside Alliance, visited Cerne Abbas. The locals turned out in force to greet him, one of his admirers declaring openly that, "Prince Charles is definitely a country person." Well...she was partially correct. When asked why he'd chosen Cerne Abbas as a place to go walkabout, Charles is said to have replied, "It makes a change to go somewhere where I'm not the biggest dick for miles around."

What possessed this man?! Is he completely mad!! Why would you fess up to this?!

---

No jacket comment required.

Rant of the Week!
COMMUNITY SERVICE ANNNOUNCEMENT

My good friend "Sexytiger" (photo) is looking for the love of his life.

He would like to invite any lady visitors to "The Rant of the Week" to "spend a romantic evening with my girl by going to bar, followed by having a nice meal and on a chic disco and back to bed together."

"Sexytiger" (profile) is based in Dubai which he loves because "the business laws are lax and convenient, there is no tax and one can enjoy most modern and elegant mosques for prayers as well as bars, pubs, discos, nightclubs" This well rounded chap is looking for "a girl who dresses according to the occasion, looks like a princess in a party and like a bohemian otherwise. Who behaves like a nymph in bed. Ready to try anything and everything once in a while. A girl who will not mind walking on streets of Paris, Rome, Athens, Geneva etc in a see through sleeveless top without a bra and short hot pants. A girl who feels no inhibition to go to the beaches in a tiny bikini or even without it."

However "Sexytiger" sets some high standards "I EXPECT HER TO BE FLUENT IN WITTEN AND SPOKEN ENGLISH."

Come girls snap up this catch of the day right now before Edwina Currie unleashes her hormones again and beats you to the punch.

There are other fine chaps like "Sexytiger" you might like to meet at this site. However if you could just keep your excitement contained for another week or so before visiting the site it would be appreciated. The webmaster has yet to weed out a few of the serial killers who have snuck through the normally high security publishing protocol and posted their pictures.

Thank you and have a nice day. Don't be a strangler stranger ... missing you already.

A friendly piece of advice to homosexuals. When Channel 4 gives you an hour of air-time to voice your complaints about how society treats you unfairly, try using that time to actually explain what the problems are instead of complaining about how the television stations don't give you enough time to voice your complaints about how society treats you unfairly.

Also try not to waste the rest of the programme by dragging the camera down to the local night club where your friends then proceed to shove their ugly faces into the lens shouting, "Hello sweetie...oh, my adoring public!"

This really doesn't help your case much...whatever your case might be, seeing as you've never actually managed to tell us.

Speaking of homosexuals, I caught the tail end (so to speak) of Silence of the Lambs last night. You know the bit? Where the transsexual tucks his tadger between his legs and dances round in front of the mirror/Channel-4-documentary-camera, trying out his human-skin suit? (Transsexuals...grown men in disguise.) And a horrible thought struck me. I'm now convinced that John Prescott has been building a suit from Leon Briton's old fat. Exactly how he's managed to do this remains an enigma...but these days old 'Two Jags' resembles one of those laboratory toads that we were forced to dissect at school.

Only not as attractive.

I think it would be fair to say that the fat b*stard's giving Jabba the Hutt a run for his money.

Going back to the topic of 'rear entries'...is it just me (and I might be wrong here because the Labour Party Conference is boring at best) but are the details for Uncle Tony's new "Private Finance Initiative" exactly the same as the old Tory plans for privatising absolutely everything without officially privatising it?

Answers on a postcard please. This blog is currently being written off-line in order to comply with BT Internet's new parasite-friendly "Screw the little people" initiative.

White House would welcome Saddam's assassination

The White House press secretary says the Bush administration would welcome the assassination of Saddam Hussein.

Ari Fleischer says one bullet would be cheaper than a war.

Asked whether he was advocating the killing of the Iraqi dictator, Mr Fleischer claims a regime change is welcome in whatever form it takes.

"The cost of one bullet, if the Iraqi people take it on themselves, is substantially less" than waging war, Ari Fleischer said when asked about the cost of military action against Iraq.

Ari you scab! Outsourcing to foreigners! Taking jobs away from those nice chaps in the CIA! Give the lads their head Ari!

Mr Fleischer's remarks caused a stir in the White House and later asked for his comments to be toned down.

"I was making a rhetorical point about the cost of the bullet," he said. "The point I am making is not an administration policy.

"If the Iraqi people took events into their own hands, the world would not shed a tear.

"I am not stating administration policy, I am stating the obvious," he said.



Allow me to state the obvious too ... ARI, YOU ARE A SERIOUS TWAT!!! Unfortunately a seriously dangerous twat!

GENEVA, Switzerland --

A French ban on the controversial practice of "dwarf-tossing" has been upheld by the U.N. Human Rights Committee.

Manuel Wackenheim began his fight in 1995 after the French ban meant he could no longer earn a living being thrown around discotheques and nightclubs by burly men.

But on Friday, Wackenheim -- who measures 1.14 metres (3 feet 10 inches) -- lost his case when the U.N. human rights body ruled the need to protect human dignity was paramount.

In a statement, the U.N. Human Rights Committee said it was satisfied "the ban on dwarf-tossing was not abusive but necessary in order to protect public order, including considerations of human dignity."

The committee also said the ban "did not amount to prohibited discrimination."

The pastime, imported from the United States and Australia in the 1980s, consists of people throwing tiny stuntmen as far as possible, usually in a bar or discotheque.

Bugger! This means we are forbidden by the U.N. to toss Little Johnny Howard, our very very niggardly Prime Miniature, out of office. Nothing else for it, I'm going to have to spam him with those adverts promising to add 4 inches.

British Telecom Internet Service Provider Statement:

Since the launch of fully unmetered access during 2000, a small percentage of our customers have continued to use a disproportionate amount of network infrastructure. This either reduces the quality of access experienced by all our customers or threatens to force an increase in price. We believe that the fairest approach for all is to provide a limit suitable for the vast majority of customers. This will ensure a consistently excellent service.

Two issues here.

Firstly, the term "consistently excellent service" is quite possibly the biggest lie since George Bush said that he was only acting in the interest of World Peace. BT Internet, as the fact that I have been thrown off-line four times in the last five minutes and will no doubt be evicted at least twice more before this posting is completed illustrates, are the biggest pile of quangoed gwak I've ever had the misfortune to subscribe to (with the exception of the now happily defunct Libertysurf.co.uk).

Secondly, when a person subscribes to a particular service or product, using it within the specified parameters does not constitute abuse and/or disproportionate usage. If I bought a pair of boots I wouldn't expect the shopkeeper to stop me in the street the following day, tell me to take them off and make me walk home in my socks because I was wearing the soles out. BT advertise their product on the television as 'Unlimited, Unmetered Access'. A quick message to BT Internet...there isn't a single court in Europe (regardless of how many masonic handshakes you can pull off you monopolising b*stards) that would uphold your stinking decision to reduce the amount of time I can spend on the net to 3 hours a night. Especially not when you consider that your disgusting, third-rate little internet service throws me off-line every three minutes and runs at about the same speed as John Prescott uphill. I shall see you in court you whore-mongering monopoly. In the meantime, if I vanish from the web at any point in the not too distant future it'll only be for the duration of me switching to an ISP that isn't 6 million pounds in debt because it's bosses are greedy and incompetant!

All right. If the problem exist, then it will be surely sometime soluted:
"Yet, clinical studies show that the average person produces one to three pints of gas and passes gas 14 times a day.
A Fun, Yet Serious Solution To An Embarrassing Problem.
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So... let things take their course and set the inner artist of us free: let we compose.

I was going to have a rant about the demise of "Hearsay" tonight...but I can't be arsed. Stock, Aitkin and Waterman have single-handedly destroyed the British Music Industry by overloading it with this sort of commercial crap anyway and ruined any future developments in the music scene by squeezing out people with actual talent. That's all there is to it. Not much point in wasting my valuable time complaining really.

So instead...I found the following posted in the 'Scrag Ends Guestbook' (and if you thought it wasn't working then, oddly enough, so did I):

NAME Intex Auto

E-MAIL parts@intexap.com

URL http://www.intexap.com

COMMENTS

Cool site!

Keep up the great content.

Intex Auto PartsOfficial Intex Auto Parts website

Pick Pro PartsYour best source for auto parts online

Intex A P

DATE Sunday, September 29th 2002 - 05:17:58 AM

Now, if I was being cyncial, which of course I'm not because, quite frankly, butter wouldn't melt up my bottom...not that I've ever tried of course...it's just an expression...where was I? Oh yes...if I was being cynical I'd say that Intex Auto-Parts hadn't even seen the Scrag Ends web site. I disconnected the guestbook several weeks ago after numerous complaints that it wasn't working properly so the only way into it recently would have been via Google or some other search engine whilst looking specifically for guestbooks to sign. The vagueries of the phrase 'Great Content' tend to support this hypothesis...but, like I say, I'm not being cynical. I'm sure that Intex Auto Parts weren't just lying through their arses whilst advertising their crappy business at all, and that they're a great retail company as opposed to a bunch of lying, opportunistic and cynical f*ckwits themselves.

Seeing as they kindly left their e-mail address for our benefit, my advice would be for all our regular viewers to send them their own 'Great Website' comments. Just make sure you don't send them any spam. Especially of a highly pornographic nature.

Australian Government says it will not be legislating a "war" tax. Bugger ... looks like we, the citizens of the 256th state of the US, will be digging deep into our pockets again when it is mysteriously appears on the statute books.

It's about time we started looking like a real blog.

What I'm reading.


I'm listening to.


and I'm watching.


while I'm eating.

I am sorry but I'm not a very well rounded sociopath..

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Fine but hoodafark is Ma huang?!

Why is Tory Tony Blair boring the pants off the innocent citoyens of Bluckpoowell when he could have dropped his at this delightfully idyllic venue?

"Strawberry Water and The Edge are situated in a coastal hamlet on the Devon/Cornwall boarder (sic) between Bideford and Bude. They nestle in their own grounds of nearly 5 acres in a coastal valley approx 800yds walk from the beach. A short drive away are many popular tourist attractions, restaurants and shops.

In response to numerous requests we developed a course where these issues were addressed, along with others such as the need for safety on all levels, including emotional as well as physical safety.

The first weekend course for 'newbies' was held in the spring of 2000 and proved to be a great success. So much so that these courses now run almost monthly at The Edge and are attended by people from all over the country.

There has been significant demand for specific skill based workshops, which has lead to these being offered on an occasional basis."
Link 1. Link 2.

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Historical note of some interest. "The Edge" was originally owned by the famous, some would say infamous, Legge-Orpington family, about which, in the fullness of time and the emptiness of the Glenfiddich bottle, there will be more.

---

LATE BREAKING NEWS.
EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS FROM BLUCKPOOWELL.

Rules of Conduct for a more Pleasant Way of Life in Britain Today!

1) Women...don't breast feed babies in public places if you weigh over thirty stone and have bosoms that resemble cannon balls in blue and pink striped socks. Especially down Lord Street in Fleetwood at 4.30 on a Monday afternoon.

2) Bluebottles...use your loaf! If you can land on the television screen and obscure Jenifer Aniston's nose every time it's turned on, then why can't you find your way out of a six foot high door?

3) Parents...don't allow your children to piddle in the gutter. Especially at 4.35 pm. on Lord Street in Fleetwood on a Monday afternoon when some people are still recovering from the shock of a grotesque bladder-weevil of a woman with her left tit out.

4) Spammers...it's time you realised that if I added another four inches to my knob as you recommend, I'd poke out one of my eyeballs every time I became aroused. Kindly keep your member-enlargers to yourselves as, clearly, you need them more than I do.

5) Dog owners...when you take your pet to be spayed, please ask the vet to clip off their bollocks completely. Large, bald, pink testies dangling in front of my face when I'm trying to eat a butty in the churchyard on Lord Street at 4.50 p.m. on a Monday afternoon is not something that gives me pleasure regardless of what you might think.

6) The auto-cue writers for Channel 5 News...the phrase "Make sure you let us know where you're sending your e-mails from," is grammatically incorrect. In such an important position of communication you ought to know to better and your dangling prepositions are, quite frankly, bloody annoying.

7) Postmen...please do not stuff colourful bits of glossy paper advertising Asda through my letterbox. They are not proper letters and only go straight in the bin.

8) Kays catalogue...if I don't want to buy one of your over-priced, vile, little products but I do want to keep your catalogue under the broken leg of my chair, then that's my decision. Regardless of your crappy letters I will not be sending your catalogue back. You should have thought of the consequences before you sent me the damned thing in the first place. Now cut the whining and bog off you cheapskate b*stards.

9) Holiday makers and fellow grockles...when visiting Fleetwood do not make the assumption that everyone walking down the street is on holiday and wants to move at a leisurely/comatose pace. Also don't fill the pavements with your fat, swollen bodies forcing me to step into the road and narrowly miss getting killed by a tram at 5.10 p.m. on a Monday evening. I don't care if you're going home to Yorkshire never to return because of my outburst. If you wish to take me to court for assault and battery that's your perogative. But stop being arrogant, ignorant and fat.

Uncle Brian...sharing personal advice and caring for the quality of other people's lives.

Lancashire Welcomes Bill Clinton and his friends in the Labour Party with Free Laundry Services for the next month.

Yes...the Labour Party Conference is in town!

No, not Fleetwood...but Blackpool which is round the corner and up the coast by about twenty miles.

Unfortunately nobody seems to have told the Lancashire police this. They've been out and about round Fleetwood's quiet streets in force today, costing the local rate payers several million pounds of their pensions for the privilege. I'm curious...are the government surrounded by armed gunmen and snipers all the time in London, or are the old biddies who live in Lancashire the only threat to their well-being?

Michelle was greeted this morning by a police chopper (insert your own innuendo here) hovering menacingly above the garden whilst she was hanging out her smalls. Then, during my usual game of cribbage in the cafe, my brother and myself were treated to a fine display of strange yellow police wagons (about six or seven in all) creating a daisy chain around the lighthouse. Exactly what it was all about or what they were expecting the mainly retired population to do is beyond me, but the whole town (all 1/4 of a square mile of it from the market to the shelter on the promenade) has been reminiscent of Afghanistan for the last twelve hours...only with more seagulls of course.

The stupid thing is, everyone knows that Tony Spin Blair isn't even staying in the area. There are certain well-documented 'safe houses' in Lancashire, usually owned by aristocratic leeches with certain tendrils in the government pie. For example, Maggie Thatch managed to escape the Brighton bombing because she'd been staying at a friend's house forty-odd miles away when the hotel blew up placing Norman Tebbit's wife on the Disability Allowance Scheme for the rest of her life. The fact that Maggie didn't emerge for the cameras for forty minutes wasn't because she was straightening her hair, but because the hotel owners had to get to drive down to Brighton and then sneak her in via the half demolished back door.

In fact, for anyone interested, news on the grapevine claims that Uncle Tony is currently staying at a house in Bury. To be more precise numberMESSAGE INTERUPTED BY THE BOYS FROM THE HOMELAND SECURITY (previously known as the Ministry of Truth) MAKING THE RUN UP TO THE THIRD WORLD WAR A PLEASANT EXPERIENCE FOR EVERYONE!

Lancashire bobbies....ignoring the sharp increase in rent boy and prostitute activity when the Labour Party are in town and concentrating instead on threatening pensioners with sniper rifles.

I woke up this morning to discover that I'd been abducted by the greys in the night. (Very painful and worthy of the 'Contortionist of the Year Award' if you ask me.) They drank all my whisky, painted my tongue with some furry stuff, made my teeth ache, replaced my gallbladder with three large amniotic sacs, attached my Terry-Sedgwick-is-Gay boxer shorts to the top of Fleetwood lighthouse where, even as I type, they're proudly proclaiming the bearded Bloshovic's sexuality to a queasy seagull, and committed numerous other offences in my name. The north slope of Parlick Fell now has a carving of Tony Blair slipping John Prescott a crippler across it in much the same fashion as the White Horse of Uffington...only the little grey sods have signed my name at the bottom. They've also aged me by about fifteen years over night, given me a dodgy stomach and a bad case of bed spin and turned my kitchen upside down. My biggest worry right now is that the cucumber I'd been keeping in the fridge has gone missing and I've been walking around all morning bow-legged.