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Tag Archives: Mark

Merv finds more family

24 Sunday Dec 2017

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

humour, Mark, Merv

Merv and family

Story by the guy at the keyboard.

Merv was standing behind the bar, washing the glasses and refreshing the spittoons when the door opened and a man walked in an ordered a beer. Merv didn’t take any notice at first but when he looked up at the man he saw a reflection of himself.

“Um, er, Mick?” asked Merv thinking it was his identical twin brother Mick from Mick’s Auto Mechanics and Florist Shop.

“No, I’m Mack, your other identical twin brother” said the man, um, er, I mean Mack.

“But doesn’t that make us identical triplets?” enquired Merv intelligently for a change.

“But wait there’s more. There are five of us, me, you, Mick, Mike and Mark. All identical twins” said Mack.

“But that makes us…”

“No, identical twins. The author can’t spell that word so we won’t mention it, okay?”

“Um, er, suppose, okay I guess. What’s brought you here Mack?”

“I went to see my doctor, Doctor Doctor and I said to her, doctor doctor give me the news I gotta bad case of lovin you but she told me that I have Stupiditis and that it runs in the family”

My Christmas outfit

“Stupiditis!!” double exclamation marks remarks Merv.

“But wait there’s more. It also affects our identical twins” counters Mack.

“You mean our qu…”

“Don’t mention that word, the author can’t spell it plus he wants an extra set of steak knifes hence the double mention of but wait there’s more”

“Stupiditis” say Merv “I don’t get it”

“Exactly” replies Mack. “It’s a disease that is so subtle that you don’t get it till it’s too late. Like what did you do this morning?”

“Dunno, got up, had a shower, got dressed, ogled granny, scratched my nuts, washed glasses and replaced the spittoons” says Merv feeling quite bewildered.

“Yes, that’s because that is what you do every day. When was Gordon here last?” presses Mack.

“Dunno”

“Stupiditis” says Mack. “Lets test it out with a few of the patrons. Hey Foodge, what did you do yesterday?”

“Smoked lots of cigarettes, drank heaps of booze, represented a fine defaulter in court, told the Prime Minister to stick his head up his arse, usual sort of thing why do you ask?” replies Foodge.

“No reason” says Mack. “See Merv, what do really remember about yesterday?”

“Dunno, I fink I got outta bed, came down here to the bar and later went back to bed”

“Stupiditis, big time” says the twins.

Merv and family

Episode 93 – Foodge The Bowelactic Wars 1

01 Tuesday Aug 2017

Posted by Mark in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

Foodge, Hung, Mark, Merv

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

 

Foodge Episode 93 -The Bowelactic Wars.

Story by Mark.

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

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

Billy and Joel give each other a hand

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

Counter reset.

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

This girl once saw a Fig Tree

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued…

Oh yes, it’s real…unfortunately

Episode 91B – Foodge steps up to the Plate

07 Friday Jul 2017

Posted by Mark in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

Big M, Foodge, Gib W, granny, humour, Manne, Mark, O'Hoo

Foodge likes to set his hair before court

 

It was midnight. It had to be midnight, it was dark and Foodge slivered underneath the covers to keep warm and doze back off into dream land. You know the one, where money is plentiful and the girls are, well endowed. No matter how hard Foodge tried and yes it got really really hard at times, the banging at the door would not go away. Oh I get it, you thought…

“Foodge-o-rama, get the fuck up, you have an episode at the Pigs Arms to appear in, Big M has put you in it” cries O’Hoo, standing at the door of the baristas apartment.

O’Hoo just has this way about him

“No one wants to write it so Hung is going to do it. I’m off for a few glass canoes, I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Who’s Big M?” says Foodge.

“Gib W, now hurry up. Granny has been reminiscing and you know what happens when granny gets emotional and has access to a shotgun.”

Hmm, yes, I do, thinks Foodge and if only granny could see him as her real soul mate and lover. He imagined walks along the riverbank on sunny days, picnics, good coffee, absorbing the suns rays and then intimacy, touching, feeling, lovingly man to woman [Okay cut, Mark here we get the picture].

Granny had contacted O’Hoo after Manne had handed her his mobile phone. “Get Foodge, Manne needs help.”

Manne, temporarily caught up

The bar is now buzzing with activity, no not the insect kind but everyone came in to try and help Manne.

“[Theme from Rocky as Foodge makes a grand entrance] Yes everyone, it is eye, Foodge, come to avert this horrible crisis. Show me Granny, this offensive phone message that our poor intellectually challenged Manne had to cope with.”

Granny hands Foodge the phone. Foodge diligently, like all legal folk, reads everything in the message very carefully. He pauses for a few moments,

“Hmm, battery is low, shit, now even technology has depression.”

Ewe fink dats funny, wait till Episode 92

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…

Gordon Drops Inn

21 Friday Apr 2017

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

humour, Hung, Mark

How people find this shit funny is beyond me

 

Well there is a buzz around the Arms tonight, buzz, buzz, kabang! Sorry, that was a fly, anyway, Hung here, tonight Gordon is going to drop in with a special guest, unknown at this stage. Even I don’t know and I’m the author, well sort of. Now would I lie to you?

The door swings open and in walks Gordon, one of his magic tricks he loves, opening the door without touching the handle, bloody miracle worker that guy, hmm.

“Where’s ya guest?” asks Merv.

“He’s still in make up at this stage” replies Gordon.

“Wheeze was getting all excited, like the good old days”

“The good old days were actually pretty shitty but I’m glad you are excited, finally”

PA’ XI 1863-Won Grand Final by a fingertip

quips Gordon.

“So have you made him up yet Gordon?” enquires Angler.

“Hmm, now that you ask no, so I’ll do what the pollies do and create a distraction.”

Again, the front door opens but this time it’s a funny looking man in a cap with a black uniform.

The Colonel in better days

“I’m Colonel Wilhelm Wafflekurgenburger from the Licker Licensing Board attached to the Inner Cyberian Pleece. My friends call me The Nasty. Your Licker Licence please.”

“So what about your enemies then, wadda they call you, Bozo the Clown?” calls Merv and much mirth displayed by the crew.

“They, my friend are all shall we say inconvenienced.”

Gulp! Never seen a character like this before at the Arms, must be the warming thingy.

Well Merv had never seen a licker licence before so he had no idea. Just when it was about to get a bit confrontational like, the patrons loading up their weapons, Gordon steps in.

“We don’t need a licence” chants Gordon as he waves his hand around the room.

“You don’t need a licence” says The Nasty.

“Why don’t you just leave”

“Yes, why don’t I just leave” and with that the Nasty packs up and scurries out the door.

“Gordon, out hero” cry the crew “drinks all round on Gordon”

Hung comes over to Gordon’s side “Gee, Gordon, that was some show, now what gizmo did you use?”

“Are you saying I’m not honourable Hungsie?”

“No, but none of this farce crap, okay!”

“Shit, it’s called a DOWOP(Drowns Out Waves of Other People) hence people

Do what? No do wop…

walking down the street singing Do Wop dah dah diddy Do Wop are trying to use the technique. Ten bucks in Start Wars at Space Mart, alters mind waves, useful at times anyway it’s 5 O’Clock somewhere in the universe, time for an ale.”

Gordon’s Cat

01 Saturday Apr 2017

Posted by Mark in Big M

≈ 22 Comments

Tags

Algernon, Big M, Christina, humour, Mark

Cat and chips, hmm…

Story by Big M

Mark and Algernon were perched at the bar, having enjoyed a lovely morning tea of Granny’s best IPA (Impressive Pig’s A…, I mean, Ale), and were sipping on banana daiquiri chasers. The doors burst open to reveal Big M, wearing his best socks and sandals, Bermuda shorts, and a long sleave shirt, a picture of sartorial excellence.

“Hello Brother, Sister.” Chirped Mark. “Didja come down on the 3801?”

Big M was still brushing dust from his shirt. “Nah, the Flyer’s electric, now. They only

Big M gets ready for work

get the 38 out for spesh. How are you pair? Another round?” Our intrepid bar flies nodded eagerly, with daiquiri forming little yellow moustaches.

“Well, there’s been some concern.” Proffered Algernon. “We think the Bish is dead, or paralysed, or worse, and Gordon’s bin arrested!”

“Feckin’ stupid heap of shite!” Roared Merv from behind the bar. “Oy, Mark, you’re a plumber, aren’t you?”

“Nope”

“But you’ve got an interest in plumbin’?” Merv was red faced.

“Well, sort of.” Mark swallowed the last of his cocktail, placing the glass on the bar, and nodding enthusiastically towards the empty glass. “I do know that Thomas Crapper and Sons were the finest dunny makers in the Old Dart.”

Merv assiduously ignored the empty glass and the nods. “Well, can any of youz fix

Mark

a busted glass washer?” Merv was desperate to avoid washing anything by hand.

“We need to get to the most important matter at hand.” Algernon took control, of the floor, and the cocktails. “Gordon’s cat is missing, feared dead!”

“What, like Schrodinger’s cat?” Mark sounded excited.

“Well, yes and no. Schrodinger’s cat may have been dead, or may be alive.”

“Well, which is it?” Big M raised his a butt cheek off the stool to let out an enormous fart, or was it a shart?

“No, it was Schrodinger’s famous thought experiment, where he put a cat in a steel box..”

“A dead cat?” Mark had taken control of the cocktails, but not the floor, or the conversation.

“No, alive, anyway, it goes into a steel box with a Geiger counter, which feeds into a relay which can crack open a bottle of cyanide. I think Einstein wanted to add explosives, but that’s beside the point. If one single atom inside the box undergoes

Algernon thinks about it

nuclear decay, the Geiger counter detects it, the relay cracks the cyanide bottle, and the cat dies.” Algernon wasn’t sure they were following. “You don’t know if the cat’s dead or alive until you open the box. So in the meantime, the cat could be in two states, alive, or dead. It’s all quantum physics.”

“So can this bloody Schrodinger fix my bloody glass washer?” Merv was about to throw the machine into the yard.

“No!” The trio yelled.

“So Gordon’s cat is in a steel box?” Big M looked self-satisfied.

“No, Schrodinger’s dead cat is.” Laughed Mark, picturing a dead cat in a box.

“No, it’s either, or both, dead and alive!” Yelled an exasperated Algernon.

Yum

 

“So where’s Gordon’s cat?” Chimed in Christina, as she reached between them to grab some coasters.

“How the f#@$ would we know, it’s your story, ‘shoe!”

 

 

 

I’ve had a bad day, don’t ask…

 

The Raid Goes HO On

08 Wednesday Jun 2016

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Mark

Any poor individual that missed part one go here,

The Pigs Arms gets Raided

[ HOO here. Now, the situation will return to normal shortly, so in the mean time lets have a larf.]

r711197_5561452“I’ll telling you lot once and for all, keep quiet and ewes is all under arrest for terriblism. Father O’Way, Foodge, commie crap and really bad crap at that, bloody terrible” affirms DCI Copper Wire and he tries to engage inside his own broadband width. Note to self he thinks, double time Sunday, what a trap and the neo-cons want to dump it.

“Now Sargent Sulfate here will have to take statements from everyone here tonight,  meaning we will run past midnight and into over time.”

Roars from the Federal Pleece.

***

“Hey, Gordon, what do you want to do?” asks Angler On.The Face of God, Gordon O'Donnell

“Nothing yet Ace. It’s like this, I own all the money on Earth and I can always settle a score by making DCI dickhead bankrupt. Let the pleece have their moment in the sun as it will only get worse for them from here. Political tools, hmm” replies Gordon.

“Shut up ewes. I’ve got some really good acetic acid here, battered flathead and chunky chips, you know, the off your face stuff. Let’s catch the Flyer to Newcastle?” injects Gib W.

“Yeah, lagers…” say the boys and are off.

***

[Interval music]

Helen_ReddyI am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore
And I know two much to go back and pi squared
‘Cause I’ve herd it all before
And I’ve been out there on the moor
No one’s ever going to make me go down again

Whoa, yes, I am wise
But it’s wisdom born of pain
Yes, I’ve paid the price
But look how much I ingrained

If I have to I can do anything [if you have to?]
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman

You can bend but never break me
‘Cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I’ll come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
‘Cause you’ve deepened the conviction in my soul

Whoa, yes, I am wise
But it’s wisdom born of pain
Yes, I’ve paid the price
But look how much I gained

If I have to I can do anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman

[Round of applause as feminism strikes back]

Now, here at the Pigs Arms we want you to rush out and buy some of these from our in house shop. Yes, we have secretly brainwashed you throughout the show so far to behave as free thinking individuals, yes I know, scary isn’t it, imagine having to think for yourself, wouldn’t want that now would we.

burger

Hmm, Helen burger…

fries

& McReddy Fries

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t you just love it folks. Mass produced gulg, just for you.

***

Nurse Barbara and Sister Yvonne  having given statements about how terrible is a nasty word, oh and they promise on their collective magnificent breasts that they

will never be terrible ever again , no, never, hmm, guffaw,guffaw, fair dinkum.nurse02

“Do you see that Sargent’s arse Barbara?” asks Sister Yvonne.

“Is the Pope Catholic!!” replies Barbara.

Roars of laughter from the crew.

***

“O’Hoo, last episode you said you liked blue, cream and honey, did you mean that?” asks Fern.

O'Hoo

O’Hoo

“Yes, those colors were important to me in a previous life” replies O’Hoo.

“O’Hoo?” says Fern “Will you marry me?”

“Most certainly Fern but can I check with the missus first?”

 

 

***

“My dick hurts” says Foodge after making a big mistake by not ensuring that a true biological genital juxtaposition is necessary after a trip to

The last know version of Merv

the Men’s to get said member sufficiently away from the zipper in question.

“Too much information bozo” warns Merv.

 

 

***

So my writing is so terrible it qualifies as a breach of Section 70 from the Act. Pretty impressive really.

When I discovered baked bean theory I knew that I was at the top of my game. Sandy O’Way, one day you will be a legend. The first Inner Cyberian to charged

O'Way Returns.under Section 70.

What, baked bean theory?

How long have you got.

In a nutshell baked bean theory is that the average number of beans in a 440 gram can of baked beans in tomato sauce equals the average number of runs scored in one day cricket games in the Milky Way. Brilliant stuff, wish I’d thought of it.

***

Wot?

Wot? Me Chesney

***

DCI Wire weeps, unable to report to his political masters he returns home, tail between his legs, exactly where the whole matter should have rested. Shame on you Inner Cyberian Federal Pleece, you have sold out to a group that trusted you, the man in the street, reap now what you sow.

 

 

 

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…

 

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