• The Pig’s Arms
  • About
  • The Dump

Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle

~ The Home Pub of the Famous Pink Drinks and Trotter's Ale

Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle

Author Archives: Mark

Merv meets RSA

23 Saturday Apr 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark, The Public Bar

≈ 22 Comments

Merv serving some glass canoes

Merv serving some glass canoes

 

“Gordon fucking O’Donnell ” cries Merv “I have to be responsible for you piss heads”. “Re spon a la  billy tea for all of you, RSASDFGTREY, get it, [Any one not covered see Emmjay.] Oh, for fuck sake”

“Merv, not so much swearing pleas” crows Yvonne.

“Another glass canoe” interjects Foodge.

“Did you say pleas?” presses Merv.

“No” replies Foodge “do I have to say pleas?”.

“Yep” says Merv “and pleas and fank ewe”

“Fank ewe for fucking what and some dots like this … just to make it a bit spooky” says a nameless character that won’t exist next paragraph, probably Emmjay.

“I have to swerve you reprehensibility okay, dot, dot dot” says Merv, doing his best to get the word count up. Grrrr.

“Wheeze a bunch of piss heads, tod, tod tod” says Gib W.

“That’s not dot dot dot” interjects Gerard trying to keep a straight face.

“I agree with Merv, from now on no more swearing or cussing unless we fucking feel like it” inserts Angler On, as you do.

“Yea…dot dot dot” cry the patrons.

“Now, how many drinks has everyone had?” enquires Merv.

[Sorry: Service is down due to abnormally high numbers coming in form the enquiry.]

“It’s the gubbermint that is putting down the working classes…dot dot dot”  says HOO

“Shithouse service and dot dot dot. Next you’ll work for channel mime, dot dot, dot.” informs Nurse Barbara as she lights here fag and sips her pint, may as well slap arse on the way…, all good.

“Are you responsible bunch of pissheads?” says Merv.

“Yea…dot dot, dot dot” says the patrons.

“Well that’s all right then. RSA over, situation normal, well sort of” adds Merv.

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Foodge 60.8125 OPCD

04 Monday Apr 2016

Posted by Mark in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

≈ 4 Comments

Fern

Fern

Fern was super excited. She was almost finished her on-line, accredited by the Online Association of Personal Trainers, Personal Training Course. It was her first day of ‘gym experience’ (not clinical experience, HOO) at the local boxing gym, run by ex boxer and academic, Doc Morton. “Now, Ms Fern, a lot of these early morning trainers are pretty hard core, and probably won’t be interested in too much input, but just hang around and see what they get up to.” There were already a couple of broken down boxers skipping and treating the punching bags like a young George Foreman. A rattle of the main doors interrupted them. In stepped Granny, Merv, and a red faced, puffing Foodge, resplendent in a Howardesque green and gold tracksuit.

Granny3

Nice arse

“Ah, granny.” Enthused Morton, as he stepped over and kissed Granny on the cheek, then hugged Merv.” How’s the rehab coming on, Mr Merv? Foodge, you’ve decided to re-enter the world of boxing, can I introduce you all to our first personal training student, Fern? And, Fern, It’s my honour to introduce you to former bantam weight champion, Granny, former heavy weight champ and local publican, Mr Merv, and the finest Private Detective in this country, Mr Foodge!”

Granny and Merv nodded, whilst Foodge could barely contain his hostility (the gentle reader may remember that, as Foodge’s secretary, Fern had embezzled millions, or hundreds, or perhaps dozens of dollars from Foodge, Very Private Dick). “If there’s any tips you need, I’ll be around.” Fern sounded hopeful.

Merv and Foodge popped on some gloves and started sparring, while Granny moved into her usual Monday workout. She always liked to start with a heavy canvass bag, just to warm things up. “Now, Granny, an older person, such as yourself, shouldn’t do any bag work without gloves!” Advised Fern.

Granny didn’t look up. “What, to protect the bag from the callouses on my knuckles?”

Hmm

Hmm

Fern moved on to give some friendly advice to Merv and Foodge, who were content to practice sparring. Fern noticed that Granny was now doing deadlifts, by herself, with no supervision. “Granny, and older person, such as yourself, shouldn’t perform deadlifts without straps, you could hurt your hands.”

Granny ignored her, and kept adding on weight plates and lifting. When she had finished she turned to Fern. “Eight reps at a hundred and twenty kilos, without wraps isn’t bad for a fifty five kilo ‘older person!”

Fern had no response so decided to give some nutritional advice, as she was launching her own brand of supplements. “Mr Merv and Foodge, would you be interested in my new Nitric Oxide Blaster, it opens up the muscle arteries and flushes out toxins!”

“Nitric oxide supplements are bullshit.” Replied Merv as he helped Foodge on the dip bars.

“What about my new testosterone enhancer, Testmax?”

“The best testosterone booster is a good workout, and a good root!” Merv was already thinking about Janet’s role in the latter.

“Well, I’ve got a new protein matrix drink coming out soon.”

“Listen, luvvie, Granny does all our cookin’, you should speak to ‘er.” Merv was

Sister Bullshit

Sister Bullshit

actually pretty impressed with Foodge’s performance on the dip bars. “Come on Foodge, punch another rep out!”

Fern bailed Granny up. “I have a new range of protein supplements coming out, Granny. Would you be interested?”

“Me and my boys are doin’ pretty well on a diet of bacon, eggs, wedges and assorted veges, thanks!”

Granny was starting some chin-ups. “Oh, no, Granny, an older lady like yourself shouldn’t by doing wide gripped chin ups, it says it in the Personal Trainers’ Manual.” Fern clearly had learned nothing about ‘older people’ this morning.

“I’ll tell you what, young lady, let’s have a little comp, you and me, and to make it interesting, I’ll give you a hundred bucks if I can’t do ten more reps than you.” Granny was heartily sick of this upstart.

Fern thought this would be a doddle, after all, who was the personal trainer?

The pair went rep for rep on the chin up bars for about twenty then stopped for a breather. Neither showed any sign of weakening. The next twenty were a little bit slower, but the competition had attracted a small crowd of veteran athletes, who were mainly cheering for Granny.

“This is too easy, grab us some weight vests, Doc.” Yelled Granny as she flexed her biceps. Doc Morton brought out some weighted vests, ten kilos each.

Me again

Me again

“You choose, Fern.” Fern weighed each vest in her hands, then donned one, whilst Granny strapped on the second vest. They continued, Fern was much slower with the extra weight, so Granny just kept in time with her. This time they stopped after ten reps. “Another ten kilos in the vests, Doc!” Yelled Granny.

They started another set, but, suddenly Fen let go of the bar, collapsing in a quivering, sweaty mass. Granny continued, with the crowd counting down the last ten reps. Granny continued faultlessly. “Three, two, one.” The lads gathered around Granny, everyone hugging her, or shaking her hand. Doc Morton stepped forward and held up her right hand. “The undefeated chin up champeen, Granny!”

Foodge felt a great surge of pride, as well as a great surge in the trouser department. He and Merv stepped forward to escort the champ back to the Pigs Arms.

Fern turned to Doc Morton. “You don’t have an opening for a secretary, by any chance?”

The Three Wise Women

The Three Wise Women

 

Foodge 60.75 Ongoing Meaningless

03 Sunday Apr 2016

Posted by Mark in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

≈ 39 Comments

Merv

Merv

“Well fuck me” says Merv in his usual laconic style leaving no holes barred. “Fucking Emmjay has decided to to turn up about six episodes ago and is whinging like a Manly supporter”

“Hoos Manly?” enquires O’Hoo seeing that his tablets have not taken affect and he is worried about the effect they will have on his penis, not that he uses it, well except for granny, in his dreams.

“That dickhead ewe no ToeKnee Abbott, the drop in arsehole” says Gib W flicking fly shit from the mouth of his stubbie and wondering why he is in this series.

“Fleas gentleman mind your language, me and Nurse Barbara are easily offended”

Yvonne

Yvonne

informs the drop dead gorgeous Yvonne, pictured to the right as requested.

“Huh, what is off endened?” asks Angler On as he sits quietly listening to some old music on his head phones, The Band for example.

“Abbott is off ended by some arsewipe that took his job” informs Merv.

“Shit” says Nurse Barbara

“Shit” says Yvonne

“Shit” says Merv

“Shit” says Gib W

“Shit” says Angler

Emmjay

Emmjay

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit” says Emmjay in an effort to catch up on a few episodes.

Did I leave any shit out? Says the author.

“Oh well, fuck Abbott. Trotter’s and Pink drinks all round” says Merv.

“What about me, it isn’t fair, blah blah blah…” says Emmjay struggling to keep up.

“Well fuck you” replies the chorus from the front bar. Seeing Emmjay is so far behind no one really cares about him anymore except he pays the bills I guess.

“Look if you haven’t been bothered to keep up with this series it’s your own fault Emmjay” gloats Yvonne with her highly recognizable fingernail, “Tough titties”

“But I’m just a jealous guy blah blah blah…” cries Emmjay as he struggles to think of another song to suit his circumstance.

“Well I’m a rhinestone cowboy etc” says O’Hoo hoo recently had ect.

“Keating, ‘…fundamentally, he’s a cherry on top of a compost heap. The great risk for Malcolm is that he doesn’t remain a cherry, but turns into a sultana.’” relates Gib, just to throw a sultana in the serial.

jdncouchmainweb

Nurse Barbara

“Christ” says Nurse Barbara

“Jesus” says Yvonne

“Gordon” says Merv

Gib W

Gib W

“Father Fuckhead” says Gib W

“Hmm” says Angler

“Hey hang on a minute. I’m in this episode, why don’t I have anything to say?” calls Emmjay.

“Well, old mate, it’s like this, keep up or go away” informs Merv

“Keep up or go away” replies Emmjay

“Yeah, fuck off, well unless it’s your shout” states Merv.

“Oh, some time, is there anybody out there, hmm…” sings Emmjay, desperate to get back into the the story.

“We don’t need no education, dah dah dah, we don’t knead no thought control, there’s lots of hazards in the classroom, hey, teacher, leave those kids alone, all in all your just another brick in the wall” etc. continues Emmjay

Can anyone else but me see where this is going? Don’t think so. Fifteen more words to 500 and counting,

one, two, three, four

tony-abbott-thinks-too-hardwe don’t need no tony abbott

malcolm turnbull has sold his soul

lots of hazards in the parly

they all bend to thought control

……..

Songs for Refugees

01 Friday Apr 2016

Posted by Mark in Algernon, Bands at the Pig's Arms

≈ 2 Comments

refugee

 

 

Songs for Refugees

Playlist by Algernon

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TsFaI0YlWU0

Oh Canada – Missy Higgins

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50e2s_iJaGM

Refugee song – Liam Blaney

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-SQGOYOjxs

Prayer for the Refugee – Rise against

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYD3_kDNkWY

Refugees In – Pussy riot

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iIxxHmIPVN4

Borders – M.I.A.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OFGgbT_VasI

Redemption Song – Bob Marley

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXcSkgeqa98

I am so weary – Cliff McAulay

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_ehYkr0NhU

Dust Bowl Refugee – Woody Guthrie

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaN4vma0n0A

Shark Fin Blues- Missy Higgins

Album Review: Back in Black

31 Thursday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Bands at the Pig's Arms, Mark

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

ACDC, Black Sabbath, Led Zepplelin, Mark, Uriah Heep

ACDC_In_Tacoma_2009“AC/DC are an Australian hard rock band, formed in November 1973 by brothers Malcolm and Angus Young, who continued as members until Malcolm’s illness and departure in 2014.[1] Commonly referred to as a hard rock or blues rock[2] band, they are also considered pioneers of heavy metal and are sometimes classified as such,[3] though they have always dubbed their music as simply “rock and roll“.[4]

The paragraph above is what Wiki says about ACDC however to me they would have to be the best rock and roll band of all time. Now I don’t say that lightly as there are many contenders however as a musician these guys really knew about how to write great roll and roll riffs that captured the audience.

Me personally I don’t listen to them much. My taste is more towards jazz/rock however having played in bands for 30 years or so people love this stuff. Like the Stones and Dire Straits they just had that something that separated them from the rest.

“Pioneers of heavy metal…” don’t think so but really fantastic rock music played byAcdc_backinblack_cover a really tight band with a great lead guitarist and as a guitar player one of my many idols. If I was looking for heavy metal pioneers I would look to the big four as they were known at the time, Black Sabbath, Uriah Heep, Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin but this is taste and there is no accounting for it.

Track 1 on side 1(showing my age here) is this,

Hells Bells

Now as a former player, when you get hot and sweaty the ability to play becomes harder, trust me, I’m a nurse.

The title track is here,

Back in Black

My favourite is here,

You Shook me all Night Long

The full album is here

For me, I like this stuff down the pub after a night out, a few drinks and a dance. Enjoy patrons, I will.

Foodge 60.725 The Inner Cyberian Cup

30 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

Angler, Foodge, Gib W, Mark, Nurse Barbara, O'Hoo, Yvonne

Story by Mark, Edited by Big M

merv 2

Polished balls

Merv was worried. Foodge had become more mentally disturbed than usual, so it was likely to be about a woman, or a man, but probably a woman. Merv panned the bar and spotted the usual characters, minus Foodge, who had gone to get his balls polished, bowling, that is, and thought to himself that he should do something a bit different for the patrons. Hmm, the the Inner Cyberian Cup was coming up, he thought, maybe he could get granny to do some food and get everyone to chip in and have a sweep.

“Thanks, Merv, for the embellishments” says Gib W as he picks fly shit his jacket , ignoring the wedges and sour cream on his shirt. “I’m still not sure whether Foodge has played hide the sausage, we may eventually find out. The events in Brussels Sproits are particularly disturbing.”

“Hope you don’t mind me asking Gib but what the fuck are embellishments?” asks Merv.

“Dunno” replies Gib “ it’s in the script, it’s a really big word and I think it’s those things you put on your sausage, like tomato sauce” informs Gib.

nurse02

Nurse Barbara

“This sounds like men only business. So pretend I’m not here and keep chatting.” Says Nurse Barbara downing a pink drink shooter followed by a canoe of Trotter’s Special while she lights her fag. Hmm, thinks Merv, these nurses are good at multitasking.

“I dunno, Barbara, knowing Foodge, not much happened, aside from a post imbibing fart-fest” Informs Gib, whilst nodding towards his own empty canoe.

“And we’ll eavesdrop … er, um, … listen” says the picturesque Yvonne who is sitting next to Nurse Barbara, sipping her pink drink and wondering what has she gotten herself into here.

“Yes, rough talk at the Gentleman’s Bar. The last time the women folk eavesdropped on the fellas around the BBQ they learned plenty about solar panels, storage batteries, and losses due to localised heating within DC leads” says Gib scratching at his navel, dislodging enough belly button fluff to stuff a small pillow, and giving all us patrons insight as to what men really talk about at BBQ’s. Yes rough talk indeed.

“Do they serve horse meat here at the Pigs Arms? Just asking” enquires GO, the distinguished artist and author, married to the beautiful H

“Hope so Gerard. Most of the supermarket chains do” chimes in O’Hoo as he checks to see if his leg bag is full.

“These moderators at the Drum are driving me mad, all I said was that Onanism suits you and they didn’t effing publish it, oops, wrong story, lets see, that’s right I didn’t make a comment” realises hph returning to the Drum to fight for the cause.

“Its what they do with old racehorses isn’t it” says Angler On as he studies the form guide.

Random Photo of George the Cat

Hmm, fritters

“I was at a horse auction recently and even young ones go. If they look good as lasagne or ravioli then they are in trouble” interjects O’Hoo, forever the foodie remembering his own mother’s cat fritters.

“Well if horses were bred like cattle where for eating that would be OK but to do so as they don’t sell or are trouble isn’t. Many in Outer Cyberia eat horse”. Says Angler On.

“Yes I agree Angler, eating is very cultural. What actually upset me more was a young thoroughbred was led into the ring, very handsome chestnut called Burger. The auctioneer kept calling out ‘Must be cooked though before eating, suitable for freezing, great with chips and salad.’ Several of the horses were referred to in this manner and are sold with or without sauce” says O’Hoo suddenly an expert on everything horse.

“My step sister is married to a Henchman” says Gib “Loves horse so much that he will eat them without tomato sauce” admires Gib. In fact not even Smokey BBQ thinks Gib, now that’s tough.

“Granny does a lovely Goat Rogan Josh” say Angler.

“Rogan Josh was a racehorse. Nothing to do with Phallic Symbol though. On the other hand I do like a good goat curry.” says Nurse Barbara butting her fag out and wondering if the author actually knows where this story s going. [Authors Note: No idea actually]

“Yes, a friend won a fair bit of money off Rogan Josh, only because they had Indian takeaway the previous night. Sued for salmonella, made a motza” says Merv.

“I went to school with Rogan, we studied Horseplay together” states O’Hoo in his usual uninformed way. “Hmm, sounds good, suddenly my kids look attractive”

imagesTOR600JI

Goat curry

“DG, you’re joshing. You would eat your kids?” exclaims Gib.

“Gib, would I ever Josh you” laughs O’Hoo, he he he he “Lets face it they are about as useful as cats”

“Nope,I didn’t go to school with anyone named Phallis, but there were plenty of Richards” says Angler missing a few lines of script.

“My mother in laws name was Phyllis, is that close?” says Yvonne reading a line meant for O’Hoo who had taken himself to the Mens seeing his leg and colostomy bag were full.

“She told me, marry who like except a black or a Catholic or even worse a black catholic. Then I took Hung One On home, a Chinese black catholic. With gubbermint help and plastic surgery Hung turned into an Anglo-Saxon-Celt atheist, wheeze got along fine after that.” finishes Yvonne as O’Hoo returns and orders another canoe.

[Hey editor Yvonne here, this doesn’t make any sense]

[Don’t worry Yvonne it never does]

“The name of our English Head was Richard Head. He was such a lovely bloke that very few of us took to the piss” laments Gib.

sarnoff_roses43

Nursing student

“When I was a nursing student I looked after a chap called Richard Head. After handover I would go and talk to all the patients in the ward, mainly just to suss them out a bit. Anyway when I got to the said gentleman and said my name was Barbara he said ‘Nice to meet you Barbara, call me Penis’ True story” relates Nurse Barbara.

“I’ve know a few Richards, they all tended to be Penises. I had a Scouting leader called Carmichael Hunt, didn’t like his name being abbreviated. Don’t know of too many blokes being called Phyllis though. Mrs Angler had an aunt called Phyllis. They called her auntie Phil. I was always confused.” obfuscated Angler like most Foodge episodes.

“Yes!” continues Angler, “Out of Bordello Boy and Phallic Pride I understand”.

“Hmm, good bloodlines and great eating I believe” says O’Hoo

“Roy and HG had a fantastic stayer called Rooting King I wonder if there is anything in Phallic Prides past linking it. Apparently a good stayer” says Angler. “Now is there any truth in the story that someone has acquired a horse called Phallic Symbol.”

hom777d

The Dodgy Bros.

“Yes, bound to be in the next episode” says O’Hoo reading lines now off the back of his beer coaster, just like the gubbermint really. “Oh, the race is over, who won Merv?” O’Hoo questions.

“Farrk Nose” replies Merv. “But Aynuss was a late scratching.”

“By much?” asks O’Hoo.

Hung’s Wide World of Fritters

28 Monday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark, The Dining Room

≈ 18 Comments

Tags

corn, fritters, Mark

zucchini-corn-fritters-11649_l

Pic from taste.com.au

 

Story by Hung

Now, just for a change from all that sex and innuendo with Foodge and that amusing, mildly whimsical Father O’Way here is one of my favorite recipes that’s really hard but easy. The only hard part is the ingredients and the easy part is being home to add them together to make a nice simple meal of corn fritters that can have thousands of variations.

Ingredients – this is what you need to start(shotgun optional, well not really, just read on, lie back and think of England)

Olive oil – about a tablespoon or so

Eggs – times three, beaten. Please wait till kiddies are out of sight due to domestic violence being banned here at the Pigs Arms. Lets face it, would you like to wake up to that early morning TV show, Tomorrow Today and see that 3 eggs have been severely beaten up after having a few dozen? Don’t think so.

Water – the most powerful chemical in the universe times 125 ml

Pepper  – a pinch. Just think of granny’s arse

Salt – see pepper

Chilli – see shotgun

Sugar – see granny’s arse or a teaspoon, I know which one I prefer

Shallot – finely chopped, about 1/4 cup or so

Corn – kernels about 90 grams

Potato powder – about 125 grams

Plain flour – see above

Psyllium – pinch, see granny’s arse

Cumin  – 1/4 teaspoon

Lager – Copious amounts

Method

  1. Grab the shotgun and shoot your cat. The world and mankind now owe you a favor which is my spicy sweet corn fritters. These I make without SR flour because when I went to school we never got to the letter S in the 14 years of drudgery I spent there. I found out about it later in life when my boss told me I was sacked, with a capital S, what a sunt.
  2. Go and get a mixing bowl, one that mixes will help here.
  3. Gently whisk the eggs. Don’t think of your boss or your partner while doing this, gentle, relax, unwind and put another round or two into the cat and then down a lager.
  4. Add about 125 ml of water or lager but no cat blood. Cats is bad.
  5. Great the shallot(love the misspelling) and add Colonel corn, shallot, powdered potato and flower(again yes I no), psylium chilli and cumin, salt, peeper and anything else I have left out. Drink more lager. Optional at this stage is to shoot the cat again however I have found over the years it is best to go and shoot someone else’s cat, he he he he.
  6. Mix the eff out of it. With these sort of recipes once fluid is added you may need to add more dry ingredients to get it to a North Sydney constituency, heavy batterish, 1950’ish fish coating style, thick, like me Brony and Tone, no SR flour means this needs to be reasonably dry before cooking. Drink another lager or two then argue with your partner, then relax, all will be good. Maybe get your partner to put a few rounds into the cat. Just sayin like.
  7. I coat a non stick pan with oil spray and use egg rings. To get an idea of an egg ring you stick your middle finger up a chickens arse. This gives you an estimation of what an egg ring feels like. Some people use capsicum slices as egg rings to avoid having to wash them up. If this happens then that person has just fingered one big fucker of a chicken. Shoot them if you have any ammo left. Fry at moderate to high heat to ensure the mixture cooks, flip half way. Drink another lager or two. Set fire to your neighbors fence, petrol is best, then the 6 to 8 fritters should be ready.
  8. After the Pleece have been make a sauce with yogurt, garlic, parsley, cucumber and cumin. Serve with salad, lemon wedges and crusty bread. Don’t drink any more lager at this stage as it could cause problems with your partner, neighbor or the Pleece. Go straight to whiskey shots.
  9. Grab the shotgun…

 

Foodge 60.7 – Reflects

28 Monday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

≈ 35 Comments

Tags

Big M, Easter, Foodge, granny

Granny3

Story by Big M

It was the eve of Easter Sunday, or Easter Saturday night, if you like. Foodge had tossed and tossed then turned for hours, so it seemed. It felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and wondered if tossing was such a good thing after all. He was usually (always) ignorant of world events, but even Foodge couldn’t escape the images of the Brussels Sprouts attacks, cramps, IBS etc,. He wondered if something similar could happen here, then remembered something about the Lindt Chocolate Café siege.

Foodge tried to shift his mind from violence and terror, but kept slipping back to that night he was told his parents had died. The Pleece Constable seemed like a nice bloke who had brought a lady constable to soften the blow, but it didn’t seem to help.

Life was never the same for Foodge, he became withdrawn, preferring to stay inside and read. Some teachers tried to get him labelled as ADD(Attention Deficient something, er, um, sorry lost my train of thought) or autistic, or worse MINUS(Mentality Insecure Neurotic User Syndrome) or acoustic,  whilst the more cluey ones realised that he was just a sad little kid with a big penis. It worked to his advantage, though, he read so much that he excelled at English and History, which enabled him to go to university, well to the car park anyhoo. PM material for shore.

Then there was the blossoming relationship between him and Granny. In spite of being HIV, MRSA, VRE and LGQBTI positive, it created a great deal of anxiety in Foodge, who had never had sex, sorry, never had a long-term girlfriend. ‘What were her expectations of him?’ He pondered.

Foodge remembered reading something about insomnia. Emmjay and Big M had Ford Zephyr4written that nothing really works. Viv reckoned it got worse as you got older, while Algernon swore by having a head job, nose only of course, just in case kiddies are watching, cured it. Perhaps he should follow O’Hoo’s advice. ‘Get stoned, pissed, and then laid.’ Well, he could probably do just one of them.

With that he wandered down to the Gentleman’s Bar, and poured a double South Sea Islands Imitation Scotch, and sat in one of the aging Chesterfields. Everything was quiet, but there was still some low-level background noise in the Pigs Arms. It gave Foodge a sense that the place was alive, but it was probably just the sound of refrigeration compressors.

[Editors note: It was really just Hedgie trying to tunnel out of AgH2O after meeting one to many Alfie’s, think about it before any correspondence is entered in to]

A veri private dick

A veri private dick

Foodge had managed to drift off, after a second Imitation Scotch. He awoke with a start (they don’t call him Foodge, Very Private Dick for no reason). There was the slightest movement just out of the corner of his eye. He looked around to see a pink figure with a basket full of eggs, which the figure was distributing around the pub. He let out a small gasp, as he had never managed to catch the Easter Bunny in the act. The ‘Easter Bunny’ turned around to reveal Granny, in her best pink chenille dressing gown,Granny4 and her hair up in a bun. ‘Can’t sleep dear?’ As she continued to hide Cadbury’s eggs around the place. ‘We’ll fix that.’ With that she hid her last egg, then led Foodge upstairs to her room.

Two out of three isn’t bad! Cluck, cluck.

Foodge 60.6 – Pension Day

23 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Big M, Foodge Private Dick

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Big M, Foodge, granny, Merv

9079.900.49557dc010Story by Big M

It was mid-morning, so Merv was manning the Gentleman’s Bar, whilst Foodge tidied up the Ladies Lounge and got the urn boiling for the Bowling Ladies’ morning tea. Granny had made some savouries, wedges and so forth, and Beryl had cooked a couple of cakes. The Ladies were ebullient over Mr Merv’s rehabilitation and release from hospital. The electric telephone rang. ‘ ‘Allo, Pigs Arms, Merv speakin’ ‘

‘This is Maria from enduss, are you Mr Merv?’

‘’oo?’

‘Mr Merv, are you Mr Merv?’

‘Yes, but ‘oo are you?’

‘Maria.’

‘Yep, I ‘eard that, ‘oo’s enduss?’

‘You know, the enduss, from the gummint.’

‘No, I never ‘eard of a enduss from the gummint.’ Mr Merv was pretty wary after the terror attacks in Western Cyberia.

O’Hoo suddenly burst into the bar brandishing some tools. ‘Can I plug me cordless drill in here, Merv’

‘Not now mate, I’m busy with Maria from enduss.’

‘Enduss? Then where can I stick it?’ O’Hoo was swinging the cord around like a toy.

‘You can stick it up yer Khyber Pass!’

‘Mr Merv, that’s no way to speak to a member of the gummint. Maria’s voice was sharp, even over the phone.

‘Sorry Mrs Enuss, but I’m struggling here.’

‘Well, I only rang to say that the local NDIS has considered your claim and we don’t music for pubs1consider you to be disabled.’

‘I’m not disabled, I’m running a pub.’ Merv grew red in the face.

‘No you’re not, you’re in a coma, which we don’t consider to be a disability.’

‘Why wouldn’t a coma be a disability?’ Roared Merv.

‘Well, because technically you are under the care of the local hospital, not the enduss.’

‘Oh, we’re back to the enduss!’ Merv fingers were white from holding the handset so tight.

‘Now that we have dealt with that, we have a Mr Foodge living at your premises.’

‘Foodge, phone!’ yelled Merv.

‘Good morning, Mr Foodge here.’ Foodge, ever the gentleman.

‘Mr Foodge, we are pleased to inform you that your application for a pension under the NDIS has been approved.’ Foodge could almost hear the smile down the phone.

‘I didn’t apply for any pension, besides, I’m not disabled.’ Foodge was befuddled.

‘No, but hospital records show that you have been admitted for alcoholic liver disease?’

‘Yes.’ Foodge was already nervous.

‘You were treated in a previous episode for taking oestrogen?’

‘Yes, but that was a mistake.’ The sweat was pouring down Foodge’s face.

‘Do you live on your own?’

‘No, with Mr Merv and Granny!’ Foodge loosened his Lewisham Men’s Bowling tie.

‘Do you have a job?’

No, not exactly, I run a business.’

‘That’s Foodge Private Enquiries, that hasn’t turned a penny in two years.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘Do you have a spouse/partner/significant other?’

Simulated painting of Granny by Scott Harding

Simulated painting of Granny by Scott Harding

‘Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I’m dating Granny!’ Foodge sounded triumphant.

‘So, a grown man with a sham business, who is cared for by others, and thinks he is dating his Granny, of course you deserve a pension!’ Maria was about to close the second case for the day.

‘But I don’t want a pension!’ Yelled Foodge.

‘That’s all right, dear, it’s already going into your account. We just wanted to double-check your details! Bye.’

Father O’Way – The Middle Ages 1

22 Tuesday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Father O'Way, Mark

 

O'Way we go

O’Way we go

Well, I suppose that you will now want to know about the middle bits, you know before I go into sp…

[Cut,cut, cut, no one move, Mike the Editor here, Mark don’t give away the story just yet]

… yeah right before I go into spontaneity and go along with the script. Even my spell checker says I spelt spontaneity right once I corrected it. Isn’t life just grand. Well let me tell you what’s been happening since I’ve seen you last.

Now lets see, lets start with the meetings. Out under our charming marquee with the Bishop at the head of the table and you have Sister Horribleness at the other head of the table it you get my drift and the rest of us just pull up a pew, literally.6459934-funny-priest-with-mean-nun-holding-ruler Don’t wanna type too loud here just in case the old bat can still hear.

“Did you have something to say Father O’Way?” asked the kind but hirsute Sister, a frequent visitor at Glenda’s House of Pain, next door. “Please address the chair if you wish to speak.”

“Yes your Excellency” I say beauteously. Hey, nice word, like when they come out of Glenda’s House of Pain, a face of pure agony but looking beauteously. However it sort of rhymes with “beat him up” as they look at a lonely priest, especially one that doesn’t require either the agony or the ecstasy.

Well my chair don’t speak nothing Sister so I let it rip, both barrels, no holding back, oh yes, you should have seen me in action. In fact my with my wit and intelligence I thrashed her to within plus or minus 2.5 centremeters of her life. I forcibly spoke to her, barely able to contain my anger, anger so extreme that I replied “Yes Sister, Thank You Sister” grrrh, forever the diplomat.

Replica wedding tent - not actual size

Bishop Veri Bent takes the stage, you were hoping I was going to say rostrum weren’t you, oh well shit happens, even in your duds.

The Bishop outlines our jobs, Billy is to help get some ramps in for disabled kids and me I had to find a home for some refugees. Bishop Bent picked up the bill which was paid for by attendees of the church, unbelievable people in my view. You know, you would almost think this was fiction.

And that was it, do that as best you can through the week and attend service every Sunday except twice a year some special day nearer New Year and Good Easter Day when the Church of St Generic Brand is shut. Wow. Sandy like.

Now let me tell you about some of the staff. They all come to the meetings on Monday at 11 am which Veri loves as he likes time to wake up, coffee paper and nicotine patch on the porch, a tub then breakfast then into it. Veri didn’t care what time it was when he finished work. When asked what his favourite time was, he would always say “Drink o’clock mate” but Billy on the other hand likes to be up and at it early, told you he was odd.

Everyone contributes however the two heads at the table make the final decision. Anyhoo, it always boils down to who needs help the most. Lotta dem poor in Inner Cyberia especially in the Western suburbs where we all live.

online-fashion-shoppingWe have a group of women that run the place. They are all sisters, er, um, biologically Belinda, Juanita, Jacinta, Melinda, Rosita, Edwina , Sophia and Cassandra Citizen. The prettiest by far is Belinda, gulg, gulg, how can a mug like me ever approach a girl like that. Belinda walks past, my attention is fixed, my mind closes and I only vaguely remember how to speak, I mean here comes the best looking girl in the Universe. Do you get the feeling that I like the look of her…

[Mark here mate, get on with it, again]

…subtle intelligence emanating from her studious looks and her delightful smile.

“Hi, Sandy” she said as if my name was Sandy and I looked like someone who needed saying hello to. “My names Belinda I believe you have met all my sisters except Glenda, she’s got her own shop next door, you know, the House of Pain, lets hope you never have to go and have your short and curly’s done” she said laughing and me too, I think this is just so far fetched that it is stretching the boundaries of fiction, fancy me being talked to by such a bewitching girl.

“Meet to glad you” I say in my usual dumb way however we both laughed again.
“Anyhoo, I’m off to do some more jobs, hope to see you around” Belinda replies romantically…

[Cut, cut, no one move, Mike the Editor again, Mark, Belinda is just being kind to Sandy, she’s not in love with him]

…okay then she replies in a non-perfunctory manner. [Mark here, is that better? Are these editor types spoilt sports or what.]

Look let me know if you fall asleep, I’ll read it to you again if you like.

See ya next time.

← Older posts
Newer posts →

Patrons Posts

  • The Question-Crafting Compass November 15, 2025
  • The Dreaming Machine November 10, 2025
  • Reflections on Intelligence — Human and Artificial October 26, 2025
  • Ikigai III May 17, 2025
  • Ikugai May 9, 2025
  • Coalition to Rebate All the Daylight Saved April 1, 2025
  • Out of the Mouths of Superheroes March 15, 2025
  • Post COVID Cooking February 7, 2025
  • What’s Goin’ On ? January 21, 2025

We've been hit...

  • 714,006 times

Blogroll

  • atomou the Greek philosopher and the ancient Greek stage
  • Crikey
  • Gerard & Helvi Oosterman
  • Hello World Walk along with Me
  • Hungs World
  • Lehan Winifred Ramsay
  • Neville Cole
  • Politics 101
  • Sandshoe
  • the political sword

We've been hit...

  • 714,006 times

Patrons Posts

  • The Question-Crafting Compass November 15, 2025
  • The Dreaming Machine November 10, 2025
  • Reflections on Intelligence — Human and Artificial October 26, 2025
  • Ikigai III May 17, 2025
  • Ikugai May 9, 2025
  • Coalition to Rebate All the Daylight Saved April 1, 2025
  • Out of the Mouths of Superheroes March 15, 2025
  • Post COVID Cooking February 7, 2025
  • What’s Goin’ On ? January 21, 2025

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 373 other subscribers

Rooms athe Pigs Arms

The Old Stuff

  • RSS - Posts
  • RSS - Comments

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 373 other subscribers

Archives

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle
    • Join 279 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...