Friday, 31 December 2021
I hope you enjoyed The Chicken Shit Blues papers, serialised over Twixmas for your delectation, delight, and a glimpse into mr ishmael's back story. In addition to his mordant wit, used here to excoriate celebrity grief-fest, there's the story of our early days in Orkney, how we bought the manse (after looking at every house on the market, a couple of hotels and raising the hopes of untold Orkney property-vendors), God's Plan for mr ishmael, the sad death of our dear little warm brown friend, His Imperial Majesty, Rocky Woo Smith, and mr ishmael's first steps into the holiday business, which, as you've read, plunged him into tour-guiding for ten Chinese students.
Don't forget - if you meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill him. (Buddhist koan by ninth-century Buddhist master Lin Chi, quoted by mr ishmael, who described himself as a Zen-Marxist-Presbyterian-Buddhist.)
The papers came to light during a recent attic clear-out by the New Zealand Chicken Shit Rancher to whom they were addressed, and were very kindly sent to me so that they could be transcribed and included in the archive. Some elements might even make it into the third anthology, Ishmael's Blues, which mr verge plans to launch in 2022. Chicken Shit Blues is not the earliest of the extant works, of course - an earlier body of material was the Me and My Swiss Army Knife stories; most of which are in my possession - but there are still a few out there, which we would love to locate; and then there's Jailhouse Blues, even earlier material about the criminal justice system.
Much has happened this week which no doubt we will be addressing in these pages - I'm particularly infuriated about the remand in custody, trial and verdict of Ghislaine - god knows what the sentencing will be like; but hey, it's New Year's Eve, the end of our pagan Winter Festival,
there's the old Year to slaughter and the baby Year to welcome, so let Andre Rieu celebrate for us with his inimitable vulgarity and may I wish a Happy New Year to all Ishmaelites everywhere.
Chicken Shit Blues
Orkney, 1st April 2002
Dear Chicken Shit Wrangler,
Jesus Living in Sin on Orkney with Queen Mother
The man from whom we bought the house is a lovely man, a non-churchgoing Christian and he tells me that God instructed him to sell me this house because he has great plans for me. mrs ishmael had a similar revelation about me in St Mungo's Cathedral. It must be true because, down in the Child Molester's Arms last night, I saw Her Late Maj dancing with a new-age type who kept on turning their glasses of water into glasses of fine claret; they were last seen dancing out across the Atlantic. The Christian said it was all part of the Plan.
One of our former neighbours in our temporary house gave his Excellency a going away gift of a packet of Emperor's Best Chews; a few moments ago I was assisting His Sereneness to an EB chew which had fallen from the Royal Throne and for my pains His Most Exaltedness was graciously pleased to sink the Imperial Teeth into my poor, unworthy hand, so magnanimously and so assiduously did His Magnificence apply himself to this favour that my undeserving hand is now, Hallelujah, twice its former size and I must retire.
Peace and Blessings from the Shores of drowned sailorboys.
p.s. When this house was being built Herr Mozart was writing The Magic Flute.
p.p.s. Her Grace, The Lady Elton John, is on holiday. In Colombia.
Orkney, 9th April 2002
Queen Mother Still Dead Shock
Radio Orkney this morning made the shock announcement that her late royal highness and former queen empress elizabeth of gin and tonic had been pronounced still dead having kicked the royal bucket good and, so to speak, proper, and was, indeed, liable to remain her royal lateness for a not inconsiderable amount of time, indeed, for all time, this totality of experience being the very essence of the state known as death. The newly elected Archbishop of Canterbury ( Her Ladyship the Countess Lady Sir Elton John of rent boys) was said to be inconsolable, but taking comfort from praying to Saint Boniface, Patron Saint of Lesbian Men, and ingesting huge quantities of Bolivian marching powder.
Your prayers are asked for Rocky Woo, who is very, very poorly, but very brave and sends his love.
Always remember, if you meet the Buddha on the Road, run him over.
Sent from the land of No Macdonalds.
Orkney, 2nd May 2002
Across the seas of night to the bright shores of morning
In the conservatory overlooking Scapa Flow a candle burns tonight and every night for His Late Imperial Majesty, Rocky Woo.
He went to sleep, without distress, a fortnight ago, looking into his mum's eyes and holding her hands with his royal paws. We had tried everything to sustain his life. I am beyond comfort. Rocky Woo spent lots of time with me when I was ill and he was my special, little, warm brown friend. I miss him dreadfully.
Light him a candle on a Fiji beach. He will get to know about it. Emperors know everything.
Love from Orkney,
Orkney, 13th May 2002
His Imperial Majesty
Thank you for your kind wishes. His Majesty will be pleased by your prayers.
Speaking on Radio Orkney President George Dubya Bush said America is a great nation a freedom loving nation and we will stand shoulder to shoulder with His Majesty's family at this time up to and including nuclear weapons against the veterinarians responsible for this cowardly act, sniifff-snifff, anybody on Orkney got a little white powder for the President? Mebbe some whores, too?
Joining by satellite link from the Eric Clapton tropical clinic for showbiz druggies, Her Grace The Countess of Columbia, His Serene Highness The Lady Elton John said he was totally and absolutely devastated and was said to be rewriting his classic Candle Up the Bum in honour of his Majesty and as a mark of respect he would refrain from ordering-up any rentboys for a whole afternoon.
Interviewed by the Birmingham Evening Mail the Deputy Chief Probation Officer said I was honoured to know His Majesty for many years and he would have made a great Chief Probation Officer. And so would I.
Deep in the Downing Street bunker the lady Antonia Blair strummed his Prime Minister's Edition Fender Stratocaster disconsolately:"Oh Rocky Woo ain't here no more, and what's a man to do?" Glancing at his comely wife Cherie "Greedybastard" Booth the Prime Minister asked "Do you think I could get Paul McCartney to play bass and maybe release it as a charity record, you know, in aid of New Labour?"
'Don't talk shite you stupid little creep', was her fond reply.
ishmael smith and the Poor Boys.
Always remember, if you meet the Buddha on the Road, kill him.
Orkney, 15th September 2002
Oh, Momma, got them old ground zero blues again
Dear Chicken shit-you-not Wranglers,
Your card does me honour and brings light to my humble home; I am prostrate with humility that such noble personages should acknowledge my worthless existence; or, as the barbarians would have it: So there, bollocks.
We were at a Fortieth birthday party last night. It was held in a cave and it was like something from the Young Ones, except they were all old; more the Sitting-down Dead than the Dancing Dead. Hundreds of the fuckers all sat at tables eating plates of Lard and Sugar. They had one of those fucking awful Abo diddly-diddly bands, you know, they play the same old dee-diddle-dee-diddle-dee-diddle-dee-diddle upside down and back-to-front for ninety minutes at a time, then stop for no discernible reason. Other than time for nose-bag. And they had some egg sandwiches. With no salt.
According to the Orkney diabetic team I am the coolest and healthiest sick person they ever met. I am so healthy that I make healthy people look rigor mortised. I tell them that it's because of how I don't bathe in lard and I don't clean my teeth with golden syrup. And how I come from England.
mrs ishmael had on her best leather trousers and killer stilettos last night, when we were in the Cave of the Lard People; we are sure to be the talk of the Islands today. The Lardfolk were dressed in jumpers with holes, ragged breeches and sandals, with tattoos and shell necklaces, bits of dried fish stuck in their belts and pouches of lard everywhere. Everysooften they use a stone knife to chop off a bit of fish, smear it with lard and pop it into each other's mouths, then they go back to picking lice out of each other's beards and hair.
Heavy shit with our Artist Acquaintance. I met this bloke outside the shtoresh and he started talking at me. He turned up with an invitation for his exhibition of paintings and proceeded to tell us he was in love with a woman who, unusually, was only about fifteen years younger than him. We went along to meet her for lunch the next day and I amnotkiddinya she was a one hundred percent twentyfour carat double-dyed, copper bottomed, gilt edged, sour, joyless, rancid, sorryassed, shit-eating dog bastard motherfucker. Fortunately, overnight, our Artist Acquaintance had fallen out of love with her. So lunch was difficult. If I was him I could never show my face here again. But who knows? Apart from me and mrs ishmael they're all fucking mad here. And sometimes.... I wonder.......about her.
Love from the Stone Age,
p.s. The Lady Sir Elton John and His Excellency President George Dubya are holidaying on the moon with Jill Dando, George Harrison and Liberace.
p.p.s. Her Grace the Prime Minister Mr Tony Blair was reported to have been found in the Downing Street Bunker strumming his Prime Minister's Edition Fender Stratocaster and singing I am the God of Hellfire and I bring you.........Fire.
The Prime Minister has been sectioned under the Mental Health Act and is being held in a Secure location, The Deputy Prime Minister, John Blubberman Prescott is in charge of everything.
God Bless America.
Orkney, 3rd February 2003
Martin Bashir a Child Molester, latest.
Interviewed outside the High Court, where he faces charges of being a dirty old man, Michael Douglas, 67, claimed that he had suspected all along that Martin Bashir was a childmolester. "As for the plastic surgery, well that's normal in showbiz, only in Martin Bashir's case it seems to have turned his face black. As for me", the elderly Mr Douglas continued, "why, I'm of the never-too-young school myself, so if Martin wants a bit of kiddy stuff, hey, that's cool, got a good lawyer, don't he?"
Orkney, 18th March 2003
In Sickness and in Health.
Speaking on Radio Orkney, President George Dubya Bush said America is a great nation, a freedom loving nation and like all freedom loving nations the American people are dismayified at the catalogue of terrible things happening over there in the United States of England. First of all there was the death of Adam and the Ants and then the untimely passing of Lady Thora Hird of Chairlifts and Funeral Expenses Insurance. I've said it before and I'll say it again that this great nation of ours will hunt these people down, they can run but they can't swim. Our hearts go out to the people of the great isles of british. And Orney. Anybody got any coke, mebbe some whores?
Orkney, 29th March 2003
Pants, the New Shit
God bless President George Dubya "got any coke" Bush in his quest to divert the US population from the fact that he is a crook and a dopefiend, sorry, I mean in his quest for peace through bombing children.
God bless Dermot McDermot, God bless Robert Cliche Smut, God bless Richard and Judy, God bless Lady Sir Trevor McDoughnut, God bless Lady Professor Dr. Raj Persil, God bless Lady Sir Martin Bashir and, most of all, God bless Her Serene Highness, the Duchess of Colombia, The Lady Sir Elton John and his husband Mrs David Furnish.
God bless all celebrities and rich people. God bless the Queen Mother, God bless Barrymaurice or Robin Gibb, God bless Adam Faith, God bless Thora Hird, God bless George Harikrishna and God bless Kylie Minogue's arse and may we all rush out and buy Lady Sir Elton's new record Candle Up Saddam's Bum.
Lady Sir Elton says that as a mark of respect for all the children of Eye-rack he and his husband, Mrs David Furnish, will stop blowing cocaine up each other's bottoms for a full half-hour. "it's the least we can do."
Interviewed on Radio Orkney Professor Lady Sir Raj Persil said that those troubled by the war should rush out and buy his new book: "What to do when you want to kill the President, Strategies for coping". (Rush-out the Bullshit Publishing, Ltd. 2003) at the bargain price of £29.99
Speaking by satphone from the moon, His Holiness, Guru, Swami Maharishi Mr Bob Dylan mumbled; .....the answer my friend is blowin' in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind.
Orkney, 6th April 2003
Send Lawyers, Guns and Money
Drop everything and come at once. Bring weapons and guns. We have a houseful of chinese people who don't speak english, don't have a driving license between them, are looking hungrily at the gentlemen dogs, and are sniffing a lot.
I told them not to come, but they came anyway. At midnight.
What am I to do? Come at once.
P.S. Confucius, he say, hotel business a heap of horse droppings.
Orkney, 3rd August 2003
World Mourns Bob Dylan, Dead at 100
Speaking on Radio Orkney, President George Dubya Bush said that Bob was a great American who left the world a better, more American place.
Joining by Satphone from his mum's house in Stoke on Trent, Britain's number 1 crooner, Robbie (Bob) Williams said he was absolutely gutted by the news. I mean, a hundred is like no age these days for rich people. I mean, its just not fair, man, like what am I going to do with all this money if I only live to be a hundred. I suppose I could leave it to me Mum but she might be dead then for all I know.
Speaking from Abbey Road Studios where he is recording his first million seller album, "Jesus was a Fishmonger, Too", Orkney's Cameron Stout, winner of the Big Brother Shite, said that Bob Dylan was a great Christian, just like me.
Sobbing on the steps of Southwark Crown Court former Blue Peter presenter John Leslie said that he had never laid a hand on Bob Dylan, let alone stroke his bottom and force his tongue down his throat, all I want to do is be left alone to rebuild my career talking shite to braindead celebrities first thing in the morning and being paid loads of money for opening supermarkets and nightclubs.
Interviewed in Sacramento the newly-elected Governor of California and leader of the American Nazis for Jesus Party, Mr Arnold Schwarzennegra said, Dere iss only vunn thing wad I can say and dat iss Hasta la Vista, Bobby. He was a great guy, for a jew.
At his Bahama holiday hideaway UK premier Tony Blair strummed a few chords on his Prime Minister's Edition Fender Statocaster: "How many roads must a man walk down. And that. I simply say. In a very real sense. To the people of Britain. Is the question. We must all reflect on the sad death of Mr. Dylan and then wait for a Public Enquiry to conclude that I never have and never would do anything wrong. Ever. "
In a letter to the Telegraph, the Guardian, the Mail on Sunday, the Scottish Herald and the Orcadian, mr ishmael smith stated that there had never been any such person as Bob Dylan but unfortunately there had been a horrid, cheesy, smirking comic called Bob Hope but, thankfully, and not before time, and having willed his staggering fortune to Robbie (Bob) Williams, he was now dead.
Ulrika Jonssonn, 53, is on holiday.
Always, always remember, if you meet the Buddha on the Road,
Does my bum look big in this?
Thursday, 30 December 2021
Chicken Shit Blues
Orkney, 6th March 2002
Poor People Mad, says top tv shrink
Speaking on Radio Orkney - motto: fairest fur fairmers - favourite dance: the Dashing White Fairmer -
Lord Professor Sir Doctor Raj Persaud, chairman and Life President of the Association of TV priests, witchdoctors, shamans, voodoomen, headshrinkers, exorcists, post traumatic income development counsellors, fitness trainers, lifestyle consultants, gymnasium and sunbed therapy operatives, said: all you people out there in radio and tvland, you're all mad, all of you, bonkers, can I have my cheque please?
Lord Persil's co-panellist Lord Sir Paul McCartney, Emeritus Professor of Vegetarianism and Lentil studies at the University of Merseyside, formerly Bootle Polytechnic said I couldn't agree more with the noble Lord Persil, in fact John and I once wrote a song it went (picking up a left-handed Rickenbacker semi-acoustic six string) something....... like...... this: Yesterday, all my money seemed so far away, now it looks as though it's here to stay......so.. you know, like, could I have my cheque too, please and could you make it out to McCartney Overseas Tax Avoidance Enterprises Incorporated Ltd?
Joining the debate by videophone from his home in Southern France Her Grace and Serene Highness Lady Sir Elton John, Duchess of Bolivia, said that although he was still under sedation after the deaths of fashion pornographer Countess Gianni Versace and his own alter ego, Diana, patron saint of neurotic slappers and mysterious road traffic fatalities, said you know I had a string of hits back in the sixties: there was Benny and the Rent Boys, Saturday Night's All Right for Sodomy and my own and everybody's personal favourite Candle Up the Bum and so I know what Professor Persil is going through right now, so please give him the money otherwise I'll be so mad I'll rip up all my frocks and I probably will let it be known that I won't be putting any cocaine up my bottom until after tea, or maybe lunch.
In a rare public statement Former President Bill Clinton remarked that he had never had sexual relations with that woman (Miss Elton John Lewinsky) as his laundry records would confirm. President Clinton went on to say that he admired and deeply respected gay people (his wife Mr Hillary Clinton, for instance, and his daughter KD Clinton, to mention but two) and he felt their pain, not in a literal sense you understand, but in a more real kind of a way. When I was importing drugs, sorry, serving as Governor of Aransas me and the good ole boys'd often set out on the step a while, sippin' tequila and listening to Lady John singin' all his hits, specially Candle Up The Bum and so I agree with His Excellency Lord Persil that everybody out there in Radio and TVland is gay and therefore entitled to serve in the US Armed Forces as long as they keep quiet about it.
Interrupting by satphone from where he was hiding deep beneath a mountain in Wyoming, President George Dubya Coke said America is a great nation, a freedomloving, sniiiiffff, nation and american folks don't take kindly to their servicemen and women performing terrorist acts on one another's rectums, lubrifying one another's dump chutes when they should be hunting down and smoking out Osama Bin Ladenbum, in fact, snooooort, these nancyboy - and - girl activities are distinctly, big sniiiiffffff, unAmericanised and are to be deplorificated. And to all our friends in England, Britain, I'd just like to remind y'all of what your great english poet Winston Churchill said about sending not to ask for whom the kettle boils. It boils for me. Give us the job and we'll break the tools, that was another of that great gennulman's sayings. Is it safe for me to come out now?
That's exactly my point, said Lord Persil, back on Orkney. That Osama owes me money. Princess Diana. George Harrison. Spike Milligan. They all owe me money. Money, money, dah-dah-dah, money, money, money, money, money, money, it's ee-as-eey, bomp-bomp, Bomp- bah-bomp, all you need is money, money's all you need. George, by the way, continued Professor McCartney, didn't write too many hits, wasn't in fact, much of a guitar player, it was me y'know played lead and he just kinda mimed along with them. But he was a great scouser. Liverpool to his fingertips, was George, never forgot what Liverpool had done for him; that's why when he died in Los Angeles instead of endowing a college for young scouse musicians (like I did) George left all his money to a load of Hare Krishna reincarnationalist headbangers. All together now: Money Krishna, money Krish-a-na, money-money, money-money, money-hare, money-hare, hare-money, money-money. When George died, don't mind telling you, I felt like I'd lost an accountant. It was a bit like when Linda died, you know, I kind of felt that I hadn't just lost a wife, I'd lost a dietician as well.
Diet is, indeed, a very important element of our busy, stressful lifestyle, added Lord Professor Archbishop Persaud. At home in Lambeth Palace I never eat a bite unless I've consulted my own, new in paperback, Eating with Raj, Gastro-intestinal Feng Shui for post modernists, foreword by RichardnJudy and I would advise all listeners to Radio Orkney to order now while stocks last. Herbal remedies form the basis of my new CD: duetting with the Marchioness Lady Sir Elton John I give my own interpretation of his classic Chamomile up The Bum and with the late, great Freddie Mercury on his classic Bohemian Remedy and with Robbie'n'Nicole on the great Sinatra classic Something Herbal and with the Sex Pistols on their very own Aromatherapy in the UK. Lord Paul of Lentils even appears on a remixed version of Lucy in the Sky With Evening Primrose Oil. If you have any doubts about this or anything else in your lives please, if you have some money, or credit, phone the Rajline, having your credit card details ready. If you don't have any money or credit you should phone your Citizens' Advice Bureau for you are beyond the help of decent people such as myself. Get a Life, why don't you?
I have to go now, as mrs ishmael is pouring hot tea over my bottom and forcefeeding me dog biscuits. Woof woof.
Love from Scotland, England. Healing Capital of the Cosmos.
P.S. strumming lullabies on a Prime Minister's Edition Fender Stratocaster, deep in the Downing Street bunker could be heard voicing: send Saddam, that evil man, a Smartbomb up the bum-de-dum, de-dum.
P.S.S....War, the new Peace; Chaos the new Order; Poverty the new Wealth; Jumpers the new Suits; Lies, the new Truth.
If you meet the Buddha on the Road, kill him.
Orkney, 19th March 2002
Liza:My Marriage is Over
Speaking exclusively to Radio Orkney, a tearful Liza Minnelli, 62, sobbed that her marriage of 24 hours to showbiz Bill Somethingorother, 18 and a half, had irretrievably broken down and she had booked into the Elizaberth Taylor Clinic for Eternal Youth, Plastic Surgery, Colonic Irrigation and Fwng Shui. Miss Minnelli's bridesmaids, Lady Sir Elton John, Duchess of Colombia, former Arselicker in Chief to Her Late Majesty Princess Diana of Tarts and Baroness Lady Sir Micaheal Jackson aka The Great White Father, Archbishop of NeverNever Land and principal shareholder in the Facial Deconstruction Corporation of America were both said to be totally and utterly devastated, there was just a great big hole where their money used to be, indeed, in Lady Sir Michalel's case, much the same could be said about his face, and no-one on the whole planet had bought Lady Sir Elton's latest Greatest Hits album which featured hits from before his hair transplant, his days of baldness and his recent times in a toupee; timeless classics such as Your Hair, Trichology Rock, Candle in Your Hair, Philadelphia Facelift and the Beatles classic Hair, There and Everywhere as well as the great Procul Harem number a Whiter Shade of Scalp. Archbishop Michel said: we are all god's children only some of us never grow old, but she did. Her many fans worldwide (sad gay people living in Memory Lane) will join his Grace, Lady Sir Elton and I in wishing Liza the very best of coke. I mean luck.
Deep in a bunker below a heavily fortified Downing Street cowered UK President for Life Her Royal Highness Toni Blair and his Princess in Waiting Peter Mandelson and the Hinduja sisters. Strumming a White Prime Minister's Edition Fender Stratocaster he said: okay girls, fourfour time, ah-one-two-three-four, no use in sitting ah-lone in your room, come hear the mew-zic play, Life in a very real sense is a cabaret, old chum, come to the cabaret. They were interrupted by the Hotline White House phone ringing. It's Dubya, said a servant, (whose nametag said J. Prescott), wants to know what we're doing about Drugs and Prostitutes, no, not stamping them out, putting them on an RAF jet, and sending him some, he says Epstein's supplies are running out fast, everything's big in Texas.
But he's in Washington.
Don't think he knows the difference, Tone.
Greetings from the land of sensible footwear. It's not the wrong weather, it's the wrong clothes.
and remember, if you meet the Buddha on the Road, ask him how he keeps his skin so young looking.
to be continued
Wednesday, 29 December 2021
Chicken Shit Blues
Orkney, 21st February 2002
Dear Green Shit Chicken Rancher,
World Mourns Inspector Morse (3 January 1942 – 21 February 2002)
Speaking on Radio Orkney president Georgedubyabush said America is a great nation a freedom loving nation and today we mourn a great crimefighterising agent of lawnforcementalism, folks in America will always rememmer him in doctor morse's casebook and his recording career with the other beatles. Speaking at the Brit awards Her Royal Highness princess Elton John promised not to put any cocaine up his bottom until the complete Inspector Morse series is released on DVD. Her Serene Highness Mr Toniblair said that Morse was a people's policeman, a modern, reforming policeman and he could be buried in the labour donor's section at the Cool Brittania cemetery, formerly the Millennium Dome. Through tearstreaked mascara Her Sereness Mr Toni said, you know, its my party and, you know, I'll cry if I want to, you know I simply say to you that people don't have to give millions of pounds to the Labour Party for me to care about them, although, obviously, it helps. His Grace the Earl of Geldof said the only good copper's a dead copper. Elsewhere, ordinary people paid their respects in scenes of uncontrollable grief, cutting edge coppering said one, need a few more like him down brixton way said another. I don't want to be Inspector, bonny lad, said Sergeant Kevin Whately.
Smirking on Radio Orkney, Doctor Raj "psychoman" Persaud said that coming so hard on the heels of the deaths of the Mean Beatle and the Plonky Princess people would be traumatised by celebrity death grief overload and the nation should watch RichardnJudy's counselling programmes in order to achieve closure, it was on just after Ready Steady Cook with Ainsley hohoho Brownballs which was in itself of proven therapeutic benefit to viewers suffering celebrity mixed-reality delirium.
Was batchelor Morse a kiddy perve? enquired the Sun.
Antique feminist self-promoter The Reverend Professor Germaine Greer claims in a Daily Telegraph article that Morse, of course, was a lesbian forced to wear men's clothing in order to succeed in the phallocentric and institutionally rapist police force.
Speaking from a shallow trench in Anglesey Tony Robinson said geophizz indicates that Morse was actually a Celtic chief of police dating from the early stone age. Mr Robinson said he would have liked to attend Morse's funeral only he'd be busy finishing the programme and then investigating the Anglesey sauna scene.
Speaking from the set of the Queen Vic dame barbara windsor said that she would be organising a charity tits out for the cameras featuring herself, Joan Collins and Lady Thatcher in aid of deceased police officers' dependents.
We shall not see his like again.
Orkney, 25th February 2002
Slimy Things Lived on, Madmen at the Gate Revisited.
There is worse to come: not only are they publicly incontinent, never sober in forty years, larcenous half-men half-zombies, they also interfere with dogs, quite what sort of interference we are not certain but it is of the unspeakable kind, the kind of thing people do with children, only with dogs. mrs ishmael has this on good authority, heard it in the shtoresh. I shall write to the deputy prime minister of Scotland, England, or maybe speak to him when he is in Church, he is an abo.
Glad to see that Queen Brenda got down there to meet you all. I hope you managed to wave the flag for the Old Country.
We were at the manse on Saturday and it is quite heavenly. I can't imagine why they are leaving and hope they don't change their minds. Spacious, elegant, hard on the coast with a one-acre high-walled garden. mrs. ishmael is thrilled by the garden especially and we are currently at war. mrs. ishmael sees hours of gardening bliss, I see backache, blisters, arthritis, rheumatism, housemaid's knee, gardener's finger and tetanus and am demanding a tractor and a small JCB.
At a ceremony conducted on the moon by Elvis Presley, the late Inspector Morse married the late special constable her royal highness o'boozenfags. Speaking from a bathroom in the White House president georgedubyabush said; sniff, bigsniff, america is a great nation, a freedomlovingnation, and we wish these two good deceasified folks, huge sniffffffff, a long and happy deceasement, their recordings as the New Seekers were very much appreciarised in Texas. God bless america, shall we do another line? Mebbe lyncha bunchanigras? Anybody fancy partytime in death row?
Kind Regards frae Orkney, bestiality capital of the North,
Orkney, 27th February 2002
Everybody Dying and Going to the Moon
The world mourns ace comic Spike Milligan KBE (16 April 1918 – 27
A brilliant life cut tragically short said the Daily New Labour.
Dead funnyman in three-in-a-bed old age pensioner orgy, the truth can now be told says the Sun.
Speaking from somewhere in Africa U.K. Prime Minister Mister Toniblair said Spike was in a very real sense a people's comic and we shall not see his like again. I grew up with the Goons and the Beatles and David Bowie and I am a straight kind of guy who only wants to help people. Interviewed in Dartmoor prison zany pop mogul and child molester Jonathon King claimed that he had never invited Spike for a ride in his Rolls Royce , nor laid a finger on him. Visibly shaken, Her Ladyship Sir Elton John said he was utterly distraught and as a mark of respect for Spike would not be putting any cocaine up his bottom for the rest of the afternoon.
Interviewed on Radio Orkney President George Dubya Bush said America is a great nation a freedomloving nation and none of mah fellow Americans have ever heard of Spunke Mulligam but if he was responsible for theterribleeventsofwheneveritwas then we will close him down, he might well claim to be deceasified but this means he can't run and he can't hide, sniffffffff, we'll smoke him out. We'll give him a fair trial and then we'll, sniffffffff, kill him again.Another line of bolivian nose powder, anybody?
Outside Sir Spike's council flat in Tower Hamlets Lord Sir Paul McCartney said Linda and I, as fellow vegetarians, were great admirers of Sir Spoike and he used to join me and the other beatles on stage at the cavern, my new wife Heather isn't old enough to remember The Goons - or even the Beatles - but hey, I've got the money, right? The former fabster said that he and Her Divine Grace Lord Sir Elton Jon would be releasing a charity album (proceeds to the Stella McCartney Rich Kids on Drugs Foundation) called Goon But Not Forgotten, featuring re-workings of old hits such as Goodbye England's Goon and Candle Up the Bum.
Evergreen sex symbol Barbara Windsor, 72, said that although in the Sixties she had sex with just about everyone, she couldn't remember Sir Spike but would be happy to get her tits out at his memorial service.
Babs Bares 'Em for Dead Goon, was the headline in News of the World.
Celebrity Supercouple PoshnBecks were said, by their agents, to be To'ally Gutted but working with their advisors on promoting a range of Goonwear clothing and Fashion Accessories. In a Press Release their agents said Our clients don't actually understand satire and irony but Sir Spike was a fellow celebrity and that's good enough reason to be gutted, ennit? Knowharramean? Diamond GoonGeezer.
Speaking from the moon, fellow goons His Eminence Cardinal Archbishop Lord Sir Harry Secombe and Nobel prize whining actor and funnyman Lord Sir Peter Sellers both said, About Time, too. Bastard.
Interviewed outside one of his hundred room palaces Her Serene Magnificence, Charles, Princess of Sanitary Protection, said that one had not been so moved since one's mad former wife had become mysteriously dead in Paris, one had acquired sole custody of the little princes and they had all retrieved the seventeen million quid divorce settlement that Granny Queen had been blackmailed into paying Diana, Princess of Slappers. Spike was a loyal subject of one, said His Magnificence, not like some one could mention and one hoped that Sir Spike would be happy on the moon with all the other dead loonies. His Exaltedness hoped that everyone would find it in their hearts to pledge money to the Stella McCartnet Rich Kids on Drugs Fund. His Eminence, naturally, could not contribute any money because his billions were in a trust kind of thingy for the nation, in the persons of his sons, Prince William the Pink and Prince Harry Potterhead.
Peace and Blessings be upon the chicken sheds,
Stop Press.... we have now bought the house by the coast in Orkney and should take obsession with it in March, God Willing.
Stop Stop Press: If you meet the Buddha on the Road, imperative kill him.
to be continued