Category Archives: Mark

Tuna and Pear Pizza

23 Saturday Dec 2017

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Tuna and Pear pizza

 

This is one of my favourite pizzas of all time and comes from an authentic Italian cookbook that Tutu an I used a lot in our early days.

So make a pizza base. Do you need me to tell you how to do that I’m not sure. So buy one or make one. The home-made ones are better but I’ll leave that up to you.

Now as for level of ingredients, again that’s up to you and how many people you need to feed.

So lets assume you have a pizza base on a tray ready to go. The sauce that you apply goes like this.

Garlic

Onion

Salt and pepper

Olive oil

Anchovies

Tuna

Tomatoes and tomato paste

Method

Add oil to pan with salt and pepper then fry garlic for a few minutes. Add onion and keep frying for a bit longer then add tomatoes, anchovies and tuna. Add tomato paste to thicken, this needs to be spreadable. Mash and let cool.

Get you pizza base and spread the tuna paste on the base. Add slices of pear and onion rings, cheese of choice and cook for 10 minutes or so in a 220 degree oven.

When I took a trip on the Ghan I sat next to a pizza shop owner who loved the idea of the recipe. The pair softens and is sweet. The tuna is salty and adds the contrast. The tomato base is basically tuna bolonaise and is delightful as a balance to the other ingredients.

Tutu and I voted this as our second best pizza. First place was onion, capsicum and mushroom.

 

 

 

Merv has a Brother

29 Wednesday Nov 2017

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Gordon is worried about somefink

 

There was a loud banging on the door at the Pigs Arms.

“Let me in, let me in” cried Gordon “I need a drink, something tragic has happened.”

Merv rouses from his slumber and opens the door. “What’s up Gordy?” he asks without a care for the answer, it’s 8 o’clock in the morning and opening time is still two hours away, one hour and 59 minutes of blissful sleep lost.

“Six pints of Special and two serves of wedges, me gizmo is broken” wails Gordon.

Merv pours a few pints for Gordon then goes out to the kitchen to fire up the ovens

Simulated Trotters Special Ale

and fryers. “What frigging gizmo is broken Gordon?” he yells.

“It’s me SPIT” replies Gordon. “My Small Personal Interplanetary Teleporter”

Thank Gord I didn’t need an explanation for that one thinks Merv as he returns to the bar and pours some more pints for Gordon.

“Well go and see my brother Mick, down the road and round the corner at Mick’s Auto Mechanics and Florist Shop, just between Rosie’s and Glenda’s” says Merv.

“I didn’t know you had a brother” says Gordon as he downs yet another glass canoe.

Nah, me neither thinks Merv but then again I don’t write this shit either.

Gordon downs his last pint and his two servings of wedgies with extra herring and

Simulated wedgies

Vegemite sauce and heads down the road and round the corner to Mick’s Auto Mechanics and Florist shop although the road seems to be acting funny, it’s swaying all over the place making it difficult for Gordon to step forward on every occasion. Maybe I should have had seven pints thinks Gordy, these planets in the Milky Way are trouble.

Gordon enters the foyer at the workshop to be greeted by a lovely display of petunias, orchids and lilies. No one is in attendance so he rings the bell on the counter.

A man appears in overalls and a sweaty face. “Yes, how may I help you?” says the man.

“Hey” says Gordon “you’re Merv in a set of overalls and some water chucked on your face to look like sweat”

“Look, I’m playing my identical twin brother Mick as Emmjay has said to cut down on

Simulated Mick

production costs so just go along with it, okay? Extra casts means extra expense, get it!” asserts Mick or Merv whoever.

“Hmm, well I need my gizmo fixed and your identical twin brother sent me here to get it fixed” blasts Gordon thinking maybe he should of had eight pints. “Don’t have any other brothers do you?”

“Not sure yet till we get to the end of the story” replies Mick. “Lilies are on special you know.”

“Fuck lilies, can you fix my gizmo?” says Gordon wishing for another pint and handing over his SPIT. Don’t ya just hate people who spit.

Simulated ripoff merchant

“Um, probably, it will be costly” replies Mick as he takes the gizmo from Gordon. Mick looks at the bottom of the device and notices that the on/off switch is in the off position and switches it back on and hands it to Gordon. “That’ll be $500 fanks.”

Haven’t we all be there at some stage.

Intelligent Gordon O’Donnell

11 Saturday Nov 2017

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Intelligent Gordon O’Donnell

A Short Story
by Hung

Gordon O’Donnell was thinking about Sandy O’Way again. Sandy was a smart knight with vast hands and pretty toenails.

Gordon walked over to the window and reflected on his unusual surroundings. He had always loved distant in space with its mangled, melodic mountains. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel ambivalent.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a smart figure of Sandy O’Way.

Gordon gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an intelligent, funny, beer drinker with blonde hands and tall toenails. His friends saw him as a defiant, decaying deity. Once, he had even brought a watery blind person back from the brink of death.

But not even an intelligent person who had once brought a watery blind person back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Sandy had in store today.

The drizzle rained like cooking lizards, making Gordon fuzzy. Gordon grabbed an odd rock that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Gordon stepped outside and Sandy came closer, he could see the shallow glint in his eye.

Sandy gazed with the affection of 6230 peculiar handsome hamsters. He said, in hushed tones, “I love you and I want peace.”

Gordon looked back, even more fuzzy and still fingering the odd rock. “Sandy, I ate your puppy,” he replied.

They looked at each other with surprised feelings, like two drab, damaged dogs smiling at a very stupid wake, which had jazz music playing in the background and two brave uncles chatting to the beat.

Gordon regarded Sandy’s vast hands and pretty toenails. “I feel the same way!” revealed Gordon with a delighted grin.

Sandy looked jumpy, his emotions blushing like a kindhearted, klutzy knife.

Then Sandy came inside for a nice drink of beer.

THE END

The Boys go to Blat

03 Friday Nov 2017

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Off you go boys but I’ll be waiting

 

“Well I think that wheeze boys should have a weekend away for all that male bonding stuff” says Emmjay as he sips his glass canoe.

Oh fuck no, thinks Hung all that pretend bullshit about how great wheeze all were back in jail, oops I mean high school. ”I’m bored” says Hung reading from the script that he wrote. “Can’t we just put on some Dirt Air and Heat and pretend?”

Dirt Air and Heat

“Bloody good idea” says Gib ”Lets go out and shoot some cats, drink lots of piss and cook some critters on the barbeque.”

Cheers all round, well from the boys anyway.

”Not a bad idea” says Angler ”Lets get Gordon, Gez and Sandy and, and go camping.”

”None of that poofter stuff” pipes in Merv, who by the way hasn’t actually been invited, as he has to run the pub and granny wouldn’t let him go anyway seeing

This is the bit before the tzatziki

he is a juvenile delinquent or that he is from Deniliquin.

“An, an, an, how come Foodge and O’Hoo haven’t been invited?” pushes Merv.

“Ewes ain’t invited Merv, ewes have to stay behind and run the pub” replies Emmjay ticking over the dollars.

“And Merv, my young friend, someone has to keep the business fluid, if you get my drift” informs Gordon.

“But Gordon, camping is crap, flies in your caviar, no Macca’s for your hangovers and sleeping can be uncomfortable” pipes in Sandy.

“Not when you travel to a different solar system in the SS He Who Cannot be Named II” replies Gordon. “I have activated the ship and we off the the planet Blat, to kill cats.”

“Count us in” say the boys.

So we do all the science fiction stuff, you know beam up to the ship, fly so fast your

Looks more like snot to me

nose bleeds and then descend to the planet surface in a space pod, fully self sustaining so that no evidence, oops, rubbish is left behind to damage the environment. Wheeze clean, mean and green. Sounds like a slogan for a certain political party.

The pod lands and settles itself gently on a grassy patch next to a pristine river estuary flowing out to sea. Crikey, sounds like Summer Bay.

“What’s for dinner?” asks Geez trying to get his word count up and who has been in absentia (or is that dementia) for the last few stories.

“Ask auto cook” Emmjay contributes being much in the same bracket.

“Auto cook responding. Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock and the door shall be opened up to you.”

“Stop, none of that religion bullshit” affirms Hung, smoke absolutely pouring out of his cigarette.

“How about roasted leg of beast with potatoes, carrots served with jus and mulled

Roasted Beast

wine” Gib pontificates “Oh and greens for fun, followed by a peach frangipane with

home made ice cream and raspberry compote covered with crushed almonds and icing sugar.”

“Swap the mulled wine for Shiraz and you got me” says Angler.

Cheers and beers all round.

“Auto cook responding, go the mass has ended, thanks be to Gordon…”

“No, no, no, no religion. I told you Mark, no fucking religion okay!” reinforces Hung.

“Hung, I’m not even in this episode, I’m on holidays at Long Bay but point taken” says Mark.

Seven days later, no one had thought to go outside, shoot cats, discover the

Here kitty

environment, meditate, do yoga, kill cats, look out the window, debate Chaos theory, find an algorithm that actually works but no matter everyone returned to Inner Cyberia in a totally happy mood.

So Honshades approaches the boys on return from space. “So boys, how many cats did you kill?”

“Coupla hundred” lies Gib.

“At least a thousand” lies Angler.

“Tens of thousands, wheeze run out of ammo” lies Gordon.

“Well none actually but wheeze brought one home” says the ever truthful Emmjay.

“Don’t tell Helvi but I’m in love with auto cook” says Gez.

One too many beers I fink…

 

Picture is from left to right, Sandy, Gib, Emmjay (at rear, as usual), Angler, Gordon, Foodge, Neville and Gez. O’Hoo is the stiff.

This is the cat that Emmjay brought back, aw we how cute, now they infest the whole planet, oh well.

How cute, we nick named her Cockroach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is Deep.

22 Sunday Oct 2017

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Ofta Church we go…baa baa

Traffic seems heavy this morning. You know wot happens. If you have  one car then you will get another therefore you will have two one cars that will interrupt your day. But hey, don’t mind me. I’m Sandy, your local parish priest that doesn’t believe in God. Pretty cool hey. A parish priest that doesn’t believe in God. Go up to your CEO and tell him or her that they don’t actually exist. Check out the facial expressions. Thems is so good they get paid thousands of times more than any one else in the company that actually does something. Can you believe that? Well I can.

Are you coming over to the Way of Gordon and the Church of Saint Generic Brand, hint, hint, come over and join in the festivities, kidding me if ya don’t?

A one car

 

I’m sitting in the front bar at the Pigs Arms. Bloody disgusting place, that’s why I visit. Now now, no, to try and convert these poor souls over to the Way of Gordon to the Church of Saint Generic Brand. Bring your own religion and tacos and we can have a meal after, sound okay?

Gordon is recanting in his usual highly religious way, tongues and betadines instead of uvulas and metaphors. “Hey, and did ya see Hacker’s face when wheeze told him that hees don’t exist know more, talk about double en titre with BBQ sauce…” and so the word was of Gordon.

Gordon can speak under water with a mouth full of pebbles, hmm.

“Well, yeah look I mean right okay for sure I really do think so, perhaps if I had more time but I agree you won’t see me wavier unless I see a better  argument for sure please trust me, I’m a nurse, lets forget that little brown paper bag but yes I agree with whatever I said” says Gib.

Wow, that got my word count up. “thanks Gib”. “No worries Hung”.

“Has the story actually started yet?” asks Honshades.

Lets see if I have all angles covered.

“No, well I don’t think so” says Angler. “Oh, hang on yes, Sandy’s here to convert us the Way of Gordon when really he just wants to drink ale.” Aren’t some parts of stories just real shit, er, um, if you know what I mean.

“Has anyone feed the chooks yet?” enquires Nurse Barbara who will be feeding the chooks for some time in the coming episodes.

“I think that if you change the name down at the railway station from Hornsby to Bondi that no one will really notice. Imagine the thrill of getting off at Hornsby, the wild surf, fresh air and blonde babes, yes I can see it now, what could possibly go wrong.” says Sister Yvonne.

Lets extrapolate this across other things like lets change the name of Ferrari to Datsun 120Y. Oh yes, this is real folks.

That’s right, nothing happened…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All at Sea

28 Thursday Sep 2017

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Yeah, the S.S. Sebago was out there somewhere, well it was last night during the storm, maybe we need a plaque or somefink…

The ship ploughed through the heavy seas with waves breaching the bow and the wind so cold as to chill your bones. Black as night with no moon and raging seas the ship continued it’s journey. The captain knew what needed to be done and that was to reach the Inner Cyberian port of Port Disendower by day break otherwise there would be trouble for all concerned.

The crew braced themselves for every impact of the rise and fall of the great ship and they secretly groaned underneath their breath so no one else would notice

The Sebago in serious trouble, all beer drunk…

there suffering or fear or worse, both. Only the captain knew what the cargo was and to tell

that secret could mean his life, or even worse, having to watch re-runs of Seinfeld.

“Aye, Capn” said the first mate. Look I hope you don’t mind me abbreviating captain to Capn as I’m a lousy typist plus it gives the story that pirate sort of feel. “Aye Capn” yes you’ve said that “this storm is an omen that we are doomed” cries the first mate(FM).

“Fuck off” says the Capn with his usual tact. “We must get this cargo through other wise all hell will break loose.”

“And what cargo would they be?” winks the FM as he only has one eye and the other one is closed.

I’m here for my brains but this stuff hurts my arse

“None you mind. Now chuck a right seems like wheeze is approaching some sort of guano infested rock up ahead.”

“You mean starboard Capn, wheeze don’t do right when wheeze at sea”

Oh FFS, thinks the captain, where does the author dig these characters up from. “Okay then turn starboard a bit”

“That ain’t guano Capn, that’s an iceberg” cries the FM.

“Great. Look chip some off and I’ll have it in my scotch later” claims the captain.

“But it’s gale force-winds Capn.”

“Yes, I went to school with Gail, bit of a dish was our Gail.”

Oh FFS thinks the FM, where does the author dig up these characters.

The ship narrowly misses the iceberg and continues it’s journey to Port Disendower.

The captain returns to his cabin for some cabernet, roast chicken and fresh baked

Hmm, chicken, well that’s what best to tell kiddies

bread when a knock comes at the door. It’s the FM.

“Capn, pirates on the port bow” he cries. Seems to do a lot of crying this FM.

“Tell them I’m busy and need to go to the podiatrist” says the captain.

“No daze is gunna board us, slit our throats and steal our precious but yet unknown cargo” replies the FM.

“Well blow them out of the water”

“What with?”

“Questions, always questions. Tell them if they ever want another Trotter’s Ale that granny will be very nasty to them, very nasty indeed, if fact granny may not even serve her wedgies with her famous Vegemite and herring sauce if they so harm us, subject to high court challenge. Get Foodge” replies the captain.

“Wot, wedgies with no sauce?”

“Yes indeed.”

Ready to load

The FM relays the message and with that the pirates scamper and the sun rises in the direction from which the sun rises. The boat pulls into the harbour with Merv and granny waiting patiently on the dock with the Zephyr. The gangplank goes down and the captain walks ashore. “Captain Captain at your service, cargo has arrived, all the fresh potatoes you need for your wedges.”

The FM faints.

Some of this story is true but not much really.

Granny sips on a Trotter’s Special waiting for the boat to come in

Steely Dan

12 Tuesday Sep 2017

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Well, sort of ….

 

I’m gunna add this post because I need to and in no way is this meant to detract from any list by Algernon who has has a much better talent than me at listing great songs.

Steely Dan became my musical life when I was around 19 years old. A friend got me into them by playing the Royal Scam album for three days in a row. I was hooked and prior to that is was Uriah Heep, Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd and chuck in Black Sabbath.

I was a drummer at he time and later went on to the guitar. A mate told me that I was a great blues player even though I didn’t really understand at the time what he meant. He was 8th grade AMEB on the flute and a great Steely Dan fan.

You can read their history here. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steely_Dan

As I got older, which happened quickly, I was drawn to folk like Stevie Ray Vaughan, Kenny Wayne Shepard, Rory Gallagher, Gary Moore, Jimi Hendrix and Roy Buchanan. Then even further back to Lighting Hopkins and Robert Johnson.

People would come from miles around just to hear me play the blues. It was great for my ego but the band I followed was Steely Dan. Tutu will tell you that I was a Steely Dan addict. It wasn’t pop,or rock or jazz or blues it was Steely Dan. Here are some of my favourite tracks.

Fire in the Hole

One of the best acoustic piano solos ever.

 

 

Don’t take me alive. My guitar teacher was in awe here, Larry Carlton on lead guitar.

 

 

Peg – Funky and along with Josie was Steely Dans answer to disco.

Suppose may as well include Josie

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gg9RyiPKhx8

 

Tutu and I emailed Steely Dan to play this one when they came to Australia.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yBcr4bWve5g

 

Then there was this one most Aussies will know.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bwHK1xkgJA

 

I could go on but these are just the few that come to mind. Vale Walter Becker, you will be missed by me and Tutu and the millions of fans all over the the world.  Here’s a song from a band that you produced called China Crisis from Scotland. You did cut me.

 

Merv goes Solar

07 Thursday Sep 2017

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Merv and the boys having a few Trotters at the front bar

 

Merv goes Solar.

Story by Mark.

Merv is a bit worried at the moment as he has received a power bill for the pub from the WheezeGunnaRipYouOff power company. Apparently the power bill for the Pigs Arms has gone up from $4 a year to $5 dollars a year. And if you take 4 away from 5 you get, um, well a really big number, maybe even binary.

“Granny, get ear” yells Merv, “Somefinks wrong with Bill”.

“Who the hell is Bill, anyway I’m to busy making wedgies with my famous herring and

Granny gets on top

Vegemite sauce” replies Granny in a fit of rage.

“No its electricity Bill, the one that the honest straight up government that never told a lie said it wouldn’t happen” says Merv.

“But days a pack of poofters Merv, days as bent as Alan Jones” gruffs Granny.

“But if you take 4 away from 5 you get an awful increase in our power bills. Wheeze need to talk to the pub owner” implores Merv. “However wheeze don’t know who that is.”

Gordon materialises at the bar. Geez, I wish he wouldn’t do that as he may scare kiddies.

“Gordon, do you own the Pigs Arms?” asks Merv.

“Nah, not me mate I voted Labor. So lets work this through, fictional characters wont, so Granny, Merv, Hedgie, Fern and Foodge are out. Now pass me the phone book. I’ll dial the Pigs Arms and see who answers” says Gordon.

What was that phone number again

Ring, ring, ring ring ring etc., as we all know it would only be woman to answer the fone, the men are too busy scratching their nuts and boasting about how good they was on the footy field. “Hello, The Window Dressers Arms Pig and Whistle, Granny speaking”

“Granny I’d like to speak to Dee Owner” says Gordon using his best British accent.

Granny announces “Phone call for Dee, Dee Owner, phone call for Dee Owner.”

The crew look perplexed and say nothing as Emmjay appears out of the men’s with urine stain intact on the front of his pants, forgot to shake that last drop and takes the call.

“Yes, Emmjay hear, to whom is I speaking” replies the only educated one in the room, well except for the girls.

“My name is Goldenrod Longeron” replies Gordon using his quick wit and a gizmo he got from Spaceworld on special for $9.99 to make him appear godly. “It’s to do with your electricity Bill that has gone up by a $1 per year and your staff are concerned about how this bill will be paid seeing no one pays their extensive bar tabs at your establishment. Are you the owner?”

“Oh no” says Emmjay “ Therese Trouserzoff is the owner you would have to speak to

“Therese!”
“Trouserzoff!”
Lovely to meet you

him or her.”

“Well is he or she there?” asks Gordon.

“Um no, but give me your name, number,  breast size and penis length and I’ll get him or her to call you” dodges Emmjay.

“Okay, my name is Dendron Dongle Rondo and my number is 555-5555 and eyes from the WheezeGunnaRipYouOff company, 44DD and 30 cm ” replies Gordon.

Emmjay is starting to shit himself at this stage and thinks well at least that matches the urine stain on his $500 Levi’s. One front one rear.

Wadda ya think about going renewable?

“Hey, I’ve got an idea” chips in Merv “Lets go solar and piss this wanker off. I remember at skoll learning so la fark tea dough, wadda ya reckon.”

 

 

 

The mind, if you have one, boggles.

 

Americans hate beards…

Episode 94 – Foodge the Bowelactic Wars Part 2

13 Sunday Aug 2017

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Foodge readies himself

Story by Mark.

Foodge looks at himself in the mirror, dusting off the cigarette ash and rehearsing his lines for the up coming trial of Merv breaching the constipation.

Your honour my client is a simple man. Hmm, no that won’t do, Your honour my client is a psychopath that will hunt you down and kill you, hmm, no that won’t do either. Well what am I to do about all this. Well I guess you need to know about the original offence.

I’ll spell it out for you. After reading the letter that Merv received what actually happened is that Merv kicked a dog up the arse for urinating on the tyres of his Zephyr that was parked in the village square, down the the road and just round the corner from the Pigs Arms. Dogs are allowed to urinate on your tyres if you over stay the parking limit of 30 minutes however when one visits Rosie or Glenda one may need a little more time than that.

So we gather at the court, the Stratospheric High Court as this is constipational. The dog is protected under the constipation Section Infinity, sub section blah blah. Regardless of that Gordon will be my back up and Gib and Angler will be waiting downstairs in the Zephyr with their shotguns ready, just in case.

With fries?

The Magistrate we have today is Ronald MacDonnell known around here here as “Big Mac” or the “Hanging Judge” so things are looking really bad plus the prosecution is being headed by Annie Arsehole.

“Your Honour, I rest my case” says Foodge.

“Well what case is that?” replies the Magistrate.

“Well I caught the train from Tamworth and my case rested in the luggage compartment therefore my client is innocent”

“Your Honour I object, the defendant is guilty under section infinity subsection blah blah under the constipation” interjects Annie Arsehole.

“Well, lets adjourn for lunch, say scallops fried in garlic with a nice white wine.” replies the Magistrate.

Interval music.

I fucking hate chips…

The Magistrate seems to be like a rhinestone cowboy however we will persist. I musk get Merv off this charge.

“Your honour, I call a witness , Pat the Dog” calls Foodge.

The clerk swears in Pat. “Do you swear to tell the whole truth but nothing else but the truth so help you Gordon?”

“Can opener mate.” replies Pat.

“Now Pat, can you recall for the court that day that my client Merv was apparently in breach of the constipation?” asks Foodge.

“Can oath mate. I looked at the clock on the town square and realised that Merv had overstayed his parking limit. Busting for a piss I let go on his tyres. He then came around the back of the car and gave me a foot suppository.” says Pat.

I fucking hate burgers…

“A foot suppository?” pushes Foodge.

“Yes, a kick up the arse” replies Pat.

“Your Honour, I object” says Annie Arsehole “ Kiddies may be watching.”

“Objection upheld. Mr Foodge and Pat the Dog, please restrain yourselves.”

“So what happened then?” asks Foodge.

“Well, I crapped on the lawn at the Pleece HQ” says Pat.

And so it goes.

I fucking hate burgers and chips…

Episode 93 – Foodge The Bowelactic Wars 1

01 Tuesday Aug 2017

Posted by in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

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This is shit mate, trust me, I’m a nurse…

 

Foodge Episode 93 -The Bowelactic Wars.

Story by Mark.

Foodge paints a lonely figure at the bar, nudging his tonic and gin, it’s nine o’clock on a Saturday, la dee blah dah dee dah dah dah dah.

“Shut the eff up Foodge. Monty Python rules here mate, no singing and especially Billy Joel” says Merv.

Billy and Joel give each other a hand

So the painted lonely figure got up and walked away and said “Ewe Finnish Foodge? And wheeze in the EFFALL Union mate, wheeze fictional and wheeze want our money now, turn your head to the left and cough!” The phoneticists in the viewing audience were hysterical, not Foodge of course, he simply held his nuts in one hand and said “Fank ewe my darlin, may fertility haunt ewe and meek.”

Counter reset.

Gin and tonics are wonderful on a hot afternoon under the shade of a good tree. Sensibly my parents, Mr and Mrs

This girl once saw a Fig Tree

Foodge Senior, planted Moreton Bay Figs. One in the front yard and one in the back. Never had to mow a lawn ever. Please don’t ever challenge me on the veracity of that statement, kiddies may be watching.

Merv turned the corner behind the bar. “Foodge, mate, I need help, like real help, like you know, help mate. I got a letter that says I have to go to court as I’ve breached the constipation, under section infinity, sub section A + B = C plus square rooting, what ever that is but I wouldn’t mind trying it” grins Merv.

“Let me see that young man, where’s the bong?” Foodge foodigises, checking navel lint theory and querying cyberianism.

“Foodge, read the letter, she said her name is Maria and shes addressing this to your wife says he won’t be coming home, on a Saturday night…”

Foodge nose what he wants(wink, wink) “that’s twice now, no more singing please especially who ever that was.”

You know, Foodge is a good man, a decent man, a man of honor or so, in his most humble opinion and reading the letter basically upside down “You have a case young man. Not just to the High Constipation Court, not even to the Very High Constipation Court or the Extremely Very High Constipation Court. We go straight to the Stratospheric Constipation Court”.

To be continued…

Oh yes, it’s real…unfortunately