'funny, and not a little bit strange' - the guardian; 'an offbeat treat' - web user
Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Repeats: Rooftop fire heroes
Reward for rooftop fire heroes
Shy heroes who watched intently as a young boy with smoke-filled trousers leapt to his death from a rooftop have said it was bloody lucky that nobody got more seriously hurt.
Wool engineers Rob Chog and Denny Rubbings were today being hailed as heroes for their selfless observational skills. They saw 11-year-old Ritchie Sambuca hurl himself from a 40-foot roof ledge as smoke billowed from his shorts.
Says Rob: “Ritchie’s shorts were well ablaze by the time we arrived, but we were much too timid to get involved. It was a miracle he didn’t frazzle to death, or worse. It was also lucky that he was athletic enough to jump from the roof, otherwise we would have had to use the extending ladders off our van.”
After their heroic observations, Rob and Denny correctly assumed that no one else was in the now-burning building, and wandered off in search of a bite to eat.
Rob and Denny’s achievement was recognised today when Audiville Mayor Tennyson Futtock presented them with Cilla Black. A spokesman for the UK fire department, who were on a team-building exercise in Benny’s nightclub at the time, said, “We believe that Ritchie’s shorts were built from an experimental pyrotechnic-display material that has now been partially discontinued.”
Ritchie’s mum has disposed of 17 more pairs of the blazing shorts, but retained one or two for sentimental reasons and for special occasions. Meanwhile, a large consignment of the combustible shorts intended for the Queen is being casually inspected at Dover.
Link number 105
Oh, and Bob Nogg has also blogrolled me.
Tuesday, December 30, 2003
Five-way tie for 100th link
The much-hyped 100th-blogroller comp for this site has left me clinically confused. Too many contenders emerged at once. It is, therefore, my pleasure to announce that the following five, very worthy, blogs will all share the honour and the first prize, which is half a bar mitzvah:
Driffard Prunt (Brittle Lemon)
Chebley Nuttock (Straight from the Horse's Mouth)
Crowbar Naggins (Friendly Stranger)
Windy Manners (Freshly Sharpened Pencil)
Nunty Chug (The Final Broadcast).
Many congratulations to all. Your prize is in the post.
Monday, December 29, 2003
More repeats: Gregorianranting
Mad Irish ranter baffles Audiville editor
An Irish former mental patient* and chicken-fancier has got an Audiville editor baffled with the success of a weblog that defies universal logic. Nigel Graber is beginning to question his sanity over Gregory Daly’s site. Gregorianranting, whose author has published several hammer-horror novels based loosely on the efficacy of Carthaginian sewerage systems, conforms to none of the accepted tenets of good writing, and yet achieves over one million hits a day.
Graber is now questioning other universally accepted truths. So far, he has had no success with the Law of Aberration. Trying to exceed the speed of light with a crude ballistic missile made from an old sideboard soaked in methylated spirit, he was unable to achieve the level of warp required to overtake the Andromeda Galaxy and outstrip the speed of star clusters relative to the earth. He was also unsuccessful with Dulong-Petit’s Law. For four hours, Graber sat in a lit gas oven trying to disprove the resident molar heat capacity. He did, however, blow his bottom off and reduce the kitchen at Audi Towers to splintered matchwood.
Graber was similarly unable to disprove that the famous Grandfather Paradox violates the causality of time travel. Getting his grandad to build a time machine, Graber shot back in time and met his grandad before he had had children. Classically, though, an argument broke out over a burned muffin, and Graber beheaded his grandad, thus arguing the bald, Audiville-based editor out of existence.
*this bit not true
Sunday, December 28, 2003
28/08/03, this one.
Taxing new laws for taxi drivers
A controversial Audiville councillor has denied that new rules governing entry to taxi-driving in the town are too tough. Existing drivers, who, from Monday, will have to speak six European languages and have graduated cum laude from the Sorbonne University, have been given only nine days to gain the relevant qualifications or risk state-controlled epilepsy.
New drivers, says councillor Rags Martell, will need to have a firm grasp of virtual-reality polyhedra, of differential and integral inequalities and differential equations. A sound knowledge of the theory and applications of higher-dimensional dynamic systems, of multivariate analysis and of fuzzy systems will also be required.
Martell has slammed the age-old taxi-driver test, The Knowledge, as being “fit only for midgets”. He intends to replace it with a series of three-hour exams posing questions such as: The Virgo cluster contains about 2,000 galaxies, has an effective radius of 2 Mpc, and is at a distance of 16 Mpc. The peak photon energy occurs at 10 keV and the total X-ray luminosity is 1045 ergs/sec. Assume Ho=70 km per second, per second. What is the total thermal energy of the x-ray gas?
Martell, who is Harvard’s leading postdoctoral research fellow in astrophysics and has a double-first in languages and computational physics, adds that drivers will also need to have green eyes and a semi-inflatable mother named Truffles.
Martell is due to sit before the Monopolies Commission on Monday.
Wednesday, December 24, 2003
More Xmas classics from Audi Man
Little-known medical conditions: shared-bowel syndrome
First published 04/03/03.
Your questions answered
What is shared-bowel syndrome (SBS)?
Shared-bowel syndrome is characterised by two people sharing one set of bowels.
How do I know if someone is sharing my bowels?
Try turning round quickly, or shouting “Is that you, Gwendoline?” Try to come to some kind of freehold arrangement and extract a reasonable monthly rental for the size of the bowel and the level of interior furnishing provided.
How common is SBS?
SBS is rare. To date, there have been no cases of SBS recorded anywhere in the world.
Sensitive discussion bit
If you suffer from mild abdominal discomfort, bloating or uncomfortable wind, or you suspect there is someone physically attached to your innards, speak to your doctor, a reputable plumber or a qualified tree surgeon. You should see your doctor, usually with your SBS partner, and discuss your symptoms openly, though it may be uncomfortable to do so, particularly if the chairs are small. Tell your doctor about your symptoms and how they are affecting your daily life, your ability to land one job that pays two salaries, and the fights you are having over the TV remote. Depending on the severity of the condition, your doctor will either laugh openly or perfom a ‘TUBE’ (Totally Unnecessary Breast Examination). Don’t worry: SBS can be beaten, with a carefully prepared, individually tailored management programme, with aromatherapy, or with a hacksaw.
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
More Audi classics
These posts from 27 and 28/02/03.
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 Jazzmagsâ€™ 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 Â£64.3m prize.
Alan and Maureen, a former lime welder, insist they wonâ€™t be changing anything. â€˜The kids will still go hungry and cold, and work all hours for us,â€™ 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 Â£11.65m on tickets that nailed every possible numerical combination. â€˜Except one,â€™ said Johnny, from the psychiatric wing of Audiville General Hospital.
Jimmy Boyband, 82, who wishes to be known only as Jimmy Boyband, scooped last weekâ€™s Â£54m jackpot. Jimmy says the money wonâ€™t change his life. â€˜No, I wonâ€™t be retiring, but Iâ€™ll sure as hell be taking it a lot easier behind my monitor,â€™ 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. â€˜I told the guy that charging Â£10 for trout was too much,' said Jimmy. 'I told him I would pay him Â£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. â€˜Iâ€™ll be keeping the zeros,â€™ said a confused Jimmy, from his deckchair.
Emily Felony, 59, has won Â£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 Â£14,000. 'I suppose this means Iâ€™ll have to chip in towards the cost of his treatment now, said Emily, from her speedboat.
Adds Emily: â€˜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. Itâ€™s just such a shame our trip clashes with term-time,â€™ said a delighted Emily from the back seat of her limo.
â€˜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,â€™ says Emily. â€˜But I know thatâ€™s all bollocks now.â€™
Emily also intends to buy Tom Jones and a share in a dolphin.
Monday, December 22, 2003
Repeats! A great new feature
Christmas is a time for holly, buns... and repeats! So that's what I'm doing for the next few days. Sorry. This one from 16/12/02.
Some advice for the neighbours immediately opposite
When you have spectacular chaser lights constantly zipping around your property, a flashing, pot-bellied, skating penguin on the front of your house, a stroboscopic angel of death in your bedroom window and an 85-foot solartechnic snowman continuously singing Santa Claus is coming to town in your front garden, switching off the electricity when you go to bed at night could be seen as the sociable thing to do. Particularly as the ludicrous number of lights around the estate is beginning to confuse the pilots coming in to Ringway.
Friday, December 19, 2003
Me: Sarah, itâ€™s minus eight out here at night. My knackers are frozen. Please let me back in. I donâ€™t even know what Iâ€™ve done wrong. I was only arranging a blogmeet.
Sarah: Only a blogmeet?
Me: Yeah, with that nice lady from the Guardian competition.
Sarah: Yes, only a bloody blogmeet, at 3 bloody am with Belle de bloody Jour. Just indicate precisely when they've dropped off and I might let you back in.
Thursday, December 18, 2003
When you get made redundant, you will decide to go freelance, you will become desperate for cash, but you will finally get a small break when the local authority asks you to write a piece for their newspaper on a local 90-year-old artist. However, the day before youâ€™re due to interview him, the old bastard will drop dead.
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
Adjust settings accordingly
Chubley File-Cleansing Services
I write to you following an instruction on your file-cleansing software that I received in 1998. It read ‘Adjust these settings accordingly. When you are happy, click OK’. Five years on, I am still generally unhappy, but desperate to click OK and move on with my life. I would add that, while sitting at my PC during this time, I have missed much of my children’s childhood, am unaware of the current Premiership standings and have German measles inside my bottom.
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
How typos could have radically changed our nation
E-mail, re: G7 World Peace Summit, Birmingham. 'Janice, I’m leaving it to you to organise the name badgers. Thank you.'
Best-ever Olympics prize imminent
Magnus O'Chimpery is the 97th blogger to blogroll me, while Nugent B Gooseshifter is the 98th. Robinson Funt comes in at number 99. I have been worrying over the prize for the 100th linker, but have now settled on half a bar mitzvah.
Monday, December 15, 2003
How typos could have radically changed our nation
We at Barratt Homes are proud to reintroduce a traditional feature of British kitchen design: the futility room.
Saturday, December 13, 2003
How typos could have radically changed our nation
A new series on the Olympics.
Friday, December 12, 2003
When you are suddenly self-employed and, in desperation, you join an online networking organisation and find yourself besieged by Life Coaches, you will find that these people are, without exception, certified freaks who subscribe to bizarre business sects like Meleleuca and Gei, or Word of the Mind, and that they are, quite possibly, 'strengthsfinders' and 'relators', too, and, obviously, 'self-reinventionists', 'change agents' and 'solution architects'. Ultimately, you will find yourself replying to their e-mails with ‘Hello, the work-life balance thing has hit me hard. I need to get some balance back in my life. I really need some f~~king work to balance out all this f~~king leisure. Hope you can help.’
Thursday, December 11, 2003
The first, and last, in a very small new series in which we list things you can safely and legally say to a goldfish. You should know that goldfish have an immensely primitive nervous system.
‘You’ve got a nerve'.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Audi pub guide
When you walk into a pub in an unfamiliar area, it can be hard to gauge the status of the establishment. However, a clue that warm hospitality may be in short supply could be the taped-off area featuring a chalk outline on the floor of a man in a defensive, foetal position.
The 96th blogger to stick me up his blogroll is Fredley B Kwod. For the 100th linker, there will be a prize. Probably an adverb. Or a horse.
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
Things it's best not to do
When you name your first three children Sam, Hannah and Isobel, you should be careful what you call the fourth one. The immense dignity of the meticulously prepared, 350-year-old family tree will be completely dismembered when you settle on Timothy, a name that creates an appalling acronym.
Best to skim-read this, skip straight to the last paragraph, or, better still, skip it altogether. You’ll save hours.
Monday, December 08, 2003
Name in lights
The lady hit by a firework before last weekend’s Wolves v Newcastle Premiership game has spoken for the first time of her astonishment that a firework in a stadium of over 27,000 people could somehow manage to find her. “That firework had my name on it,” said Mrs Angela Howling-Powerbomb.
Friday, December 05, 2003
In a noisy bar, when your friend asks for a drink seven times and you haven't a clue what the f@#k he said, you will nevertheless stride confidently up to the bar and ask for a pint of Spoof. The foreign-looking barman will stare at you quizzically, but you will muster all the bravado you can, stare him out and repeat the request like he's the world's dumbest mammal. You will try not to be transfixed by the fact that he then pours a Dutch white lager and tops it up with something out of a chemistry set. You will then be astonished as he performs a bossa-nova, shouts 'Zaglyanite!' and slaps you hard on the back. When you return to your table, your friend, who wanted a pint of John Smith's smooth bitter, will say, 'What the f@#k is that?'
Denzil Vortex is the 94th blogger to blogroll me, kindly sectioning me off with the legendary Wil Wheaton. And Lukki Fusebox is link number 95.
The tragic twilight
I haven’t posted much recently and most of you have gone away. Sorry. It costs me money, you see. Pay me and I’ll do more.
Thursday, December 04, 2003
Forty is an extraordinarily advanced age to learn that envelopes can be sealed just as effectively with plain water as with spit.
Monday, December 01, 2003
When you go away for the weekend, and you find yourself sharing your hotel with a Premiership football team, and you decide to ask for autographs and pluck up the courage to go over to the team’s breakfast table, have a chat and ask for their signatures, you will fail to recognise the big stars, you will choose the wrong table, and you will walk proudly away with three autographs. However, had you turned round, you would see the club’s physiotherapist, kit-bag man and sock-fabric research consultant in stitches in your wake.