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

Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle

Category Archives: Mark

The Pigs Arms gets Raided

07 Tuesday Jun 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 15 Comments

 

Beer Sir?

BBQ Rib Sir?

Merv was looking anxiously around the bar. All the usual patrons were in and all appeared comfortable however something was missing. There didn’t seem to be the normal spark and as Merv unleashed his usual torrent of flatulence he suddenly thought that he heard something coming from the distance, a sound growing, louder and louder by the second. A siren, shit…

Eeyore, Eeyore, Eeyore, Eeyore.

[Hang on, cut the story here. Merv here Emmjay, WTF are you doing? What sort of siren is that? That’s a fucking donkey mate!

It’s a budgetary measure I brought down in May to help save money. Call me Scro Tom Mo or what, but pay attention, this is a really good story, says Emmjay]

Pleece

The Pleece

“Okay, no one move, I’m Chief Inspector Detective Sargent Provost Corporal Lieutenant Major Colonel Wire from the Inner Cyberian Federal Pleece and ewes is all under arrest under the Anti-Terribalism Act Section Seven Tee(ATASST) or as wheeze call it down the sty, er, oops, the station the ‘at assed'” roars the officer. “My mates call me Copper, you lot can call me Sir”

Yes pleas

Yes pleas

Now if there every was a way to stir the Pigs Arms crew into action it was a copper that wanted to be called Sir, oh this should be good.

“Sir you say” inquires Nurse Barbara ” Well SIR stands for Silly Ignorant Racist, so in my language you can go and…”

“C’mon Nurse Barbara, lets join Helvi and Tutu in the Ladies Lounge. We can talk politics, home decor, orgasms and penis lengths, see ya Tiny. Copper did you bring a magnifying glass? Just asking. ” says Sister Yvonne.

The Three Wise Women

The Five Wise Women  – 2

Roars of laughter from the crew.

“So you’re Copper to the Pub, it’s the Gubbermint trying to repress the working class” interjects Hung.

“Hung, you said that last episode didn’t ya? Now shut up and pass the bong” blurts Gib W.

“No, the one before, pass the bootleg”

“Shut up ewe fools, ewes is under arrest!!!” roars Copper Wire reaching a few Mbps.

“What are we actually under arrest  for CIDSPCLMC Wire?” asks Angler, about the only one sensible in the story.

“Anti-Terribalism is when  some one blah blah blah…

***

[Interval music]

Bill and BoydPut Another Dog on the Fire

Put another dog on the fire.
Cook me up some bacon and amphetamines.
And go out to the car and change the tyre.
Suck my docks and see my dyslectic themes.
Come on, baby, you can fill my pipe,
And then go fetch my slippers.
And boil me up another pot of tea.
Then put another dog on the fire, babe,
And come and tell me why you’re leaving me.

[Misogyny rules, Bill and Boyd  ladies and gentleman, round of applause]

Now we at the Pigs Arms want you to rush out an buy one of these

hotdog

Hmm, yummy, offal

plus

Hmm, so good

Hmm, Coke, sniff, sniff

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nothing subliminal here folks.

***

Meanwhile back at the ranch Merv and Gerard are plotting with Father O’Way as to how to get rid of the pleece so everyone can back on with their normal if somewhat tedious lives.

A version of Brkon

Gez

“Sandy, ring fucking Gordon now, tell him to do a bit of that magic shit to scare off the pigs” says Gerard.

“Hey Gerard, I wanted to say that but not in that word order” replies Merv.

“Well fucking say it man, no matter what order of words, get on with it Sandy before this loon pulls a gun” instructs Gerard.

***

“Yes, GOD here and look if this is tedious you are in for a really hard time” answers Gordon on his mobile shaking his head. Why did his universal experiment mean that everyone had to have a mobile phone, hmm.

“Gordon it’s Sandy” says, well, Sandy actually.

Gordon feels hungry

Gordon

“Oh for zark’s sake Sandy of course I know its you it says zarking Sandy on the zarking screen. What do you want? Chesney is about to have his birthday party on Coronation Street” barks Gordon, Gordon O’Donnell, the creator of the universe.

“Um, er, yes, well, perhaps, hum, ah maybe wheeze in trouble and need your help. The cops are here at the Arms doing a raid and look Gez says can you do some of that scary magic shit where you appear out of no where and burn bushes and part the seas etc. etc.?”

“Would you like me to wear a clown suit? Sandy, you are at times incorrigible whatever that means. Okay, I guess I can tape Coronation Street.”

***

Sound of the Tardis, Sound of the Tardis, Sound of the Tardis, Sound of the Tardis.

[Crikey Emmjay, ewes is a cheese cake, oops cheap park, no a cheesy park scape no a cheap sake. Talk about budget priced effects  says Gib W]

“Hello GOD here, pint please Merv” as Gordon exits his portable toilet right in the middle of the bar at the Pigs Arms.

toilet“Gordon, portable toilet???” cries Merv.

“Well Kennards were out of Pleece boxes old boy” answers Gordon.

“Do not move I am CIDSPCLMC Wire from the Inner Cyberian Federal Pleece and ewe is under arrest” roasts the officer.

“Well, it’s like this. Do you believe in God, Copper to the premises?” asks Gordon.

Now for those who cannot see, read, hear or feel their own crutch, the crew in the background start to quietly withdraw from the arena as they know, dem is fighting words and Gordon is here for a fight. Note to collective self, never interrupt Gordon in the middle of an episode of Coronation Street.

“Yes I do on a matter of fact, I am a devout God botherer but how in God’s name did you appear in this bar in a portable toilet while I heard the Sound of the Tardis?” exclaims Cooper Wire as he clasps his ears and looks to the heavens thinking to himself, why oh why did I take the Sunday overtime shift, suddenly realising that double time doesn’t seem enough.article-0-1A53B59B000005DC-280_306x423

[Christ Hung, you interrupted me from Coronation Street for  this, you are dead meat mate! says Emmjay trying to figure out if it is day or night. Such simple tasks suit him.]

“Go on Gordon, turn him into a pillar of salt, you know like the good old days” says Foodge, finally getting something to say after extracting his genitals from his zipper.

“I like blue” says O’Hoo “or maybe honey and cream”

“Wide ya say that O’Hoo?” asks Fern.

“Oh, shut up, shut up the lot of you, I’m in really big trouble when I get back to the office and have to report to Malcolm” says Copper.

I told you so

I told you so

To be continued…

 

 

 

 

Foodge – 70 – Hung the Maths

03 Tuesday May 2016

Posted by Mark in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

≈ 13 Comments

Foodge, fart arsing around as usual

Foodge

Wow, I’m overwhelmed. Anyway Foodge was worried because all of his bag men had delivered to the right political party, if you get my nuance. Now it looks like they is gunna friggin lose the election. Best way to check how an election is gunna go you ask some of the patrons or even better you get Merv to do it.

“Hey patrons?” questions Merv.

“Fuck off, yes, wheeze responsible, past the bong Hung?” says Gib W.

“Pint’s all round on Gordon” cries Merv.

“Just one thing, whoose is ya votin for? You can earn a quick fiver here” continues our eternal barman.

“The sum of the square of the something equals the some of the square of something else” interjects Gerard, trying to raise the bar a bit in the debate. Worked beautifully on this crowd.

“I’m voting for good manners, fair hearts and equally to all, now where’s that fucking pint,” Angler On seizing the moment.

Mucho laughter.

“That quip was brought to you by Tindneo, Tindneo Tindneo Tindneo, the game book_him_danothat always let you win much dough dough, dah, dah, dah” sings a robot flown in for the gig at Gordon’s expense. Fancy that, a walking talking pokie machine, for gawds sake, whats next. Serves beer as well oh yes, bring it on, oops, sorry, now the rest of the story,

“I’m voting for Fuck All” says Nurse Barbara ” that way we all win, we get sweet FA and they will know SFA”

“It’s the gubbermint trying to put down the gubbermint, oops, working arses, um classes, what did I mean anyone know?” enquires Hung. “Anyway pass the bootleg?”

“I’m voting for Politicians who Stitch their Arses Up Party. Some say they are one platform but wow, Id like to see that plus their shoes, hmm, if ya know what I mean and their tight little bums and their big d…[Okay Yvonne: Mark here, too much flirting causes an author alert]” purrs Yvonne, finally wearing some clothes, even though it’s only a scarf.

“Wheel” says Gib W “How about the Purse Carrying Nancy Boys Party!”

“Purfect” cry the rest, all the hard decisions over, over to the bar for a few ales and a pizza and just forget about life for a while.

Hmm, I think I can hear grass growing…, thinks someone.

Lahmacun-(turkish-pizza) Courtesy: SBS Food

Lahmacun-(turkish-pizza) Courtesy: SBS Food

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sundays with Sandy

24 Sunday Apr 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 16 Comments

Sundays with Sandy

Sundays with Sandy

Hello. Yes it’s Sunday so your local priest, Father Sandy O’Way, is here to guide you through the next short phase in your life. Please relate phase to any period of time you wish, thank you. Millisecond onward is fine.

Here at St. Generic Brand we take on all kinds, like the 210 followers of this site, indicating madness is somewhat widespread. Sorry scientists, no debate needed as you will win every time.

Here’s some burning stuff from Gordon. For those who don’t know, Gordon O’Donnell(God) is the creator of the universe. So when blaspheming in future, the correct expression is “Oh my Gordon” or “for Gawds sake”, get the picture?

  1. Global warming – Gordon says, cool it guys or you’re zarked.
  2. Live every day as your last. This means that finally one day you will be right. The atoms in your body will always remain part of the universe therefore you are immortal.
  3. Never say never, especially to another glass canoe unless driving or voting Liberal. For the latter always say never.
  4. If the truth doesn’t fit, lie, then be prepared to live with the consequences.
  5. My Dyson sucks

Have a great day all. Laugh and laugh hard for Gordon, Bishop Bishop and yours truly, whatever my name really is, Mark, I think.

This man was a skinhead when he entered the waiting room..

This man was a skinhead when he entered the waiting room…, er ..,.,…

 

Now, after St Generic Brand help this man now looks like this,

Crispin and ewes likes St Generic Brand, or else...

Crispin and ewes likes St Generic Brand, or else…

 

Try this gig. I got the whole way through but wow, talk about serious guitar players. See how long  you last, King Crimson, Live in Japan.

Love it but good luck.

This is Father Sandy O’Way, St Generic Brand, Inner West Cyberia  signing out …

 

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 60.75 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

……..

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…

 

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.

Nurse Barbara – Gravel Rock meets SAVLON

19 Saturday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark, Vivienne

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Foodge, Vivienne, Mark, Nurse Barbara, Savlon

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.

 

 

 

 

 

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