Sunday, 30 October 2011
Zoos have opened themselves up to opportunistic perverts. Unwittingly, we assume. Take a look at the photo (below) and we see how voyeurs can claim that they mistook the women’s toilet for another exhibit.
(CLICK ON 'Read more' LINK, BELOW)
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
Sunday, 23 October 2011
Nescafe has gone so far gifting us with instant coffee that tastes like cat’s piss. It has missed a trick in failing as yet to embrace civet cat shit. Time to shape up. It’s now quite well known that coffee beans fed to civet cats are stripped of their bitter flavours in digestion, emerging from its arse chocolatey and prized.
A consumable fresh from a cat’s arse – what could be more marketable? Nescafe need look only as far as its commercial romance from the 1980’s. Lumped together in the video clip, below, is that series (please click and play).
(CLICK ON 'Read more' LINK, BELOW)
Friday, 21 October 2011
Those hospital patient gowns are a good halfway house garment for those with tepid convictions about becoming a fully paid up member of naturism. For the gown shows off the so-called ‘arse’ while covering up the other wobbly bits. (As a general rule of thumb, we can assume that the bits we should cover up are those that we wouldn’t want dangled in our face at mealtimes… and sometimes when we’re having a snack.)
Out of the sexualised bits, the least controversial reveal in polite society has to be the arse. Builder’s cracks are not only tolerated but a symbol of integrity. The arse crack bursts out hairily, flabbily, saying ‘you’ve called in the right man for the job’, though, on the other hand you may be imagining a talking arse. Unless you have a special kind of rapport with your builder, certainly don’t talk back to his arse, otherwise under exceptional circumstances (though it is unclear what they might be). (CLICK ON 'Read more' LINK, BELOW)
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Sunday, 16 October 2011
Animal bullying is supposed not to be allowed. The decision was meant to put a stop to things like bear baiting, kangaroo boxing, cow tipping, teasing slugs, sticking a Chinese burn on a vole and tapping a shrew on the shoulder then turning round when it looks round like you too hadn’t a clue who had done it. (CLICK ON 'Read more' LINK, BELOW)
Thursday, 13 October 2011
For best results, click below, listen to The Girl From Ipanema, then read on...
What do we think of when we think of Brazil? Rainforest… nuts that don’t open at Christmas… pubic topography. But it’s the latter that says most about the second home of football, what Brazil is becoming. A world leader. A world beater in genital gardening. The Brazilians looked at what was happening with pubic hair in 1970s Europe. Bikini lines were given the same attention as neglected weeds growing between paving slabs. And so the Brazilians took their inspiration from nature. Or rather what ate into it – the countless airstrips hacked out of the rainforest. Airstrips to bring in the exploiters of the Amazon’s resources. If it hadn’t been for the ravaging of the virgin rainforest and the extinction of irreplaceable fauna and flora, we may not have ever benefitted from coiffeured pubic hair. (CLICK ON 'Read more' LINK, BELOW)
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
Sunday, 9 October 2011
For best results: Activate the mesmerising strains of the Lawrence of Arabia theme by clicking on the play button (above), and reading on...
Lawrence of Arabia will go down in history as the shortest, most succinct postal address.
Back in the early 20th century, from Damascus to Medina, the conversation between workers in sorting offices across the Arabian peninsula went something like…
‘I hate this job – the Bedouin always moving around. Don’t they ever leave a forwarding address? There’s no tent number on this envelope mate.’
‘Stick it in that bag, Abdul.’
The one marked ‘Lawrence of Arabia’. (CLICK ON 'Read more' LINK, BELOW)
Wednesday, 5 October 2011
Monday, 3 October 2011
If you’re American and your surname is Doe, it’s kind of a jinx to name your son John. How often have we seen in the cop shows, the procedurals, a detective ask down the mortuary, ‘what you got for us, doc?’
‘Got us a John Doe’, replies the mortician pulling out a drawer from an oversized filing cabinet containing a cadaver played by an actor hoping he won’t get typecast.
‘We only want what’s best for our son’, say Mr and Mrs Doe, but surely he can aspire to something better than getting done in and a label on his big toe? There must be some John Doe’s who have died of natural causes, they say. But, Mr and Mrs Doe, when did you last see a John Doe inscription down the local cemetery? (CLICK ON 'Read more' LINK, BELOW)
Saturday, 1 October 2011
When it comes to talent identification in sport, fat kids are slipping through the net. Albeit a net with a gappy mesh.
We’re all familiar with the way young footballers are brought on, but are we seeing enough from the Sumo Wrestling Academies, the Darts Academies? – sporting institutions that demand porky excellence. All too often they are failing to pick up raw talent. Darts scouts, where are you? There’s overweight youth out there planting the javelin perilously close to a foot-impaling in the athletics season. The sort of thing that generally gets overlooked. But look closer, scouts, at the consistency of the javelin placements. Notice a missile accuracy over a much shorter range and notice that the thrower is a ‘brandable’ tubby.
‘You’re very good,’ the scout may say, encouragingly. ‘Come out for a pint, son’. Or he could at least offer a half, because, from an early age, it’s also about conditioning. (CLICK ON 'Read more' LINK, BELOW)