A Bible Story

Jesus and Moses were playing catch at the beach. They had a pretty good rally going, when Jesus tried to show off and do a long throw, as Rory Delap doth do at the Britannia, and accidentally hurled the ball far out to sea.
Moses looked upon Jesus and said unto him, ‘What the fuck was that all about? I just bought that yesterday.’
But Jesus did look upon Moses kindly and smile, and say, ‘Dude, take a chill pill.’ And with that, he strode to the water’s edge and walked upon the surface of the water, to fetch Moses’ ball. And how the bikini beach babes did rejoice and say things like, ‘Oh Jesus, you da man.’
Moses though, was filled with jealousy, and in a fit of anger he did part the seas, sending Jesus crashing to the ocean floor. And O how the scribes, Pharisees and bikini babes did piss themselves laughing, and Ezekiel said unto Jeremiah, ‘Did you get that? Send it to Jeremy Beadle and that’s 250 quid there, mate.’
Alas, the lifeguards did ban Moses and Jesus from the beach for disobeying the Beach Code, rule 13; ‘no miracles,’ and God did look down from the heavens and say, ‘Pack it in you two. Can’t you see I’m trying to get a pool table into Jesus’ old bedroom?’
There was to be more ill fortune for Jesus later that day, when he was badly bitten by a guide-dog, who was unemployed after Jesus had cured most of the blind of Galilee. But Jesus did forgive the poor hound, and managed to change one tin of ASDA’s own dog chow into five thousand tins of Pedigree Chum, and all were happy.

Amen.

I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here! - The Contestants

Yes, it's that time of year again, when Big Brother is naught but a distant memory and Celebrity Big Brother is one glorious month away, I mean of course, the beginning of ITV's I'm a Celebrity!

Of course, with the advent of such a momentous occasion, there is always speculation about who is going into the jungle, so far names as disparate as the Queen, Condoleezza Rice, and Brad Pitt have been bandied around, but now, Buzzards can proudly reveal the confirmed list of entrants!

• Frederick de Bono - Former lead singer of 80s chart toppers, Freddy D and the Conscientious Objectors, he has spent the years since the band split practicing as a chiropractor. He is hoping to get to do it for real one day. He says he is entering I'm a Celebrity to please his legions of fans, and to 'make more money so I can buy some proper blow.' When we informed him that we don't do 'off the record', he denied having ever said it and pretended to be Alan Titchmarsh.



• Diane Bennett - Incredibly dull former athlete, who won an Olympic bronze in the hurdles or some bollocks ages ago. We were going to ask her why she decided to go on the show, but then decided we couldn't give one.



• Lord Armitage Shanks - Disgraced former peer who hit the front pages back in 1992 when allegations about his sexual peccadilloes came to light. When asked why he was going on the show, the 75 year old replied, 'Well, I just wanted the public to see that there is nothing strange, or, um, perverted about me. I want to show people that I'm just a normal, everyday, down-to-earth, sound-as-a-pound, bloke, who wouldn't dream of paying Czech rent boys to defecate on his chest.'



• The Ultimate RamRod - Sixteen-time World Heavyweight Wrestling Champion, who left the 'sport' in disgrace after his finisher, 'The Axis of Evil Slam', left an opponent a vegetable for life, and therefore, only slightly more intelligent than the average wrestling fan. Now a born-again Christian, he promises to 'body-slam non-believers' and 'pin Satan for the three count.' In the jungle, he hopes to spread the word of Jesus, and failing that, 'annoy everyone with my boorish, American personality and such.'



• Valerie Burnwick - Popular 80s newsreader, who is probably best remembered for the time she cried on air when the Berlin Wall came down. 'It was such a good wall,' sobbed the bricklayers' daughter into the shoulder of Nick Owen, as the nation looked on. Now, the strait-laced Oxford graduate hopes to show people that she's 'not so strait-laced, and can actually be quite fun.' She continued, 'People look at me and think I'm really strait-laced, but I'm not, I can actually be quite fun. Being a journalist, people will expect me to be strait-laced, but they'll be surprised to find that I'm actually quite fun. When I was at school, my friends would call me 'Funny Val.' Which is because I'm a fun person, not strait-laced, that's why they called me that.'



• Slimer - Probably the biggest celeb on the show this year, the former Ghostbusters associate is set to make his British TV debut. 'I'm so excited to be here in the UK,' said the friendly ghost at a press conference. 'And it's really swell that I'm gonna get to go to Australia to take part in this show, it's really the most exciting thing.' When he was informed he was the bookies favourite to win, he blushed and said, 'Aw shucks, you guys! I don't know about that, and gambling is immoral, but I'd sure be tickled pink to be crowned king of the jungle.' His happy smile then broke and he was heard to mutter something about finally taking his revenge on Dan Ackroyd.



• Stacey Bryce - Useless waste of fucking skin who is now as famous for getting her ridiculous breasts out as she is for complaining that she wishes her disabled son was six feet under. The tabloids are rejoicing at the chance of some 'proper totty' in the jungle, whereas Buzzards cannot get past her dead, dead eyes.



• Ahmed al-Rashed - Famous 'cleric of hate', who promises to bring chastity, purity, and circus juggling to the jungle. 'I learned to juggle when I was at cleric of hate school in Pakistan,' the 57 year old cleric of hate told us. 'The other clerics of hate would tease me about it, but I told them to lighten up. I won them round in the end, and they loved it when I juggled grenades, you just ask that Abu Hamza, the old bastard.' When asked how he would fit in with the other celebs, he remarked, 'I am good at chopping wood and hunting, and I like to think I would entertain the others with my juggling. That said, I wish swift death upon them all.'


• Quinton Alvecote - Ryder - Veteran pantomime dame who gained his hyphen during the economic boom of the 50s. A regular fixture on the panto circuit at Christmas, he has played Widow Twanky no less that 45 times, including once during a poorly-received production of Hamlet, starring Barry Chuckle as the Prince of Denmark. He said he wants to bring some 'glitter and glamour' to the jungle, and later remarked after a snowball that he wouldn't urinate on a particular contestant if he/she were on fire. The only way we will find out who that is, is if any immolation takes place. Here's hoping.


• Loretta Young - Founding member of the New Supremes, along with the third-cousin of Mary Wilson, Loretta travels the world singing classic Motown hits to confused yokels, and has agreed to come to the jungle, 'just to get away from the grind of singing You Can't Hurry bastard Love to dickheads in Working Men's Clubs.' When a cheeky wag questioned her celeb credentials, she did reveal that she once saw Olivia Newton John in Topshop, and said hello.


• Ruth Sanchez - Velasahatanaswad - Shrill feminist writer who has promised to 'bring true equality to the jungle.' When questioned as to why a credible journalist is wasting her time on a lowest-common-denominator reality TV series, Sanchez - Velasa... accused me of being a 'fascist beanbag', and then muttered something about paying for legal bills for a lawsuit brought about because she keeps calling people fascist beanbags.


• Kevin Dalston - And the final contestant, 80s funnyman, Kevin Dalston! Dalston wowed audiences at the Comedy Store with his biting satirical routines about the Thatcher government, even drawing praise from noted socialist Timmy Mallett. These days, Dalston is a Tory councillor who isn't averse to making the odd racial slur when the occasion calls for it. When asked if he was selling out his ideals by appearing on this show, he replied, 'What ideals? Shut up, you dago.'

Well, what a collection of personalities! I think this is going to be the best I'm a Celeb ever! So tune into ITV to watch it. Can you think of a better way to distract yourself from your inevitable death?

Subliminal Messages Time!

.EMAHS .DAED TON SI YENTRACCM LUAP

How Tourette's Can Ruin Your...Autopsy

PATHOLOGIST: There is a high amount of dopamines in the blood, but probably not enough to cause death. There are also some lesions on the scalp and neck. I'm going to refer this case to the coroner to get his opinion, and in the meantime...

CORPSE: Ballbags!

Buzzards Celebrity Blog Number Five: Roy 'Chubby' Brown

YOU FAT BASTARD! YOU FAT BASTARD! YOU FAT BASTARD! Hahaha, I'm only joking, he's good because he says what we're all thinking.

Extract from a political thriller I'm writing...

ANNOUNCER: And now, to read his award-winning essay, 'The Importance of Democracy in Britain', Tarvis Boon!

TARVIS: (seems angry but determined) Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of Parliament, but I would like to read a different essay, if I may.

ANNOUNCER: No.

Jokes that just don't work in stand up. Part Five

I've been thinking what I'd name my kids, and looking at celebrity baby names. Courtney Cox from Friends named her daughter Coco; she took the first two letters from her first name and the first two from her second name.
I've been thinking of doing that, but then I realised that it would be, Ben Davids: Beda (pronounced bidet, proper funny, innit?)
And I tell you someone else who shouldn't use that method to name their kid; Pete Doherty.


What normally followed was a short silence while the audience figured the joke out, followed by an even longer silence when they realised it was shit.

How Tourette's Can Ruin Your...Wedding Day

VICAR: If anyone knows any reason why these two people may not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.

VOICE FROM THE BACK: Ballbags!



Check back for more insights into the disability Vogue called, 'hilarious.'

Most Haunted transcript...

YVETTE: Are there any spirits present? Tap the table if there are.

Nothing happens for a very long time.

YVETTE: Did you hear that?

Love will tear us apart.

MAN: Oh my God! He's dead!

WOMAN: Hmm, you would say that.

A sample...

...of my music news writing. I have just taken a position at 'SkumDisko' magazine as a news writer, and was given this whopper of a story as my first assignment:

A promising young indie band were killed last night after their tourbus skidded off a mountain and into the open mouth of a hungry, hungry Hippo.
The Gnomic Bonobos, an octet from the Isle of Sheppy, garnered considerable hype from the music press earlier this year, with the release of their debut album, 'Pictures of Fanny'; the NME describing it as 'a beast of a record. Like the Clash taking a dump on Brian Wilson whilst fellating Aphex Twin who is lending a Public Enemy record to the jitterbugging corpse of the Dave Clark Five who have been at an all-night cottaging party with the Clash. Wicked.'
The band's manager, Tony McShyster said their deaths were, 'a tragedy,' but conceded that the way they died was 'quite humourous.' Meanwhile, fans have been leaving heartfelt tributes of the band's myspace page, one even commenting that, 'the Gnomic Bonobos were my life.'

They tour from Monday.

A protest song I've been working on...

Feel the rhythm,
Feel the beat,
Get on the dance floor and move your feet,
Put your hands in the air like you just don't care.
Free the Birmingham Six.

A guitar solo I've been working on...

Wow, wow, wa, wa ,wah, waaaaaaoooww... diddly diddly diddly waaaaaoow, da, da ,da ,daaaoooowwwww, blaaahhhhhhh, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee




Rocking!

Jokes that just don't work in stand-up. Part Four.

When I was a young boy, I didn't want to be a footballer, or a rockstar, or even a fireman; I was different. I wanted to be the Pope. Strange you might say, but the thing that made me want to be the Pope in the first place was when I saw a picture of him meeting U2, and I thought, 'Wow, cool! Bono can kiss my ring as well.'

Talking Points

1. OBAMA

BIDEN

2. OBAMAS

BI DEN

3. OBAMSA

BI DEN

4. OBASMA

BI ADEN

5. OBSAMA

BI LADEN

6. OSAMA

BIN LADEN

See? Only six steps away from the Axis of Evil.

Jokes that just don't work in stand-up. Part Three.

The Catholic Church is modernising these days. The other day I saw a newspaper advert from them, offering contraceptive advice... I say it's an advert, it was actually more of a pullout.

A pullout?






VOICE FROM THE BACK: Get off the stage! This is a Bar Mitzvah!

Jokes that just don't work in stand-up. Part Two.

I believe it was Forrest Gump that said, 'Life is like a box of chocolates.' I think this is fraudulent. Because to me, life is more like a kick in the nuts; quick, painful, and afterwards you need to lie down for a good while.

Jokes that just don't work in stand-up. Part One.

As you may be aware, from time to time I am wont to take to the stage and say words that, in a certain order, will elicit shrieks of recognition from the assembled gawkers. Part of this strange vocation is testing out new material, and sadly, there are some "jokes" that never, or at least very rarely, elicit the aforementioned shrieks, no matter how loud I scream them at people from a stage, or a moving bus.
This series of blog posts will be dedicated to these nuggets of brilliance that, much like the works of Vincent van Gogh, will only be appreciated after my death, which will presumably come as a result of being savagely beaten by an exasperated audience. I hope this will give you a window into my creative process, and serve as a kind of 'Deleted Scenes" for my hackneyed and, let's face it, cack, stand-up routine.


Q. Why did Margaret Thatcher get bedsores?
A. Because this lady's not for turning!


Eh? Eh? Yeah, you love it.

CRUNCH!

I'm poor! So desperate am I, that I decided to rob a bank. I'm now in half a billion's worth of debt. I need a bailout!

This takes me back to my days as a bailiff, where I would visit the homes of people who hadn't paid back their student loans to repossess any knowledge they may have gained during their degree. 'Neither a borrower nor a lender be" said some bloke out of Hamlet. Wise words.

Amnesties don't solve everything, so stop saying they do, because they don't.

To combat knife crime in my area, the police announced a knife amnesty. After a month, stabbing related deaths were down 40%, but choking on whole carrot related deaths shot up a whopping 1800%.
Evidently they haven't learned their lesson, because they've just announced a clampdown on drug use, which will entail a spoon amnesty. Now I have to move house so I can use a full set of cutlery without fear of imprisonment. Hell in a handcart.

Buzzards Celebrity Blog Number 4: Hannibal Lecter

I love him. He says, 'I ate his liver with a fine chianti, ufufufufufufuff.' I can't do it, but you know.

I'm tired...

...because I was up late last night attending the National Hack Comedians Banquet, celebrating the start of the "Special Olympics." Honestly, I haven't been this excited since our daytime TV/insurance adverts symposium back in February. It was great, we'd watch Claims Direct ads and all shout "What the fuuuuuck?" in unison afterwards.

Stoke!

I was recently having lunch with my writer friend, Rudy Dingle, who was telling me a little about his creative process. Apparently, he lies on a couch and dictates his novels to a French-speaking bonobo with an electric typewriter. It's a mystery as to why he has yet to be published.
Anyway, he went on for a good while about his work and I eventually lost my rag and told him to shut it. He didn't take too kindly to this and proceeded to punch me in the mouth at the dinner table. Thank God he was wearing boxing gloves at the time.
After I had asked for the bill, and he had agreed to pay for his meal because he had hit me and everything, he regaled me with a story about a recent visit to the delightful city of Stoke-on-Trent, which I will relate to you here;



"Stoke-on-Trent: the last refuge of all the scoundrels, drifters and hobos in the North Staffordshire area. Sure, you might think it's all fun and games, with its Alton Towers and its Potteries and such, but underneath, theres a seamy underbelly of corruption and crime.
I was visiting Stoke one afternoon to buy a new roof for my house, when I became stuck in a nasty traffic jam. I didn't know what the hold-up was at the time, but I later discovered that a Tate & Lyle lorry had overturned, leaving the road "too sweet" to be driven on safely.
After about five minutes, I saw a man looking at me from the pavement. I pretended like I didn't see him, but he just kept staring at me. He was a well-dressed gentleman, resplendent in a tweed suit and hat, and carrying a cane with a brass knob, so I thought he couldn't be that bad. Then, after I made eye contact, he walked over to my car and rapped on the window with his cane.
He looked at me and smiled, he had a sweet, old face so I wound the window down for him, I figured he needed directions or something. I noticed that he kept one hand behind his back as he leaned forward.
"Hello there," I said.
He looked at me, never losing his smile, and smashed me in the face with some pottery before running away, laughing.
Temporarily blinded, I grasped around the car, looking for a handkerchief or something, when the traffic in front started to move away. Soon, noticing my lack of forward momentum, the cars behind me began to beep and rev, and soon I had a line-up of motorists waiting to smash me in the face with pottery.
Needless to say, I didn't get to buy a new roof, and now I must go home and sit on my couch, being soaked by this damnable rain. But even though Stoke is the only place I can buy one, I will go without rather than visit that hellhole again. The horror. The horror."


He finished this story and waited for my response. I did nothing for a few minutes and told him that it all sounded a bit far fetched. I was expecting him to punch me again, but instead he calmly thanked me for my time and then left. The next day, I was sent a bomb through the post that singed my eyebrows beyond all recognition. I don't know, that's what you get when you're friends with these artsy types.

The Generation Game

A lot of older people say that kids these days don't know they're born. They might think that they're using metaphors to describe the relatively privileged young people of today, but actually, in the case of my cousin, Horshack, they're being more literal than they think.

You see, since he was born, his parents have kept Horshack in a large moist sack and fed him through a tube.

They're very nervous people, my aunt and uncle. Once, when one of their pet goldfish drowned, my uncle contemplated gassing himself in his car, until he remembered how expensive petrol is these days. In the end, he remembered his lactose intolerance and took a near-fatal overdose of Dairylea Dunkers.

There was a point to all this, but I've forgotten it. The TV's on in the background and one of those Halifax adverts both distracted me and filled me with a homicidal rage only a good round of EST can quench.

The God Delusion

PREACHER: And on the seventh day, He created man.

VOICE FROM THE BACK: No He didn't!

PREACHER: You don't believe that God created the Universe?

VOICE FROM THE BACK: No I don't.

PREACHER: Well then, if He didn't, who did?

VOICE FROM THE BACK: Charles Darwin.

Stray conversation fragments heard whilst walking through town

"A tramp just fingered my sandwich."

"You mean, you pretended you could speak Burmese just to get me into bed?"

"Don't you dare shoot that fucking vole."

"I never asked to be your weighbridge clerk."

"I know your urologist hates me, I can see it in his eyes."

"Have you ever noticed that a lot of ginger blokes are called Luke?"

"Help! I've been stabbed! Someone get a sponge!"

"Must you italicise everything?"

"Shut up a minute, I'm bowling."

"...and the thing is, he's not even a real Colonel. He just wears military regalia and eats raw popcorn."

"This soup is itchy."

"...what I can't comprehend though, is why you insisted on talking like Frank Bruno for the entire evening."

"You could have a Jubilee party under that sombrero, Carol."

"Stop touching his warts! They bite!"

"I wish you'd turn them pikelets over, they'll burn."

"He's got wood stuck in his teeth! Tickle him!"

My debut album...

...will be released both digitally, and in physical formats (CD, USB, LP, Cassette, Braille) on 30th September 2008.

Pineapple "Turner" Zeitgeist is a collection of songs written on the road, more specifically, the Amington Main Road in Tamworth, that will touch your soul and redefine what it is to be human in the 21st Century.
The tracklist is as follows:

1. The Revolution Is Giving Me Faceache
2. Rock Me Like Merlin
3. No Need To Get Emulsional
4. Pork!
5. You Broke My Heart And Messed With My Radio Stations
6. Sssh! I Can Hear Popping
7. The City is a Parasite (Lichfield Blues)
8. The Boy With The Golden Galoshes
9. That's Leprosy!
10. Donde Esta Mi Pan de Muertos? (Where is my dead bread?)
11. Give Iceland Back To The Irish
12. Return Nelson Mandela To Prison
13. Don't Come Too Close, I'm Spasming
14. I Asked You To Dance, You Asked Me To Defenestrate
15. spmalgdnarG, yltfoS eM oT tI oD (Or 'Do it to me softly, Grandglamps' spelled backwards. The entire song is performed backwards, and an advanced copy was recognised by the Welsh Language Music Association for its contribution to the advancement of Welsh language in music. See, even they can't tell the difference.)

A scene of domestic bliss...

A middle aged couple sit in comfortable armchairs in a comfortable suburban living room, watching a comfortable TV set, which is standing in a comfortable corner, which is part of the comfortable house that they live their comfortable lives in. Comfortable.

NEWSREADER ON TV: The Chancellor has warned today that the UK faces its worst economic crisis for over sixty years. Despite some encouraging indications from the Bank of England, the credit crunch is now worse than ever.

MAN IN COMFORTABLE ARMCHAIR: Well then. I might as well just go and kill myself.

WOMAN IN COMFORTABLE ARMCHAIR: Hmm.

Diary of a Serial Killer Part 2

Now, the entry you've all been waiting for, Diary of a Serial Killer, Part 2!



13/4
Nightmare day! After lunch (turkey goulash, v.v. stodgy) I was called to the office, to find my solicitor and a group of other men sitting around a desk. Apparently, I'm being fingered for some crimes I may or may not have committed whilst travelling around America in the 80s. Shudder! They want to extradite me apparently, but they're waiting to see if they can get authorisation.

14/4
Still waiting to hear about the extradition. Received a letter from K, apparently his latest play, A Stitch in Time Saves No-one is opening at the Crucible. Seized with a fit of jealous rage, I sent him back a bag of my toenail clippings. Then I sent off a cheque for £400 to the Argos catalogue, because I wanted one of those George Foreman sub-machine guns.

15/4
I didn't get a wink of sleep last night because I have a horrible feeling that I sent the toenails to Argos and the cheque to K. V.frustrated at not being able to kill him, I stapled a picture of him to the back to my cellmate's head before I beat him unconscious with a table leg.

16/4
I love solitary. It gives me time to think. Trouble is, I don't want to think now because I found out today that the extradition is going ahead. One of the guards has brought me a portable TV in; he owes me because I recommended a good Cabernet Sauvignon, but all it would pick up was The Benny Hill Show. Not only did the TV have a poor signal, it was thirty years slow and has questionable attitudes towards women and milkmen.

25/9
Well, I've never been so shocked! I've been given the death sentence. Just for chopping up two fat truckers and feeding them to two fatter truckers! I've said it before and I'll say it again, the law is an ass.
I decided that my lawyer was a buffoon, so I decided to act as my own defence. Admittedly, I probably didn't help matters by beginning, 'Fat piggy people and bottomfeeding hillbillies of the jury.' And now, I am to be killed. So be it. There are worse things that can happen to a fellow in Texas. Like visiting a waffle house.

05/1
The eve of my execution. I was refused my request for a last meal. Apparently, they couldn't source the liver of a sixteen year old virgin in time, so I was given something called a "Big Mack", which I used to grease up the bars of my cell and escape.
Regrettably, the police picked me up about a mile away, trying to get a good table at a gourmet steakhouse, despite the fact that I hadn't made reservations.

06/1
Given the electric chair. V.painful!

10/01
Cremated. Feeling a bit low at the moment.

Oh Mein Papa

I'm rather perturbed this week because my father has accidentally joined Al Qaeda. He saw a picture of an Islamic fundamentalist carrying a sign saying, 'Death to the West', and, being a die-hard Birmingham City fan, assumed that the word 'Bromwich' was written on the back.



Now he has to go all the way down to the bank to cancel his standing order. Oh crime! What sacrifices must be made in thy name?!

My letter to the editor...

Dere (sic) Sir,

I reesuntlee (sic) visitid (sic) the locul (sic) VD klinik (sic) for sum (sic) treetmunt (sic). I wuz (sic) absulootly (sic) disgustid (sic) with the condishuns (sic) their (sic).
Seein (sic) the durt (sic) and grime clingin (sic) to the wallz (sic) maid (sic) me feal (sic) fizzically (sic) sic (sic) (sic) (sic) (sic) (sic) (sic)

Yors (sic)

Ben (sic) Davids (sic)

Diary of a Serial Killer Part 1

The following is an exclusive extract from the diaries of Basford Harper, the notorious 'Shropshire Ripper.' The full diaries are available from all good retailers from £0.10p.


15/7
Had lunch with J - grilled salmon was v.nice, cheesecake was fine, but raspberry coulis was a bit too tart. J complained that his bread and butter pudding was soggy. Fussy sod!

16/7
Killed J.

17/7
Went for a walk in the woods, saw a deer. How cute! Dumped two hooker torsos. Drank tea from my new Thermos.

20/7
Haven't written for a few days. Been v.busy with all the killings and that. Tiring stuff. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

21/7
M phoned and asked if I wanted to go to a party at his house. Trouble is, I know H will be there, and I don't really want to see her, especially after our run-in last month. I don't want to let M down, but then I don't want to cause a scene, what am I to do?

22/7
Burned M's house down.

24/7
Went to a talk on Larkin with R. I argued that while Larkin's misogynistic tendencies are undoubtedly unpleasant, it is possible to appreciate his poetry by its own merits. R argued that such a humanistic reading was glib and blinkered. We debated for a while, and blah, blah, blah I've only just finished disposing of the body.

25/7
I'm beginning to worry that I will have killed my entire alphabet of acquaintances by the end of the year. Must slow down or I'll have have nothing to do over the party season.

05/1
Haven't written in a long time. The day after my last entry I was arrested for multiple murders. I knew I shouldn't have published this diary online.
Yesterday I was sentenced to ninety consecutive life-terms. Needless to say I was so perturbed I couldn't even manage my second helping of foie gras.

A taster of my latest project...

...an apocalyptic disaster movie in the vein of Armageddon, starring Freegan Morman as the President of the United States, Oback Barama. The scene I am about to exclusively preview is the emotional climax of the picture; the President has to inform the world's press that a meteor the size of a small dog, but the weight of Jersey is heading to Earth, where it will surely wipe out all life on the planet, or at the very least ruin a few barbecues and summer fetes.
While he has to remain calm, he is gripped by inner turmoil, because his maid has rejected his amorous advances and refused to smell his new chloroform collection.

Now, with the President behind the podium, the world waits with baited breath...

BARAMA: Ladies and gentlemen of the press, it is my regrettable duty as President of the United States, to inform you that we as a species are on the verge of extinction. Presently, a meteor is travelling towards Earth at a fantastic speed, and it will make impact.

VOICE FROM THE BACK: Speak up!

BARAMA: (LOUDER) There is a deadly meteor heading for the Earth!

VOICE FROM THE BACK: OK, that's better. Now do it again, but make it more convincing.

Buzzards Celebrity Blog Number 3: Vincent Van Gogh

He's the one that chopped his ear off isn't he? Eh? What a nutter.

The Cosmos and other inconveniences

Have you ever looked at the skies and felt small and insignificant? I know I have, but then I feel like that most of the time, anyway.
When you stand in a field or atop the shoulders of the one you love, and look up at that infinite void, you can't help but wonder if there are other beings out there, who share our affinity for star-gazing and hamburgers.
Seeking solace, I joined my local paranormal group expecting to find kindred spirits, but what I actually found were four elderly men, gathered around a small, grainy photo of a 'UFO', which upon closer inspection, turned out to be a lamp.