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Last Words to Humanity

7 Feb

Dear Sir/Madam/whatever, no judgement here.

If you’re reading this, I am dead. Or asleep, I’ll decide later. Maybe I’m just out somewhere, you could just be having a snoop through my things. Maybe I’m out and also dead, and word just hasn’t reached you yet. All in all you’ve made the right decision to read this now.

Let’s work with the assumption I am dead.

Let’s also safely assume I died in some kick ass way, as is my daily prayer and my direct instructions in my will. Maybe I was crushed by all my gold records or my girlfriend’s boobs or a fish finger the size of a mattress or something, perhaps I held in a sneeze and the force hurdled me into space and burnt on God’s patio heater. Only time will tell.

I write this because it appears customary to with my dying breath utter some great truths about life, mostly what is and isn’t worth dedicating your life to. So I thought I might write all that up now, since old people always seem to be way off the mark. I mean, they think bedtime is 5pm and Wheel of Fortune is entertainment, they’re world is cuckoo banana’s. So, here we go. Ready or not. Any second now. Just around the corner. Now!

Baseball. The sport of kings who don't run a bunch.

Baseball. The sport of kings who don’t run a bunch.

Things worth dedicating your life to, in the great scheme of things

1.         Bongo drummer. Have you ever met an uncool guy doing that? Of course not. Bongo salesman have a very strict ‘no shirt no shoes no worries, brother’ policy. And the only thing cooler than wearing all the latest fashion is wearing as little as possible. Sidenote: white man dreadlocks. Who else could pull this look off, without a noisy drum to distract from them?

2.         Successful music career: not to be confused with the bongo drummer, who mostly survives on rain water collected in a completely empty busker’s hat. No, I’m talking real success, the kind of honking rich where not only can you buy anything you like, but you start buying things no one could like. Diamond fed dogs encased in purple gold. Caviar on a stick. Pools shaped like dicks. Dicks shaped like pools. A cowboy hat blessed by Larry Hagman and once owned by Gwyneth Paltrow, who killed a motorist for it. All the hockey pucks you can buy, which turns out to be literally all the hockey pucks. But that’s not even the best part. Its all about the music! As a successful musician, you’ll write such songs as Walk On By, When a Man Loves a Woman, Why a Man loves a Women, and Who a Man Loves (A Woman). Who knows, maybe your song will even be used in a breath mint ad.

3.         More time at the office. Offices get a bad rap, but as I never worked in one they look tops! Swivel chairs are always fun, getting coffee in every scene, and of course the office Christmas party where you get drunk and make out with the photocopier machine (or Kirsten Dunst, whose nickname is the photocopier machine…seriously girl, change your roles)

4.         Feed the poor.  Yes, I know on the surface this sounds terrible, and I agree with you. Next.

5.         Helping the needy: Now hang on, don’t bite my head off. No body said who he needy are. Or how you are helping them. Essentially, you are spending your life doing anything for any purpose.

6.         Save the planet: I don’t mean through planting trees and stuff, although a lot of people forget tasty fruit and possible money grew from them, so they’re not complete wastes of oxygen. No no, idiot, I mean save the planet through laser vision. Think of all the chicks you can freak out after you bone them! Up to 4, maybe, before word got around.

7.         Games tester: But what games, you may wonder. Board games? No. Video games? Nope. Reindeer games? War games? Fun and? Hang on, it was video games, you had it.

8.         Competitor to the shoe salesman: He’s had it too good for too long.

9.         Author: Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have to be the biggest reader to be an author. Indeed, you don’t even have to have read your book if you type blindfolded. Cooking books have always been popular, fulfilling as they do our primal need to eat having seen pictures of better things to eat. The same goes for books about sex, although this is made more acceptable for the public by disguising it as ‘sex plus dangers’ i.e. vampires, ropes, or with a 1930’s gardener. Also popular are books about exercise, although I feel they would sell better if they fulfilled the third primal urge: flee. So I’ve written a series of running books where you are actually fleeing, from a vampire or 1930’s gardener.

10.        Heart doctor. No, wait, fart doctor! Yeah, fart doctor is funnier.

11.        Painting portraits of old egg cartons: Obviously, boring as hell. But remember, this is a lifetime. Eventually, people are going to start thinking there must be more to enjoy in it then first appears. Everyone starts doing it, and you are clearly the best old egg carton painter in the world, you are the peoples champion! Not that anyone would pay you.

12.        We all know thirteen is superstitious, so we better get it out of the way first

13.        There

14.        Number skipper: You’re a natural.

15.        Being 15. I mean, you get all the fun of adulthood without boring voting, driving or having sex. Awesome!

16.        Pizza King?  Is that a thing? Need to google

17.        Anyone who gets to wear a grey curly wig without being involved in the law.

18.        This is blank, in case I think of something good

19.        Be a bongo player again. That’s the great thing about bongo, whether your 19 or 53 and wearing a suit, bongo playing always looks cool.

20.        My favourite: Andy Murray. Just be him. You don’t need to play tennis or anything, the guy is loaded. Or you could play tennis, but as a rich guy, which must give anything that little extra zest.

Man, I hope I’m NOT dead now, these sound great!

Eerie Entities in your Forefather’s Lives

15 Mar

On that fateful night in 1972 when the Watergate Hotel was stolen in the night. President Flixon, in his colour televised speech to the masses on the qualities of all American dog chow, strenuously and stringuolosy denied it, claiming there never was a Watergate Hotel and you’re probably thinking of Hilton on 12th.

Of course, this went right against the word of journalist Woodward and Burnsberns (famous for their series of articles ‘Wood/Burns!’) and their informant Deep Throat, as immortalised in the 1970’s pornographic biopic Pete’s Dragon (‘Look out damsels, its fiery!’).

But we need to go back even further than the 70’s, way further, all the way to 1961; the bay of pigs, the year of the sow and the invention of microwave bacon loaves.


The other failed plots to assassinate island-king Castro Von Castro.


Exploding Cigar: the game was given away when Castro spotted the comically long fuse, and Wile E Coyote (Lt) chuckling behind a boulder.

Poisoned Cigar: We use such all-American quality pancreatic and lung carcinogens such as the ever popular tobacco-specific n-nitrosamines. See plot 441: Normal Cigar

The Rocket-Powered Arsenic: The trick is aiming it down his throat.

Parrot with Dynamite Beak: Self-explanatory, unfortunately, the parrot won’t shut up about it. ‘Polly a secret weapon’ or ‘Polymer-bonded explosive

The Bear Hug: Disguise a bear (American grizzly) as his affectionate cousin. During the hug, have the bear plant some drugs on Castro. Note: This plan relied on the penalty for drug possession to be immediate and automatic death.

Big Fat Hand: We constructed a big fat paper-mache hand, and planned to simply swat Castro like a fly or possible silverfish. Alas, Castro again slipped through our fingers. We believe he went into hiding beneath the fridge until we left.

Big Fat Man: I don’t know, we thought he might fall and crush him, or build up some snow ball effect or raise the climate though body temperature or something.

Old age: As yet the trap has not sprung, although some advisers still to this day insist it may happen yet.

Conch shell: Castro hears the sea, so he sticks his head in and drowns. Long shot.

Washington rifle: We fire our first president’s cherry-tree-terrorising gun roughly in the direction of Cuba. Longer shot.

Assas-O-Boticus: The mechanical masher so popular at demolition derbies (itself a new phenomena at the time) in the lower states and 3D drive-in fuckies alike. Unfortunately, when the 18 foot crushoid-model was in mid-smuggle across the border, he made the classic mistake of replying to the guard’s ‘Your German is very good, ya ya, big time’  in English.  In hindsight, going the long away in Cuba via Europe was a mistake.

Cuban Mid-Life Crisis: Similar to the Old Age plan and identical to the plot of Wild Hogs, this involved planting several gray (grey at the time) hairs amongst Castro’s beard

Boomerang Breadstick: It came back. Every damm time.

Breadstick Breadstick: Much better, but little damage

Breadstick Beretta Model 12: Not sure if it’s officially a breadstick, and as a throwing weapon it was deemed less effective.

Operation Desert Storm: As it sounds, we operate a cloud filled with sand, and bury the bastard. Unfortunately its proven difficult to find a cloud-pilot who operates locally, after our old one was knocked unconscious and into a meat grinder (plan 613) by a boomerang breadstick and previous joke.

Abandoned Glass Bathtub filled with Jellybeans on side of road: Castro tries to guess the number, we steal his car.

Abandoned Plan-Maker filled with bullets on side of road: Hey, it might work, maybe give him the heebie jeebies or serve as a warning of about the jellybean bath. We just have one spare lying around.

Dog Bites Man’s Bullet

11 Mar

Oh no, the dogs died! How to square it with the kid.

Oh no, the dogs died! How to square it with the kid.

1. Say he’s gone to live on a farm. Unless your farmers, then he’s gone to live on a different farm. A better farm. The kid can’t go.

2. Say he’s gone to live on an abattoir, for a while

3. Say the dog is playing dead, and he’s a method actor. Maybe a nice doggy Golden Globe could be made, out of liver.

4. “You didn’t feed him, Timmy, so he’s empty stomach become attractive to passing trucks”.

5. Secretly go to the petshop and replace it. Kids will love the ‘new’ Spot, and it’s fascinating feathers. It worked for the child’s brother.

6. Natural disasters cover tracks, and don’t have to be all that natural. Maybe pray real hard to God?

666. Or Satan.

7. Deny there ever was a dog. Or, if that seems cruel, deny you ever had a child.

8. Explain about the natural order of things, how life is a river ever flowing. Explain how you dumped the dog in the rover. Sorry, river, but nice pun.

9. Blame the Turks. This will create a lifelong hatred that may work in your favour.

10. Explain that ‘dog years’ are like seven of our human [?] years, and its getting creepy you hanging around with a 35 year old.

11. Explain that ‘dog death’ is exactly like our human death. The child may be thinking of a phoenix. The nine lives thing is cats. Or Daryl Somers. You may be thinking of Daryl Somers, statistically speaking.

12. Duh, blame the neighbours! Why didn’t I think of this before! Just run the dog over a bit and through its mangled corpse under the Jones’ parked Nissan Patrol.

13. Say the dog ran away. Leave a note confirming this. Say he joined the circus! Make sure it’s a French-Canadian circus, less likely they’ll be interested.

14. How do you feel about nougat? Yeah, I’m a bit iffy on it too.

15. Spoil the dog’s image. Spread some rumours about the dog’s shady past in the Kosovo Conflict. Maybe the dog caused nougat? It’s fine, the dog can’t dispel the gossip, its a dog! Dog’s are known liars! Oh, and its dead, that too. Wait, are you sure it’s dead, it could be a dog ruse?

16. Make a Franken-dog, made out of the parts of frakenfurters, which are called hotdogs, which are made from dead dog parts anyway!

17. Say the child’s mother is dead beforehand, it will soften the second blow. If the mothers already dead and you’ve been putting off telling him, perfect, but you’ll probably need to kill again. You could say the mother killed the dog, to make her death extra worthwhile. You could go to gaol, remember.

18. “The dog’s just resting it’s eyes. And lungs. Its blood is going for a walk on the hills of its head.”

19. If this is all just a big joke, now would be a good time to reveal the not-dead dog. Or the dead dog, depending on how far you want to take the joke.

20. Grenade fetch? Stunt Car chaser? Vegan toilet drinker? Shedding coat around a hair-trigger rifle? The excuse possibilities are four.

Back by Unpopular Demands

2 Jan

The Gypsy Joker Motorcycle Fun Club presents

The Great Great DeGrate the Great

Live, due to the wonders of science, from Lazy Susan’s and the Kraft Creamy (R) Crematorium

13th-18th of July, one show only! (no outside food or amenities allowed)


Supported, financially,by

the Shaman Barman John ‘Rob’Ertson,

the Africa’s Con The Fruitier Tien Tran,


Shayne Addarnczirak-DeBergerac on clean-up.


Tickets presented at the door, and purchased before.


“Goodbye America. Goodbye Earth. Goodbye 21st century. Hello, Right Hand of God. “

11 Nov

See the author who punched Phillip Gregory, or Greg Phillips (unsure) in the flesh and bone (bring a towel)

The Polecatz has written over, and including, 900 novels and unloved stageplays and YouTube meesterstuk (many legible) to date and possibly woe.

If anyone knows where they are, please contact the author. NOTE telephone now available, but only if you call this tull* free number

*Not toll

Pigtime O’Clock (available from all good bookstore wholesalers, and mediocre butchers, for a paltry 29.990 or nearest offer, credit and trade available, please ask your parents) combines everything you thought you loved, some of it about his books, and 17% more. It is a certain amount of unnumbered pages of fun-esque substances, and all for the price of an upmarket novel!

But don’t take my paid copywriter word for it, check out this modest yet succulent selection of praise for The Polecatz’s previous sequel  Is that a Gun in your Back? (I’m Happy to See You): A Pick-Pocket Guide to Mugging


The Polecatz is back again, lock the door


Suitable for public release….free of some toxins…don’t…no…bad…quality…recommend

– National Health and Services, second class


About the author/lover: The Polecatz was born, before rising to the middle of the literary pile in his late twenties (they came when he was 36). It’s pretty much that since then, regardless what you read (unless you read this, than its completely in regardmore)

A special question and answer session will be conducted by the Metropolitan Police, and family.   Then cake!

Ladies over 12 get in for free, but with a forfeit to be discussed privately.

No refunds, no disappointment!

Please check your local website for accurate information, dates, times and horoscopes if you don’t have a clock, just don’t forget to count!


As my girl-love boarded the shuttle, I broke the news and the mood. This was room only for her.

I would die on this repeatedly exploding planet.

We held hands as long as wasn’t gay, and as the ship rose into the poison fog, I looked at the note she left in my grieving palm. A $20. She owed me $50.

How the frick am I going spend that?