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Tag Archives: Angler

Merv wants a day orf

31 Sunday Dec 2017

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 39 Comments

Tags

Angler, Gib, granny, humour, Merv

Merv has a fink about it

 

Story by Mark.

Merv wakes to the usual smell of bacon, gently frying in the pan, some freshly brewed coffee and hot toast but today is different. Merv has decided not to get out of bed, he wants a day orf. After finding out he has family, Mack, Mick, Mark, Mike and Minx, a sister, he has decided he needs some time out.  All identical twins, as the author can’t spell sextuplets, plus there will be nothing for perverts in this story, I mean surely there must be a better word for six then sex. Merv has to use all his fingers and toes to get the counting right but yes, six of them. Uno, duo, duo plus one, duo plus duo minus uno and so it goes on, all the way to sex, oops, I mean six, you perverts.

Granny knocks at the door as it is getting late, thinking that Merv is masticating about somefink. “Wake up wanker, I have your breakfast ready and it’s almost time to open the bar”

Stick it up your arse, I need a day orf

Granny pushes the door open hoping to find Merv doing somefink he wished he didn’t only to find Merv snugly covered by his doona or nona or blanket, so many words so little time.

“Granny, I’m having a day orf. I is overwhelmed by all this family all of a sudden and eyes need a day orf. Get Hung to run the bar and the Jones boy to take the money.”

Granny places Merv’s breakfast on his bedside table, bacon, scrambled eggs, dry white toast, tomato juice and black coffee. One of the meals she lovingly makes for him everyday. For Merv to want a day orf this must be serious, granny decides she needs some wise council(yes I know).

Well the girls aren’t in yet so there goes that option, Foodge and O’Hoo, don’t think so and when the door opens and it’s Gib and Angler fresh from a cat shoot and wanting some

Did you say cat?

refreshments and revelry before facing any reality, yes thinks Granny, these are my people, well till they fuck up.

“Granny, drinks and wedges all round” cry the lads, none of this shut up and take my money bullshit.

“Boys, can you talk to Merv. He wants a day orf after meeting all his family. He didn’t even have a wank this morning” replies Granny as she pours some glass canoes.

The boys quickly down their beers, then another one and maybe one more, perhaps even another then quickly ascend the stairs to Merv’s room.

“Merv, what’s wrong old cock?” asks Angler, feeling a bit wobbly plus knowing Merv didn’t even have a wank this morning. Something is seriously wrong. I mean the

Stick your hand up your own arse

last time you would have went without one was the day you got your electric bill. See how serious this is!

“Yeah Merv, get out of fucking bed and down to the bar” discreetly requests Gib, gentle and kind as always.

“I’m having a day orf, so go away.” replies Merv.

“So look Merv, I’m a nurse and Angler is not a nurse so trust us, what’s the real problem?” pleads Gib.

“Well, you promise not to laugh” well like a red rag to a bull the boys laugh but swear allegiance to Gordon, the creator of the universe, that they will be on their best behaviour.

“Well” says Merv “Now I have all these identical twin brothers and twin sister, how am I expected to know their birthdays!!”

 

Me and family

 

AI Is no Chook Raffle.

15 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by Mark in Sandshoe

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

Angler, Christina Binning Wilson, Gib, Gordon O’Donnell, granny, humour

 

Only 50 cents a ticket, finger lickin’ good…

 

Story by Sandshoe.

AI is no chook raffle.

“Won’t get off the ground.”

Sandy and Gordon were gettin’ another earful. Gordon got cocky. Instead of keepin’

Gordon steadies himself to sing

strictly in time with the karaoke-singin’-to-Gordon, he went out on a limb preachin’ AI well under the stormy weather.

“What happened to Blame it on the Bossy Nova? Tell us moa, and when, now” yelled out the patrons bit under the stormy weather.

Cue the protestors.

“ALL ducks are quackers.”

“Big statement. Right on.”

Everyone in the crowd started feinting, yeah, imaginary boxing moves in the air and proved they were replaced by AI robots spoilin’ for a setup. “Go, you young turkies”, they chanted. They tick and tocked all over the place. It’s virtual reality noiseworks. Made to sound like bangin’ out a good story on a typewriter. I think not. I miss the sound of the carriage return.

(Carriage return).

Yes, this is me and my name’s Shoe and I’m here to help.

“Nah, it’s untrue.” Gordon was unusually loud for a man and woman of science. He looked same as the tablecloth with Sandy’s beer that fell accidental on him in the name of science. Which was when Sandy threw it at Babel. More beer per chook more production.

Babel was already the best layer. Sandy’s judgement was affected by cosmicness and

Princess Layer

the lightness, Merv had too much to do to be affected, he had to run a pub. He kept saying it into the mirror behind the bar. He got Angler and Gib back from Hornsby. Someone did because they are both round the place.

Mangled, melodic mountains rock.

So Merv put up with a lot of addressin’ himself in the mirror. Granny was brewin’ up a sunny day. Foodge helped Granny titrate.

It’s a full-on battle now. AI reckons the brewin’ is not a generic statement of factual engagement, but a politico-fraco-fungal statement revealin’ unrest and the cellar is a metaphor.

Nice try.

Granny’s brewin’ be buggered it’s simple and it’s science. Sandy’s spewin’ about Babel pooping in his beer it’s that simple be buggered not a lot of science. Ok, Gord is the

A fresh beer Merv!

whole works, reality speakin’ in a runny eggshell. AI test checked Gordon O’Donnell as she and he.

Yeah, hahaha, likely story and we won’t fall for it. We’re too sofistickated.

The Boys go to Blat

03 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Angler, Emmjay, Gez, Gib, Gordon, Honshades, humour, Hung, Sandy

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sister Yvonne gets a new job

16 Monday Oct 2017

Posted by Mark in Sandshoe

≈ 25 Comments

Tags

Angler, Christina Binning Wilson, Foodge, Gib, humour, Merv, Nurse Barbara, Sister Yvonne, Therese Trouserzoff

No, pass the sauce not the horse…

Story by Sandshoe

BREAKING NEWS: Sister Yvonne gets a new job.

Foodge was up early with the Guide out of the middle of The Clarion.

Flat Out Like A Lizard Drinkin’s tipped to run better than she did in Cawfield’s The Crescent Moon he read out aloud.

Paper Roses was playing on the juke box.

P-a-p-e-r R-o-s-e-s his Uncle Merv was crooning in the way someone

What’s this paper crap?

mopping does. A-l-w-a-y-s m-a-k-e m-e b-l-u-e. Foodge set his uncle straight.

“Uncle Merv, the word’s cry.”

“It’s my spin on it. P-a-p-e-r R-o-s-e-s A-l-w-a-y-s m-a-k-e m-e b-l-ooo-ooo…

Ok Foodge, if he’s singing he’s happy mopping. One more ‘p’ than moping. We don’t want the right words. Nobody pays Merv a lick of sauce so blue is fine. Blue makes the sun shine for Merv. Cry implies mopping with only one ‘p’. We can afford the second ‘p’.

Arch the Accountant from Whizzzzzz Accountancy dropped in, always on the fly, Arch the Hell’s Angle who got ambitious to help the petite

An advanced motorscooter

bourgeoisie. It was on his t-shirt.

“Where’s Angler and Gib?”

“Cannot rightfully say, Mr Arch. They’re waiting, I know that much.”

Merv was contemplating Nurse Barbara as if he had never seen her before. His glasses steamed up from the steaming hot water he poured into the mop bucket.

“Why?’

Now condensing steam was running off Merv’s glasses and leaving him a

Nurse Barbara feeds the chooks

pane of opportunity. He had bought an especially large pair of glasses for this very purpose of seeing. “Pres Nurse Barbara,” Merv said.

“Yes” she answered mistaking Merv’s declarative as precedent to a summative.

Merv said they were going to Bondi. Nurse Barbara pointed out to Merv straight off going is not waiting, not with the other.

“It’s true, Nurse Barbara!” Sister Yvonne had slipped out of the local vet surgery. Everybody was getting out and about. Yes, Sister Yvonne had slipped unexpectedly and as suddenly into a new career and the old veterinarian’s surgery, the Pigs’ Knob, Sister Yvonne, back from the United States of America, a Veterinariae Medicinae Doctor.

She was carrying a ladder. “Chooks,” she said in passing, “Angler and Gib are going to Bondi. They’re waiting at Hornsby.”

‘They’re out of town? Is that where it is?”

“That’s for sure,” Merv was witness. “Went south. Good as flew.”

Therese Trouserzoff made a surprising appearance on the street pavement. She strummed a uke and she sang, “Why,” she couldn’t help

Therese ponders life the universe and everything

her important self, “don’t they go to Bondi if that’s where they’re going instead of waiting at Hornsby?”

Someone ought give Therese the bestest job ever. She has us all to support. Retro.

Arch shrugged his craggy, leather-clad shoulders. “You blokes ever been before?” He meant the femmes as well. Merv was shoo-ing him, neverthelessness out the back door pronto tonto. “There’s nothing in Horns…” Arch’s words faded and Merv came back in the front door. He was carrying held up before him a tourist promotion package.

“LOOK!” he said, “Fallen off the back of a truck! At the front door! Lying on the ground! Even a map! Good money in this sort of publishing! How to get to Hornsby! Up and offed they did. Angler and Gib.”

GO TO HORNSBY! DON’T WAIT!

WAIT UNTIL YOU GO TO BONDI!

Gib, Angler and the boys drop in for a drink or fifteen.

Episode 92 – Foodge hits the road.

21 Friday Jul 2017

Posted by Mark in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Angler, Foodge, Gib W, Gordon O’Donnell, humour, Nick Lowe, the Bish

Won’t someone think of the children

Story by Mark.

You know, the one thing that is certain is that nothing is certain. Don’t you just hate pithy sayings like that, that make sense. Now you’re okay with me getting things off my chest, nothing like a long bow, the other one that bugs me is this verse of a song who I have no idea who wrote it,

All men, all men are liars their words ain’t worth no more that worn out tyres

Hey girls, bring rusty pliers, to pull this tooth all men are liars and that’s the truth*

Said by a man making it a lie. Need I go on.

I’m in the flyer on my way to Newie, first class overnight, the Bish knows how to treat his favourite barista.

[Stop Hung, it’s barrister. Cannot I, Foodge, not perform on the stage, true to my character? Am I not a person with needs and wants, a light in a window breaks and a butterfly flays it’s wings half way round the planet so prepare for a hurricane. Those are things that make me fight for truth and justice for my client and heaps of Cyberian dollars your Honor. Objection over ruled Foodge.]

Okay then well, seen it’s being nice to me week, barrister and especially after me and the Bish had this conversation.

“Look Foodge, it’s like this. Gordon has rung me and said you should get out of town for a few days, you know just till things settle down.”

“What things?” replies Foodge, stiff upper lip and all that.

All aBout Cyberians

“Oh c’mon Foodge, it’s in the press, the Cyberograph, even the ABC(All aBout Cyberians).

“Well, Bish I have no idea about what you are talking about. Tell me what episode number are you up to?”

“Um, 94, you?”

“Er, 92, look, wheeze is both in the wrong episode, easy fixed, see ya then, been great catching up, say hello to Bronwyn, is the overnight to Newie all on Gordon still okay?”

“Well, yes, due to all the confusion we’ll catch up later.”

“Um, what am I about to do in the next exciting episode?” inquires Foodge.

“Piss off.”

Interval

Pie tasters wanted, apply online or call Alan now on 555 5555…

 

Gib and Angler pick me up at the station in the modified Zephyr. They both have shotguns stuffed down heir pants and bragged how the girls like a big member. I thought yes, some times spotting dicks is a talent. I should now, I’ve been a dick for so long it’s become second nature. I’ve been a proud dick and times and I’ve flopped

A modified Zephyr

for various reasons however I am now convinced that once you are a dick you will always be a dick and I’d even go as far to say that I was born a dick and just like all those other dicks around me.

[Oh, spare us please, I’ll interject on behalf of everyone and I’m writing this. Get on with it.]

“Fantastic car, how much modification did you need to do?” asks Foodge.

“Nah, not much, well a bit, sort of a fair bit that turned into a lot. Once we could get the door handles and window winders working we were set. Then there was the motor however this story has a word limit” says Gib.

“Wadda ya doing in Newie?” asks Angler “Hope you don’t want us to kill no one. Good game of footy this weekend and to be frank one of the two give me indigestion.”

“Nah, Gordon and the Bish sent me here to get ready for episode 94. Apparently I’m in the shit”

“Nothings changed then” chorus the lads.

 

*Nick Lowe

“What’s that in your pocket?”

Merv: Now it’s Stress

15 Thursday Jun 2017

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 19 Comments

Tags

Angler, Emmjay, Foodge, Gib W, granny, Hon Shades, humour, Mark, Merv, Nurse Barbara, Sandshoe, Sister Yvonne

I had short back and sides before I read this article…

 

Now it’s Stress.

Story by Mark.

Merv stands behind the bar, erect and proud, [Mark here Hung, steady now] surveying the ambience of the Pigs Arms, you know stale cigarettes, spilt beer, those unique fruity flavours however there was something worrying him.

“Granny, I’m worried and stressed” he cries.

“Oh for fuck sake Merv, what’s wrong now. Are you having another shitbox moment?”

Granny in her PJ’s

For those who failed to read the last highly stimulating, drama packed episode, and you know who you are, yes I see a few hands, you can find out what a shitbox is here.

“Here, have a pill, works for me, just happened to have a sleeeevvveee, hehehe hahaha” crows Sister Yvonne.

“Nah, 50 ml eucalyptus oil, 500 ml normal saline, rubber tube up the arse, works every time and wait till the koalas start humping you” interjects Nurse Barbara as she puffs on a fag, sips a pint, reads the form guide and takes part in conversations. Womanhood, wonderful to watch. “Anyway if enemas aren’t your thing ask Hon, she’s a survivor.”

“Yeah mate” says Hon using Cyberian vernacular “wot’s the problem Merv, car won’t start, fingernail broken, kicked ya toe. I can deal with it mate, been there done that.”

Merv in the PA XI

“Well, I read that I’m going to be replaced by Aut O’Mation, some Irish bloke apparently. And I’m getting pressure from my agent who thinks I signed up for too many episodes at the Pigs Arms.”

“So who’s your agent?” asks Hon.

“Emmjay”

“Hmm…”

“Hmm…”

“So what is the most pressing issue?”

“Well I signed up for 20 episodes per year at the Pigs Arms and I’m finding it way too much work.”

“Hey I only got 10” pipes in Angler.

Yeah, us too, come the calls from the crew. “What about you Hon? How many did ewe

The Crew

getz?” asks Gib W who suddenly appears at the bar. Must let him know that this magic stuff can scare kiddies as you never know they may be watching.

“Er, um, yeah, like, you know, sort of maybe 15…”

Angler calls the crew together. “What do we want?? ” he cries.

“Um, dunno, wot do wheeze want Angler?” says Gib.

“Um, I know EFFALL and we want it now.”

“EFFALL? Nah mate we don’t want eff all, this is for us fellow space travellers, we make a stand together, yeah, another round.”

“No EFFALL(Equally Fair Fiction for All Languishing Linguists).”

So the chant followed four hours after with many a Trotter’s consumed and a happy night had by all. As the crowd faded the chant still echoes.”Wadda we want, eff all, when da we want it, now”, think about it.

Hung and the boys

Breaking News: Gordon has sent Hung to the scene of a meeting between the management of the Pigs Arms and the Fictional Characters Association. Hung can you hear us,

Yes, look, I’m just going to interview some of the key players as they come out of the building here at Cyberia Central, this is quite a revolt, the characters are threatening strike action if their demands aren’t met. Here’s what Merv had to say,

“…bloody terrible, never knowing one day to the next, ever playing the goon…”

then Granny

“… shocking. It’s either me or Sister Yvonne in the black underwear, must give Hung a chubbie…”

and Foodge

“…the matter is before the court therefore I am unable to say anything however it’s a fit up…”

Feelin lucky punk…

Merv is Spaced Out

02 Friday Jun 2017

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 25 Comments

Tags

Angler, Big M, Father O'Way, fiction, Hon Shades, humour, Nurse Barbara, Sister Yvonne, Warrigal

…

Merv is Spaced Out

Story by Mark.

Sandy was sitting at the bar fiddling with his drink, Trotter’s Ale of course, what else, when Merv approached and in his usual affable way thought he would engage in some jaunty repertoire about space.

“Hey Space priest, how the devil are you? What’s it really like, you know, out there?”

Sandy

Merv loved calling Sandy a priest because he knew he hated it, a bit of ribbing I guess, well not until the next punch up anyway. Merv points to the sky and scowls his face and growls lowly as if space is really spooky. Well, to be honest and that’s copiously rare, actually space is really spooky.

“Bless you my son for asking” replies Sandy.

“I’m not your son!”

“Yes, I know but that’s how us parish priests talk, bless you my son, go the farce has ended, thanks be to Gordon, you know, that kinda shit.”

“But I’m still not your son” persists Merv.

“Look, it’s zarking metaphorical”

“What’s that mean?”

“Dunno, I’m just reading the back of this coaster.”

[Sister Yvonne here. Jesus wept Hung, don’t you know what a metaphor is? Not happy

Sister Yvonne

Hung, now I have to read this and contribute at the same time.

Hung: So what is a metaphor then, I dunno?

Sister Yvonne: It’s a noun.

Hung: Thank you Sister. I’m glad that’s cleared up.

Sister Yvonne: It’s always left to us nurses to save everything…dot dot dot and it could even become DOT DOT DOT now that I’m in charge of the keyboard, hahaha.]

“Well, now that you ask space is sort of spacey” continues Sandy “you know big and spacey.”

[Big M here. For fucks sake Hung saying space is big and spacey is akin to saying water is wet and grass is green. Do you want me to take over writing this bit?

Hung: Well, no, not really but space is big and spacey. I guess there is a lot of black and stars and shit but there is a lotta room out there.

Big M: Here’s a new concept for you Hung, think about it.]

Merv

“Yeah, I like that” says Merv “big and spacey, sounds great. When I was young I was taught that water was wet, grass was green and now space is big and spacey, wow, perfect man. I guess there would be a lot of black and stars and shit but the sounds like a lotta room out there to me.”

“Yep, big and spacey for sure.”

“Bullshit” says Angler. “More space in back of Zephyr even with shotgun and dogs”

“Crikey! Where did that Yorkshire accent come from Angler?”

Angler gets hungry

asks Nurse Barbara who had been listening to everything while reading the form guide. Now is that multi tasking or what.

“I did a bit of rehearsing before the gig but anyway I reckon it’s all Gordon’s magic” smirks Angler hardly able to believe the most outrageous lie he has ever had to tell.

“Nah, it’s rocks, gotta have rocks” pipes in Shoe.

“Hey shoe, you forgot to scramble your name to Hon Shades.”

“Oh, shit. Nah, it’s rocks, gotta have rocks” pipes in Hon Shades.

Oh, well, if they only knew the truth which is…

Baiame Redraws the Map of Mirriyuula’s Heart

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.

Foodge 60.3 bits

15 Tuesday Mar 2016

Posted by Mark in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

≈ 23 Comments

Tags

Angler, Foodge, granny, Hung, Mark, Merv, Nurse Barbara, O'Hoo, Yvonne

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.

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