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The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, after a few drinks

23 Jul

Paget_holmes (1)

I worry for Sherlock

At first it was snuff and the odd visit to an opium den, the stuff of gentlemen. But since he began knocking back brandy and Monster energy drinks, I began to grow a shade worried.

He stood there in his signature deerstalker hat, without his signature deerstalker pants, speckled band on full display.

My dear Watson, what amiable mystery will present itself today?’ lilted Holmes, hacking flem into the sink. ‘No doubt something to do with that dreadful business at the embassy of Siam, judging by the tell-tale mud caked on your left galosh and cane’.

I was astounded, and pressed Holmes to explain his deductions, but he has already falling back asleep into his breakfast glass of last night’s champagne.


When Mr Holmes had once more risen and screamed at the birds for their fucking racket, we embarked by carriage to the embassy. Although my powers of observation and deduction were still nascent to such a mind, I had a hunch the journey would be hastened if we didn’t stop for frequent snacks and emesis, not always in that order.

‘Those of the orient call it a hot dog’

‘As do we, Holmes, can we please be away?’

‘I see by the markings on your tie…’

‘I have no tie’

‘…You are a Cheltenham man’

‘That’s a woman’s school. Also, that is a spaniel you’re reliving yourself upon’

‘I deduced as such’

‘Please Holmes, we must solve the Case of the Harlot Row Butcher’

‘Someone is offing women of the night? Then we too should check on the dancing girls’

‘Oh for the love of…we’re not going to the Naked Truth’


But alight at that hall of sweaty delights we did, and as I pecked at pub peanuts I wondered if Holmes had perhaps lost his touch. The bouncer certainly insisted he keep his hands off.

‘Watson old bean, can I borrow a few sterling. Say, a 20? You know I’m good for it’

Alas, I knew good well Mr Holmes was bad for it.

‘Please Holmes, enough with the strippers’

‘Hold your tongue: they are exotic dancers’

‘It’s hardly dancing though, is it? I implore you Holmes, there is a dire criminal at large, and you’re here regaling with some … upright cavorter’

‘Elementary my dear Watson. Her name is Elementary’

Jungle Attack!

22 Sep


A man is running, running, running through the forest.

He is being chased by a giant tiger

He is pounced upon, and he screams fearing the worst.

But the tiger now moved on, and he gingerly gets up, ruffled and bruised but OK.

He brushes himself off, and so pats his pockets…his wallets gone

Man:                                             Oih that…that Tiger mugged me!

Cut to the tiger in a corner store. It spits out a mouthful of notes. The clerk cautiously picks it up

Announcer:                              When you get that thirst…

The tiger is outside, drinking from a saucer of chocolate milk, the many empty cartons clearly visible. 

Announcer:                               …You’ll do anything to get one  a Gold Oak Choc Milk.

A man is getting cash out from a machine.  He is pounced upon


Hope 2012

6 Nov

It seems a shame given the amount of American election coverage we have received that we will not to be voting. But then again, neither will most Americans. And in all baiting and debating between the Republican and Democrats, it’s easy to forget there is also 16 other candidates on that ballot (there could be more, or less; I made up the number. That fact I could, and had to, is telling. Or maybe it’s not. I’m funny, not witty)


So, let’s meet some of those candidates!  It could be the first human contact they’ve had in a while.

Lewis Cass: A strong contender on paper; a former US Marshall for Ohio, a former governor of Michigan, indeed a former everything since his death in 1866. While some sake his lack of recent experience may hinder him, others are attracted to his unbiased neutral stance towards slavery. These people are pro-slavery.

Philieous Rockband: By running for president, he not only gets to choose his own name, but doesn’t need to think about who he’s gonna vote for. Nominee, United States Marijuana Party.

Jecob Kandy: You might recognise this fellow from the attempted assassination for 5 consecutive presidents, and one zookeeper who looked a little like some of them. Well, he’s back, and he won’t stop waving his gun around which (due to his strict court and psychiatric orders) he was not allowed to kill anybody with. Americans for American Americans

Wilhelm Goebbels: Nominee, Nazi Party. Doesn’t speak English. Which is fine, we’re not bigoted, we’re just not sure they’re meant to be here. In the presidential race, not the country. Although likely they can’t run anyway, if they’re not…look, I don’t want to assume they’re not born here. May have trouble getting many votes, Americans can be quite xenophobic. Especially the Jews.

Percival Norse: Horse. Might get the under 18 vote. 

Twelve Top Tips for Keeping a Secret Second Family in Donnybrook

16 Nov

Guest columnist today, it’s my very own dad. Thanks dad!


You’re welcome son

1.              Keep conversations short. Don’t write anything, anything, down.  A good lie is a vague lie


2.             Name your kids identically, and preferably marry only one ethnicity (eg. Dutch). This is to avoid name slips.


3.             Raise one side Jewish, so you can keep Christmas confined to the other. Raise the other to treat New Years is a sin against the lord.


4.             Have a forgettable face. This will make you less recognizable, in case you are spotted. Remember: ugly also sticks out, and will make creating two families difficult in the first place.


5.             Take up a heroin habit, even if you’re just a social user. This will provide good emergency excuses for chunks of time you ‘forget’, mood swings, disappearing for days on end, and ramblings about a second family in Donnybrook.


6.             Have a job that travels. Don’t make the mistake I made, as a farmer, and have your families come to me. If you have to have two families living on the same street for example, make sure it’s an unfriendly neighborhood.


7.             ‘Surprise visits’ are the devil. Say you have a weak heart and hate surprises, say you hate your children’s faces and need to prepare mentally before contact, whatever it takes.


8.             Treat them sports teams, don’t let one be dominant over the other in abilities. Trade players if need be.


9.             Start a third family, as a kind of a false trail to throw  each off the scent.


10.          Don’t make innocuous phrases into sly double-meaning jokes about having a secret family, then chuckle to yourself. A joke is only good when shared, and even if you explained it they won’t laugh right away.

11.             If (to coin a phrase) either family finds out about the other, just pass it off as a prank. It will help if you’re being filmed by hidden cameras and shown on national TV. Although this may make to hard to keep your secret family a, well, family. Secret. Whatever. Same goes for writing a column; it’s a risky maneuver.

12.             Everyone loves chocolate. This might seem off topic, but it can smooth over even the most revelatory of occasions.

Culture is going to the dogs! We love greyhounds!

15 Mar

Today our most popular programs are side shows of sex, drunkenness, and violence and cross dressing.

While in the grand days of Chaucer and Shakespeare….well, it was the same, but you couldn’t change the channel.

On the other hand, these days we have thousands of ice cream flavours.

Fuck you philosophers, we win.


The olden days were shit.

My grandfather told me in his day everyone watched the news, which went for 3 days straight because everything was new back then, and changing the channel involved a rubberised pole, a degree  and permission from the queen.

He said there was only one television set per nation, which back then was only about 16 people, plus one Johnny foreigner whom you kept away from in case you caught the communist-itus and stopped eating batter fried in additional batter.

When he was 3, or 10 in today’s measurements, he distinctly remembers…

drinking whisky from a stone bottle,

the bins would be closed on weekends,

seeing the unveiling of Australia’s first cloud,

and when the flag was still only a tiny 3 inch baby

Now, 8 World Wars and two kinds of Ireland later, he wanders around the four-up-two-down-one-to-the-side house muttering about cellophane these days, and how we’re outsourcing our homeless to India, then trying to play his record on a dog.

It’ll be sad if he didn’t do it to circus music. God love him.

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.

The Tales with Too Many Taglines

22 Jan

From the Pages of the Public Domain of Demons

The Crypt in Creative Common

Stories from Beyond the Intellectual Laws of Man

Hello, I’m Mason Stone, Hollywood caterer on Kingdom of Anarchy 2: Fall of the Hypocrites, and the tolerated CableCar Insurance ads.  And I have been tasked (with monetary rewards) to prologue this spine-straightening ‘spindle’, quote unquote, with this preface. Traditionally a preface is written by the author, but rumour has he died in undocumented circumstances, perhaps because of the evil contained in these sentences and perhaps because he lived 100 years ago, alone and unpublished. Going by the depravity and horror to follow no known rules of prose aesthetics, I’m not surprised. What is notable is the references in this story date the setting to around 1993. Coincidence, spooky predictions of the future, or just outright lies: you, the 2nd hand prices paying customer, decide.

I’m getting hammered.

Signed Mason Stone, (extraordinaire)

The rest, Philine Putfort (assistant to Mason Stone)

Chapter XXIX: Not Quite Porn

The Cursed Curse Cottage on Cursed Cul-De-Sac (or KillTheSack), St Curseflaps.

3 hours on the road, only punctured by 87 toilet breaks. The Everymon family had exhausted their knowledge of car games: toilet breaks, punch buggy, punch revengey, and shutting up.

Sadly, they had not exhausted each other, and the games were just about to begin their loop once more when the girl Dainty piped up about her brother.

Joey, as keen as I am to encourage the pursuit of literature, stop reading that tome of the occult!

Fine, take your stupid treasure of the ancients.

Joey hurtled that most grimier of Grimoires like a lower primate at the zoo throws his Dan Brown: not well, but with passion. The force of the air’s friction allowed in that split second the pages to rustle open to a particularly nasty chapter about house-blighting. The wind whistling passed whistled in such a varying pitch as to evoke the incantation as well.

Dad, Joey threw the book at me!

Well, he must be using you as an example to the other officers.


I don’t know, it’s been a long car ride, let your ol’ dad overreach one lousy joke.

Joey looked up from his victory shuffle

Are we there yet?

If we were there, would we still be driving?

Actually honey, I think we just passed it. Said Mother.

The inside of the house was Victorian in design: imposing, cold, bitter, slightly eastern and obsessed with sport. Photos of every polo player you could name dotted the walls, as well as the one you can’t. Aside from that lone item, over each fireplace hung imposing portraits of all the previous owners (mostly of handlebar moustaches) leering down on the new inhabitants.  Did the eyes of that painting just move? No. What about that one? That’s a bowl of fruit.

Joey couldn’t be sure, but he felt those grapes were following him around the room.

The door creaked open

We’ll put some oil on that said Father, jaunty as a sailor.

A bat screeched out of the doorway

That too

He looked around the house and breathed in that old dust smell.

Hmm, the moving people haven’t brought out stuff yet. They’re still huddling by the mailbox, pointing a shaking finger at our house and paying in Spanish. Last time I hire Swedes. Statistically. Anyway, it looks like we’re going to have to sleep in the dusty jinxed linen already here. Your mum and I will take the master bedroom, Joey will take the broom cupboard.

Joey not happy Hey! See?

And Jen will take the hotel next door

Hey! Said Joey, That’s not fair! Jen will miss all the fun!

Yeah, can’t I share the cupboard with Joey? Agreed Jen.

No! And what’s more, it’s a 4 star hotel with breakfast and massage included!

I’ll be ages!  I hate this.

Said Dad It hates you too, sweetie.

Mum wasn’t listening It’s such a shame all our boxes are in the truck, which is in turn in a bigger box. Those boxes would have been perfect for storing stuff in.

Dad was trying to get his pinger out fo the power socket. Maybe the world just isn’t ready for your radical ideas.

Still, this place is great. When I found out I was inheriting this place, it made me glad my Aunt Claris had died from haunted house related injuries. She would have been freaked out by the place when we invited her round. Still,

Some time later, the plot began to kick in.

Hey, has anyone seen the cat? Because its one ugly sucker. Glowing eyes, omen of death, talks like James Earl Jones.

No, I would have remembered that.

Dad, the walls are bleeding the blood of the sinners!

The father creeped slowly towards the wall, and in fear touched the bleeding brick. He tasted his finer

Oh, it’s just ordinary blood! You can find it in any joke shop attendant.

I like the lamp here by the Maleficent Mirror of Misery. Nice colours, kinda twee but it suits the place.  Shame its faded on one side by the Mirrors hellborn fire.

I’ve seen a lot of things in my time: merfish, the monofaced man of the suburbs, and baseball, but by golly if this is the first house I could call a home without the neighbours suspecting my sexuality. What with the neighbours being dead of some biblical plague or another. I hope its rivers of blood; it’ll match the walls and my new bowling shirt.

Do you hear that?

The fridge?

No, the wails of rotting souls? How are we going to sleep? While under noise I suspect.

Hey! Mum thumped on the wall with a broom handle. Keep it down

Sorry said the wails. Mum let the broom fly away, and brushed her hands together at the job well done. Not my first wail of souls, you know. I come from Jersey.

I dunno mum, there’s an evil presence in this house. It’s probably the caretaker, Mrs Murderensleep. She has a gammy finger.

I hear her whole family was cursed with an instant slow death, brittling the bones, wrinkling the skin and making you like Grant Denver.

Later that night, maybe it was just the wind in the trees, but Joey swore he smelt smoke. Pretty big maybe.

Luckily, it turned out to be only a demon to tempt the weak towards evil as Joey slept.

They’re aaaaaall against you, Joey

All of them?


Dad does?


Mum? Jen? The unmentioned twins?

Aaaaaall of them

My teachers? The Postman? The president?

Especially the president?

Why especially?

Because she…haaaates you


…something you diiiid?

But I don’t even vote

Who knows, presidents are weird.

Am I against me? I don’t feel against me

Look, even I’m getting against you now.  Just pick up the dam knife.

Which knife?

Which…the knife by your bed!

This knife?

That’s a comb, the knife, the knife!  How many knives do you have lying around?

I don’t know how I got even got one. Where is it again?

Its right there!

Outside, the crooked tree branch tapped on the window, pointing at the knife in a really obviously, cartoony way. Kinda like The Sorcerer’s apprentice, except pointing at a knife.

Joey was just about to kill his father when stepped on a housepig. His dad awoke with a start from his end.

Joey! What have I told you about playing with knives? They’re outside toys!  Sometimes I think I sent the wrong child back to the hospital

Joey thought now would be a good time for his tantrum-avoiding question

Hey dad, why is it you are soooooo lovely

No, not that one

Dad what’s….redrum?

Honestly, how stupid can you get! I’ve completely forgotten

Its a horse, dear

Only he’s standing outside my window, and he’s holding a gun!

Next week: Return of the Night Mare.