How we spend summer in Australia, and characteristically February is the worst month for all of this.

Next weekend we are in for temperatures around 40+ celsius ...104+ fahrenheit.

(Today. Mon Jan 20. 36 Celsius. Melbourne shrouded in smoke from bushfires 100s of kilometres away.)



Canberra 19/01/2003. 350+ houses burnt. 4 dead.

http://www.theage.com.au/issues/bushfires/index.html

Canberra fires.

"When I read such reports I am more and more convinced that we have to bomb Iraq." - John Howard.

Demonstrators against the looming war with Iraq came out in force around the world today, showing solidarity for rational thought and proving that the common individual has considerably more brains the collective heads of the western governments.

In Britain anti-war rallies took place in Bradford, Manchester and London, to name but three. In Washington, despite the alarming polls that one in every two citizens believes Iraq to be responsible for the sacking of the World Trade Centre, thousands gathered in the hopes of knocking some sense into the obfuscated brains of their fellow citizens. Australia, however, put on the best display of all when anti-war campaigners set fire to the whole of Canberra and then ran away screaming. Steve Irwin has been arrested. He is not suspected of having any involvement with the arson but has become such an embarrassment to Australians across the world that he's been charged with 'Acts of Terrorism' and sentenced to death by croc.

A spokesman for the British government in response to today's anti-war protests stuck his fingers in his ears, closed and his eyes and said, "We're not listening! Nnya nnya!"

More importantly, however, Zoe Ball and her husband Fat Boy Slim are getting divorced. When asked how, under the circumstances, this constituted news Michael Burke replied, "There will always be a percentage of the population for whom celebrity gossip fills a void in their lives that would otherwise be occupied by education, but never is." Michael Burke is currently being investigated for paedophile offences, although by whom it's not quite clear, and for being a condescending twat.

There appears to have been a bit of a rumpus in my garden shed overnight, involving a battle weary hedgehog and a flottila of Palastinian Suicide Slugs. The pots of paint that I'd carefully placed on the shelf which, in turn, was balanced precariously at one end of the broom handle, have exploded all over my bicycle so that it now resembles a leftover prop from a Noel Edmunds' programme. Fortunately a passing angel must have noticed the fracas and decided to intervene. Christians, apparently, are often touched by angels in the same manner that children are touched by Matthew Kelly and the pattern is lifted from Bernard Manning's dinner plate by his fat greasy tongue. Christians, or so they tell me, know when an angel has been spying on them because angels leave white feathers behind. Amongst the mess in my garden shed this morning there was a solitary white feather. Perhaps more disturbing though, the angel had taken a shit down my shed roof. I don't know what they get fed in heaven but it seems to be white and must be served in very small portions. Perhaps it's Jesus' spunk. Whatever the case, the hedgehog was last seen ambling towards the Mount with a very sore nose in pursuit of a limping seagull that was making a racket and the angel has mysteriously vanished up its own scented arsehole leaving me alone to clear up the shit.

"An AC-Nielsen survey shows just 6 per cent of Australians would support Australian involvement in a US-led strike against Iraq."

THIS would indicate that there are quite a few more people in Australia with a better grip on grim reality than in other parts of the Commonwealth.

Editor's note: Following a debate between Tony Benn (who, obviously, takes a firm anti-war stance) and three tabloid editors (who don't) on Channel 5 news the night before last, a phone poll was taken to determine who the audience thought had the stronger argument. A staggering 98% voted in favour of Mr Benn and thus against the war. Interesting statistics when compared to the government led polls that claim that only 68% of the population are against the War...especially when you consider that the vast majority of New Labour M.P.s and a growing proportion of the cabinet are also against Blair's narrow-brained scheme. As far as I can see the only member of the Commonwealth (and I'm not counting Canada here because, well, they're Americans really as everyone knows...not quite as loud as their overweight neighbours but every bit as politically correct and dull) who doesn't seem to be taking up the anti-War banner is Zimbabwe...and that's because Mugabe has had everyone's television humanely destroyed.

This week's Far Side cartoon...

I slipped Reg Hollis a tenner and bottle of ginger pop in exchange for some of the shocking material that was on Pete Townshend's hard drive. Click on "The Who Medley" to hear this poor abused child's cry for help.

(Requires Flash ... shall refrain from the obvious cheap shot.)

"This monkey mythology of Darwin is the cause of permissiveness, promiscuity, prophylactics, perversions, pregnancies, abortions, pornography, pollution, poisoning and proliferation of crimes of all types." ~Judge Braswell Dean, quoted in Time, March 1981

January 2003. Judge Dean releases Mr. Townshend on bail, but sentences chimpanzee to 5 consecutive life sentences on each obscenity charge.

Blog Review : : << The Rant of the Week >>

"Typically, in a British kind of way, ( How insulting is that?) this blog fulfills all the requirements of insanity and smarts we have come to expect from our much less evolved and annoying cousins across the Atlantic, where English is taught as an accent used by the upper classes.

Good thing that body of water was put there when it was to keep them at a distance. How we ever got here is a mystery. I'd hate to have this kind of common sense loose in America, no one would be safe, and the kind of vitriolic ill humor it shows toward our most cherished loud mouthed loutish yet somehow farm educated politicians is very insulting indeed! As if I voted for any one of them! As if I voted at all!

Four letter words are in use, and an adult would have no business going here to read a rant if they knew what was good for them. I rate it as many stars as are available at the time. Little tiny gold ones like Mrs. Bower used to put up next to Suzy Jamison's name in 6th grade. God I hated her!"

We at ROTW are always ready to acknowledge excellence wherever it is found. (Even America.) We raise our collective titfers to this discerning reviewer, a man of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy . . . here be his gibes; his gambols; his songs; his flashes of merriment ... http://www.grafyte.com/ (And it only cost us sick squid and a set of thumbscrews to force that out of him.)

Editor's note: Sedgers...get him to sign the contracts. We have caught ourselves a very rare bird indeed, the World's first ironic American. I'll contact the patenting office. We don't want anyone else laying claim to him first.

I get a sort of thrill reading absurdities of reality as quoted from important and powerful figures throughout history.

Enjoy these absurd quotes!

Well said Uncle Brian. Not every Australia shags kangaroos. Sex on the hop is fine for some but we do have a thriving (and attractive) sheep population. Having learned a lesson from World War 11 (the last war in which the Americans participated and was won) when American troops were billeted in Australia and proceeded to deflower every wombat within shagging distance, we have placed a ban on immigration by and granting of visitors' visas to New Zealanders and the Welsh.

We are still tracking down a group of self-centred, 35 and 50 year old, cockney entertainers who, using plasic forks and spoons borrowed from the set of "Some Mothers Do Have "Em", tunnelled out of the Max Miller Detention Centre.

Head of "Operation Panto", General Tony bin Goebbels said today, "They can tell mother in law and knock-knock jokes until the bovines come home, but they can't hide forever. A number of these miscreants have already been recaptured when attempting to tunnel into Juvenile Detention Centres. They are currently undergoing aversion therapy at the W.C. Fields Rehab Centre where they have to work with pug ugly kids and feral warthogs. These events can lead to no other conclusion than that we need to bomb Iraq immediately."

WANTED

to fill vacancies in the Light Entertainment Industry due to an outbreak of paedophilia:

CLEAN-LIVING YOUNG MEN WITH NO TALENT WHATSOEVER AND WAY TOO MUCH CONFIDENCE

Must be between the ages of 35 and 50, preferably cockney and full of self-centred shit.

Positions available: Lead Guitarist, Long Forgotten Drummer, Cheeky Entertainer for Old Biddies, 70's Pop Idol with a curly wig and outstanding beer paunch, Useless Wanker with a Poncy Walk and an Annoying Giggle. More vacancies to follow.

All applicants must be able to work with animals or children without having to bugger them.

For information please write to:

The British Entertainment Industry,

c/o Max Clifford,

The McCauly Kulkin Cresh,

London

SW1 NDLE

In recent weeks Uncle Tony, desperately fighting a losing battle for the hearts of the Great British public over the ever-impending Iraq Conflict, has advised his War Council to strike at the most vulnerable points of the ethically sound and, whenever in argument on television or radio, to accuse those in the Anti-War trench that they are not operating from a logical or ethical standpoint but from a purely 'Anti-American' one.

Presumably these sort of tactics (as displayed in numerous debates now) are designed to make us feel pangs of xenophobia and/or racism and back away from our standpoints, preferring us instead to be Anti-Iraqi.

Oddly enough, Uncle Tony's objections are racist in their own right, grouping all Anti-War campaigners under the banner of 'cynical, uninformed militants' and all Americans under 'Freedom-loving right wingers.' Most decent thinking people would rather treat nations as groups of individuals and, whilst it can be said that there are huge swathes of mindless, propaganda-grazing cattle amongst any population, it's the freethinkers that genuinely matter. In the same way that people have qualms about any regime, the 'Anti-American's (sic) in Britain naturally, have a few problems with various aspects of American politics and culture, as well as British ones. That's all. America is behaving like a brain-damaged, six foot three transvestite with hygiene problems and too much testosterone in its system at the moment. As a nation it lies about its business dealings. It lies about its political and moral nature. It lies about its history, its tolerance and its generosity. And then it wears so much foundation and makeup in the shape of re-writing history for Hollywood, declaring that, "We saved your British butts during the War" and covering up its arms dealing, its appalling human rights record and its monetary worth, that its fast becoming mutton dressed as lamb.

Not every American is responsible for this. Not every Brit is responsible for football hooliganism. Not every Oz shags kangaroos. Not every Canadian is dull. (Okay...scratch that last one.) But to define a stance against the murder of innocent people in Iraq so that American politicians can become more autonomous with their oil supplies as being one of 'racism' is not only cynical in itself, it's insulting, underhand and typical of the naziesque spin doctoring that Uncle Tony and his bigoted, war-mongering, arse-licking toadies have become so rightly famed for. The simpering, murdering bastard can go take a flying fuck and leave the rest of us to decide what's right and wrong for ourselves.

Coming Soon:

Empty Iraqi Missile Shells discovered in an outhouse in Baghdad! That's why they need to die!

"We know you've got more," says Bush. "We had to tear seven pages from the Iraq weapons catalogue because they named the American companies what sold 'em to ya all."

And finally, George W Bush's wife speaks! "It's a miracle," admit the scientists.

SPOT THE DIFFERENCE!

Above: Gary Larson's THE FAR SIDE

Above: Brian Hughes' SCRAG ENDS

Now, it's difficult I know, but if you look closely you might be able to see the tiniest flaw in the Waste-of-HTML crew's argument. Spotted it yet? That's right...Larson's lettering is easier to read.

Ten Super Handy Hints on How to Spot and Deal With a Deadly Terrorist Attack.

1) Remain "Armed but not Erect" at all times and remember that terrorists always use coupons in newsagents. Some of them smell like garlic because of their filthy French digestive systems. Very often they wear brown sandals (without any socks, which is very un-British) and they eat small puppies as part of a calorie-controlled diet.

2) Terrorists build large marble temples on old warehouse sites in Bradford, in honour of their pretend gods. Their idols are shaped like elephants with the squitters or bananas that have six arms. They take their shoes off when crossing the road in honour of Krishna bin Pachyderm, the goddess of curry powder.

3) Terrorists are generally brown in colour and wear surgical bandages round their heads. They hang around in groups on street corners and wear big bushy beards that conceal hand-grenades. They wipe their bottoms with their right hands and wipe their dicks on other people's curtains. Most of them speak with a Sangatte accent.

4) Terrorists never buy the Daily Mail. Anyone seen buying the Islamic Fundamentalist Times or the Independent is probably either a terrorist or gay.

5) Terrorists smell of Cod Liver Oil. Apart from the Irish ones who just smell.

6) Don't trust anyone who tries to land on a British beach in a small, half-sunk boat, especially if they're foreign. Carry a pointed stick at all times when walking the dog along the coast. Remember, a dead terrorist is better than no terrorist at all!

7) Terrorists carry minute amounts of ricin with them concealed in tiger skin pouches inserted up their bum holes. These can only be detected through a microscope after an extensive cavity search. Remember to take your surgical gloves with you when you visit the local Indian Restaurant just in case anyone suspicious needs checking out. As well as deadly poisons, terrorists also carry nicotine-tipped umbrellas with which they repeatedly stab their victims until they die of cancer. They have also been known to hide sub-machine guns down their 'Y' fronts and have brown teeth.

8) Terrorists are well known paediatricians. They don't have the same morals and ethics as normal British citizens and practice foul medical deeds on children often as young as none. Sometimes they even pummice their feet.

9) Terrorists fly aircraft and kites into buildings. Should you spot a bearded refugee hanging beneath a handglider this is probably one of their scouts. Be sure to contact the local RAF base. They'll come round as soon as possible to blow the bastard from the sky. Expect delays during foggy conditions.

10) Always try to kill terrorists on sight! These days, following changes in the law, you are allowed to 'claim a life so long as the slightest suspicion of terrorist activity is involved'. If you can't lay your hands on a gun (for example if you're not a farmer or a member of a street gang in Birmingham) then make sure that you're carrying a big machete at all times, and aim for the jugular.

Uncle Brian: Making Britain A Safer Place for Decent Folk!

This looks like it's becoming a frigging British epidemic. I'm advising all young Australian kiddies to return home immediately. We don't have this sort of preverted carry on (in the words of Great grandma Hughes ... " pardon my Kenneth Williams.") over here. No wonder the Poms can't play cricket, there's not a straight bat among the whole frigging population!

Be Alarmed but not Alert!

The latest pictures from Homeland Security, showing how the British Cabinet are employing their new Anti-Terrorist legislation on their favourite internet sites.

Police are continuing to investigate a flat in Manchester today where, last night, a policeman was stabbed to death during a raid on suspected terrorists. Despite questions being asked as to why an unarmed policeman without a stab-proof vest on had been murdered by three terrorists who weren't even handcuffed, Tony bin Blair paid tribute to the man in the Commons this afternoon. "I personally knew him," said Uncle Tony. "He was a close friend and colleague of mine that I met once up t' north, when he was standing three streets away and I was passing by in a car."

"Of course you realise this is why we have to bomb Iraq?" he went on with fierce determination now, to a shocked audience of sleeping back-benchers. "I told you so, didn't I? Well...I did tell you! You nicompoops!"

Oddly enough the police constable was killed by a knife wound to the chest, not a speck of ricin in sight...unless of course it was attached to the knife's tip at the time, which...to be honest about this...would have been the only way of it being effective. Not that it would have mattered because the knife finished the job anyway, but there you go. Time to get all panicky and frightened again folks 'cos there are terrorists out there (you can easily spot them on account of their being brown or black) with rusty spud peelers at the ready.

To add to the terrorist alarm it appears that in Texas a number of bubonic plague samples have been stolen from a laboratory. Or...and this is only a theory of course...possibly sold by the money-loving capitalists producing the stuff in the first place. This wouldn't be the first time. The British War Plans that Churchill handed over to the U.S. Government as part of a contract for them to supply our soldiers with extra food during the Second World War were subsequently sold to the nazis and nearly cost Britain its sovereignty. Good to see that traditions are being kept up.

What's the reckoning that several bubonic plague samples turn up somewhere in Iraq within the month thus vindicating Dubbya's war-mongering bullshit?

Deputy Editor notes:- Forget the ricin. Those Vietnamese boat people that we good supremely white Australians let into our country back in the 60s and 70s are now showing their terrorist colours. I tried to warn the government at the time. "These people who hopped onto luxury 6 foot wooden leaky boats and spent their journey having fun fighting off sharks and pirates are terrorists. You are creating on a time bomb in your own backyard that is going to crawl up your trouser leg and bite you on the hand that feeds them." I rest my prescient case.

It's great to see that the English Cricket Squad have as much understanding of foreign affairs as they do of winning test matches. To witness Nassar Hussein warble and rant about his younger players not having the time (or the inclination) to learn about Mugabe was risible. Poor, overworked things...all they ever think about is cricket, cricket and more cricket...it's about time they stopped thinking about it and learned to play it then. Then to see Nassar blaming the ECB for not making up the minds of those beneath them concerning the sticky-wicket of Zimbabwe's human-rights record was, frankly, ridiculous. Presumably Nassar hadn't read the 'W. C. Grace Book of Cricket Hierarchy' as he hadn't noticed that the rest of the squad fell beneath his own jurisdiction as well.

Incidentally, John Howard, speaking on behalf of the Australian Cricket Bastards...er...sorry...Board...said that they would only go to Zimbabwe if everyone else were going. Stunted, shilly-shallying twat. Off with his googlies, that's what I say...if he's got any.

And so the farce grows...as it does with every cricket season. And what it all boils down to is money and/or points. Without the match, political assertions aside, the English Cricket Board would almost go bankrupt. (What...no more tea and scones and cucumber sandwiches in the long room?) And, seeing as the rest of the cricketing nations have all decided to pull out of the Zimbabwe trip, this should be an ideal opportunity for England to finally notch up a couple of hard-earned points. Let's face it...we're going to need them.

The greatest, most purple, most throbbing hypocrisy of all though, is that the British Government is making such a big deal out of this, accusing the ECB of being irresponsible. Why hypocritical? Well, because the government refuses to do anything about the situation itself. No sanctions have been imposed on Zimbabwe. No steps have been taken towards 'A regime change' (not enough oil wells obviously). Absolutely bugger all has been done either militarily or diplomatically, apart from various M.P.s jeering at a group of sportsmen who are hoping that, due to their opponents starving, they might stand a chance at winning for once. Not much of a chance, it must be said, but with a bit of luck even Zimbabwe might forfeit the game on moral issues.

Welcome again here you Chinese readers.

President Bush proclaimed this Sunday National Sanctity of Human Life Day, urging Americans to mark the occasion at home or in places of worship, to help others in need and to "reaffirm our commitment to respecting the life and dignity of every human being."

Innocent Iraqis obviously do not fit the definition of "every human being". Dubbya presumably prefers to define them as "unfortunate collateral damage". I would define the Commando in Chief as a mealy mouthed unctuous hypocrite.

I'm sorry about that, but my forgiving nature sometimes gets the better of me.

Mind you not that Mr. Http://www.wasteofhtml.com/archives/nov02/webcomics.html will be the beneficiary of it. How dare he bag our Brian! That's our job, and we do it SO much better! Dammit all, didn't we have him in tears for a whole month when we criticised him for coloring over the lines? And Brian, you're NOT going to get your teal coloring pencil back until you stop blubbing! Come on, wipe your nose, chin up and be our brave little soldier.

Look at me while I'm talking to you Brian!

Editor's note (despite it being written in 'blue' crayon): I'm sorry, what was that? I wasn't paying attention...I was too busy swatting up on the hilariously savage wit of the Waste-of-HTML boys. I could learn from these blokes, I really could. If only they'd give me a chance I might be able to get a little of my former self-respect back.

This Week, a review of Scrag Ends as posted at:

http://www.wasteofhtml.com/archives/nov02/webcomics.html

...God bless his little cotton socks...

Scrag Ends

Finally, a comic that is actually illustrated in a manner that it doesn't make my eyes want to strap on rocket packs and launch themselves out of their sockets. That's really the only nice comment I have about the most blatant Far Side rip-off in the history of the crapstravaganza that we call "art". The entire site is a collection of images, each one containing a picture and a one-liner that leaves you wondering if it's supposed to be funny or if the entire collection is just part of a massive inside joke in which the author is basking in the warmth of the fire on the inside while the rest of us stare longingly into the window like 18th century British street urchins. The scariest part of the whole ordeal is that the author has managed to post 17 archives of this and counting. Each archive holds 16 images. That's 272 images of purebred boredom that this guy has ejaculated upon the Internet. It's just too bad he didn't bring his tissue.

On second thought, I withdraw my original comment about this man's work not making my eyes launch from my skull. After looking at that, they promptly took flight and were last spotted on a suicide course with the sun.

Unfortunately the author of the above piece left his e-mail address at the foot of his page. If you'd like to write to him expressing your gratitude for his heartfelt opinions then, please, don't let me stop you. You can reach him by clicking on the link that I've kindly supplied. Make sure you take your tissue with you though...

According to the Daily Mail (that paragon of virtuosity and social ethics) following the closure and subsequent bulldozing of the Sangatte Refugee Camp in France, the Red Cross have established their own Refugee Camp on the exact same site. Previously Sangatte housed 50,000 refugees who were desperate to clamber into Britain. And who could blame them? If I lived in France I'd want to escape as well. The constant storm trooping of refugees through the Chunnel led the British Government to take decisive action and, in return for the camp's closure and demolition, took 12,000 none-Daily-Mail-readers from the Froggies' bosoms and into our own.

Naturally, this morning, the Daily Mail was outraged to report that the Red Cross had established another refugee camp on the still smouldering rubble of what was once Sangatte. Thousands, possibly millions, more refugees to flood our shores, steal our jobs, spend our benefits, rape our women, eat our children and poke their nasty brown fingers at our sheep.

As it turns out, the Daily Mail was talking bollocks.

The 'Refugees-on-wheels' Camp that their diligent reporters had actually witnessed was just a Red Cross Soup Kitchen making its usual tour of the homeless during the winter months.

This sort of shite and sensationalist drivel has become the norm for the Mail who, presumably, employed the same 'bullshit' tactics when it came to proclaiming that they'd be giving away £20,000.00 for the 'Not the Turner Prize'...going so far as giving out an e-mail address to send any figure illustrations to. Since sending them several examples and waiting patiently for my mortgage to suddenly vanish, I haven't heard a single word in response but my daily Spam levels have risen dramatically.

Long live the freedom of the tabloid press. The freedom to pursue innocent victims, to stir up trouble amongst ignorant council-estaters, to worship the Royals and, most of all, to invent and then publish total codswallop that isn't even remotely true in the cause of racism.

Tragedy Strikes Britain.

The newly appointed Palace spokesman, Sir Peter Foster told reporters that changes could be expected under the reign of King Charles Spaniel 111 and Queen Camilla von Saxe-Rottweiler 1.

Sir Peter went on to explain that their majesties have embraced the concept of democracy and intended to rule for all vegetables. King Charles had briefed him earlier in the day and had authorised him to release this short mission statement.

"The accession of myself, the new Queen, my pot plants and the compost bin to the throne signifies a new era. I like to think of it as the age of ratatouille. No vegetable will be more equal than his brother. A sprout is a sprout is a sprout, unless it is a pea. Apart from broad beans of course, which are another kettle of legumes. Plant them and they will come. The flowers that bloom in the spring tra la. I'm a little despot short and stout. Anyone for tennis?"

Pressed to explain what this meant, Sir Peter said that he would refer the matter to the King's chief advisors, Mairzy Doats, Dozy Doats and Liddle Lamzy Divey for a full translation.

Prime Minister Tony Iceberg-Lettuce stated that he looked forward to working with the new monarch, "I think we speak the same language."

The Prime Minister added, "The King has thrown his full support behind our military campaign to bring about regime change in France. The failure of Saddam Chirac to allow the United Nations Gastronomic Inspection Team lead by Lady Delia Smith, full and free access to french restaurants which we know to contain recipes of mass destruction has left us with no alternative. Lethal quantities of Creme Fraiche and Bernaise Sauce are known to be prepared in these facilities and their potential to destroy British cuisine is limitless.

We Britons don't want foreign muck on our plates no matter where it comes from! We shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight in the restaurants, we shall fight in the sushi bars, we shall fight in the bistrots and in the cafes, we shall fight in the Indian takeaways; we shall never serve Rendang.

I know there are some shillyshallying backsliders even within my own Government who can't see the Black Forest Gateau for the Tiramisus. Make no mistake, under the leadership of myself and our new monarch there will be peas in our life time and on our tables, not petits pois!"

Some of the competitors in this year's Men's
Women's Australian Open Tennis Tournament.

(The photos are NOT doctored. The bodies? Well, probably.)



The 2003 winner will receive the trophy from special guest Mr. Lou Ferrigno.


BTW, here is an old but good cartoon from Zanetti:

THE QUEEN IS DEAD!

In a bizarre twist of fate Queen Elizabeth the Second, head of the Sax Coburgh's and official ringleader of the British/German far-right supremacist party, has kicked the bucket. What began as a broken leg sustained through a minor accident before Christmas, as reported widely by newspapers yesterday, grew overnight into a Grand Death experience.

Prince Charles was at her bedside making a documentary about his difficult life at the time of the shuffling.

"It was very difficult," he told the eager camera crew. "Producing tears without motivation like that. Those actor chappies must be very skilful. The truth is, I barely knew the woman. The only time I ever spoke to her was when all the other cabbages had been harvested."

Seven French photographers were arrested and a roll of film believed to contain images of the Queen's evil soul departing through her rectum were confiscated by Uncle Blair and stashed in John Prescott's underpants.

"It whasn't an easy decision to make," confessed the Duke of Edinburgh at a mournful press conference of arse-licking toadies and politicians this morning. "Bat the poor old cow caddent walk properly so whe had ta shoot har through tha head."

Oh...hold on...wait a moment. That was what happened to Princess Diana, wasn't it?

My mistake, folks. Take the bunting down...the reign of evil isn't over yet.

"As a former Roman Catholic, I know what this bondage is all about." SOURCE.

Mr. Coffee, I assume by this that as a young lad most of your spare time was tied up in being a choirboy. Oh well, the bond to the Church is sometimes hard to throw off. (Especially if a double hitch step-over reef knot is employed.) Was Father O'Malley really into that stuff?!

Latest News as seen on British Television: The Queen is in hospital tonight recovering from an operation on her hip. Apparently she twisted her leg during a fall at the horse races over Christmas. She is said to be '...doing fine...' and is expected to back home by tomorrow at the latest.

Yeah? So what? Exactly how is this trivial bit of frippery news?

Here's some real news for all those celebrity-worshippers working in television...the rest of us don't give a flying fuck. If she'd have broken her neck then at least it might have been an amusing anecdote to close on. If, by this experience, she'd had an epiphany and divided her estates amongst the down-trodden tax-payers of the so-called Commonwealth then that might have been somewhat more interesting. The story, such as it is, however, doesn't even constitute a side-line in Private Eye. (And that's saying something!)

Grow up you arse-kissing, sycophantic bastards and earn your licence fee for once.

I want to add me own tuppence worth t' that young Peter Cooper's postin' 'bout guns an' stuff. An' no chopping me off in full flow this time like w'at y' did last time neither otherwise I'll get me blunderbus out an' riddle y'r 'eads wi' salt penis. Bloody editors...think they're Gods so they do ('scuse my Felatio)!

That Mr Cooper shows sense f'r a young 'un, most of 'oom are as thick as two short stumps! Afterall, where would I be now if it wasn't for My 'Enry's trusted old revolver w'at I keep under me pillow (God rest 'is nadgers)? Knowing I've got a 'uge big weapon pressed against me cheek at night let's me get t' sleep feelin' all safe an' 'appy like. Fortunately, as yet, I've 'ad no excuse t' use it, w'at with the population of the area all bein' law-abiding octopusarians. But believe you me if one o' those nig-nogs from down the market broke into me 'ouse in the small 'ours an' started fiddlin' with w'at don't belong to 'im under me nightclothes me only recourse would be t' blow his big black goggle-eyed 'ead off! An' no jury in the land would say I wasn't within my rights!

W'en I shot the postie by mistake last month it wasn't my fault. 'Ee was wearin' black gloves on account of it snowin' an' 'ee shoved his stupid fingers through me letterbox. I thought 'ee was one of those gang-wogs breakin' in. The blast took out 'alf me front door an' ruined me box it did! But did the courts convict me? Not on your Nellie, they didn't! They never found the body f'r a start, 'cos I 'id it under the bath. It's gone a bit smelly an' rotten now, but I ain't gettin' int' bother for somethin' w'at I didn't mean t' do.

What people need 'ere is proper masturbation. They need t' learn the difference between wog 'ands and furry black gloves! Teach 'em that an' there won't be any 'assle! An' as f'r me air-rifle! I've got to 'ave something t' shoot the squirrels in me rafters with! An' the ducks, o' course. An' the kiddies w'at ride their scooters past me front room window w'en I'm trying t' sleep.

I'm an 'undred and thirty seven, y' know? An' I've bin through three world wars! An' f'r w'at? Not so's the government can tell me to 'and in My 'Enry's (God rest 'is tonsils) sub-machine gun w'en there's Africans walkin' the streets, that's f'r certain!

In all this blairing around the bush pre-premature ejaculatory militarism, would it be churlish and unpatriotic to bring this up? Errrr, ummm what ever happened to the posse that was hot on the trail of that Osama bloke? (Anyone still remember him?)

And in local news. Inevitable at this time of the year in Melbourne. Woke up this morning to the smell and sight of this city blanketed in smoke from countless bushfires in the country and semi-rural suburbs. Suspect this is merely a pipe-opener.

Undaunted Mrs Feral and I donned our firefighting backpack tanks and went to an exhibition of this sheila's cartoons at the Victorian State Library. (I suspect Twisted would have enjoyed it.)



These guys tell us that Australia is currently on a heightened level of alert. Those Australians that aren't alert, xenophobic, paranoid, jingoistic and willing to swallow anything the government spoonfeeds them obviously have to be terrorists or fellow travellers.



Don't know whether her omnipresent ads for Weight Watchers are confined to Oz but if I see that barracuda faced Duchess of Porkflap one more time I shall be forced to shoot the TV set. Maybe I'll wait until she, Jamie the spitting cook and Setev Irwin appear on Parkinson together and do a job lot.
THIS WAS

Editor's note: If by the Duchess of Porkchops you're refering to Turgid Fergy and her feckled jowels then, to the best of my knowledge, she hasn't appeared in any weight watchers ads here in Blighty. It's probably in her 'civil list' contract.

A plumber sells books.

Record of the Week:

Or not, as the case might be...

Maurice Robin Gibb R.I.P. Shows how much attention I pay to celebrity gossip.)

Why?! I accept that I like the bizarre things, I admit that I am a bizarre one a little bit, but I have a very normal cartoon magazine. Pig war... farting cartoons... why?!

Your horoscope for 2003...derived at using the exact science, a very thick ephemeris and compasses and everything! Not just made up during breakfast like most astrologers are prone to do.

Aries: Early in the year you will discover something exciting to your advantage. It might be a £100 note. It might be the famous missing 'Amber Room' secretly buried in your back garden. By June, however, your luck will have changed and seventeen gnomes will dig up your flowerbeds to bury a small elephant amongst the petunias. Unless of course you live in a flat in which case your mother-in-law will swell up like a Zeppelin and develop mysterious yellow spots on her buttocks.

Taurus: Sometime between April and May you will celebrate the birthday of somebody close to you...possibly even your own. By September however, your life will become abnormally busy as various minor celebrities decide to adopt you as their mascot. The Krankies might even try to attach you to their hood ornament with lengths of knicker elastic, so avoid contact with all wrinkled transvestite dwarves around this period. In October you will have a lesbian affair with the Agricultural Minister and accidentally bite her tongue.

Gemini: You will smell bad for the first half of the year and develop an incurable disease for the latter. Don't expect to see Christmas. The festive shopping spree should be very economical for you.

Leo: Violent bouts of flatulence will disrupt your romantic encounters through February, in one instance blowing your partner's wig off and setting fire to their eyebrows. This will not be a good year for any Leos that collect weasels as a hobby. Watch out for the waning moon in November when three flying saucers will descend into your chimney and play havoc with your shire-horse ornaments. Expect to find small mounds of sick on the living room carpet in October.

Virgo: Relationships will be particularly unpleasant this year as your grumpy mood continues to decline. By March your entire family will have divorced you and will have gone to live in Wolverhampton where an unexpected house-fire will claim their lives along with those of thirteen guineapigs holed up in the bookcase. Financial problems will spiral out of control when you foolishly decide to buy the Taj Mahal after Easter, despite being well into your overdraft already.

Libra: Your refined beauty and intellectual genius will ensure that the year to come is every bit as successful as the last, the only downside being that the rest of the human race is ignorant, artistically retarded and smell of old socks.

Scorpio: You will die on January the 20th.

Sagittarius: With Virgo rising in Saturn and the moon trined against the cusp of Libra in mid-August you will spontaneously combust during a recital of Handle's Messiah at Thornton Lecture Hall, one of your kidneys surviving the inferno by being blasted onto a nearby rafter. The organ will go on to become Professor of Applied Economics at Christchurch by December.

Capricorn: Too much jelly and Ribena will turn you blue for several months. In August a large snail with make your life a misery when it sprays the names of all your secret gay lovers across the front wall of your house in indelible green paint.

Aquarius: This will be a year of mixed blessings. None more so than in July when the Pope will unexpectedly visit and, during a mass in your honour, choke on an apricot pip and die in your front room. Following several weeks of investigation Detective Smallbone will turn out to be the Baby Jesus in disguise and, consequently, threaten you with a pointed stick that has a small, detachable skull fastened by surgical bandage to one end.

Pisces: Absolutely nothing will happen to you this year so don't bother getting out of bed.

Uncle Brian: Astrologer Extraordinaire to those with enough sense to believe.