Category Archives: Mark

Foodge 60.725 The Inner Cyberian Cup

30 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

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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.

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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”

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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.”

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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 in Mark, The Dining Room

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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…

 

Father O’Way – The Middle Ages 1

22 Tuesday Mar 2016

Posted by in Mark

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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.

Nurse Barbara – Gravel Rock meets SAVLON

19 Saturday Mar 2016

Posted by in Mark, Vivienne

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nurse03

Written by HOO aka Mark

“Why don’t people in these stories ever answer their phones, isn’t that why they were created” says Nurse Barbara to herself, odd seeing she actually is alone and no one is actually answering the phone. Sandy won’t answer, Gordon is watching TV and the Bish is smoking in his den. My bet is they’re down the pub. I’d tell the Bishop but he’ll just say lets bring it up at the meeting and then has any one ordered the pizza’s yet, a true leader as her thoughts waft to anchovy and olive pizza, hmm.

Anyhoo, down at the pub Foodge was feeling a little edgy till a Little Edgy moved away from Foodge to the end of the bar. See Little Edgy was a girls only kind of guy and didn’t like Foodge feeling him but lets face who would want to feel a Little Edgy all the time. Hmm.

“What’s with you Foodge?” asks Merv noticing Foodge, looking like he was a Little Edgy, given the few pints or so he had for breakfast and focusing postprandial is never a good time for Merv.

“Well Sandy won’t get out of bed. Now I have to take Nurse Barbara out to the farm, somethings happened” bemoans Foodge.

“I’ll take my bloody self” says Nurse Barbara as she strides into the bar. “Pass me the phone thingy on the counter Merv, I’m ringing Viv and she can come with me. None of you layabouts are any good to me” asserts Barbara.

“It’s Saturday afternoon for Gordon sake, every one will be on the grog or just about to” informs Merv in his laconic rasp.

“Not us nurses mate, never off duty” says Nurse Barbara.

The phone rings out on the farm. Viv’s Husband answers the phone “Hello, Hollow MagpiesHollow here, Viv’s Husband speaking” says Viv’s Husband surprisingly.

“Viv” continues Viv’s husband, as my fingers wish I had thought of shorter name to call him “It’s the telephone, you know with the wires and stuff, like the tin cans with strings, like in the good old days, it’s Nurse Barbara” laments you know who.

“Yes Nurse Barbara” Viv states as she marvels at the technology built into these tales, how quaint  “come over now and pick me up or at worst follow the script. It’s the girls, they’re into this new fad, gravel rock it’s called, No Through Road is the album they just all must have” continues Viv in concern for her two daughters DeeOne and DeeTwo, phew says my fingers.

“What’s the name of the band?” asks Nurse Barbara as she orders a pint at the bar. Bloody smokes, she thinks must give them up one day, next we will know that they’re harmful, can’t have that now can we.

“Boom Crash Opera or Severe Tonsillitis, something like that” says Viv thinking back to the good old days of gramophone records and that dinner music band, hmm, ACDC.

“I’ll be there straight away” says Nurse Barbara downing her pint and butting her fag out.

nev blond walk away survillanceNurse Barbara arrives at the farm and is greeted by Viv along with DeeOne and DeeTwo.

“Now it’s good to see that you girls are alright after that gravel rock, knock, knock, crying sort of stuff, music as you loosely describe it but it can causing bleeding and permanent damage” says Nurse Barbara.

“Oh, look Nurse Barbara” cries Viv, “My husbands toe has just dropped off” as the astonishment builds so much here it’s almost palpable, palpable a nice word used to describe something that barely has a pulse.

“Damn” says Viv’s Husband “was going to work on the lawn but looks like I might have to put up what remains of my feet and watch the cricket, cheery oh” as he strides to the lounge room  via the fridge to get a beer. Now that’s a man.

“See girls” says Nurse Barbara as she shakes her head at the waste of it all

Tacit pause while all players readjust their priorities. Usually happens after an event like this, a debrief so to speak, yes folks, gravel rock can ruin your life unless you have SAVLON(Super Anti Vaccine Lancomycin On NetGel), yes an acronym, finally, you all say.

savlon“No Barb it’s not wasted” says Viv as the typing gets harder “what you need is SAVLON see up and to the left of screen, yeah that will fix any girls desire for gravel rock, or boom crash crying whatever” talks Viv, as seen on TV, “even tipped some in hubby’s port, hasn’t had a drink since”

“But…” interjects Nurse Barbara  as her hit count drops.

“Barb, I’m telling you, this will stop sheep’s guts from going rotten, seen it myself  I did, own two eyes, yep, sheep lived long enough to make it to market, er, um, to, er, be, um….” says Viv

“Sheet Viv, sheet” is all Barbara could muster, eyes widened as the authors BGL levels diminish.

 

 

 

 

 

Nurse Barbara – Are you Serious?

19 Saturday Mar 2016

Posted by in Mark, Vivienne

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Written by Mark. True stories by Vivienne.

If you haven’t read the first part go here

Nurse Barbara Bees Lips Misses Finger

After all this time writing here and elsewhere I have rarely written anything serious or should I say real or factual. This will be different for us both. No pictures but stick with me, I think this is important.

I have recently had some conversations with Vivienne asking if she could provide some snippets about Nurse Barbara, as you know Vivienne and Nurse Barbara are the same person. Vivienne sent half a dozen snippets or so and gave me editorial control of that information to use here at the Arms.

I used humour on some of the ones that had ready to go material in them but the real story is quite different. It shows a multiple skill set application used by someone who lives somewhat isolated. That skill set develops over time and often comes from events. Mainly these events are urgent  however you usually have to do something or you know that something bad is going to happen. So you do something. This needs to be recognised.

Now the dog was bitten on the lip by a bee, Viv’ husband called out to her that the dog didn’t look right and Nurse Barbara better come and attend.  Nurse Barbara removed the sting and applied Beechworth honey to the wound. The dog recovered half an hour later. The name Nurse Barbara has stuck ever since.

The said friend did have his finger saved by Nurse Barbara and the gag about the finger going the wrong way came from Viv or one of her family going to hospital and being asked why they thought their finger was broken to which they replied “well, it’s pointing in the opposite direction for a start…”

All what we would call the nursing process, assess, plan, implement and review.

Now here’s a first, well at the Arms any way. Here’s the next episode of Nurse Barbara but the truth first, Dr HOO’s version will come second. I’m combining these two snippets in to one story but I want you to hear the real ones first, unedited.

 

Road gravel and broken wrist

“Viv’s daughters were riding their bikes one Saturday afternoon. The road was safe, a gravel no through road. It was good as daughter No.2 had just recovered from a severe bout of tonsillitis. A lovely spring day too. Then knock knock and crying could be heard. Viv opened door to the sight of daughter No.1 covered in blood and crying in pain and panic. Daughter No.2 was okay but they were both exhausted. They’d crashed into each other. One hit the gravel badly. Nurse Barbara went into action. Where was the source of the blood. To the bathroom and a lot of gentle washing and picking out of gravel from chin and knees and hands. Then finally – oh dear, broken wrist. Panadol first, then phone off duty doctor. Drive to town. Doc wants an X-ray. Off to hospital –what a bugger. Back to doc who confirms what Nurse Barbara said – broken wrist (really!). Finally back home. The next day hubby cut off his big toe in ride-on mower accident. This time Nurse Barbara called the ambulance. She then hosed the blood off the verandah. Next day she fixed the mower so it automatically cut out the mower when no one on it. Then ensued three months of nursing. The toe did not grow back.”

That’s a busy weekend and when I read it, I could strongly identify with most of the aspects of the work. One of my nursing roles was, you’re it, look after anyone that comes through that door.

The other issue here is outcome. Injury and illness cause consequence. At many stages on our journey through life the truth tells us what those consequences really mean. Humour can but won’t necessarily do all of that for us. Again this requires recognition.

Now I am going to tie all this in with this gem. Excellent work here by Nurse Barbara.

The Mauled Lamb

“Savlon to the rescue. The lamb’s stomach was ripped open. Nurse Barbara – we have to save it says hubby as he pours himself a port. Do something! All I’ve got is Savlon and a sheet. Squeezed whole contents of tube of Savlon into open wound, cuts up sheet, winds it around lamb’s body, put lamb into laundry with a Hessian sack covering whole body. Next day – it was alive and got up and took off to join the other sheep. It recovered – sheet gradually unravelled after a few days. Got top money at market a year later.”

Clever work for certain. Now the Dr HOO version isn’t written yet but it will be soon as the writing bug continues. Nurse Barbara will have to go herself because Sandy won’t want to get out of bed, Gordon is busy watching TV and the Bish is in the den smoking. Can’t wait.

Cheers

Mark

 

 

 

 

Foodge 60.3 bits

15 Tuesday Mar 2016

Posted by in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

≈ 23 Comments

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Earnest Moncrieff, from a previous story but out there somewhere...

Earnest Moncrieff, from a previous story but out there somewhere…

Story by Mark aka Hung

“What’s this, a fucking clip Merv or Drumpf with a haircut?” larfs Angler On, an anagram of Algernon seeing no one got the Earnest Moncrieff connection, the sparrow killing associate of Gib W, who this story isn’t about therefore both Gib and Angler are sure to get many mentions, as you do here at Foodge Inc. Earnest has gracefully retired for Angler, get the picture. Sweet…

“I’m guessing that shirt fitting doesn’t hold the same appeal for you that it once did” says Foodge, seeing I can say “says” here, this is early in the story, plus Angler was smart enough to laugh his comment, even though he then couldn’t spell it, gave me another one of those ad somethings they belted into you at school, I can use them to embellish the conversation. I deliberately forgot all of that stuff from my skool daze just to get even. Now Emmjay has talked me into writing, the bastard, I have to learn to write, pfft, I wished I listened to what my parents said and no, I don’t know what they said because I didn’t listen. Is this Catch 22 or Deja Vu? I digress.

“Pertinent and very Aristotletic. It took a dinkum swagman to tell it like it was. Loved it. He looks like he will be the publican nominee. He’s a modern day Hitler and the followers are hoodwinked dopes.” reflects Gib really worried now that the author assigned him to this statement. Gib didn’t understand most of it just like the rest of us.

“No help then for me and ewe Sister” moans O’Hoo as he searchers his pockets for weapons. Something does, after a while, bulge down there but only a distant memory now days.

“As I’ve said before – well sorted. I did something similar about 12 years ago. I told them their sums were wrong” laments Yvonne as she sips slowly on her Pink Drink, Campari of course, well probably, this is Foodge after all, I mean,  is this chick style, I doubt the drink is metho and Eno’s, surely not but hey. “I have a special 5H enema if you’re ever suffering from ennui again” grins Yvonne, cheshirely.

Nurse Barbara

Nurse Barbara at 3 weeks

“Thanks Sister” says Nurse Barbara dropping in here, out of no where, as you do in Foodge “Needless to say, the custom designed enema is no longer necessary. Now I just need to get my shit together. I thought I’d better print this before it disappeared from screen. Oops, shit, missed it.” Don’t worry about an enema thinks Nurse Barbara, I’ve just read Mark’s story. Bum burner, hot on the way in hot on the way out.

“Now, that’s a worry! ..but then again there are a lot of crazies out there who should be looked after inside white coloured rooms with padding with a really good printers especially any one from the Pigs Arms” replies Yvonne, rolling her eyes and hoping that eye rolling can somehow be classified as a true exercise, me I relate to this, some how or rather, the story is only going to get worse from here on, not better, unless it gets better, I think so, jury’s out mate.

“We don’t need to fly anyone in, Paul. We just send the work overseas via the internet, works for me” says The Other John, a prick from somewhere near somewhere else. Foodge stands erect, well so he told me later, he went to the car-park and retrieved the shot gun from the Zephyr.

By the time he returned Merv had already unloaded two rounds into The Other

Smoochy smoochy, The Other John

Smoochy smoochy, The Other John

John, may Gordon bless us with more of the same. The 457 visa workers had actually already started to remove the body and clear up the mess. 47 cents an hour and they have temerity to complain, bastards.

“And for other selfish arseholes who game the system” retorts Arse Upwards(AU), “No, Angler, the ABC only seems to air the opinion of anuses and Onanists, these days. That’s why all of us here get published heaps” continues AU, Oh, please really think this through. Me, I can’t stop laughing at myself.

Nurse Babara

Nurse Barbara the other version

“This is funny Nurse Barbara. I’m trying to reply to Gorf(Frog in a blender) who replied to you, who replied to Merv, who replied to Hung, who replied to Emmjay who replied to Viv, who replied to Gerard but to no avail. I tried to say “the comment is devoid of compassion for the victims of lactose intolerance etc”. Why the fuck do the moderators don’t like me? Pfft. They favour the fucking heartless monsters! Why!” says fucking someone, bloody hell, name withheld due to a technical issue, I’ve lost control of this story. AI is here.

“That Pink Drink is a special mixture of tinctures and herbs, concocted  by Granny, and safeguarded by Mr Merv. It will put lead in your pencil, that is, if you wanted a lead pencil” says Gib obviously seriously concerned about heavy metals.

“Hallelujah, brother, I’ve been restored to health” states Yvonne seeing “says” has been done enough.

Perhaps, Mark, you could have your own episode of  “Call the Bigwife”

Hmm, thinks Hung eager to get one mention in the story.

Album Review: Oremi

14 Monday Mar 2016

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

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220px-Angélique_Kidjo“Angélique Kpasseloko Hinto Hounsinou Kandjo Manta Zogbin Kidjo,[1][2][3] known as Angélique Kidjo (born July 14, 1960), is a Beninese-born American Grammy Award winning singer-songwriter and activist, noted for her diverse musical influences and creative music videos. Time magazine has called her “Africa’s premier diva”.[4] The BBC has included Kidjo in its list of the African continent’s 50 most iconic figures” Thanks again Wiki, you know it all. If you want to read more go here

Wiki the Know All tells us more about Ang

The album this time is Oremi. A very eclectic mix of music styles and her voice is simply outstanding.

Now the obvious song on the album is a version of Jim Hendrix’s Voodoo Chile. You can watch that here.

Voodoo Chile at Youtube

My favorite you can watch here. As usual very hard to pick one over the other to be honest. This track, Itche Koutche is a bit more upbeat but another track on the album called Never Know is also very special.

Itche Koutche thanks Youtube

The whole album is here. Enjoy folks.

Angélique Kidjo Oremi

Father O’Way – Fax Evasion Exposed

09 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by in Mark

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Gordon's supply

Gordon’s supply of Brandy

“Get the fuck up and get over here” roars the Bish down the end of the phone. “The Inner Cyberian Pleece are coming over to make sure that all of us here at the Church of St Generic Brand aren’t tax evaders”emphatically states the Bish.

“Excuse me Bish but we are now in a Father O’Way story and swearing is not allowed anyway you said Fax Evasion, see that’s easy, just don’t have one” I reply while scratching my nuts then farting, as you do. Hmm, that fingernail needs attention. Now we have done the on wee gag enough for sure however it just seems to fit here beauteously.

“Oops, sorry Sandy, thought we were still in Foodge but you are a pudenda sometimes” laments the Bish “Just seems like everyone is fucking everyone these days and I said tax not fax you ninny”

“Bish, no swearing in my stories please. In Foodge your Emmjay and you can swear all you like there but here you are Bishop Billy Bishop we all call the Bish” I inform but shush, knowing secretly, I mean, keep this to yourself right, don’t tell a soul, on your honour, it’s because he is the BISH(Big Important Sh#t Head).”

“Well, between you and me, just our little secret right” confines the Bish “Rouge can at times look rather attractive and I must admit, even though I’m a Gordonian, and yes I know Gordonians can have girlfriends etc but if she ever dropped the soap as they say then I would try and you know” flippants the Bish.

“But what about Mrs Bish?” I ask in a non forensic way if you know what I mean.

“Am I married in this series?” asks the Bish.

“Actually, now you say that I don’t think Hung married you off in this series although you and a blow up dolly were caught in a compromising situation that you assured us was an accident” I needle without temptation, wasn’t that belted into us somewhere.

“Hey, I know” says the Bish “ why don’t I shoot her with a 12 gauge shot gun?”

“Nah, a bit messy plus everyone doing that theses days, pretty ordinary in my view” I express.

“I know” sparks off the Bish “ Lets ask the author whatever his name is”.

!!Warning: The Church of St Generic Brand wishes to advise that any material written in-between [ ] square brackets are talks between the characters and the author. No responsibility is taken for this bit or something, you know what I mean!!

[Well, it’s Mark here Bish. Seeing that anyone reading this will basically need lots of help, why don’t we have one of those interviewer style thingys. This means I don’t have to say he said then he replied etc., etc., get the picture?

Bish: Sure Mark but am I married in the Father O’Way series?

Mark: NFI mate CRAFT disease, who are you again?

Sandy: Mark, please, no swearing, not in FOW please and by the way, what’s his 45 thing you bring up all the time?

Mark: Well if you say are really old like say 58 when they is born, just sayin like, then you will be 103 when they turn 45, kiddies, that simple.

Sandy: Oh

Bish: But am I married Mark, Rouge is hot?

Mark: Look, it’s like this. If I go back through the archives I’ll cut Mrs Bish out if she exists or technically she may or may not exist in non existence. This is complex fiction Bish, I know of all people hat you will understand it but then again I’m a lair with limited IQ, wat wood eye no.

Bish:Cheers thanks mate.

Sandy: Now Mark I want you to stop all this excessive swearing and sexual references. Surely you don’t want anyone to be interested in your stories do you?

Mark: Yes Sandy, No Sandy, Whatever Sandy can I go now please?

Sandy: Suppose. But look Mark you truly are a DICKHEAD

Mark: Hey Pal, what about the swearing, you just called me a dickhead, hmm.

Sandy: Yes, Decent Intuitive Compassionate Kind-hearted, Helpful, Earnest ,Adaptable, Dependable , um, see ya.]

!The Church of St Generic Brand wishes advise that the story has now returned to normal, well sort of!

Bloody hell, forgot the story now, look I’ll tell this Mark guy anything to keep the story going, okay,  thinks Sandy as he looks to the left to see the next paragraph.

So Gordon and the Bish meet with the tax office officials and then they interviewed me, appeared to be painful process for them, can’t understand why, can you?

Then after the considerable consumption of 2000 year old brandy that Gordon picked up on one of his previous visits, from a place now called France, the tax folk left happy and rather meritorious.

We all stood any waved then goodbye, blew kisses and yelled silly statements like “We must do this again some time…”, how simply ludicrous as only as these stories can be. Fancy wanting to meet regularly with the tax office? Hmm, how very French brandy of us, no thanks.

The Bish heads back to he comfort of the Rectory. Probably for a few smokes, help settle his nerves.

So it’s just me and Gordon. Not very often one gets to stand and talk with the creator of the universe. So my neural pathways are becoming a bit disorganised and I ask “What did you say to the tax office Gordon? They seem pretty sweet”

“Well” says Gordon “you won’t like it but I told them to fuck off and never come back. Once they verified that I own all the money on this planet they were happy as. The brandy was a bonus and by being succinct here I’m keeping the word count down, eco-friendly like.”

Album Review: King Crimson Songbook

07 Monday Mar 2016

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

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Crimson Trio Members - Ian Wallace, Jody Nardone, Tim Landers


Crimson Trio Members – Ian Wallace, Jody Nardone, Tim Landers

The King Crimson Songbook by the Crimson Jazz Trio is yet another jazz fusion style of album. The picture on the left I borrowed from Wiki, thank you and the members names are listed in the caption. No animals were harmed in the typing of this story, rest safe.
This is one fantastic album folks, sitting on the porch, gazing at the Milky Way, sipping on some nice wine, watching your cat get flattened and simply sharing time with your partner. Yes, you, sharing time with your partner. It’s  important so sit up and take notice. This is important for many reasons because your partner will know when to shut the fuck up just like you will know when to shut the fuck up. Then and only then you can truly listen to this majestic album.
Now lets just have a quick look at the history behind this band while I eat my pizza. Jalapeno, garlic and shredded beetroot ,basil hmm, my favorite. [Sorry forgot where I was]
Now this band formed from King Crimson that where a a sixties progressive or alternative rock band. Look them up at Wiki here if you are interested,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_Crimson
All good. So Robert Fripp was the main stay throughout Crimson but the jazz trio was put together by Ian Wallace, a former member of Crimson.
Fripp has recorded so much music I wouldn’t have the space to mention it all here, Album cove CJTBrian Eno did a lot of work with Fripp. I find Fripp maybe a bit to Bach for me however I do just love some of his material for example, google the Californian Guitar Trio, brilliant.
When I first heard King Crimson I really didn’t get into them but later I got to like  “Larks Tongue in Aspect” and “Starless in Bible Black“. Both are great albums from the seventies.
Crimson reformed in the early 80’s , and went in a different direction and I strongly recommend these three albums, “Discipline“, “Beat” and “Three of a Perfect Pair“.
Think of it like this, a bit outside the box. Me, I love it.
My favorite tracks is are,
I Talk to the Wind
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5B5CLIOs3HU
then Starless
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JJ9wKJsfEA
then the King Crimson version of Matte Kudsai
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MargcvlZTI
then the Crimson Jazz Trio version of Matte Kudsai
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_ySYUKVfSU
then the whole album
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L2zCZRBDOHU
Thank Gordon for music. I hope you will enjoy this. I do.
Cheers
Mark aka  Hung
PS: A volume 2 exists as well I believe however I haven’t heard it yet.

Foodge Nearly 60 – Like the Author

06 Sunday Mar 2016

Posted by in Foodge Private Dick, Mark, The Mens

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Hung, off his face after too much Acetic Acid, fish and chips every time...

Hung, off his face after too much Acetic Acid, fish and chips does it every time…

Episode 60 – Story by Mark aka Hung One On

“Bloody hell” says Merv in his usual laconic style, not that Merv understood what laconic actually meant, see he was born laconic, at the Inner Cyberian Hospital, any one born there has to be laconic other wise they are up shit creek without out an outboard, know what I mean. “Hung has done it frigging again, he’s written another fucking episode of Foodge using us, even has an episode number, what is this world coming to.”

“This is true Pigs Arms style we’re none the wiser. This is excellent” says Earnest Moncrieff, the deadly sparrow killer from one of the many other meaningless episodes of Foodge. “Another kayak Merv, and no fly shit this time mate, it upsets me acid” continues Earnest.

“I thought that this episode was really funny, till I read it, then I realised it had a deeper esoteric meaning, I mean line 69 tells you that in one go” says Hung who as usual was propping up the bar trying to remember if the magic mushrooms he had consumed for breakfast were blue meanies or gold tops. Memory wasn’t one of Hung’s assets, lets just say he would be classified as disabled under DSM-V if any one knew what it actually means.

“Please, sir, what’s a kayak of beer?” queries Yvonne, a quiet single lady who regularly sits at the bar sipping her Pink Drinks. Yes, the beautiful, picturesque Yvonne has now been dragged into the story, ever since Hedgie went to jail and all he wants to talk about now is all the anal sex he is getting in jail, Yvonne on the other hand is a much nicer character.

“Kayak refers to a schooner glass 15 ozs in the old money” bores Emmjay, typical scientist, still reckons 1+1=2, dear oh dear, lets face it,  the rest of us know that 1+1 is somewhere between 1.9 and 2.1 but never tell Emmjay that otherwise we will all have to sit through another routine lecture on mathematics he had published in a science journal called the No Idea.

Emmjay continues in his typical monogamous style “In NSW (which didn’t have until recently half pints, but pints (20 ozs) were also used – albeit more rarely). Large glasses are for showing off – more moderate ones are for keeping the beer colder for longer” he lies.

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up” says Merv, forever the diplomat. “Hung’s trying to write another drug story to make us all laugh and all you can do is talk facts. Haven’t you read line 69 yet?” questions Merv which is truly a rare occurrence.

By this time however, Emmjay was in full teacher mode. As if anyone actually cares. Lets face it, this story is pure fiction and facts are basically useless, similar to members of parliament.

“Deivad Eyland wrote a novel in the 1980s called The Non-Crystalline Amorphous Solid Kayak set in a pub called “The Shit Carters Arms” drones Emmjay. “That pub actually exists, unlike the Pigs Arms, on the corner of Anal Rd and the Rectum Highway near Glenda’s House of Pain. But the pub at the heart of the novel was actually “the Toothless” for a couple of factoids. One, if you survived the night at the pub you will probably come home without your teeth and two, it was a dwelling for plasma” says Emmjay.

“Will someone tell this bloke to shut the fuck up” says hph who had just arrived after a bad trip and a train journey on the overnight flyer which really fucked up his drumming, big time.

“In the Toothless Estate on G-Spot Rd” continues Emmjay, much to the disinterest of the Patrons ah la Pork, ”My dad used to drink there – until he moved in 1956 from Long Bay to Silverwater.”

“Has anyone told Emmjay to shut the fuck up?” says Vivienne DeOliveria, a gourmet chef who helped Granny invent her famous Vegemite and Anchovy sauce to serve with potato wedges. “Anyway, when do we get to the good bit?” asks Viv, as only Viv can.

“The novel, The Non-Crystalline Amorphous Solid Kayak, was and remains the inspiration for the Pig’s Arms. You can buy a copy in any decent second hand bookshop” continues Emmjay and lets face it, by the time this story is finished second hand book stores will be too busy selling SFA due to ennui from the general public but on wee go.

“You can get one for sure online, or offline or at a second hand book store if any still exist” says Gib W, who just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, as all purse carrying nancy boys tend to do in this story.

“Gez, now I have to become illiterate?” replies the gorgeous Yvonne. Now we all know that Gez is Gerard Oosterman, genius and multi millionaire who is married to the delightful Helvi, but he doesn’t turn up till the next chapter disguised as a potato. Again on wee go.

“Nah, just semi-literate, like most of the patrons here at the Pigs Arms” interjects Gib W, wanting a bit more air time seeing that Emmjay has dominated the story so far.

“I take offence to that statement, I’m demi-illerate” says Hung as the mushrooms kick in. Hmm, wedges with Vegemite and anchovy sauce, my favorite, as he heads for the Men’s to practice his regurgitation skills.

“Sorry Sister, didn’t mean to offend the demis.” says Gib W reading the script on his laptop. Gib was more worried about offending GILBET(Gay, Intersex, Lesbian, Bisexual, Extraterrestrial and Transgender) folk especially seeing that Hedgie is now batting for the other team.

“Is that like a movie trailer Gib?” pipes in Earnie as he puts the bong along side his half full kayak then skulls the water from the bong instead of the Trotter’s. Fly shit again he he thinks. Pfft.

“Yes, Earnie” says Gib, “You thought a the trailer was big, wait until you see the demi-trailer” asserts Gib. “But has anyone told Emmjay to shut the fuck up lately?” Says Gib.

“So trailers carry containers and trains carry containers so they must be bigger than a trailer or say a finch. The debate could be about trains or for that matter rhododendrons. We’ve had the train one and anyway Hung hasn’t said anything in ages so at least he got the message to shut the fuck up” says Earnie.

“Oh well, that’s sorted.” mentally groans Viv, kind hearted to the bitter end of this story and waiting for line 69 like the rest of us.

“Has your goat had an orgasm lately?” says Kneeville Coal, who is apparently from North Armenia as he orders a kayak of Trotter’s Ale. North fucking where??

“In a fashion” says Emmjay, “such a typical Pig’s Arms explanation” explains Emmjay on line 69.

“Sorry for the delay, Gib” says Emmjay who appears to be struggling with the concept of shut the fuck up. “I’m still re-configuring MF’s dead, but flat, cat, but this looks like a setup. The Pleece are working better than ever now they and have got the challenge of sifting through 13,000 tabs to find the eleventeen I want to take” says an oblivious Emmjay, high on Trotters Ale and Acetic Acid, his favorite trip. “I hope you liked the sly pic. Don’t you just love a dead machine” says Emmjay adding yet another red herring to the story.

“Loved the pic” says Gib, “I imagine it would be easier to rebuild an Ariel Square Four, than resuscitating a dead but flat cat” continues Gib and seeing that no one on the planet will know what an Ariel Square Four is makes him an expert. Remember, an “ex” is something that was and a spurt is “drip under pressure”, so we can all assume that this statement is truly meaningless.

“Probably died of boredom or dare I say ennui. The squaffer was a classic bit of British engineering design genius which was a first for Britain. Lots of poo being impossible to air cool – bad in a cold, moderate, hot, wet, dry, windy, rainy, cloudy or sunny climate. Disastrous in Australia.” hyphens Emmjay.

“My biological father reckoned you could always fukka venal woman cheep after a night at the Toothless. A great kebab on the way home, lots of emesis overnight  then panadol and sick leave the next day, doesn’t get any better than this don’t it.”