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Tag Archives: Yvonne

Foodge Escapes from Buntings

03 Thursday Jun 2021

Posted by Mark in Foodge Private Dick, Mark

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

Algernon, Big M, Emmjay, Foodge, Mark, Nurse Barbara, O'Hoo, Sandshoe, Yvonne

You know, if they told me I was going to appear so much I would have charged more…

Foodge Escapes from Buntings

Written by Mark

Foodge was sitting in the foyer of the court house rolling a durry, well with tobacco and some other funny green stuff. O’Hoo was busy talking to some official over at the counter. Foodge was in deep thought mode, why am I here, why was I born, what is my first name and you know all those things that race through you mind in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep.

“O’Hoo, hoo were you talking two” speaking phonetically so O’Hoo wouldn’t understand, asks Foodge as he deeply inhales on his durry.

“Clark, I think his name was, no Clark Cell, a standard primary cell producing 1.4328 volts at 15 degrees C which consists of a mercury cathode and a zinc amalgam anode both dipping into a saturated solution of zinc sulphate” says O’Hoo.

Oh fuck off thinks Foodge. Never ask a simpleton a question that you don’t know the answer too. “Anyway pass us the scotch”. Foodge is discombobulated now(thanks Gerard, my spell checker doesn’t know it still, after all this time).

Come here lad, have a whiskey…

“Where’s the press throng?” asks Foodge as he inhales deeply on his durry. Oh yes, South Sea Islands Scotch sure does taste good in the morning.

O’Hoo runs out of the foyer onto the front steps of the court house and spy’s a group of school kids passing by on an excursion or just running away from their teachers. O’Hoo approaches them and says “Look kids, I understand that this is a kid friendly web page but can you pretend to be from the media, you know asking questions, pointing microphones and taking pictures when my mate come out from the court?”

“Um, yeah, um, yeah, okay mate! Wot’s in it for us?” says a little smart arse in the front row.

“Sausage sizzle, with fried onions and tomato sauce, all round at Buntings, oh on white bread, nothing healthy” blurts O’Hoo relating to the inner psyche of the modern generation.

“Yep, wheeze in” says the smart arse.

Foodge stumbles out of the court to face the “media throng”.

“Mr Foodge, what have you got to say about the court case?” says the smart arse kid who is getting way too much media attention.

“Well” replies Foodge “ I can’t say anything while the case is in front of the court”

“Well that’s only literally, not metaphorically”. The smart arse kid is really stating to grate and you can fucking well spell that how you want to and I’m the author.

“No more comments from me except to say the chicken schnitzel on Monday night with mushroom gravy is to die for.”

Hmm, Tastes like chicken…

O’Hoo pulls up in the Zephyr. “You drive Foodge. We are being followed. I’ve read the script”

“But I’m pissed and stoned”

“Doesn’t matter we’re fictional and anyway Gordon will get us off any charges.”

Foodge accerlates the Zephyr down the boulevard. O’Hoo jumps into the back seat and smashes out the back window.

“Why did you do that for? Emmjay will be really pissed that we went over budget.”

“I’ll get a better shot this way. Keep speeding, we are being followed by the FBI, the CIA, ASIO and worst of all the CWA” cried O’Hoo as he lets fly a few salvo’s out of the recently renovated rear window.

Foodge dodges and swerves through the back streets of Inner Cyberia as O’Hoo fires indiscriminately out the back window, trying to take care to hit any one at any time.

The FBI and ASIO cars go down when the CIA call O’Hoo on a two way radio that he didn’t know he was carrying up until now.

“Wheeze hungry” says the CIA goon.

Stop, I’m from the CIA, no the CIB, no the CIC, no the CID…

“Take the next left and into the McJacks drive through” says O’Hoo thinking he should have added and extra T and said thought. So many questions so little time.

Everyone is going through the drive through, try saying that after a few drinks but the CWA ladies want a Fillet-O-Fish so wheeze is all held up. Wears the pleece when yous want them. Don’t you just love phonetics.

The race continues but O’Hoo is a bit too sharp for his opposition and quickly takes out the CIA car as they munch on their McJacks. The CWA are a different story. O’Hoo fires another round of high powered tracer bullets into their car from loaded magazines thanks to granny, an eternal pacifist. Don’t you love her. Peace man.

O’Hoo and Foodge drive into the car park at the Pigs Arms with the Zephyr looking in bad shape with bullet holes and smashed windows, however Foodge won’t budge until he has finished his Big McWhopper, fries and slushie. “Let’s get the fuck out of here” screams O’Hoo as he finishes his chicken burger and Coke drink.

Apparently it’s a restaurant

Foodge and O’Hoo run into the bar avoiding eye contact with Emmjay. Big M and Algernon cock there weapons and the three sisters, Yvonne, Barbara and Shoe just keep studying the form guide, totally disinterested in the shenanigans. The CWA drive straight through the front doors and get out of their car opening fire with their weapons. Big M, Algernon and O’Hoo return fire and bullets are flying everywhere.

Meanwhile back in the kitchen granny is really peeved. Emmjay walks through the fire fight into the kitchen and says to granny “Lets have a bake off so we can stop this madness.”

Granny walks into the bar and yells “Stop. Stop now.” Funnily enough everyone stops. “Lets have a scone bake off to sort this out.”

All the cooks head out to the kitchen and start cooking. Scones, cream and jam are served to everyone. Hmm, all taste great. Granny says “Well, what was this agro all about?”

“Dunno” says the lady from the CWA.

“Baby, what baby” cries Foodge.

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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