Bankers are Heroes www.cultcomedy.net

The Guide to Everything

145 Heroes/Super Heroes/Bankers

September 30th, 2010 | by admin |

Contrary to popular media belief Bankers are heroes. Any one who works in finance is a hero, from the receptionist to the CEO.

If you eschew capitalism then you are not a hero but an enlightened being, because capitalism is the worst idea ever, but so ingrained in everything the world does it has become a necessary evil and anyone working in finance sucking the gristly, over engorged, flaccidly plump penis of Satan, particularly those at the front line trading and selling commodities, currencies, stocks and shares, derivatives and complex financial convections, taking the full force of the rancid ejaculate should be hailed as heroes.

Imagine being surrounded by stale, lifeless, soul drained drones, endlessly talking about the markets, speculating where a completely random concept, the market, will be in the future, with expressions of ‘looking at the chart, a channel has formed, and that looks like a head and bell end, I think you should buy, sell or hold. Do you see anything you like? Please give me some money so that I may get FED.’

Takes a hero to do that.

Imagine sitting in badly ventilated, recycled flatus invested rooms, in front of flickering screens emitting random nonsense and radiation, noise, constantly for 10 hours a day, having to listen to CNBC business channel twice; once from the television and again minutes later from the salesman or trader who now thinks the story is his idea.

Takes a hero to do that.

Imagine eating processed food, laden with unsaturated fats, salt, sugar and badness, 

a life of hiding, a life of denying the changes, a life embracing normalcy bias, vulnerable to the slow moving well camouflaged predators, clinging to routine, self medicated with buckets of warm milk and caffeine replacing the depleted cortisol plunging them further into paralysis, drooped shoulders, their body folding into itself, craned neck and soft belly, a body in crisis, immune system and sex drive crashed, propped up by pain killers, cigarettes, alcohol, cocaine whilst typing meaningless emails at a salmonella invested keyboard. 

Takes a hero to do that.

To sacrifice his life so that others can have noble jobs, like doctors, scientists, health workers, nurses, school teachers, builders, mechanics. Jobs with meaning and vocation. No price can be put on this, no amount of money can compensate that level of life destruction. What bankers do is priceless.

And yet you listen to the beguiling politicians and their vicious monkey media whores and judge the bankers. Shame on you. Pity these wretched, skanky, appalling, insidious, shameful, sordid, wraiths, the undead, the autistic carrion of humanity.

And above all don’t call them names.  

He is happy to destroy himself so that you might live – kind of like Jesus really.

That went terribly wrong too.

On me head sarn! www.cultcomedy.net

The Guide To Everything

144 Sports/Football/The Header

September 29th, 2010

A very wise man (Stewart Lee) once said “I hate football and everyone who likes football”.

Most people just hate football.

Only about two people in the world actually like football, both are men. No women like football; they just pretend in order to get pregnant.

The rest detest it, but think they like it because of constant brainwashing by the media. It takes a wise man to realise he hates football and also hates anyone who likes football.

If you are reading this and thinking ‘wait a minute I love football, it is my religion, my reason to exist’ then you are either a brainwashed delusional or the karmic pressure of everyone in the country hating you has made you a failure in everything you have ever tried to achieve. Grow up.

The reason people hate football is the header. An 8 year olds head weighs about 3 kilograms. A leather ball soaked by rain, mud, and dog excrement weighs 10 kilograms. 3 times as heavy, falling from a height of several meters; the effect is a jarring, splintering, neck wrenching pain that is remembered vividly forever, the band of blackness spreading across the brow, the bastard behind the eyes that not even the most rabid whiskey fuelled, 3 day alcoholic binge is worthy of licking its rancid cigarette butt and puke infested feet,  the tense fear of hitting your nose again causing the eye watering, stinging, buzzing pain and ribald laughter from the other kids, the meagre satisfaction of actually scoring a fluke goal compared with the throb and hum of the resonating aftermath as several million more brain cells commit hara-kiri rather than face that ignoble death, a supernova exploding in the head as a cold frost bitten ear is caught by the terse leather and canine crap, frontal bone collapse, cranial carnage, jaw shattering agony is why we all hate football.

Peer pressure kept you going up for those headers and peer pressure keeps you going down the pub to watch the match. Same with the cricket ball catch, the rugby scrum, and hopscotch (see 

7 Pastimes / Sport / Hopscotch).

So snap out of it Britain, time to get a life, time to take a deep breath and admit that you hate football and everyone who likes it.

If the header was outlawed football would still be rubbish and only another 5 people would actually want to watch it; 4 homosexuals and 1 woman, and that’s only because they would mistake it for erotica. 

Header Training – much easier than the real thing.

Synchronous Lateral Excitation at Cultcomedy.net

The Guide To Everything

143 Construction/Buildings/Bridges

September 28th, 2010

Best bridge in the world is clearly the Si-o-se Pol bridge in 

China, the epitome of Safavid dynasty bridge design and class.

Most people would agree the worst bridge is the Millennium Bridge in London – but they are wrong. Bridges to no where? – there are several of those in the world, unfinished bridges. Wrong.

Celion Dion’s nose? Barbara Streisand? Whetstone? Those lessons were so dull. Again wrong.

The worst bridge is yet to be made, and at present is just a concept formulating in the mind of young Architect Dando Mutualfund, aged 7. Architects are terrible, ask any builder. Pretentious, outspoken, hard working, humourless bores. They bandy expression like prostyle, truss, spandrel, nonce orders, vestibule, buttress, Dikka, Elephantine Columns, prick post and groin vault and still don’t crack a smile. If it is not all Doric, Ionic and Corinthian flamboyance it is minimalistic, abstract expressionistic tripe.

Master Dando overheard the punch line to a joke where god says “How many lanes do you want on that bridge?” and had a vision of a bridge stretching from South Mimms M25, Potters Bar in Hertfordshire all the way to the moon. Because little  Master Mutualfund is a natural Architect and so devoid of any humour, but endowed with ultimate hubris, he has misinterpreted the joke as a divine order, an order that only the noble brotherhood of Architects can fulfil and so is preparing for his monu- mental atrocity. Due for completion sometime around the Spring of 2051, the M1 Moonaway will be hailed as a triumph of ‘resonating magnificence, making bold predictions for future generations, ambiguous, eclectic, harmonious, master plan of thrusting global community space ambition’, and not the enormous penis extension it so obviously is. 

As soon as the first space car sets off to Moonstation Alpha from South Mimms, the usual Synchronous Lateral Excitation, because it is always that and they never allow for it, will cause the bridge to collapse. The tail backs will stretch to Junction 27 (Theydon Bois) travelling east and Junction 19 (Chandlers Cross) travelling west.  

As usual the construction company will blame the architect, the architect will blame the construction company, till the world gets fed up with the circular argument, forgets about the debacle and the whole process is repeated some years later with a 3 mile high giant cock and balls shaped building, quivering with Synchronous Lateral Excitation in high winds, eventually exploding and ejaculating debris that will look like flaming god jizz as it renters the earth’s atmosphere and because no building shaped like a vagina was associated with the calamity the world will finally realise that all Architects are just huge overpaid wankers. 

The Si-o-se Pol bridge in China, you can not improve on this classic you tossers!

“She ran off with an architect didn’t she” Cuthbert to Leet.

“Yes. But that is not why I wrote this!” Leet to Cuthbert.

Totweet Towho?!

Twitter good or bad? The Guide to Everything

142 Communication/Social Networking/Is Twitter good or bad?

September 27th, 2010

As regular readers will know, we believe there is no such thing as good or bad, it is only thinking that makes it so.

So Twitter is bad if it involves your menopausal Aunty Brenda tweeting about here collapsing plumbing but good if you are part of an amusing network of comedians trying to craft a joke. Bad if Grandad Basil takes the full 140 characters to describe his collection of parsnips, and then tweets another 140 to reinforce his previous musings and so on until your 350 requests per hour API limit is reached and you miss that offer of Fellatio Nelson from the naughty tickle sort you met the night before.

The best tweet ever received by these authors was ‘

If someone cannot get their message across in a Tweet in one hundred and forty characters or less then they are without doubt a complete cun’

The worst was ‘The parsnip (Pastinaca sativa) is a root vegetable related to the carrot. Parsnips resemble carrots, but are paler than most carrots and hav’. Closely followed by ‘e a stronger flavor. Like carrots, parsnips are native to Eurasia and have been eaten there since ancient times. Zohary and Hopf note that t’

“So what about Facebook? What do you wise Gurus of Everything think about Facebook?’ In a word ‘Gash’. In more than a word ‘complete utter gash’.

Farcebook is the devil’s work (see 666 Satan Spawn/Dripping Rancid Hot Vile Pungent Syphilitic Beelzebub Smegma/Facebook)

“But what about the ability to show pictures to all my friends and family?” What about Farmville, you moron?

“But what about keeping in touch with everyone you care about” Kill yourself you demented prick.

Twitter is Angel Cake and Farcebook is Battenburg (seehttp://www.cultcomedy.net/comedy-2/8-foodcakesthe-battenburg). Like battenburg it should be banned. 

Zohary and Hopf’s seminal work, so much better than Farcebook.

NEW SITE

NEW SITE WWW.CULTCOMEDY.NET

Cuthbert talks orginality and call backs.

The Guide to Everything

141 Puzzles/Mysteries/Originality

September 24th, 2010

 

There is an idea that nothing is original, nothing is new, and everything has been done before. Every joke, every ground breaking scientific idea, every song, every insult, and every way to slice angel cake has been done before. If you belief in an infinite universe then this will be true… eventually.

Clearly the big bang is rubbish, particle physics is ridiculous, and all science is horribly wrong, especially medicine. So lets stop with the nonsense of nothing is original and embrace the concept that the universe is rotating hypersphere, finite but unbounded. And then let’s abandon that idea just to keep us sharp and unfettered. And finally come to the correct conclusion that there is originality. For example if Venessa Feltz wearing a Jack Hargreaves beard (and I’m not saying she has but if she did…) rolled up to Stephen Hawking, forced him to wear Vera Duckworth’s under tackle, pissed into his gaping, astonished mouth as mis-direction to steal his battery and then pawned it in order to get some of her body parts back, then that would be fairly original. I doubt that has ever been done before or indeed written about. Not even in an infinite universe, because there would be a law about that kind of thing. One would hope. 

This is also the most original, beautiful and complex example of a call back joke (see 136 Jobs/Finance/Pawn Brokers)

Saint Jack of Hargreaves. Handsome legend.

Cooking Books!

Leet Fabric gets all la-di-da Gunner Graham and book smart at www.cultcomedy.net

140 Food/Restaurants/Literary Restaurants

September 23rd, 2010 | by admin |

 

The Apollonian and Dionysian, whose tag line was ‘Why eat ye words, when ye can eat the words of otheres.’ was the finest literary restaurant of all time,

It was the brain child of Dorothy Jewbag (1774 – 1856) conjured up during the food riots of England 1792 – 1818, where nutrition was scarce but books plentiful.

The idea was to mix up books with food to make the meal last longer.

Diners could elect for a snack by way of Lear Limerick Leftovers or for the hearty appetites a Tolstoy T-Bone (If you finished the War and Peace Porterhouse you got the meal for free). For those fussy diners that where undecided the Double Dactylic Dumblings were a valedictorian delight.

The Charles Lamb couplet served with irony cabbage, garnished with a abecedarius broth coulee denouement was a mouthful. To save vitals further mots jus was served instead of gravy, iambic pentameter porridge (if porridge be the food of love, smear on) instead of real oats and a couple of metaphysical conceits instead of actual food.

The onomatopoeic Ancient Greek ‘brekekekex koax koax in the hole’ was a cheaper alternative the traditional toad, as was quack a l’orange, hotbarks, sirroar of beef and cock-a-doodle-doo au vin.

When no food could be found customers were presented with an empty plate and asked to consider the paradoxical bildungsroman of emptiness. Food for thought.

Like all restaurants the Apollonian and Dionysian eventually failed. It was closed down by health and safety due to severe cases of E.Colon, list hysteria and Salmonrushdiella. 

Dan Brown dinner? Cut out the middle man and flush it straight down the toilet.

Spudger!

The Guide to Everything

139 Food/Fruit/Oranges

September 22nd, 2010

The orange is the fourth most popular fruit in the world: the first being tomato, then apple, then banana. William of Orange even named himself after one, although he favoured the kumquat more, but that would make a ridiculous surname.

The orange is so popular that religious zealidiots march around 

Ireland shouting its praise.

It is the favourite colour of the county of Essex, keenly displayed on every inch of its female inhabitant’s skin.

Like the word silver, orange doesn’t rhyme with any other word. Except door hinge, Blorenge (a hill in Wales), lozenge, challenge, scavenge, sporange (a spore sac). So quite a few. If only people would think about what they are saying, and these silly rumours wouldn’t start. This is how society stagnates. There is no cure for cancer (there is). Richard Dawkins is really clever (he is not). Think about it. 

You still stuck on silver? Chilver (a female lamb).

In many languages the orange is known as the Chinese Apple. Is that racist or taking the pith?

Orange plant is very versatile. Its peel can repel slugs. Its leaves can make tea. The heat tolerant, dense grained wood is used for manipulating slender electronic wires in the form of sticks called spudgers, which is perhaps the best word in any language. Spudger. You seen my spudger? What would a spudger say? Worship my spudger!

The word orange, like so many words, is from Sanskrit – narangah meaning orange tree, which in turn is a Dravidian root for fragrant.

Or at least that is what they want you to think. It is in fact from a lost Irish tribe called the O’Rangers. These people were keen campanologists. They all had bright orange hair, the kind of dazzling hue that makes Ron Weasley’s coiffure look like an atramentous ebony in comparison. They became extinct due to other tribes finding their insatiable desire for bell based opera annoying. Because of their Belisha beacon barnets and their campanological cacophony, sounding like epileptic Morris Dancers at a Mike Oldfield concert, it was impossible for them to hide and so they were justly exterminated.

And of course this is ludicrous and no one would believe it, as no one would believe a person would take Orange as a surname and there is such a word as spudger. 

William of Spudger!

Beetroot!

138 Emotions/Fright/Beetroot.

September 21st, 2010

 

The neutrino movement is a curiosity. A neutrino is a particle that can pass through the earth without leaving a trace, making it extremely difficult to detect. The neutrino movement is a bowel movement so swift and a stool so dense that it shoots from the sphincter and disappears around the U-bend without leaving a trace. A full neutrino movement must always be followed by an angel wipe, a wipe that leaves no mark on the loo paper, so the person is left with nothing to detect and wondering whether or not he has evacuated anything faecal at all. 

Like the neutrino movement, the beetroot purge makes you think ‘what happened there?’ but also because of the red betacyanin pigments makes you shout “Arghhhhh! My arse just fell out! I’m going to die!”

This can also appear in the urine and the more common cry is “Shit! Shit! Shit! I’ll stop masturbating, please god let me live!” Especially with the ladies.

There is only one thing scarier than the beetroot poo and that is Cold Play. If Mrs Cold Play (whatever her name is) gets on the band wagon and starts proclaiming that beetroot is the new wonder health food and then Mr Cold Play (whatever his name is) excretes a ‘song’ extolling virtues of beetroot enemas then the end of the Universe will happen. Not even Kershaw and Saint Jimi of Hendrix can prevent this (see 122 HUMANS/ANIMALS/1980’s POP ICONS and 36 EVIL/ABSOLUTE EVIL/COLD PLAY). Now that you know this you must shut it from your mind, never speak of this, and certainly don’t sing the lyrics of ‘Yellow’ whilst contemplating the watery redness during the relief stage of your beetroot bowel business. 

Japanese workers repair one of the 11,200 photomultiplier tubes that line the Super Kamiokande neutrino detector broken after Vanessa Feltz lied about her ability to produce a neutrino movement.

Elvis vs. Dan Shears. You try copying Dan. Go on! See! Impossible!

137 Entertainment/Music/Cover Versions

September 20th, 2010

Ever since Elvis Presley made millions from doing nothing more than eating burgers, redefining the dictionary definition of arrogance and singing other peoples songs all day, the cover version has become an incredibly powerful weapon in the artistically challenged musicians armoury. 

Eastbournebastards Toploader are a great example of this; as are laughably childish pseudo rap-metal annoyances Limp Bizkit plus any of the satanic spunk ejaculated weekly from Simon Cowells blistered cock. Madonna is also worth a special mention for digging up Don McLeans 4 hour over-indulgent part-country part-cancerous shit-fest American Pie and Celine Dion for not asking ‘what’s an AC/DC?’ before launching into a version of You Shook Me All Night Long while high on Ecstasy pipes at a cocaine fuelled mega-orgy in a Las Vegas casino.

An even stranger phenomenon is the cover band, an outfit which has given up all hope of writing original material, renaming themselves something pitifully ironic such as The Grown Roses and dressing up as 50 year old transvestite versions of Ian Brown, John Squire, Mani and the drummer. Some of the worst cover bands in history come from the north west; Wigans 60s beat combo The Beadles caused widespread condemnation after a sponsorship deal with a local plastic surgeon lead to a controversial version of I Want to Mould Your Hand, while Chorleys brit-pop ukulele 5 piece The Flids were booed off stage at a disability benefit concern when trying out a version of Verve favourite The Drugs Don’t Work. The world of cover artists was thrown into disarray however in 2007 when Tranmere John Lennon cover artist Oh No Yoko was walking home to his local authority home after a particularly successful gig at the Red Lion in Bootle and came face to face with ‘Fan #1’,  a particularly convincing mimic Mark Chapman. Since this unexpected meeting of reality and impersonation, paranoia has started to set in; Chuck Berry impersonator Mike Ding-a-Ling’s B&B business has severely suffered, Lincolns favourite rock n roller Barry Lee Lewis has been forbidden from attending any family get-togethers and Gateshead based metal outfit Slack Sabbath have had their technically perfect but historically inaccurate Genu Varum suffering guitarist Bandy Rhodes suffer a lifetime ban from travelling with EasyJet.

In 2001 there were an estimated 85,000 Elvis impersonators worldwide. In 2010 there are 6,697,254,041 Elvis tributes. That is everyone, everywhere. By the year 2020 there will be more Elvis’s than actual people. Why? Coz he is very easy to emulate. Why? Coz he aint that good. You try singing like Pavarotti or Dan Shears. Go on! Impossible. 

Cuthbert is still in a dark place: The Guide To Everything

Cuthbert is still in a dark place: The Guide To Everything

136 Jobs/Finance/Pawn Brokers

September 15th, 2010

The Chinese invented pawn broking over 3,000 years ago. A person comes to the shop and puts down an item of worth as collateral and is given… oh Lordy, dreadfully dull. Essentially tat is exchanged for money.

In these recessionary times pawn brokers are busy. Soon all the pawn brokers will become insolvent. No one is buying the second hand junk from the broker because everyone is selling their dross; society moves so fast that it takes about 2 months for a brand new Apple iPad to become a Sinclair ZX81.

And this is good. Wealth is all relative and equilibrium will be reached; a redistribution of wealth. The broker will go bust and have to fore go a champagne supper or two as the local poor people fleece them to buy fags and Chlamydia. As the broker is hard working and intelligent he will be dynamic and reinvent himself as a tobacconist or by opening a STD clinic. And the whole sordid cycle is extended

This process sadly encapsulates every single economic theory and principle ever invented, ever, in the name of progress, ever, to get a tawdry prize of nothingness, ever, a sham, a pox ridden indictment on global society, ever and always. Dross for dross. A waste of time, Ever. Go away ghost of Hancock, leave me be!

The most common things pawned are musical instruments, jewellery and bits of Vanessa Feltz. The most unusual item ever pawned was Stephen Hawking’s battery. 

“We are all pawns in a gigantic game of universe chess, played by an infinity of belligerent omnipotent gods, and it may not even be chess but a monstrous infernal version of Trivial Pursuit.” Cuthbert Breeze to Leet Fabric.

“Here ya go mate, box set of Norman Wisdom. Time to come away from that dark place.” Leet Fabric to Cuthbert Breeze

Cuthbert Breeze gets dark.

Cuthbert Breeze gets dark at Guide to Everything

135 Humans/Emotions/Happiness

September 14th, 2010

 

Happiness is a catastrophically overrated emotion and consequently almost everyone in the world is deeply unhappy. What is wrong with being not happy? Nothing at all. In fact it is a good place to be. But the television, advertising and religious agencies of the world tell you that happiness is good in order to sell their tawdry products.

Don’t worry, be happy- Wrong.

Don’t worry about not being happy – Right.

It is unnatural to be happy and should only be very rarely entertained, like when your best mate wins the lottery, or someone deserving gets the Noble Peace Prize instead of the usual war monger terrorists, or when a golfer gets struck by lightening.

A mild disgruntled annoyed is an Englishmen’s default position, a slightly bemused resentful the Welshmen’s favoured stance, and a psychotic, raging fury the Scotchman (“It’s Scots! Lets fuggin invade!” – QED). Embrace them.

What has happiness ever achieved? A bit of niceness for a while followed by crushing disappointment. Where as soul torturing sadness, the bleak emptiness, the type that makes you peel your skin and bathe in a salty, sulphuric acid bath just so you can feel something, the only way is up.

So next time you see someone happy, punch them in the face, you’ll be doing them a favour. And the next time you see someone on the ledge of a tall building shout ‘It’ll soon be over mate!’ You’ll be right one way or another. 

“

Ha, you are in a dark place. Got to use it man, it’s the only way, look at hancock. Although that ended bad.” Leet Fabric to Cuthbertbert Breeze.

“Yeah it eventually spawned that devil’s jizz bubble David Mitchell” Cuthbert Breeze to Leet Fabric.

Another bullseye from Breeze and Fabric's Guide to Everything

Another bullseye from Breeze and Fabric's Guide to Everything

134 Humans/Races/The Spanish

September 13th, 2010

If you give a Spaniard a fish you feed him for a day. If you teach a Spaniard to fish he’ll be off the coast of 

Cornwall trawling by morning. This expression sums up one aspect of their ‘entrepreneurial’ character. And also points to their love of killing animals in bizarrely cruel ways. Goats pushed from tall towers, beating donkeys with enormous spiked sticks and the ironically titled ‘bull fighting’ are the better known and documented versions of their ‘sporting’ prowess.

However, there is a darker side. What is harder than skinning a puppy alive? A Spaniard’s cock as he is doing it.

Not all Spaniards are demented blood freaks. Some have evolved to extreme racism, as displayed by the despicable taunts to black people or the Chinese at numerous world sporting occasions. They make Prince Philip look like an ordinary member of the BNP.

John Cleese was paid an enormous sum of money by the Spanish Government to produce the best sitcom in the world, Fawlty Towers, featuring a lovable, bumbling, harmless Spaniard named Manual, so that the rest of Spain could get on being racist and animal torturing while the rest of the world thought them adorable. Cleese didn’t need the money, but being a supreme comedy god decided to take on the impossible challenge to prove his omnipotence (see 41 Puzzles/Mysteries/Omnipotence Paradox)

In an act of uncharacteristic selflessness, Russ Brand and Johnny Ross tried in vain to expose the injustice during the Sachsgate debacle. But such is the power of Cleese’s superb writing, the nation were not ready for the horrible truth.

The Cat-Bin Lady, Mary Bale, 45, is one sixteenth Spanish on her mother’s side.

 Right in the Bullocks!

Spanking new monkey post from Cultcomedy.net

CULTCOMEDY.NET

133 Puzzles/Mysteries/The Jellygraph

September 10th, 2010

The Jellygraph is any copy of the Telegraph broadsheet Newspaper that features attractive women and encourages it’s largely middle aged, middle classed, frustrated middle England gentleman readership to go into trap two for a quick fumble of the framblies.

A firm and upright favourite is A’ Level result week – featuring young Tamara Sopwith and her best friends Bunty, Hetty and Lady Sara Bottom-Quimby, leaping like frolicking salmon in tight fitting tops and belt sized skirts, holding their freshly opened results a loft in triumphant, erect nipple, nubile joy. This is always accompanied by a much smaller picture inset of an 8 year old Asian kid getting an A* pass in maths.  

Ascot week is for the less discerning gentleman when amongst the traditional, tempting, posh-totty fare, ladies from Essex are given an airing. Tottering dollies with big hats and bigger cleavages creating a modern day My Fair Lady. The obligatory drunken female beaver shot is displayed discreetly in the left hand corner under the headline ‘Sure thing filly displays her 3 to 1 carpet spread bet.’

Failing these events there will always be either a cleavage shot of JK Rowling at a book signing, a cleavage shot of Helen Mirren at a premier, a cleavage shot of Joanna Lumley at a Ghurka or a cleavage shot of Jools Oliver breast feeding.

What flavour jelly? It’s not strawberry.

The Jellygraph vertical equivalent to Razzle magazine’s 11 girl pile up classic (1973, August edition, number 372). You know; the stack, the bundle, the pile on, block of flaps. Ask your dad, its a classic.

The Pope and Mrs Slocombe's pussy.

WWW.CULTCOMEDY.NET

132 Religion/Catholicism/ The Pope

September 9th, 2010

Popes were originally the ecclesiastical equivalent of the court Jester – a role designed to bring amusement for the masses. This explains the funny hats, hilariously ridiculous Latin catchphrases and the crossing dressing.

A Vatican leak has confirmed that Pope Benedict XVI is going to bring back the clowning tradition during his visit to the 

UK in September 2010.

The itinerary shows that he will perform the ‘Marylin Munroe’ skirt lift as he descends the airplane stairs. This will knock his hat off on to the tarmac leading him nicely into the Buster Keaton ‘Troublesome Hat’ routine as he tries to pick it up only to ‘accidently’ kick it further away. Next a stooge ‘protester’ will run from the adoring cheering crowd and custard pie the fool. His exit from the runway will be littered, with banana skins, single roller-skates, marbles, pyramids of tin cans, cardboard boxes and carts of melon. Expect a hilarious Norman Wisdom tribute.

His passage to the Queen’s Holyroodhouse residence in Edinburgh will be hampered by trucks spilling their cargo of chickens, geese and cute adorable kittens. One of each animal will find its way into the Popemobile and start a rib splitting bout of hay fever for his Excellency. By the end of the journey the carriage will look like the inside of a paedophile’s trousers after a Stephanie from ‘Lazy Town’ dance sequence.

Once inside the palace Benny will be further embarrassed by the goose that has decided to nest in his cassock. The beast will periodically appear from the pontiff’s groin region and peck at the royal backside.

Retiring for the evening, Ratzinger will recreate the Fawlty Towers classic of planting a sooty hand on Betty’s left breast, culminating in a series of seemingly randomly manufactured but entirely inappropriate sexual positions, ending with the Oblique Albanian Traction Feltch.

At the beatification of Cardinal John Newman he will deliberately mispronounce the clerics name and give the title of ‘The Blessed John Inman’. This will be followed by 35 minutes of shouting ‘I’m free!’ and talking about Mrs Slocombe’s pussy in an ‘Are You Being Served’ recreation masterpiece.

Tickets for the show have sold out. However, it is rumoured that Tony Blair is selling his for £5 million in order to make up for his recent loss of earnings. 

Cardinal John Inman keeping a breast of Mrs Slocombe’s pussy.

If you deny everything when someone accuses you of self love is that arguing the toss?

If you deny everything when someone accuses you of masturbating is that arguing the toss? New post from Cult Comedy's Guide to Everything

131 Humanity / Questions / Do Ventriloquists Masturbate with their Puppet on?

September 8th, 2010

Ever since Rod ‘down on all fives’ Hull allowed his pre-show cider to get the better of him and imposed a ten minute dromaius based porn show to a bunch of terrified 12 year olds in a mocked up Grotbags Castle at the Brighton Oasis, ventriloquists sexual attachment to their fabricated work colleagues have been bought into question.

Roger de Courceys decision to name his eye-spinning fuck-kitten Nookie Bear is the earliest example of the trend and as stories of backstage orgies with Terry Hall and Lenny the Lion appeared, as did the reports in the tabloids of widespread puppeteer masturbating. In the now-notorious deleted episode of Sooty from 1983, Mathew Corbett is clearly seen to be swaying slightly with his eyes half closed as Sweep was trying to build a model air craft before a dishevelled Sue appeared from below the desk with what can only be described as a fluffy panda pearl necklace. The only person who seemed to get away with this unnoticed was strange Indian performer Ramdas Padhye, simply because no-one could tell... read full article at www.cultcomedy.net

Cooking new post from Cult Comedy's Guide to Everything

Cooking new post from Cult Comedy's Guide to Everything

130 Wastage / Food / Masterchef

September 7th, 2010

The Oxford dictionary describes time-wasting as ‘sitting down for an hour to watch two rather arrogant grumpy people you don’t know taste some food made by a few other frantic people you don’t know and say it’s a bit crap, or that it’s quite good. You don’t get to taste it yourself either.’ As dear gran used to say ‘what a steaming pile of horse felch.’ But as with most other pointless activities such as ballroom dancing and Jade Goody it has become a staple televisual extravaganza. Only Kerry Katona can honestly say she is truly of less use. Leading dinner lady Mavis O’Reilly describes the juxtaposition between the culture of victuals being seen as standard provisional necessity with the commonplace urbanity misconception of what she labels the ‘fiscal luminary fare’ in her 2007 book ‘You’re Just a Fucking Cook, Cunt’.

Amazingly television producers pulled off an even more amazing feat with Junior Masterchef. A preference to... read the full article at www.cultcomedy.net

Cult Comedy

A toothsome new post by Cult Comedy's Guide to Everything

129 People/Superstitions/The Tooth Fairy

September 6th, 2010 | by admin |

The tooth fairy is the only remaining survivor of the once popular Child Body-Part Exchange Scheme popular in the 12

^th

and 13^th century. During these hard times assorted characters from the underworld would come and collect precious fresh body parts in the evening to sell in their own domain to the masses of under-resourced sorcerers and alchemists. In return they would leave goods of their own for the parents of the harvested child. The tooth fairy appreciated cold hard currency and would leave a penny for a good molar but exchange rates would be determined by the size of quality of the body part.  The finger-nail troll for instance would leave anything he found on the way, the eye-lash imp and dandruff pixie tended to leave almost worthless pieces of rock whereas the feared knuckle goblin and sternum ogre could leave anything from good quality building materials up to a young stallion. In 1294 local tax-collector William Frail introduced a 10% tax on all transactions which caused chaos to the exchange programme. Suddenly ear-drum sprites were having to cut costs and mass redundancies caused a huge downturn in business for the scrotum gremlins. Although cries of foul play echoed around the caverns of underworld bazaar when Frail was seen to be walking around flashing a brand new set of gnashers, no criminal involvement was ever proved and The Tooth Fairy plc was the only organisation which survived the recession successfully.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was famously fooled by the Cottingley Fairies. Any expert worth his salt would know these were Scrotum Gremlins.

Punchy New Post From Cult Comedy

As Fish from Marillion once said 'Punch, Punch, Punch and Judy'. 

Marvellous new post from Cult Comedy's Guide To Everything

128 Seaside Entertainment/Violence/Punch and Judy

September 2nd, 2010 | by admin |

Unsurprisingly created by an Italian, the Punch and Judy puppet show has been entertaining generations of would-be psychotics and wife beaters for centuries. Seen by most of 

Yorkshire

 as a government advice programme, the show is performed by a single puppeteer known as The Professor.

What is less known is that the professor must perform this show while simultaneously torturing small mammals, reading the Codex Gigas backwards and furiously masturbating every time the crocodile appears. As 21 year old serial rapist Bernard Manson of Ripley, Derbyshire explained in his memoirs ‘That’s the way to do it (Bitch)’ in 2004 ‘I wouldn’t be nuffink if it weren’t for punch. He made me know that even someone like me can have success. I could be working in HMV now with keys angin’ round me arse like a queer. Thanks punch. Fuckin straight.’.

A less controversial version of Punch and Judy was created by Guardian columnist and post modern feminist Alison Bore in 2006 called ‘Gerard and Angela’ and plotted the main characters Kentish Town based garden dinner party. The storyline showed the unmarried couple talking about trips to South America and modern folk music with a succession of sub-characters such as Brian and Marcio a gay couple from number 4, a dried up middle aged lady from across the road and a token black called Percy who is dead clever. Gerard and Angela ran for a number of weeks before being closed down after parents complained that their children had suddenly started showing interest in advertising, making constant music comparisons to Fleet Foxes and Joanna Newsom and impatiently tapping their laminated school bus pass on the glass coffee table around 8pm each evening after dinner.

Why do all Judy’s look like Princess Di, the Queen of Hearts, the people’s Princess?

Another Astonishing Post

Another astonishing post from the always fabulous Cult Comedy and the Guide to Everything

127 People/Habits/Holocaust Deniers

September 1st, 2010

There are people who will deny anything. Whether it be telling an angry red-faced Catalonian in Covent Garden ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t know where

Leicester Square

 is’ or facing a wigged gentleman with the line ‘But obviously she looks younger in her uniform’ we’re all at it.

Some take it further than others. In 1984, 8 year old Wolverhamptonschoolboy Martin Fregold started the Holocaust Denier movement by shouting ‘No he didn’t, no he didn’t, no he didn’t’ over and over again during a war documentary in his history class. What started as a defiant display against primary school teacher Mr Warcombes rather bad mood ended in the thousands of Germans, Austrians and American UFO abductees entirely rejecting the Nazi treatment and slaughter of millions of jews during the third reich. It also led to Fregold getting detention, a letter being sent to his parents, a D on his History report and Fregold himself being bought up in front of a war crimes tribunal in Geneva and hanged as a traitor to humanity.

Other famous denying movements include the Saab Marketing Team, Lenny Henrys talent agent, Holocaust Denier Deniers, the Stoke on Trent appreciation society and the more generalised ‘Yeah, as if’ movement by 12 year old Annie Porter from Stockport. If she gets her way nothing will have ever happened and the whole world will be pulled screaming into a space/time tear the size of Vanessa Feltz.

SAAB marketing. You see the implication here is that driving a SAAB is like flying a fighter jet. Leet Fabric drives a P-Reg SAAB 900 SE (900 SE looks like goose). He says if flying a fighter jet is like driving a very comfortable woollen shoe then this advert is spot on.