Church of the Poison Mind

Why do I hate organised religion? Because generally, it eschews all the values it claims to uphold and instead, utilizes it's power to seize money, land and kill people for all the wrong motives. As an example, take The Crusades - oh, what a great idea that was. Devised by the Catholic Church as early as 1095, and, sanctioned by the pope (pontificating twat), it was simplistically a free for all killing spree where anyone with a sword could march around Europe saying, "Do you believe in jesus christ then?" and if the answer wasn't yes, tough shit, you were dead. Didn't matter if you didn't understand the question, that was the same as a no.

Oh what a great idea that is (he said, extremely sarcastically). Simplistically, church terrorists. However, because the pope said it was ok, then it was ok then. What a fucking crock of shit. The supposed reason, to recapture Jerusalem from those naughty muslims. Their crime, because they happened to live there. Oh well, that's alright then is it? "Right you satans spawn, we shall drive you from our holy land" - "But we were here first" - "Ah, but that's not the point is it?" - "Yes it is" - "No it's not, cos the pope told us so and you don't believe in god so there" - "But we believe in allah, which is the same as your god".

Of course, once you let men loose with weapons they kind of get into all that killing malarkey, so by the time of the fourth crusade, people had lost the plot entirely. "Let's attack Constantinople" - "But why, did the pope tell us to?" - "Well, er, no, but it begins with a C and that's the same letter as christ begins with so they're obviously taking the piss aren't they" *cue angry mob waving their swords in the air shouting "yeah - kill, kill, kill*

As per usual, with dis-organised religion, because people were using it for their own benefits, anything good got ignored. The bishops offered the jews sanctuary in the church, and even highlander wasn't allowed to fight in there - but oh no, they were up for the killing spree in the name of the church now, so the 'christian soldiers' just broke into the churches and slaughtered everyone anyway. So the poor bishops got rogered for trying to help people who weren't even of the same religion.

It had all started because the pope didn't like turkey. He much preferred goose for his christmas lunch and so he called his army of idiots and said kill turkeys but by the time the word had been passed to the back, it had become 'we're going to Turkey' "What for?" "I dunno, kill, kill, kill". So off they all toddled to Turkey and set about killing everyone. Eventually they arrived in Jerusalem, continued with their kill, kill, kill policy and so they had Jerusalem. Hooray - only killed a shit load of people for no reason then. And so it continued for hundreds of years.

Mmmm - organised religion my arse.

One Can Only Dream

Such a perfect day, one can only dream. If, and I stress IF, I had a perfect day, I would imagine it would go something like this:-

Wake up in the arms of ones lover
Deliver breakfast in bed
Receive 'breakfast in bed'
Go and watch something so very dear to your soul that your heart cries
Be happy
Eat perfect food
Drink perfect drinks
Go to a lovely home, cuddle your partner and watch a movie
Fall asleep in your partners arms.

Hmmmmmm - that'll be the perfect day then.

If only I could've been there..........

Mariposa, te quiero XXXX

Life by Numbers

An interesting theory, obviously thought up by someone who has fuck all better to do with their time (should've done a blog bwahahahahaha). Anyway, the theory is that these muppets interviewed shit loads of people in the UK and then came up with these averages overall. So assuming you live to be the average age of 78, you will do the following (and no I didn't make this shit up):-

The average person, during their life, will:-

(in no particular order)

Eat 21 sheep
Consume 5,272 apples
Read 533 books
Open 854 tins of beans
Fart 35,815 litres of 'wind'
Drink 10,351 pints of beer
Cry 121 litres of tears
Smoke 77,000 cigarettes
Have sex 4,239 times

These are just a few of the numbers these saddos came up with. Now, my instinct initially was to question how relevant these numbers were to me. I'm glad they didn't say 'eat' apples cos that ain't gonna happen - but consume, ok as I can drink cider so that's ok. Books? fucking pissed that one years ago, 10 books a year - hmm, closer to 6 a month but that's another story.

How did they come up with measuring farts in litres? "Scuse mate, can you just fart in this bag we need to quantify it". Yeah, right.

Drink 10,351 pints - oops - bust that one already then but it's ok, I'm just helping the teetotallers out.

Sex? Well, assuming I wasn't a virgin, then I would just be helping the nuns out - they need a boost with their statistics.

And I can't help but wonder which ones are related. Have sex, fart, cry, smoke a cigarette and then drink. Logical progression really.

I will leave you with a few more 'choice' statistics and wish you all a beautiful weekend.

ala,
S

104,390 dreams
1,700 friendships made
4,239 rolls of arse-wipes (toilet roll) used
149 litres of vomit
629 christmas presents received
9.42 metres of hair grown

My New Best Ex-Friend

Don't you just love it when relationships turn sour? No? Neither do I.

One day, all the little flowers are happy, all the birdies are too *tweet, tweet* and then WHAM (an incredibly shite band I hasten to add, but I was trying to use the sound of a moose impacting on your car while you are travelling at 100 mph). All the world goes tits-up because of a misunderstanding.

Fucking hell - if I want to abuse someone, I do it to their face, not indirectly, through turd parties or the gossip column. If, I want to belittle some piece of shit for being an iconic arse-wipe I will do it directly - I at least want to have the satisfaction of seeing a 'job well done'. So if you hear "Well, S said this" - BullFUCKINGshit. If I wanted to say something, I would at least say it directly to their face and then wait for a reaction.

I do not, EVER, betray a friend - it's fucking hard enough to find one in the first place.

But, no, "the rumour mill has to be believed". *whiney voice*"but you said this" - oh did I? I was there and I don't remember "but you must of".... Yeah well, FUCK YOU and I'm sorry I even tried to get to know you - my mistake, I thought you were worth it.

Oh well, one less Christmas card to buy.

*retreats to the shadows where he belongs*

S

Goth Bond Stars in ThunderBalls PT III

*(Review - Goth Bond and his favourite, Pussy - yes Pussy Galore are back. Bond has done away with the evil Prozac and is now after the Big Bangs stolen by Number 1 & Number 2, agents for the evil Fill Spector)*

Once Goth Bond has arrived on shore he goes straight to his super-spy equipped BMW. Immediately after he gets in, a voice announces that he has a video message. Bond keyed in the security code and watched the message from Y. Y informed Bond that the Big Bangs have been tracked to Nassau and that an airlift has been arranged to transport Bond and his super-spy car direct to Nassau. Bond sends a text message to Y telling him that he needs Pussy for this and to fly her to Nassau too - Bond is aware of how much easier the mission will be with Pussy alongside him.

A couple of hours later, the large Sikorsky helicopter deposits Bond and the car on the island of Nassau. Bond has discovered that the evil mastermind behind this plan is the cunning and relentless Libido. Initially, Goth decides to get to Libido via his soft spot, the amply proportioned Domino. Bond doesn't realise that Libido is trying to use Domino's charms to kill him and the effect of her charms are certainly working. Bond can feel the motion in his tight leather trousers as the sight of her heaving bosom promises untold riches. 'Get a grip of yourself Bond' he thinks, and then realises that the movement is actually his mobile phone that's vibrating.

"Excuse me" says Bond "I have to take this" and answers the call. "Alright" says Bond finishing the call. "Something to worry about?" asks Domino. "Indeed" says Bond in a grave tone of voice "It's your brother" he says. "My brother has your number?" asks a clearly surprised Domino. "No" says Bond "Your brother's dead, killed by your beloved Libido". It takes a few seconds to sink in and then Domino collapses. Bonds lightning fast reflexes mean that he is able to catch her before she hits the ground. "That'll be the domino effect then" he said quietly.

After Goth Bond has revived Domino, he takes her to bed. He hadn't wanted it to be this way but he is too much of a gentleman to turn her down - a damsel in a dress. All the time that they make love though, all he can see is Pussy - probably the reason why he is O-69. Later, Domino confides in Bond and explains where Libido is. Goth Bond is determined to find Libido, save Pussy and generally save the world - in a cool but laid back way.

Bond calls Y - "Chief, we have to pull together" and frowns as Domino takes his phrase literally. To Bonds great relief, Y understands why and orders shit loads of fish.

Indeed, they need the help of the Navy Seals for this one, and fishy smells are all that can tempt the Seals.

Meanwhile, Libido thinks he is getting everything right - he starts pushing the right buttons. Libido sends a lot of little divers into the cave where he will hatch his proof of dominance. However, Bond knows this is the time to repel such an action, so he dons his rubber suit and plunges deep. Down there, it's a dangerous place but Goth Bond knows what he is doing. Almost in slow motion, he thrusts...but, will it be enough?

The Seals are gobbling like there is no tomorrow but Goth Bond keeps his head - he knows there's more to come. Slowly, but surely, Goth raises his head from the deep but, Libido is still not finished. Libido has jumped ship and tries to escape but Bond is having none of it. "Fine" says Bond, "If you want to play dirty, kiss my arse". Bond reaches for his utility belt and pulls out the weapon that U didn't want to see. It's the circum-navigating-circumcising-never-want-to go-there device. Goth Bond launches it and there is a resounding wail of pain as Libido is well and truly rogered.

"That'll teach you to mess with Goth Bond Libido" says Bond as Pussy comes and says, "Another one tonight Goth - I have to share again?".

"It's ok" says Bond, "This is for your mouth only"

*Theme music - 'He's the man, the man with the Thunderballs so please don't touch'*

Goth Bond Stars in ThunderBalls PT II

*(Review - Goth Bond and his favourite, Pussy - yes Pussy Galore are back. Bond has done away with the evil Prozac and is now at a health farm to try and find out what evil plot Fill Spector has come up with now)*

Goth removed his leather trousers and folded them neatly. After removing the rest of his outfit, he carefully wrapped a black towel around his body and stepped into the massage room. There were two massage tables, one empty (the one for him he presumed) and the other had a corpulent middle aged chap lying on it. "Alright mate" said the man "Bit fooking hot in here i'nt it?". 'Great' thought Bond 'Not what I imagined at all'. "I'm Count Lippy" announced the little lard-arse, "I know so much I frighten myself sometimes". Bond paused and then calmly stated "The name's Bond, Goth Bond". Lippy visibly shuddered - he knew the name but had never seen Goth before.

Two women walked into the room, one portly and rather sour-faced woman, and another tall blonde with the biggest pair of bazookas Bond had ever seen. The blonde went straight to Bond and started rubbing her hands together in preparation. Bond had already seen the tattoo on Lippys shoulder - a Ronnette that he knew was only awarded to one of Fill Spectors evil gang. Whilst the masseuse worked her magical fingers over Bonds body, Bond was busy calculating just what it would take to shut Lippy up. All the time, Lippy was jabbering nonsense "yabba, yabba, yabba......". Soon enough the masseuse had finished and after carefully placing a card next to Bond which read "Call me, fuck me" she announced it was time to go.

Bond was walking back to his room trying to ignore Lippys inane babble when a door opened. A man, covered in bandages sat in a chair gurgling. 'That's a bit odd' thought Bond. When he arrived at his room Bond prepared to get into bed when he noticed movement under the sheets. He pulled back the sheets and saw 3 tarantulas, 2 black widows and a horses head. "Fucking spiders" said Bond and carefully wrapping the sheets he threw the lot out of the window. He quickly dressed and went to find Lippy.

Meanwhile, Lippy was busy drinking cocktails singing "I killed the Bond, he's not so bloody hard, la la la la la". Bond quietly walked up behind Lippy and put him out of his misery.

Now to find out what the guy dressed as a mummy was doing. He returned to the room where he had seen elastoplast man but it was too late. The man was well and truly plastered. Goth Bond managed to get the mans details from his wallet and found that he had been a pilot on transport planes carrying big bangers. 'So that's Spectors plan' thought Bond 'Bombing around the Christmas trees'. He returned to his room, quickly dressed and left. A quick call to U to arrange the gadgets he needed, a quick call to Y to explain why he was going to the Caribbean and a long time on to Pussy.

Hours later and the plane touched down in Jamaica. Bond strode down the steps and went into the nearby hanger. "Nice one U" he said as he looked appreciatively at the gleaming BMW. He opened the boot of the car and surveyed the equipment - "Jeez, this boy really needs to get out more" he said quietly. He took the 'Axis of Evil' locator from a briefcase and switched it on. The signal came through clear - 2 miles off the coast. Bond jumped into the BMW and sped down to the harbour.

Retrieving the special jetski which U had camouflaged as a dinghy, he stripped down to his leather thong, utility belt and Gucci sunglasses and set off in the direction of the signal. A quarter of a mile short he saw three boats - a triumvarate of evil. The bad guys were already underwater trying to retrieve the Big Bangs so that Number Two could do his nasty business. Bond knew the evil Fill Spector plan was to unleash a wall of sound on the world. Not since he had defeated Stock, Aitken and Waterman had Bond faced such a dreadful enemy.

Goth Bond took out the minute scuba apparatus from the utility belt and sent the jetski into a dive to the floor of the ocean. At the bottom, he pressed a button and the jetski disguised itself as a giant clam and Bond tried to get closer to the sunken plane to see more closely what was transpiring.

A harpoon streaked through the water and missed Goth Bonds head by inches. Goth turned to see five evil divers heading towards him. He raised his middle finger in a salute and took the blood pack from the utility belt. Releasing the blood he retreated behind the clam. Already, the nearby sharks had scented blood and sighted the evil divers who were paddling furiously toward Bond. In less time than it takes to make a Pot Noodle, the evil divers were shark dinner. Unfortunately for Bond, all this pissing about had meant that Number One and Number Two had retrieved the Big Bangs and the boat was already heading back to shore.

Goth Bond let out a bubble curse, which slowly floated to the surface before popping and releasing the words "Bastards". He would have to get back to shore and try and locate the Number brothers again. He turned the clam back into a jetski and shot to the surface. Time was running out and Bond still hadn't had time for Pussy.

to be continued....

Goth Bond Stars in ThunderBalls

The funeral had already started when Goth Bond arrived. He carefully manouvered the Aston Martin so that nobody would see Pussy - he didn't feel comfortable with people staring when he had Pussy in his car. "You wait here" said Bond, "I just need to go and check that the evil Fill Spector agent Prozac is actually dead". "Well I hope he's dead for his sake" said Pussy Galore "I wouldn't fancy being buried alive". "I have to check" explained Bond "Y has been going on for ages about getting rid of Prozac".

Bond got out of the car and wandered over to where the coffin was about to be covered in soil. He recognised some of the evil henchmen but something didn't seem right. He spotted Prozac's bereaved wife getting in the car and then he realised what had happened. Prozac had killed his own wife - Goth Bond had read about the dangers of Prozac but even he was surprised at this.

Bond raced back to the car and jumped in making Pussy squeak. "Careful Goth" she said "I nearly wet myself there - what is it?" she asked nervously. "We have to go after Prozac now - hold tight Pussy." They raced off after the funeral car which finally stopped at Chateau Antidepress. Goth carefully hid the Aston in some trees and took a rucksack out of the car. "Oh wow" said Pussy "A picnic, how thoughtful of you Goth". "I'm afraid not" said Bond "I have to deal with Prozac then you and I see Y". "See why what?" asked Pussy, "No" replied Bond, "We have to go and see my boss Y".

With that Goth disappeared into the trees whilst Pussy waited, her lips slightly trembling. Less than 5 minutes later there were a couple of loud bangs and then Goth started to descend from the sky. 'Oh my Goth' she thought 'he can fly as well. Goth Bond landed beside the car and took off the rucksack, which was actually a jetpack, jumped into the Aston and started speeding down the road. After a particularly sharp hairpin he unleashed a pool of oil from the back of the Aston Martin and watched with a satisfied smile as the pursuing bad guys shot off the road, hit a tree and exploded.

"Like I always say Pussy" Goth winked, "Slippery when wet" and they sped off to catch a plane to London.

Goth Bond strode into MI6 headquarters and came up silently behind his favourite secretary. "Need some help putting things in there Miss FunnyFanny?" Bond asked mischievously. "Oh Goth, I thought you'd never ask but why have you come?" replied FunnyFanny. "Summoned by Y " answered Bond "Although I really did need to see U too".

"Alright Bond" boomed a voice over the intercom "Stop teasing FunnyFanny and get yourself in here". In Y's office were a couple of people Goth Bond didn't look the like of at all. The sort of people he knew had to pay for sex because they were about as interesting as wet fish, or accountants.

"I'm sending you to a health farm Bond" announced Y. "Like fuck you are" replied Bond "I'm not poncing about in a dressing gown eating lentils and all that bollocks". "It's not a request Bond, it's an order - we've had two agents killed in two days trying to find out what's going on there" explained Y "Now it's your turn so get in there and sort it out. And don't forget to collect some new gadgets from U, I know U's been busy". "Alright" said Bond "But I am not eating fucking lentils". And with that, Goth Bond turned on his heel and left.

Some hours later, Goth Bond pulled up at the large country mansion that had been turned into a health farm. The tyres scrunched the gravel as he pulled into a parking space near the front entrance - Goth was never one to go in the back entrance. A bell-boy came out to help carry Bonds suitcases, but Bond only had an overnight bag. He had absolutely no intention of staying near health freaks for any longer than was absolutely necessary. He was shown to his room and he tipped the bell-boy. Opening the fridge he almost laughed at it's contents - fruit juice and mineral water. Smiling he opened his overnight bag and took out a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Just as he had sat down and poured himself a generous measure of JD into a crystal tumbler, the phone rang. "Mr Bond?" enquired the voice at the other end "Yes" replied Bond, "I'm the Swedish Masseuse that was ordered for you." said the decidely husky voice at the other end of the line. She gave Bond the details of where to come and he finished his JD, threw his jacket on the bed and said to himself "The things I do for my country" and headed off to get his massage.

To be continued

The Hitchhikers Guide to Goth Pt IV

Arthur sat and contemplated his drink and began to get worried. Every time recently that he did this, the contemplation led to trepidation and that only led to worse 'ations'. The voice of Honey did nothing to allay his growing fears. "Zaphod - you'd better get to the bridge, and really quickly as we're landing". A few minutes later, Zaphod almost ran into the room. "OK" he said in an authoritative manner, and then, in a decidedly less authoritative tone "What the fuck's going on?".

"I don't know" said Honey truthfully, not wanting to admit she'd been too busy with her bikini line. "The ship just informed me that we're landing" she said. "Techno-fuckia" exclaimed Zaphod without having a clue what it meant. Meanwhile, Goth Perfect just sat on the side of the room, smoking a cigarette and thinking 'I've got a really bad feeling about this'.

A short while later, the Heart of Goth landed and with a resonating voice, the ships computer announced "Well, here we are then - as requested". The four travellers looked at each other to try and ascertain who's stupid idea this had been. No-one was owning up. Goth decided to take charge of the situation and so asked "Who asked?". "You all did" replied the computer dryly. "I don't recall asking for anything" said Goth. "Yes you did" said the computer "You pointedly said, and I quote, 'What the fuck is going on?' as did the other three. So, therefore, I brought you to the place where the answers are".

"THE answers?" they all asked, "Yes" said the computer, "The answers to life, the universe and everything". And with that, the main door opened and the computer switched into stand-by mode.

"Alright !" announced an excited Zaphod "Now we get to find out why, or what, or who or something". Arthur felt the panic start to rise in his throat. Honey felt the itch in her pants where she'd missed a bit. Goth felt in his pockets to check he had enough cigarettes and Zaphod felt around for his sunglasses (top of the range glasses that would turn completely opaque at the slightest hint of danger - if you couldn't see how bad things were, you were less likely to worry about it).

They all agreed that Zaphod should take the lead with his special glasses, Arthur would be the last as it was the shortest distance to run back and he was less likely to run over one of the others in his blind panic. Goth would follow Zaphod and Honey would follow Goth (mainly so that she could check out his bum - she had a thing for leather trousers).

As they emerged from the ship, they saw a large building in front of them and decided that must be the place they had to go. Just as they neared the doorway, an old looking man in white robed with a white beard appeared.

"Oh my god, it's God" exclaimed Arthur, "Fucking hell it's gone all black" announced Zaphod. "Hold this" said Goth to Honey, "Thought you'd never ask" panted Honey.

"I was wondering when you'd turn up" said the old man "I suppose you want to know what happened to Earth then?" he asked and without waiting for an answer, he turned and started walking back into the building turning briefly to say "Come on then - this way". When Arthur had processed this information he suddenly had a thought, not a very well structured thought and he babbled "You know Earth then?"

"Oh yes" replied the old man "designed quite a lot of it.... I was particularly proud of the Fjords you know". "Hold on a second" said Goth, "Designed?". "uh huh" mumbled the old man "It will all become clear soon enough".

Half an hour later there was a stunned silence, which was really rather impressive as it had been preceded by 29 minutes of stunned silence except for the Archive Narrator who had been explaining that the Earth was actually a really big computer simulation to find out the question. They already knew the answer to life, the universe and everything it appeared, as that had been determined millions of years ago but millions of years of evolution within the simulation should have garnered the question. "Would have been ok if the Vegans hadn't fucked it up" muttered the old man under his breath.

"So what is the answer?" enquired Goth curiously. "The answer" replied the old man, "Is 42 - but it's the question that we need to know". "The designers have ascertained that the question lies within Arthurs brain so we need to cut it out". Slowly but surely, Arthurs brain processed this information and sent an immediate message to his vocal chords "But I need my brain" whimpered Arthur. "There must be another solution, other than lobotomising the poor chap" said Goth.

"Farts brain, better out than in" said Zaphod. "Well, there is one way" said the old man slowly "but the only way would be to travel to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe - but then you wouldn't be able to get back". "Unless" said Goth "The probability of being able to get back was so high, that it was improbable". The old man stroked his beard as he thought - "Damn shame they never perfected that Improbability Drive before the ship was stolen" he said.

Zaphod looked at himself, looked at the others and then said "Looks like we need a table for 5 then?" and turning said "Come on Fart, you may be dull but you heard what Zed said". The 5 of them boarded the Heart of Goth and set a course for dinner at literally, the last place anyone would want to eat.........

The Hitchhikers Guide to Goth Pt III

Arthur sat back in the deckchair, and sipped his Malibu cocktail as the two suns began to set over the sea. 'Well, if this is what it's like to be dead' he thought 'I can't see what anyone was worried about'. "3 billion to 1 against and dropping" a female voice announced from nowhere. Meanwhile, Goth was patiently waiting for Arthur to wake up and was busy reading some Nietsche - he knew there was no point in trying to work out what had happened. ONE second left to live and they'd been picked up by a spaceship. The odds of that occuring were so small that he didn't even know a word for something that miniscule.

Very soon, the female voice that announced what appeared to be odds (Goth had reasoned) said "20 to 1 against and falling" followed quite quickly by "Normality is resumed".

Arthur awoke with a start to see Goth sat opposite him, a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. 'I do wonder how Goth always manages to be in possession of these items' mused Arthur but said instead "Normality is resumed, but we're dead aren't we Goth?". Goth slowly shook his head, took a slug of Jack Daniels and offered the bottle to Arthur. "Erm, no thanks" replied Arthur - he remembered, relatively, what had happened, the last time he had drunk Jack Daniels and didn't want a repeat of that.

Goth blew a smoke ring which Arthur watched rise in the air and the repeated his question. Goth shook his head again - "Then where the bloody crikey are we?". "I think ... my little panicky friend" said Goth trying to phrase his statement in such a way as not to alarm Arthur (although he had a feeling, that probably wasn't really possible now). "I think ... " Goth paused for effect "that I have completely no bloody idea".

Just then the door opened and in walked a robot announcing in a deadpan voice "Well, I suppose you want to know where you are then?". 'What sort of a dumbass question is that?' thought Goth but said instead "Well, it would be rather helpful". The robot replied "Well, you know the thing about space is, it's really really big and...." Goth cut him off abrubtly "Look you sarcastic bastard, just tell us or take us to the captain of the ship". The robot looked down to where his toes would be, if he had any and said "Well, that is actually why I was sent here. Come on then, follow me" and turned to walk out of the room muttering "Here I am, brain the size of a planet and all I'm doing is fetching and carrying".

Goth had already decided he was going to ignore the robots sarcasm but he was eager to know who was in charge of this ship. If, he was correct, some rumour he had heard a while ago may well be true. Arthur just followed quietly, clutching his towel which he had found to be a surprisingly good comforter, especially after all that had happened recently.

The unlikely trio arrived at a doorway and the robot stopped. "We're here" announced the robot without any enthusiasm. The door opened and there stood a gorgeous platinum blonde who breezily came to greet them. "Hi" she said in a zingy, happy way "Welcome aboard. You were terribly lucky you know. I think we were running at about 45 billion to 1 against when we picked you up". Goth now knew which ship they were aboard and allowed himself a wry smile. Arthur hadn't got a clue where he was and quite frankly, was so past the point of caring, his brain didn't even know the way back.

"Goth Perfect" announced Goth and tipping his hat he bowed and kissed the womans hand in one sweeping move. "And the somewhat bemused fellow behind me is Arthur Bent". "Oh", said the woman blushing slightly "I'm Honey Allover". "I'm sure you are" said Goth in an appreciate voice making her blush even further "Your ship?" he inquired. "Oh no it's...." - before she could complete the sentence the door opened and a voice boomed "Honey, I'm home" followed by a slightly different voice "WE'RE home".

Arthur stood there with an open mouth before stammering "B b b but you've got two heads !!!". Unfortunately for Arthur, Arthur was the only one at all interested in this statement.

"Zed" declared Goth - "Goth is that you bro? - Zounders ! ! " and the two embraced like brothers, which by a quirk of fate they very nearly were. "How fucking improbable is that dude !" announced Zed rather than asking it. "Zed, sorry, Zaphod Beeblegoth, this is Arthur Bent". "So you came his with the King of Cool, the God of Fuck, the....well" both of Zaphods heads looked at each other for inspiration "My Bro?". Arthur just nodded meekly. This was all far too much for one day. He took the bottle of JD from Goths hand and took a deep swig.

"And this" said Zed, spreading all three arms in a 360 degree motion, "THIS is my ship - The Heart of Goth". "Powered by the Improbability Drive" interrupted Goth. "You bet your overactive chuds it is" said Zed "and this mother-fucker ROCKS. Come on I'll show you around. Honey, can you sort Fart out with a with a drink? He looks like he needs it".

Honey went to get the drinks but already her mind was racing 'God of Fuck - wow, am I going to find out why he got that name or what'. She'd felt a tingle when she first met Goth but now, the juices were really flowing. When they'd finished she handed a glass to Arthur and walked off to do more interesting things.

*to be continued*

The Hitchhikers Guide to Goth Pt II

When Arthur came around he was aware of Goth mopping his forehead with a towel, and vaguely aware of what he had seen appear in the doorway. "Please tell me that wasn't an Octopus" pleaded Arthur. "OK, it wan't an Octopus" said Goth Perfect in a calm and reassuring way, which didn't really work as Arthur was far from reassured and at least 3 tube stations from calm on the Mental Line.

"Would you like a nice cup of tea Sir?" asked the Octopus standing behind Arthur. Arthur spun around and promptly fainted again. Once Goth and the Octopus had revived Arthur, Goth tried to explain the situation. "Look beyond the tentacles, and hands, and myriad of eyes and..." Goth paused "Look, he's on our side but we have a bit of a problem".

"Bit of a problem?" screeched Arthur "There's a bloody talking Octopus here - I just want to go home". He sank back exhausted from the effort. "That might be a bit tricky" said Goth warily "And, we have a meeting first, with the Emperor". Arthur curled up in a ball and meekly asked "Which Emperor?"

"Ooo, ooo me, me" said the Octopus holding up six arms/tentacles - "You're going to see the Vegan Emperor, Pea McCartney.... but he's not very happy with your planet"

"Indeed" said Goth Perfect "We may have a few problems here". "Anyway - we have to go before we get our friend here into trouble". Just as they were preparing to leave, the Carrot Police arrived, got out their carrot sticks and arrested Goth and Arthur for cruelty to vegetables. Then they were taken to be interrogated by the Emperor, sitting on his holy bag of compost. On the end of a chain, which the Emperor was holding, was a small creature waving a daffodil at Goth and Arthur saying "Meat is murder, meat is murder!".

The Emperor yanked on the chain - "Shut up Morris Pea" warbled the Emperor (who'd been known to sing the odd ditty or two). It was the most hideous sound Arthur had heard. "But I wrote this one myself - I'm sure you'd like to hear it" proclaimed the Emperor "Scrambled eggs.... do dee do dee doo dee do dee do". There was a vacant pause whilst Goth and Arthur struggled for something to say before the Emperor continued "But, I haven't quite finished the lyrics yet".

Before Goth had a chance to stop him, Arthur stepped forward and asked "Can I go back now? I promise to speak to no-one about this". Goth held his breath - he knew Vegans were most displeased at anyone leaving or coming early of one of their recitals.

"Speak to Yono?" shouted the Emperor in a very angry voice "Right, that's the end of the world as you know it, and I feel fine" and pressed the button on the Liquidizer. Goth just bowed his head as Arthur watched everything he knew get turned into mush.

Once things had smoothied out, the Emperor turned to his Carrot Police and said "Eject them". 'Tremend-arse' thought Goth, 'Now we're really in deep shit nine'. Goth Perfect and Arthur Dent were marched to a small room and locked inside."This isn't so bad" said Arthur "I mean, the pastel shades are quite fetching in a way really". "Well, we're up the shitter this time my ex-gay friend" said Goth, "When they open the door, we will shoot off into space and die within 30 seconds unless the God of Fuck intervenes".

'Die' thought Arthur, 'isn't that a bad thing?' but before he could think any further, the door opened and Goth and Arthur were jettisoned into space. The last thing Arthur could remember was counting down, or was it up, to what he knew was the end of life as he knew it.

'27....28...29...'

*to be continued*

The Hitchhikers Guide to Goth

(*Note* - this is a rip-off of ideas from the genius of Douglas Adams whose brilliance shaped my past, present & future - Goth Bless Sir - and if you have never read THGTTG - a pox on you all)

"Grab a packet of peanuts, quick" Goth Perfect instructed his friend and now decidedly less camp, Arthur Bent. Arthur was confused and a little drunk. He had imbibed, well, rather gulped, the 5 Jack Daniels purchased by Goth and was feeling warm and fuzzy - he didn't want to leave yet. However, Arthur knew better than to argue with Goth. Since Goth had come into his life, he was a changed man. No more listening to Erasure and shaking his booty, no more dancing in a tutu whilst listening to Dancing Queen.

Now, thanks to Goth's influence, Arthur wore skin-tight leather trousers, a satin shirt of blood red and the pointiest black leather boots he had ever seen. No longer was he at the bottom in his gay relationships. Arthur had developed style, grown his hair and was obsessed with the work of the Pre-Raphaelites. The sea-change in his life was there for all to see. Arthur was still marvelling at these changes when he was disturbed by Goth.

"We have to go, now" said Goth "The Vegans are coming and when they arrive, they will fuck everything up." "What's a Vegan?" enquired Arthur rather nervously - "Look" explained Goth patiently "They're green, they're pasty looking and even Vegetarians quiver with fear when they see the Vegan 'can't do list'."

Arthur tightened his grip on the towel he was carrying as he'd thought they were going to the beach. "What are we going to do?" pleaded Arthur "I like my meat, like I like my men". Goth Perfect paused but resisted the obvious line next, instead he said in a calm voice "Simplistically, we're going to get the fuck out of here, and fast". With that, Goth pulled out his little black book of dates. Emblazonned on the back, in gold, were the words 'When I'm God, Everyone Dies' - Arthur gulped down another JD and tried not to panic.

Goth Perfect then did the strangest thing Arthur Bent had ever seen (so far, that day) - he tied his hair back in a ponytail and said "Let's get ready to rock". "B b but - you never tie your hair back" stammerred Arthur. "You would be well advised to do the same my little Gothic apprentice" said Goth "Arriving on a strange spaceship looking fuzzy is never a good move". This was too much information for Arthur, he ordered a double JD and sank it in one gulp "We're going on a.. a ... shacespit?" burbled Arthur, more to himself than anyone else "How shucking fool is that?".

Arthur had just managed to tie his hair back when everything became blurred 'Oh fuck' thought Arthur 'I'm definitely going to blow chunks this time, and I bet there's some of those bloody carrots in it'. Fortunately for Arthur, events were about to occur that would make him completely forget about hurling. The pub morphed into a beach and as elephants in tutus performed Dumbo Lake, Arthur sat back and enjoyed the trip.

As the elephants changed shape and became armadillos on roller skates a loud voice announced "Cool - that's a bit trippy isn't it". Arthur tried to nod but when he looked down he saw that he was wearing a white suit. 'Fucking great' he thought 'All that effort to look cool and now I look like a sailor in the navy - I could sail the seven seas'. Meanwhile, Goth Perfect was nonchalantly leaning against a bar that, well, Arthur was sure wasn't there a minute ago, humming a tune that Arthur sort of recognised but couldn't quite place, but Goth Perfect was still looking the epitome of cool.

There was a feeling of braking, like a train coming to an emergency stop and then all the visions disappeared. Goth Perfect was still there, looking, well, damn perfect. Arthur's clothes had returned to normal but he felt the most almighty hangover was just lurking in the background waiting to pounce and play a drum solo in his head.

With a swooshing sound, an opening in the plain white wall appeared, and in this doorway stood something that Arthur could not put a name to, mainly because he didn't know what it was.... 'Oh fucking hell' he thought and fainted ....

*to be continued*

Goth Bond - Gothfinger - Part III

The plane touches down in America and Goth Bond strokes Pussy gently to awaken her. Pussy Galores lips part invitingly and Goth Bond smiles - he knows she's in good hands. After they have gone through the airport VIP channel, the American agent meets them. "Lighter?" asks Bond. "Yes, Felix Leiter" replies the not so cunningly disguised American spy. "No" says Goth Bond "Do you have a lighter? I really need a cigarette".

Meanwhile, Pussy is purring in Goths ear "I really, really need to go to bed" - "Yes I know" says Goth Bond "but first, we need to sort out that Blowjob".

"Sorry to interrupt" says Felix "But we have a world to save, and I've got everything you requested - walk this way". "In these leather trousers?" enquires Goth showing Leiter his skin tight, buttock hugging leather trousers that women keep wanting to lick for some reason. "Ok, just follow me" replies Leiter.

The three of them arrive at a beautiful Aston Martin Advantage. "Wow" says Bond "I bet she goes" - "Oh yes" replies Felix, grinning like a cat, she goes "vrooooom, vroooooooom, squeal, vroooom". "Not quite what I meant" says Bond "but I assume all the modifications have been done?". "Yup" says Felix "although I don't know what an ejaculator seat does". "Kind of tosses you in some direction" says Bond dismissively whilst continuing to examine all the other gadgets U has installed.

"Don't we have to go somewhere?" asks Pussy. "Indeed" says Bond, "but we'll be arriving in style". "Isn't arriving like coming?" asks Pussy and Goth nods his head knowing it's going to be a very long day. "Look Felix" says Bond "thanks for the help but I think it better that you stay here - I get a bit wary of strangers Felix".

Goth and Pussy climb into the Aston Martin together and burn rubber.

Whilst this is occuring, Blowjob is making sure that all the little soldiers are going where they are supposed to. "Put that thing up there" demands Blowjob and watches carefully that the result match his expectations. He knows the earth is going to move when he has completed his dirty deed. He throws his head in the air and cackles "Nothing can stop the Blowjob bwahahahahaha" and has to pause briefly for air "hahahahahaha"

Meanwhile Goth Bond and Pussy have come, out of sight to Blowjob. It's one of the perils of only having one good eye. "Ok" says Bond "Here's the plan. You stay here in the car and when you get my signal press the third button on the right". Pussy tenderly motions across the nobs in front of her - "This one?" she enquires. "Indeed" says Bond "The one that says Boom" on it. He knows that this adventure with Pussy will have a climatic ending.

Meanwhile Blowjob has nearly set all of the nuclear devices to blow up Fort Knockers (He's not called Blowjob for nothing). World markets will crumble, he will be master of all he surveys (with his one good eye, so approximately half the world).

Bond speaks into his watch "Ok U, I need guns, lots of guns" and suddenly an arsenal of weapons appears in front of him like a supermarket, but of guns - not a baked bean in sight. He selects the ones he wants and with a clenched fist, shoots off a round or two. "Excellent" he declares. "Now to sort Blowjob out".

Like the devastating killing machine he is, Goth Bond kills all the bad soldiers on his way to Blowjob but when he arrives, Blowjob just cackles "Too late Bond - in 3 minutes the bombs go off". Bond pulls out the hugest vibrator in the world and declares "Not yet Blowjob". "HA" says Blowjob "What's that?" - "Voices activated revenge" says Bond "HA" says Blowjob "Magic dildo my arse" .... there's a whoosh and then a steady thrumming sound "Yowzer" exclaims Blowjob, looking like a red lollipop.

Bond diffuses the bombs and signals to Pussy that it's her turn to come. She gets out of the car, wondering what would have happened if she'd pressed the Boom button but Goth just smiles at the camera and mouths "It's only the stereo" as Pussy is all over him.

#Da da dee da dee da da#

Fade out as Goth Bond gets his Pussy and saves the world - normal day at the orifice really.

Goth Bond - Gothfinger - Part II

(short summary of part I - our hero Goth Bond, Secret Agent, has thwarted the Spice Girls evil plan to reunite but his nemesis, Blowjob has had away with Pussy - we join O-69 in his WTF hunt)

Goth Bond decided to return to the riding stables where he had first encountered Pussy. He remembered the first time he had seen her riding and marvelled at her exquisiteness. Unfortunately for Bond, this was not to be a good day - he found a pussy alright but she was rigid and covered in gold. What has that Blowjob done to this pussy and, more importantly where is THE Pussy? thought Goth Bond. There was only one thing to do, don't get mad, get even.

Bond knew he had to seek out the naughty Blowjob but, his love of Pussy far transcended the momentary thrill of hunting down Blowjob. However, Blowjob had been expecting this from Goth Bond (well, it was in the bloody script) and had sent his henchman Badjob to kill Bond. Badjob was a nasty piece of work with no respect for helmets or hats of any kind really. Soon enough Badjob had Bond in an extremely tricky situation, Bond didn't know if his nuts were going to explode, he had to do something - perhaps one of the cunning weapons that he had received from U. As he lay there stricken and exposed, he tried to think of something, anything that would help him out of this desperate predicament.

Suddenly, he remembers the power he has that he didn't need U for. He recited some poetry and unleashed the Fear of Goth on his captors. Like punks with a cause, they run away screaming 'I fought the Goth, but the Goth won....' and Bond managed to escape. He knows where he has to go now, Badjob made the mistake of telling Bond the master plan, but first Bond has to save Pussy Galore to keep her safe from evil. Bond is not sure exactly where she is but he knows the clock is ticking (he can hear it in the background) - he must find Pussy and then get to America to Fort Knockers.

Meanwhile, in his submarine of evil, Blowjob is stroking the pussy on his lap cursing that his plan to kill Goth Bond didn't work. He has watched this on the secret cameras he had installed and his stroking had become faster and agitated "Next time Bond" he curses. Meanwhile, he must continue with his plan, he has to get to Fort Knockers before Bond can spoil his cunning and watertight plan.

Goth Bond phones Y on the Bat phone (not a batman gadget, just a phone that looks like a bat because it's in disguise). "Y, U, I'm going after Blowjob and I'm not stopping till the end. Get me a contact in America for when my plane lands" - there is a pause on the line and then a voice says "But surely that's too dangerous Bond". "Is that U?" enquires Bond. "No, it's P" says P. "Y?" asks Bond, "Why P?" asks P, "No, I want to speak to Y, P". "It's OK Bond" says Y "U go and ship some gadgets to America, mark them Leiter" "Lighter than what?" asks U "No, for the attention of Leiter, Felix Leiter" by which time Goth is very bored of this scrabble like conversation.

"I'll call you when I get there" says Bond "Just as soon as I've got Pussy".

There was a collective groan at the other end of the phone but it was too late, Bond had hung up and was deperately searching for Pussy around the stables. Finally he finds pussy, dripping ... with perspiration hung between two golden pillars. As fast as he can, he undoes the straps and lies her gently on the ground. He hasn't much time and he knows he has to go down and resucitate Pussy with his mouth-to-Pussy skills. It takes several minutes but eventually he can feel a much stronger pulse in Pussy.

"Oh Goth" gasps Pussy "Blowjob has an evil plan - I just heard big, gold and Knockers. Whatever can it be?". "It's ok Pussy, I know all about the plan he has for the Knockers. We have to hurry, there's a plane to catch". With that, he lifts her to her feet and they dash to the airport to catch a flight to America, home of the biggest Knockers - the Gold Depository.

*To be continued..........

Goth Bond Stars in Gothfinger

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It's a Height Thing Really

So, after yesterdays post about Nannageddon, it was suggested to me that women live longer than men because men are taller and therefore when the Reaper does his reaping, he catches the men and misses the women. Hmm - I thought. Could this be true?

**Beware - the following is a Gothic thought train - some drugs may be required**

well, if it were true I suppose that it would make sense depending on how tall the Reaper was and if he was being a smart-arse and twirling his scythe around his head, then I guess that anyone an inch or so taller than the Reaper would get zapped or rather reaped, which would explain why there aren't any giants in the world anymore, because they would have been taller by some distance and would have been first for the high chop but then that wouldn't explain why all the dwarves disappeared, apart from the suicidal ones of course, who could have fasioned themselves dwarf stilts to make themselves taller, but that would only explain the suicidal ones, who had probably got pissed off at people saying stupid things like 'you can stand up now' hence why they would have gone for the stilt method of death, except for the stupid ones who got it wrong and made stilts from cheese because they heard stilton, but that wouldn't have made them taller at all, just given them smelly feet really, although it is possible that the remaining dwarves were stupid or cocky and got trampolines and bounced up and down making star shapes trying to make the Reaper really angry and that could have got them reaped, and normal children would have been safe because they were really small as well, and weren't allowed to go on the trampolines because their parents thought it really dangerous with all those flying dwarf heads, so someone invented bouncy castles so they could bounce up and down without getting whacked by a dwarf head or reaped by the Reaper.

*pauses for a cigarette*

however, all of this applies to dwarves and giants and not to men and women which the theory was more about, so I suppose if you had really tall women then they would get reaped which would fit in with the plan as the Amazonians were really tall and they're all dead but there are other women who are tall and they're not dead, so perhaps the Reaper tried to catch people out in the open because he didn't want to blunt his blade on hard objects, which would mean he would only be bonking people on the head rather than separating their heads from their bodies and I know if I was a Reaper I wouldn't want to get demoted to a 'bonker' or even a 'bopper', as Death would make fun of you "ooh look out, here comes the Grim Bonker - going bonking are we?", so that makes sense that he's out in the open reaping and I suppose if the man and the woman both needed to have a wee at the same time outside, the man could do it standing up but women have to do that squatting down thing, especially if they are outside in the woods and they would only pull their knickers down to their knees and be very wary not to let anything crawl up their *swish* 'sorry bloke, you've been reaped' and so the man would have no head and the woman would be fine because she was squatting down, unless she stood up really quickly because she saw a creepy crawly and she would squeal and stop weeing immediately because women can do that and then she would have no head either and thus be dead, unless she got her timing dead right, or rather undead right, but then all ghosts would be walking round with their heads under their arms but they don't, well Casper didn't and he was a ghost, but he wasn't tall and I don't seem to remember any trampolines in Casper so I don't think that's the reason at all.

perhaps, the reason is that women like to sit down more than men and that's why the men get reaped, because men like to do everything standing up, from weeing and writing their names in the snow, to eating hotdogs instead of sitting down for a scrummy meal, to standing and shouting at TV as if it will make any difference instead of sitting down with a nice box of chocolates, to drinking in a pub at the bar and not at a table, therefore in conclusion, it's not because women are shorter than men it's because they sit down more, so it has nothing to do with height but it is all because women have more comfortable bottoms.

Nannageddon

Oh the perils of growing old. Statiscally, well according to life insurance companies anyway, a womans life expectancy is four years more than a mans. They cite many factors for this but I think it's just that men give up earlier where as the granny brigade keep on marching. No way is granny giving up on her blue rinse and bingo just because the Grim Reaper comes to get them. You can just see him gathering all the OAP's up in a group and saying "Come on follow me" and the old people duly fall into line.

Arriving at the halls of death the Reaper is faced with Death himself and proudly says "Look Master, how many I reaped this time" to which Death replies, "Very good - but why aren't there any women?". The Reaper turns around looking astonished and pleads "But they were there - I had a load of them". Unbeknown to the Reaper, the women had spotted a Bingo hall and nipped in to try and win some furry slipper boots. The men meanwhile, grateful for the peace and quiet had just followed the Reaper.

So now we are left with a surplus of crotchety old hells grannies and with no men of the same age to pick on, they turn their venom on the rest of society. Too many times, poor helpless muggers are poked in the eye with an umbrella or beaten half to death with a handbag full of coins in case they pass a tea room. "Queue? Not me dear I'm old and frail my dear but if you want to hear the story about Aunt Enids colostomy bag in vivid technicolour, please, feel free to complain about me pushing in".

As the population differential continues to grow, we head towards the end of the world - Nannageddon. The world as we know it replaced by knitted park benches where grannies sit around burbling nonsense and encouraging pigeons to gather in flocks and attack children. Cats will multiply as Mrs Miggins and her pack of OAT's (Old Age Terrorists) have lost track of how many strays they have brought home - it got boring counting them after 30. There will be an overwhelming smell of Lavender everywhere and sports will cease to exist - can't have those silly young men running around in shorts.

TV programmes will change, Songs of Praise will be on every day for 6 hours followed by Antiques programmes where grannies come along and try to look genuinely surprised when there family silver is valued at 2000 pounds while actually thinking "Oooh just think of all the scones I could bake with that money". Sex will be outlawed as will provocative music, dancing or clothes.

The only way to avoid Nannagedon will be to create bogus Saga holidays with the promise of free knitting classes, jam tastings and Bingo. Once a group is assembled, the driver will have to provide the supreme sacrifice and drive the coach over a cliff, or crash his boat into an iceberg. That way, the granny-culling can help to rebalance the population and the Reaper won't be fired from his job after all.

You heard it here first.....

The History of a Weekend in Vienna

Divided into three parts, a bit like a cake really...well a cake for three people, or one really big person who needed 2 pieces but was too shy to say, like Mozart, who wasn't big, or ate cake but did become really big...later

Part 1 - Will Comes in an Ostrich

Well he didn't really - I mean ostriches are really fast and running after one is a really silly idea, because you couldn't be fast enough or have enough corn and anyway it is not on my list of to-dos (or dodos for that matter).

So anyway my new buddy TM (The Mav) said 'Willkommen in Oesterreich' -"Will Comes in an Ostrich" before he buggered off for food - well, sort of food - bread with three nipples (or so it appears). Yes, barmen have to eat in Austria too. But he didn't eat any ostriches as that would be politically incorrect I think, and he's Turkish which means everything is a delight apart from the economy because it's corrupted like a bad disk - naughty disk *slaps hand across naughty disks arse* (his words not mine....I think).

Thus, M and I were there debating politics at 5am - ok - that's bollocks.... but we were still talking at 5am (which is more than married people can say).

I digress, Vienna is a beautiful city full of, well beautiful things like hotels, with beds and stuff. And I am so totally going to get in the shit for staying up all night with Mav, drinking Wodka etc. Scheiss - I'm turning into a Drama Goth........

*wobbles and falls off his bar stooll*

Part 2 - The Ostrich Strikes Back

So, suitably sobered up I got 'dragged' on a tour of Vienna. It is so full of interesting things that you want to - well, get a beer or two. Thankfully, Vienna has lots of beer - as you can see from the homeless people who gather around the local Billa (supermarket) with no homes but, funnily enough, lots of beer.

After watching lots of fat people jogging - ok, not really jogging, just walking fast - ok just walking, we got onto the city bus. The one that's like sightseeing for deaf people - i.e. headphones and stuff. Mariposa was most confused as to why the tour was in Chinese until she realised that I had been 'eine anschloss' with the settings for her audio - childish I know, but still funny - "why are they speaking in Chinese?" - *holds hands up* "I don't know"......liar!

Anyway, the family from hell were on the same bus and thus our tour was cut short - although the mental images of me sawing the parents in half still remain. We did some walking, took some silly pictures and then went to the art gallery. Gallery dosen't really convey the magnitude of this place. It's big - really big. And, to be honest, deeply impressive. Gustav Klimt rocks and I got to see Judith - THE Judith. After what seemed like forever, we set off back to the hotel to refresh and plan for our evenings entertainment/meal.

Guess what? A Mexican restaurant in Ostrich - hooray (on Praterstasse). An evening in the Hapsburg Empire speaking.....Spanish - muy bueno. We ordered our food, fajitas, drank our wine and were generally having a good time when THWACK the vegetarian from hell sits down at the next table. Why on earth this pasty-faced mother-fucker bothers coming out is beyond me. I feel like throwing a piece of celery and shouting "Fetch".

As if being a vegetarian isn't bad enough, she insists on going through the entire menu asking if there are onions in the dish - no onions. WTF. Since when can't vegetarians eat onions? Did they develop legs and breed whilst I was away? (Bar-stewards!!!). So eventually, the waitress came over to finalise our bill and delivered some peanuts to the veggy-one. "Sin cebolla?"..

Part 3 - A Phantom Menaces

Mariposa and I were walking down the main street and viewing Wien, which is superb, when we noticed a 'silly shop' - one that sells sex, sex magazines etc. Over 60 -

nope, not bra size, but age - what next? Dig this chick? (Please - dig her up). We laughed HA HA HA etc and then continued on our way, without purchasing any of said dodgy magazines I might add.

We had to take a horse-drawn carriage ride around the city but first, we had to partake of beverages. I suggested we take a place on a terrace overlooking the Cathedral mainly so that she could people-watch and so I could figure out which of the drivers looked most entertaining. I picked one, who I will call Heimlich (because it sounds Austrian and he did a great manouvere later) and we climbed aboard the carriage.

What a dude - he took his time showing us everything and describing in detail the city - he also waved the women horse-cab drivers past and turned round to say "typical women drivers eh?" which, I hasten to add was banter that te ladies laughed along with. The best part was, having the right of way, he went even more slowly at junctions where Ferraris and Porsches were itching to show off but had to sit there and wait - the Heimlich Manouvere.

Heimlich had an encyclopeodic knowledge of Wien and gave us the most interesting view of Wien and loads of laughs. Later, we saw him pass as we were on a terrace and he must have had politically correct people on board as he did not seem the same at all - more fool them - we had the true Wiener tour with humour and more knowledge than you can get from any guidebook. Apparently, the opera house was one of the last places to be bombed in WWII - 10 minutes before the truce was signed ... wankers. 345 people dead, hundreds of years of heritage trashed - hmmm wonder why war is shit then?!

However, all in all, a totally brilliant weekend (sorry I didn't post but I was having far too much fun). AND - being with the queen of languages it was nice to have the upper hand for once - she doesn't speak German but I do - hooray. Not going to show off and say something in German but what I will say is - Vienna (Wien) is a very interesting place to visit.

hasta luego,
S

Alight One Stop Early

Another gem from The Little Book of Calm as I head away for a well-earned break (well earned by Mariposa that is).

"Alight one stop early - If you consciously set out to break your own routines, you can also break your worry habits. Take a different road home, get off the bus a stop early, talk to a stranger, and absorb the differences."

(or don't fucking turn up at all)

** Sponsored by the Belgian Public Transport System **

a luego,
S

ps I wish a lovely Easter weekend to you all and, if you are concerned by my lack of religious piousness - don't worry, god hates me but I hate him right back. It's like theological chess.

Guest Blogger - Aunty Marianne

And so as the velvet curtains part, an unlikely superhero steps forward - ladies, gentlemen and gathered woodland creatures, respect for todays guest speaker, the one, the only Aunty Marianne

Gather round, my children, for in today’s lesson, I would wax lyrical upon the subject of wine. (Wine encourages lyrical waxation, and luxuriation, which is why one waxes, for how can one luxuriate unwaxed?).

Let us start by considering wine in relation to beer. Beer is what the solitary male drinks to drown his loneliness, the fuel of youthful confrontation that turns to riot, and when it sours it is the poison that vandalises things and souls. As it itself turns to belly fat, it turns the sportsman into a mere spectator. It deceives so that the night’s new-found true-found love becomes the morning’s despair. Beer can be made in four days from pillaged grain in a jerrycan strapped to the back of a rebel’s jeep. It is a drink of the transient, a drink of the unrooted, a drink of the unhomed. It is a drink that requires no society either for its making or for its consumption, a drink discovered in the days before civilisation even began.

The grapevine, however, has been bred over centuries to provide the best wines. It must be planted on undisputed land, for it takes six or seven years to start producing sufficient fruit for winemaking. Its fruit must then be trampled and its juice bottled in a joyous work in which the whole village takes part. Then the barrels are left to quietly mature, undisturbed by conflict, and then the village bottles the wine, and then it is laid down to mature again. A wine will tell you, as it crosses your tongue, what aromas and savours it longs to be enjoyed with. And that enjoyment in turn brings families and friends and old adversaries around tables to eat and drink and make merry and forgive, forgive. The Romans used it to clean wounds, it heals and protects from heart disease and cancer, and aids digestion. It is not for drinking alone: wine is the drink a man shares in anticipation with his lover, that he lays down for his childrens’ weddings the day they are born, and in which he warms hands and hearts with old friends when it is the pleasure that remains in the wintry sun of their lives.

And this is why, if we wish for peace in our hearts, peace in our lives, peace in our time, we should all drink as much wine as we like. Amen.

Here endeth the lesson.

*Bows gracefully and offers her a glass of finest bordeaux*

History of Rome - the Best Bits and The Last Bits

By now, Rome was the biggest city in the world and strange things started happening. The Bishop of Rome changed his name to the pope - pontificating twat - and the people of the city thought they were the best in the world. Obviously, this really pissed off the rest of the world - a bit like Bushy Twats america do now. People were not going to stand for this behaviour, some were lying down smoking joints saying "oh man, this like totally sucks dude".

First the Visigoths turned up. The Senate thought they had the situation in hand and so produced some pagan sacrifices. Even his dodgy popeness had agreed with this idea which was strange as it was against everything someone in his position should be advocating. The Goths just looked at the Romans, tutted, lit up a few spliffs and sacked the city (as in stole the best stuff, not fired the city, well they did set fire to some of it, but only the shit bits).

The people in the city panicked - they were used to shiny outfits and nice haircuts made by putting a bowl on your head and cutting round the rim - known as the 'bell-end' look. To see this hoard of long haired people all dressed in black terriffied them, so they did the Teletubbie thing and ran away.

The 'Temple of Romulus and Remus' was renamed the 'Basilica of Cosmas and Damian' because it sounded far more Gothic, and they didn't want to call it 'Grrrr' either. The 'Temple of All Gods' became the 'Church of All Martyrs' because that also had a far darker ring to it. But peace couldn't reign - the Visigoths were into the more melodic Goth sound whereas the Ostrogoths were convinced the roots of death metal should pervade. Once again fighting broke out and this became known as the Gothic Wars.

Yes, you read it right, THE GOTHIC WARS - how fucking cool is that. Simplistically, the Goths were pissed off, the 'bell-ends' had all run away crying to their mums and there were no Robert Smith sounds to placate the disparate Goths.

Eventually though, the wars ended as various Goths got married and had children and lots moved away from Italy because it had looked good in the brochures but the reality was too much pasta, not enough decent wine and a general lack of any decent music at all.

Meanwhile, in the Fatty-Can (oh yeah, they renamed it Vatican) the black look had caught on. Nuns were invented to walk around in black reciting poetry for no reason, fat priests were employed to talk bollocks, well mainly about their own bollocks and what they wanted to do with them, and the pope got a balcony - because he liked pigeons...and shit, well, maybe pigeon shit. Anyway, all traces of Goth were wiped away from the Infernal city and so they renamed it the Eternal city.

By the mid-thirteenth century, the people had got bored of pasta and so appointed Bolognese as the Senator and said "For fucks sake, do something with this pasta will you?" and he did, and it was good. As per usual, someone was not happy and said "But my bottys smelly" and someone else said "I know him, he paints ceilings and stuff" and so Bottysmelly came and painted the ceiling of the chapel, which took him a long time because he had a really small brush.

They invited new and exciting bands like Michael and the Angelos to come and perform, which everyone thought was a really stupid idea but all the Goths had left and they could have seen the potential of one. But Michael knew what he was doing and did lots of really funky shit which spaced people out. Then word got through to Spain and Phillip the second took over because Phillip the first was busy, or dead or something.

*note - told you it was the best bits - Spanish & Goth - Hoozah!!!!*

After that it all went down seven hills really.

Here endeth the History of Rome

The Second Age of Rome - After the Salad Days

So, it was all going pretty good for the Romans. They'd invaded countries and invented taxes for those countries to pay for all the grapes and wine they'd been scoffing. The world stood in awe of the Roman armies because they had shiny armour and funky liitle sandals with straps on which really were setting the fashion across Europe. The barabrian hordes had no way to combat the highly efficient war tactics of the romans.

The Roman Empire grew, a bit like the Empire did in Star Wars, and the Emperor grew old and his skin turned a funny colour so he demanded that his face be placed on the coins and a lot of artists were executed for creating images where the Emperor didn't look cool as fuck and sexy. Unfortunately, whilst this was happening, the Egyptians, under Cleopatra weren't paying their taxes because this all went on Cleopatras beauty treatment - which apparently was really bloody good. The Emperor decided to send his favourite general to go and sort the cheeky bint out and thus Mark Antony was summoned.

"What I want you to do my young apprentice" hissed the Emperor in his gravelly voice "is bring her back to the dark side" and slammed his fist on the table squashing a couple of grapes (which he thought made him look tough). "Yes my Emperor" replied Mark Anthony, thinking it would be nice to have a holiday in Egypt as he'd always wanted to see the pyramids. Off Mark Anthony trotted to pack his flip flops and swimming trunks.

Some time later, he arrived in Egypt, where they were all walking like Egyptians. The Romans set up their tents on the banks of the Nile, had a few camel rides and some ice cream before Mark Anthony went to meet Cleopatra and tell her that the Emperor was really, really pissed off and wanted his money. Awaiting his audience with the Queen he rehearsed what he was going to say, and how he was going to put the fear of the dark side of the force into her. As he was ushered into the Great Hall of Anubis he kept a hand tightly gripped on his sword as the doormen looked a bit big and tough.

Then he saw Cleopatra and he forgot completely what he was going to say "Holy shit" was all he could mutter "now I definitely wouldn't kick her out of bed". Cleopatra smiled knowingly as the bulge in Mark Anthony's little Roman dress started to rise. "And what can I do for you my messenger of the Emperor?" she asked. Mark Anthony tried to clear the images of what he wanted out of his mind - surely it would be impolite to ask a Queen for a blow job?

It didn't really matter as Cleopatra had already decided that it was time she had a good ravaging, and Mark Anthony certainly rang her bell. "Would you like to see my asp?" asked Cleopatra - "WOO HOO" shouted Marc Anthony thinking his luck was in. Then he found out that an asp was actually a snake and not her maj's glorious butt cheeks.

But his luck was in and they embarked on a passionate affair where they tried to mimic all the sexual positions painted on the walls of the pyramid.

Back in Rome, the Emperor was getting seriously pissed off, partly because he'd been pursuaded by a tailor that walking around naked was a good idea and instead finding people laughing at his shrivelled grey conkers was not funny "Emperors new clothes my arse" he muttered. Also his bank account was in serious trouble and the senate were talking about taking over as he was making such a shit job of it all.

Messenger after messenger was sent to Egypt but no word came back - in fact no messenger came back. When they arrived, they were introduced to dusky maidens, or handsome young men, or camels depending on their persuasion and they had such a good time they forgot why they were there.

By now the Emperor was apoplectic with rage but his madness wasn't the wisest move as the senate had already decided that he was as mad as a pineapple and ordered his assassination. They all took turns in stabbing him, even his supposed best friend to which the Emperor could only say "Et tu Brute?" and fell on the ground with more holes in him than a teabag. Marc Anthony didn't care because he was having such a good time still in Egypt.

Thus ended the Second Age of Rome

The History of Rome and the Romans

So the mighty city of Rome was founded by two twins who were called Romulus and Remus. Well, actually they weren't called that at all, they were both called Grrrrr as they were raised by wolves and wolves can't talk because they're really just dogs with attitude. However, naming a city Grrrrr would have made the Italians a laughing stock and the Italians aren't known for their sense of humour so they made up the names and then their city could have a proper name that looked ok on the souvenirs they planned to sell to the tourists.

Over the years, Rome grew as lots of people came there to buy stuff like spaghetti because people had heard that it grew on trees and you could eat it and every night, Biggus Trickus would do his job as tourist officer by creeping around at night lobbing pasta into the branches and the following morning the tourists would marvel at the Pasta Harvest ceremonies.

As Rome grew the people dedcided they needed an emperor as all good cities had one so they decided to have an election. Maximus Clitoris decided to stand because she had misheard and thought there was going to be a huge erection, and she was damned if she was going to miss out on that one. The people decided that they didn't want a woman in charge as it would be far too much hard work so instead they elected Biggus Dickus as the first emperor. Unfortunately, Biggus Dickus lived up to his name and people decided he was just a big nob so they had him assassinated.

They couldn't dcecide who should be emperor but some wise-ass suggested that they might as well elect the greengrocer because then they would all get free food, and so it came to pass that Julius Caesar Salad was made emperor. However, it was agreed that Julius should lose the Salad part of his surname as otherwise some countries might get the wrong idea and think that Rome was ruled by a puny vegetarian and so he changed his name and thus began the Salad Days.

Over the centuries, the descendants of Caesar took up their position as Emperor of Rome and set about expanding the Roman Empire. They did this by building straight roads and the other puny countries gaped in awe and said amazed "Fucking hell - why didn't we think of that?" but it was too late as the clever Emperor Minimus Effofticus had patented the idea. Then they invented central heating and patented this idea and set about installing it in villas across Europe.

There were some bad emperors as well - ones like Nero who played his fiddle whilst Rome burned and the people did panic as they didn't know what to do and shouted "Nero - Nero - what do we do?" and Nero said "Shut up, I'm just getting to the solo". But overall the emperors were successful and they even created a senate so that the people thought they actually had a say in what was going to happen, but behind the curtain Gluttonus Maximus laughed so hard he nearly burst as he knew all the senates dirty secrets and knew they would always have to do what he said.

Even the rise of christianity didn't intefere with the rise of the Roman Empire because the romans realised quite quickly they were on a hiding to nothing so they invented the church so they could keep track of all the christians and any they didn't like they would feed to the lions, because people liked to go to sports arenas on Saturday and cheer on the Lions, cos they always won. As per usual though, people got bored quite easily and so every week they had to come up with new ideas - one of the most popular being Gladiators. The Gladiators were basically, the hardest bastards around and people would gather in the ampitheatres - for that's what the arenas were called - and watch their heros like Hunglikeadiplodocus kick someone elses arse.

Then a popular Roman called Enzo Ferrari came up with the idea of chariots and so began chariot racing but the ferrari team were untouchable as no-one could catch their chariots. Until a slave called Sparticus came along and cos he didn't give a shit he won all the races. The Romans didn't like this at all so they decided to kill Sparticus and so they went to fetch him but when they entered the room and asked who was Sparticus, the slaves stood together and shouted "I'm Sparticus" "I'm Sparticus" even "I'm Sparticus and my wife is too". Thus the Roman soldiers were confused and said in Latin "Fuck this for a game of soldiers - let's just pretend he's dead" and so Sparticus lived.

End of Part One - advert break sponsored by Rome Wasn't Built in a Day Builders.

A Non Valentines Day Message

As the official day has been and gone, I can do what I would do anyway - for you Mi Mariposa

I don't know how in words to say how deep my love runs for you
Too hard to replicate in verse what I know is so true
I do know that my love's intense for you, my angel of the skies
You are so beautiful, my perfect little butterfly

So many images I can recall, of special times we shared
How sacred I felt as you showed how you cared
For me, for us and what we could truly be
Together as one in blissful harmony

I love to watch you while you sleep, content and purring like a mouse
Dreaming of what I'd never try to second guess, our house?
Our future? or perhaps something quite within our reach
Memories of times not long gone, playing laughing on a beach

I wish there was a way that I could collect time, I know just what I'd do,
Save every hour till eternity passed, so I could spend them with you,
I love more than words can say, you are my world my special love
Mi Mariposa, take my heart, my passion and most of all my love.

I'm So Tired

"I'm so tired of being you, suppressed by all my childish fears" - not a direct quote from Evanescence but, one word makes a difference.

(how hard can it be? fucking big and thus fucking hard.)

how tired? - weary of it all

being used? - i don't even want to contemplate it

suppressed? - hmmmm, don't get me started on twat topic

childish? probably - aren't we all when we are stripped emotionaly naked

I should not post this, I should instead pay some jumped up twat or twatess to tell me I'm fucked up. Hooray, what a bollocks of an idea

All will become clear in the next few days,

For newbies.... sorry - having a bad day.....

For regs...sorry - having a bad week....

a luego,
S