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Posts Tagged ‘UK’

Oily,

I am afraid of the dark. As a Vampire this causes issues regarding my work-life balance.

I’ve lost my torch.

Vlad, Bucharest

Oily Replies;

Vlad, I once shot a camp vamp romp in Voslovovitrichbitchstitchvitch.

Early 90’s. Wonderful part of the world. The rolling mountains like a fair maiden’s heaving bosoms. Except with goats on them.

The women were very hairy and manly. May well have been men now I think about it. The alleyway was dark, the local brew strong.

As she tenderly growled she picked me up and threw me over her shoulder assuring me that Igor was a girl’s name in that part of the world. And who was I to argue. Especially with two broken ribs.

As the song goes “Fang Heaven for little girls……..”

Oily

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As you know we are always being told to have 5 a day! I couldn’t agree more!

cupboard crackhead copy

 

I recommend a Marijuana, Vodka, Crack, Speed, Smack sandwich – on locally sourced Wholegrain naturally.

No butter as it is bad for the heart.

Peace and Love

Uncle Crackhead

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Sargent_Stench_MctavishHello,

As ex-special forces I can kill using trapped wind.

In my book – life behind enemy lines in Iraq – “It’s Not Invasion It’s Liberation,” – I recount a story of Death by Bloat.

Here is an extract…..

“The Lethal Force Action Group were struggling. Sweat rash had laid Fungus Thompson out and Sniffer Tomkins and Jellytits O’Loon were  beginning to wilt.

Food supplies were running low. We were forced to lick eachother’s Athlete’s Foot for sustenance. On a good day I would give the lads access to my Veruccas. They are laden with protein.

My field training allowed me to make a tasty Athlete’s Foot/Verucca soup. To add flavour I used the chicken stock cubes and herb garland (Tarragon, Rosemary and Bay Leaf) I carry in my Ammo Belt.

The lads lapped it up!.

……………………………..Finally, after days of searching we came across the enemy compound. The Bad Lad from Baghdad was singing along to a Justin Bieber DVD warbling, “Baby, Baby, Baby, Baby” only in Arabic. ‘Cos he was an Arab.

I could smell soup. Vegetable soup. In less hostile times I would have volunteered my stock cubes and a dunk of the herb bouquet.

But I was here to serve my country, kill foreigners and find the gold bullion.

Gurkha Tenpin-Bowling reccied the compound and our one legged Sioux Brave, Itchy Scalp performed a rain dance (Footloose meets Dirty Dancing via The Exorcist).  I inched my way in. The Bad Lad from Baghdad was one mean looking compadre but had engrained gravy stains running down his shirt which lessened his evil visage.

I had to think. Fast. On my feet. I disguised myself as a bowl of soup. Well, more of a broth actually – but you get the gist….

soup_mctavish

The bowl containing me was placed on the table accompanied by lovely crusty bread rolls. Seeded.

I reconstituted myself and bamboozled the Bad Lad from Baghdad with cries of “Baby, baby, baby, baby” a la Bieber. He really was a Belieber judging by the posters on his walls.  I then used the trapped wind death grip on him.

The poor lad was a goner.

It turned out that he was not a Bad Lad from Baghdad, but Baghdad’s leading (only) Justin Bieber impressionist who recently had appeared on Iraqi TV’s “The Sunni and Shia Show” and was in town to sing at a local warlord’s surprise birthday party.

The bullion? No trace of it I’m afraid……….

beiber_sausage

 

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spermwithaperm

Hi Everyone!

Two words that strike fear into sperm.

Erectile Dysfunction.

Lately with him we’ve had more  chance of raising the Titanic. A diet of oily fish and Sandra Bullock films played havoc with his urgings.

Then it all changed yesterday – during a documentary about Giraffes.

Before you can say “what a load of codswallop” – his downstairs blood flow picks up – and she got more than that egg and tomato sandwich for tea!

I am one happy zygote!

Right……Ready Or Not…..Here I Come!

sperm_wiggle

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I had the morning off waiting for Curry’s to deliver the new flat screen TV. It’s got surround sound, radar, sonar and a missile launching system. Naturally they didn’t turn up.

The curly Kale diet was working its magic and I was on the pot reading The Sun.

The Yanks are going to start bombing Iraq again because although we “won” and “left a vibrant, pluralistic, democratic state” behind, it has all gone a bit tits up and some Angry Lads who think they are indestructible want to set up a Caliphate (whatever that is – thought it was a camping stove) – and suppress everything that lives there – even the wind if it blows too hastily.

Now a load of Ancient Christians are stuck up an Iraqi mountain (like Moses when he nipped up one to get a few do’s and dont’s – the one about not killing is always good for a laugh) – the Angry Lads want to kill them because their version of the same God is different – largely in choice of headwear it seems to me.

Then there’s the Israeli’s – same God – different head-gear again – slaughtering the innocents and creating more Angry Lads in the process.

Jesus was up a mountain – told us to be good – talk about stating the obvious! Then he was slaughtered – on a mountain.

Fuck it – going down the Stretched Testicle for a few pints.

At least me bowels are moving with aplomb.

But what is it with religion and mountains?

Go tell it my son!

I blame Buddhists. Bastards to a man.

Bob

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Ginger Is A State Of Mind

Warhol. One word. One man.

“Ginger Wigs”.

A collection of Ginger Wigs. Wigs that are Ginger.

So brave. So challenging. So daring. So-da Stream.

 

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2014 Open Golf Champion, Rory McIlroy acknowledged the role the Scotch Egg played in delivering his latest triumph in the world of hitting little balls with a stick.

rory4 copy

Rory throws his Scotch Egg into the crowd in celebration

“Playing with Scotch Eggs allows me to have more control over my short game and when I am feeling peckish I can nibble on these  tasty savoury snacks,” he may have said.

rory2 copy

Man and Scotch Egg in perfect harmony

Young Rory, who hails from Holywood, Northern Ireland went on to say, “Me darlin’ Mammy identified a deficiency in my hip stance  and got me playing with Scotch Eggs to improve things. Like it is, so it is. Like.”

But Mammy McIlroy didn’t stop there, “She would make a variety of Scotch Eggs for me to play with. Big ones, little ones, ones with indentations at the top, pimpled ones and even one that was square! As you can imagine that didn’t roll very well!”

young rory copy

Young Rory & the Scotch Egg of destiny

Gingerfightback’s science correspondent, Damien Semi-Jap-Stranglehold spoke to Ursula Ooh-La-La, Professor of advanced Scotch Eggery at the University of Toulouse who told him, “Mais Oui mon cherie, Je t’adore le Piat D’or – make lurve a moi by the opagne firrreside a hoh – he – hoh.”

It is not the first time that Golfers have turned to meat base products. Jack Nicklaus won the 1978 US Open playing with a pork pie boiled in vinegar.

niklaus copy

A man and a pie and a sand shot to glory

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