'funny, and not a little bit strange' - the guardian; 'an offbeat treat' - web user
Friday, February 28, 2003
More true tales of Audiville Lotto winners
Jimmy Boyband, 82, who wishes to be known only as Jimmy Boyband, scooped last week’s £54m jackpot. Jimmy says the money won’t change his life. “No, I won’t be retiring, but I’ll sure as hell be taking it a lot easier behind my monitor,” said Jimmy, who works as an air-traffic controller.
Jimmy was nearly disqualified under the rule that says you have to present an unlikely tale of outrageous fortune to claim a lottery prize. With this in mind, he deliberately picked an argument with his fishmonger. “I told the guy that charging £10 for trout was too much," said Jimmy. "I told him I would pay him £9, and then I went to the store and used my pound to buy a Lotto ticket."
Jimmy is a great believer in charity, and hopes to donate the first half of his winnings to the Audiville Lotto Commission. “I’ll be keeping the zeros,” said a confused Jimmy, from his deckchair.
Emily Felony, 59, has won £172.8m. Emily says her next step will be to help her much-loved father-in-law. He has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and medical bills alone will come to over £14,000. "I suppose this means I’ll have to chip in towards the cost of his treatment now," said Emily, from her speedboat.
Adds Emily: “My husband and I will be celebrating with a trip for two to Disneyland. We have 26 grandchildren, 14 great nieces and nephews and seven great granchildren. It’s just such a shame our trip clashes with term-time,” said a delighted Emily from the back seat of her limo.
“I’ve always believed that raising children with strong Christian values, a powerful work ethic and a sense of community was the most important thing in life,” says Emily. “But I know that’s all bollocks now.”
Emily also intends to buy Tom Jones and a share in a dolphin.
Thursday, February 27, 2003
True tales of Audiville Lotto winners
A few days after Alan Jazzmags, 62, and his wife checked their selections, married them up with the official winning numbers, and then received a confirmatory phone call, Alan had an eerie, almost inexplicable feeling that he'd won the Audiville Lotto.
The Jazzmags’ immediate family, their families, their in-laws, some distant cousins and some people they once met at a glazing convention all travelled to Audiville to help them celebrate their £64.3m prize.
Alan and Maureen, a former lime welder, insist they won’t be changing anything. “The kids will still go hungry and cold, and work all hours for us,” they said from their beachfront apartment in Waikiki.
You just never know which numbers are going to come up in the Audiville Lotto. But, if you're like Johnny Luftwaffe, 72, of Strategy Avenue, you don't take any chances. Johnny covered every base, spending over £11.65m on tickets that nailed every possible numerical combination. “Except one,” said Johnny, from the psychiatric wing of Audiville General Hospital.
More true tales of Lotto winners tomorrow...
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
Audiville Times small ads and letter
Nintendo games: Schoolyard Slaughter, Roadrage VI, Mall Assassin, Chainsaw Convent, Baby Bloodbath, Beast of Beirut, for sale, or rental for around 16 years, or fewer pending appeal, also flat, girlfriend, CDs.
Dirty girl, special way of kissing, catarrh cure guaranteed.
Siamese twins, £20 the pair, or £43,000 + VAT split.
Wind, air with attitude, kiss goodbye to calm days, available bagged or wild, can deliver.
I would like to complain about the expression `works like clockwork’. Last week, I bought a clockwork power station, semiconductor, dirigible and wide-bodied jet, all of which have let me down badly.
Audiville General Hospital.
Link-a-day man keeps his end up
The Audi Olympics is proud to announce that the sweetly named My boyfriend is a twat has become link no. 17. I believe these people can help.
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
Fall from Grace
I thought Grace Owampi was merely utterly terrifying, but it turns out she's something much more than that. Her Castaway review has about 3,750 words in common with this review. What's more, they're all in the same order. There's a word for that. Ditto, her Hannibal review. Looks like she's going to hell in a handcart. One man who's determined to make sure she gets there fast is Tony Malloy.
Cumbrian war pundit is link no. 16
Bluetealeaf, the official commentator on the Third World War, is the 16th link for this little site. Bluetealeaf is class, although I'm not sure he backs the revolution. Is 16 a lot? Are they taxable?
Monday, February 24, 2003
Things to avoid
The following snippet with newly arrived, very posh female client.
Client: It’s so gorgeous outside, isn’t it?
Me: I think it’s gorgeous wherever you do it. Are you still up to your old tricks, then?
Me: In the evenings? You know. Moonlighting. Nudge-nudge. My colleague sent me this e-mail, explaining the situation. He said you’re a, let’s check… oh, ah, I’m sorry. I misread. He said you’re a ‘nice’ girl. Ah. My mistake. Fancy a coffee?
Nixon next on the link list
Call-centre worker and tangled mesh of thorns, Nixon Dea, is the 14th link for the Olympics.
Grace of God is link 15
And 'Saved' Grace Owampi, surely the most supernaturally, paralysingly, paranormally petrifying woman on the Internet - or beyond - has also linked me. I'm absolutely terrified to be on the Unsaved list. Thanks, Grace.
Sunday, February 23, 2003
My compliments to the wife
Sarah: Did you see that girl in the restaurant the other night? She was wearing hipster trousers and a crop t-shirt, and she had no bottom, so you could see all her tummy flab spilling over her waistband.
Me: I know - very strange. The good thing about you is that you're in proportion - your arse is even bigger than your love-handles.
Sarah: Oh, do you really think so? What a lovely thing to say.
Saturday, February 22, 2003
Some advice for the pub
In a week when over 100 people have lost their lives in night-club fires in the US, playing the Trammps' 1977 hit Disco Inferno could be seen as inappropriate.
Stray personal ad
Straight-acting banana, would like to meet other fruit.
Friday, February 21, 2003
Audiville personal ads: looking for love, marriage, sex - or maybe something more?
Girl called Megan, would like to marry man called Chips or Bacon, for big laughs/huge embarrassment.
Ryan Giggs-lookalike, Manchester area, good-looking but no right foot, slightly Welsh, but sedated, contact through MUFC.
Nine-inch plastic man, in combat gear, own tank, six moving parts, seeks Barbie-type girl, or Barbie, really, for sex games.
Sweet, lonely girl would like to meet Chief Executive, Chief Operating Officer, MD-type person for unaccompanied retail therapy.
Rude, butt-ugly, racist pig would like to meet anyone or anything - girls, pets, livestock, small vegetables considered.
Huge, pneumatic French man made out of tyres seeks way out of company logo.
Man with roof tiles up arse would like to meet doctor, surgeon, nurse or similar.
Optimistic about unlucky link No. 13
The very charming, clever, readable bloke from Blatant Optimism has linked me, too. I'll speak to my technical adviser and try to return the compliment, Tom. Many thanks.
Thursday, February 20, 2003
Things I’ve learned this week
Don’t mess with 'A-list bloggers'. These people mean business and can be stopped only with tanks or by buying them larger t-shirts that don’t chafe the nipples.
Not saying A-list blogger is the new saying A-list blogger.
When getting into something new, there is always some bastard thing bigger going on that you naively assume isn’t. Find it, quickly.
Don’t join anything that isn’t a tennis club. Even then, do not speak to other club members over canapes or get involved in any kind of internal politics. Only dire consequences can result.
Being clever and talented means nothing. It’s sucking-up to the right people that really counts in life.
I’m hoping next week will be better.
Wednesday, February 19, 2003
Birthplace of the Renaissance
We are visiting your little holiday country in August, when my wife will be heavily pregnant. France, home of gastronomy and vines, is a place of magnificent variety. Paris – the City of Light – the most romantic capital on earth. The Loire Valley – 'the Garden of France' – the birthplace of the Renaissance and residence of kings, who made this place the backdrop to their dreams and to a thousand chateaux. The mineral-rich Dordogne and Aquitane, land of castles and mansion houses; the villages, valleys and mountains of rural Provence, and the stunning Cote d’Azur.
Yes, France is berets, long loaves, exquisite perfume and Jean-Paul Gautier bustiers. France is historic, enigmatic, tenebrous, joyous, hedonistic, decadent, trendy, absurd, irreverent and intellectual. It is all these things and more.
That said, I would rather perform colorectal surgery on myself with a rusty penknife than have a French-born child. That's why I must demand a guarantee fully underwritten by the Elysee Palace that, should my wife go into labour, for the 35 minutes it will take to re-enter British airspace, we will have the personal use of Concorde or some similar aircraft capable of exceeding the speed of sound.
With apologies to my French reader. I like France – really. Keep taking the slugs.
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
Even more things it’s best not to do
Own up to your former employer that it was you who sent an excerpt from a company memo to the Plain English Campaign. An excerpt that you have just discovered won one of last year’s not-so-coveted Golden Bull Awards. These awards are given to the perpetrators of the top ten examples of utter bollocks in written English.
Search finds link number 12
Londonmark, a man searching for intelligent life in Camden Town, is Link No. 12 for The Audi Olympics. He's obviously widened his search, and rather misguidedly ended-up in Audiville.
Monday, February 17, 2003
Monday night at the Community Centre
Mrs Gumwoody: Well, thank you, Janice. Good luck with the prenatal liposuction and the transcendental regression. Help yourself to fairy cakes. Now, who’s next? Just stand up, introduce yourself and tell us your problem.
Me: My name is Nigel Graber and I have a dream. My dream is of a land where our children run as free as chickens, where learning simple human-bomb techniques from Abyssinian terrorists is not part of the educational syllabus. A land in which the firearms squad don’t train their guns on me every time I drive past the airport, where the careers advisers don’t recommend drug-pushing or insurance fraud to my kids, because ‘that’s where the fancy money is’. A land in which the law is not a sort of criminal-protection cartel, a land that isn’t the main sponsor of World War III, and one where a man’s bollocks are not subject to the punitive Sweat Tax.
Ladies, what I have in mind is a sort of all-out military offensive. No buggering about, let’s just blow the bastards out of the water…
Mrs G: Mr Graber, I think…
Me: Shut it, missus, and hold the fairy cakes. I speak for the Suburban Guerillas. We have some funding, enough for a few tanks, maybe a chopper, an old B-52 bomber, and one or two of those shoulder-held, heat-seeking-missile launchers you can buy in Toys R Us. I vote we hit them without warning, on all fronts, at night, when they least expect it…
Mrs G: Mr Graber, I think you may have misunderstood. This is a New Year’s Resolution Support Group – for people whose resolve is beginning to waver.
Me: What? Resolution? Resolution? Ah. I’m terribly sorry. I must have misread the poster. I’ll get my coat.
Sunday, February 16, 2003
More blogging in the style of
Tonight, Matthew, it’s Julius Sharpe...
There’s a lot of debate among my friends about tipping waiters. Should you or should you not? If you should, how much? Well, I believe in fly-tipping. I just scatter the coins on the floor and leg it.
I understand that this very weak gag fails even more internationally. Sorry. Particular apologies to Barbara Fletcher, who’s already heard it.
Saturday, February 15, 2003
New feature: blogging in the style of
Yes, there's a great new feature on the Olympics: blogging in the style of other well-known bloggers. And, today, it's Stuart Kitchentable...
On my way home from work last night, the dipping sun burned ochre in the winter sky. I stopped for a moment to take it in. But then I thought, "Nah. That's crap. So 'Athena'..."
I understand that this gag fails internationally. Sorry.
Friday, February 14, 2003
Economy drive kicks in
Me: Happy Valentine’s Day, Sarah.
Wife: Ooh, are they for me?
Me: Of course.
Wife: A bunch of…dandelions. Lovely.
Me: Yes, I picked them myself.
Wife: And what’s this? Half-a-dozen cream crackers. And not just any cream crackers…Jacob’s. I am a lucky girl. You old romantic fool, you.
Shop assistant: A rose in a vase. What a lovely choice.
Me: Yes, I’m thinking of getting one for the wife, too.
Thursday, February 13, 2003
New career off to promising start
Waddington’s Games Exec: Ah, Mr Graber. You have a new proposal for us?
Me: Yes. It’s loosely based on the old Battling Tops game. A bit like the Beyblade toys that are so successful right now. There’s an arena, with sloping sides, and the animals scrap it out until one falls into this pit, here. You’re going to love it. What happens is…
WGE: Sorry, Mr Graber, I think I misheard, you did say animals?
Me: Yes, animals. The game uses real live hamsters. I’ve called it Hardcore Hamsters.
WGE: Mr Graber, are you for real?
Me: It’s all perfectly humane. The hamsters are enclosed in small plastic balls – a bit like the exercise balls you can buy in any pet shop. They’re see-through, and you can decorate either the ball or the hamster with these exciting graphics I’ve created. This gives you the chance to brand your hamster with a fighting name, like Hammy Horror or Revved-up Rodent…
WGE: Mr Graber, you’re desperate for cash, aren’t you?
Me: No, no, no, no, no, no…yes. While I’m here, have you had an accident in the last three years that wasn’t your fault? Slips or trips? Tumbles or stumbles?…
WGE: Get this buffoon out of here at once!
Link No. 11, or maybe not? You decide
The mysterious Rooms by the sea may or may not have linked me. Check out the site and you decide.
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
Things I don’t understand: shoelaces
Why does a double-bow behave differently every time you untie it?
Why do I, at the age of nearly 40, still rely on the ‘bunny-ear’, two-loops method of fastening laces?
No matter how much you spend, why can you not buy shoes with flat laces? As I said in a now-deleted posting, it’s like buying a high-spec Jaguar and finding out it has wheels made from liquorice.
How do you increase your monthly income by £500 before August?*
*relevant to shoelaces only in a much-wider context. Self-strangulation. Or tying a knot in it.
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
Tie a knot in it
Vernon ‘Superdad’ Saddlebanger
Flanagan’s Contraceptive Products
Dear Mr Graber
Thank you for your abusive letter. You must understand that considerable resources - in terms of time, money and research - are invested in our products, and we have several satisfied customers.
I am disappointed that you question the efficacy of our products - although I sympathise when you say you have had sexual intercourse only twice in your entire life and yet are awaiting the birth of your fourth child. I am, however, unable to refund you the £138,000 you say it will cost to raise your children, and I cannot make a compensatory donation to the ‘Suburban Guerillas’.
You should know that I have used our Contratot pills, our KiddieKickers range, and the revolutionary ParentPlugs throughout my adult life, and some of my older children also swear by them.
I can think of no reason why you might conclude that our products deliberately enhance fertility and encourage multiple conceptions. Despite all this, as a conciliatory gesture, I am prepared to offer you a 3% discount on our huge, moneyspinning range of nappies and baby-care products.
Sunday, February 09, 2003
A little less reproduction
Some men are punished for their sins by law and order. Others are cruelly exposed before their peers. Others just have loads and loads of kids. Last week, I was a father-of-three. This week, I'll still be a father-of-three. In about August, I won't be a father-of-three. I'll be a father-of-more-than-three. Excuse me if I don't post for a few days. I need to find some very strong glue to help put my head back together. I'm sure I'll feel joyful soon.
Link Number 10
Thanks to Vaughan Wherever you are and his very beautiful blog. You are link number 10 for the Olympics. I bet you haven't got more than three kids.
Friday, February 07, 2003
Things I’ve learned this week
1 If you stand in front of a mirror for a long time and stare at your ears, you will become convinced that you are an alien.
That’s it. That’s all I’ve learned this week. I’m hoping to learn more next week.
Thursday, February 06, 2003
Queen’s club gets the bird
Royal Society for the Protection of Birds
Dear Mr Graber
I read with alarm your proposal to bisect a cormorant with a 30-volt circular saw. I write to warn you that such a course of action would be not only morally repugnant but also illegal. I must place on record the utter disgust of my Society at this proposal. A much better method is to grab a leg in each hand and pull violently in opposite directions. You’ll find the bird comes apart with ease.
When you’re a national radio station giving out regular traffic bulletins, please learn the enormous, 180-degree difference between the eastbound and westbound carriageways of our motorways. The statement, “An accident is blocking the westbound carriageway of the M56,” could induce totally groundless peace of mind among people making their way eastwards. It could also make them spend 2 hours 47 minutes getting to work.
Wednesday, February 05, 2003
Cormorant-dividers seek work
Wrestling with tricky cormorant-bisection issues? Unsure whether to cut lengthways or sideways? Undecided on whether to kill your seabird first? Promised someone half a cormorant in a ludicrous online competition? Relax, we can help. With nearly 40 minutes’ experience in the highly specialised cormorant-bisection industry, Westbury-Persimmon Cormorant International offers a full range of services.
From simply pinning down your cormorant while you hack away at it with some rusty scissors, to a simple maiming job, to a full-scale living autopsy, no one offers more, works faster, or gets a bigger rush out of it. We bisect with sensitivity, usually with a 30-volt, cordless circular saw, always taking the needs of the seabird into account, and with a calming Enya tape as melodic backdrop.
Remember, we deal only in cormorants. We’re not your multinational generic-seabird-division outfit mercilessly butchering petrels or gulls. See also Corporate Cormorant, our business-to-business offshoot. Also industrial rabbit-stripping, river-sucking and amateur bear-antagonism. Phone Visibility Watkins today.
Westbury-Persimmon Cormorant International
Half a cormorant in half the time
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
Tern for the worse
Dear Mr Graber
Management understands that you are not working to full capacity, and that the devil will make work for idle hands, but we do take a dim view of your defacing of the departmental dictionary. The definition of ‘sooty tern’ in the Encarta Dictionary should read ‘a medium-sized jet-black seabird with white underparts that is found in tropical regions’. Altering the r in underparts to an n was childish in the extreme. Our concern will be relayed next Tuesday at Parents’ Evening.
Who gets the receipt?
When you’re a responsible adult and father, when you’ve got a degree and held down a few decent jobs, when your IQ’s been measured by MENSA at 162, you’d imagine that, when you purchase something, you’d be able to figure out who gets the receipt.
Online dairy, bought in error by dyslexic blogger, £1m-worth of livestock, milking, feeding and slurry-handling gear all available, air and vacuum pumps, complete parlour-management system, will split.
Purple penguin joins the party
Anybody else out there wanna link me? - I'm bidding for a world record. Squodge the Purple Penguin has become Link No. 9 for the Olympics.
Monday, February 03, 2003
Audiville small ads
Children’s names beginning with V, guaranteed ridicule, many still available, incl. Vertigo, Vagrant, Venison, Victim, Vortex, Versatility (3) and Vermin. Also high-ridicule range, incl. Videodisk, Video-display terminal, Vinyl-Polymer, and Voltmeter. Catalogue available, plain wrapping assured, phone Vivisection Johnson.
Elk dinner jackets, bought in error, suit most antlered, heavy-bodied deer, also other bizarre items, incl. fish gas masks, 2cwt of fennel, and bison, bought from fierce gang of forced-entry door salesmen, also once-cherished wedding memorabilia.
Comma, suit most sentences, ex-medical-writer-owned, little wear and tear, can deliver, other punctuation, grammar and general flow of argument all available, all completely unused.
We are sad to announce the untimely death of Nigel Graber’s Enthusiasm. No flowers, please, but donations can be made at the Royal Bank of Scotland.
Saturday, February 01, 2003
Audiville property pages
32 Vaudeville Crescent
Mid town house ideally located for access to 32 Vaudeville Crescent. 800ft by 3ft. Suit thin professional couple, skinny threesome, Lampton Worm. Amateur building work has resulted in attractive open aspect to rear. Close to and, in fact, part of, the national motorway network; fully fitted, integral owners.
47a Poltergeist Gardens
Wheat Poultice & Co. are proud as hell to offer for sale this wartime home that was at its finest a few seconds before The Blitz, completely open aspect, no bedrooms, no reception rooms, makeshift bathroom. Light, airy feel, spectacular landscaping, suit fresh-air enthusiast, open-air cooking, spacious. Magnificent, unrestricted views. Requires some modernisation.
92 Availability Court
Much-sought-after and, indeed, impossible-to-find, surreal 18th-century home for sale. This moderately detached residence is well-situated within a popular period in Man’s history. The house offers living on three levels of consciousness. Property not bounded by time, space or physical dimensions; suit hippy-chick, time-traveller, acid-tripper.
Canadian narcoleptic muse-hunter is Link No. 8
Canadian narcoleptic muse-hunter Barbara Fletcher is Link Number 8 for The Audi Olympics. I am now linked on every continent except Africa, Antartica, Asia and Wales.
Happy birthday, Dad.