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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.

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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.

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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!”

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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.

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A man and a pie and a sand shot to glory

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Hello Folks

My name is Terry Cotter. I’m a Potter.

I have been potterising for nearly two decades now. I stock a wide range of ceramic goods in my shop down here in Lower Swell.

Here are some reviews of some of my favourite bits from the world they call “Art”.

1. Painting

The Mona Lisa - Da Vinci’s masterpiece - I too knew a girl called Lisa who moaned a lot.

The Original Version!

The Original Version!

He Painted It – But Without A Yorkshire Pudding On His Head

2. Movies

Transformers – erm…..erm…..sorry……nope not a clue – why does it go on a bit?

3. Music

Beethoven’s 7th - it begins with; dum de dum dum dum de dum – goes on a bit thereafter.

4. Dance

The Nutcracker - Heavy hammed lads in tights and cod pieces go – PRANCE – PRANCE - LEAP! - Then thin birds in miniskirts go tippy toe -tippy toe – stand still – TWIRL!  - none of this has anything to do with nuts – which always confuses me.

PS What is a Potter’s favourite song?  Kiln Me Softly!

Village News

Whoever stole the Village notice board please return it.

Until next time……keep those wheels a spinning!

TCTP

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Hello!

With the World Cup in full swing and with too many matches on TV to allow me to write anything new here is another famous scene from World Cups of yore.

1966 was a great year to be British. Dentistry had been bought in from the cold. Roofs were becoming commonplace and plugs of all varieties were no longer in short supply!

Brown and Bitter was a staple drink of the working classes and not a comment on inner city racial tensions.

On July 37th 1966 England won the World Cup for footballing.

Yet it was a game not without controversy!

The Queen is caught stealing fried onions from the burger bar at half-time but The Establishment cover up her chronic kleptomania.

But there is one moment that still counts as one of the great talking moments in a game of many moments.

Did the chicken cross the line?

This image that proves conclusively nothing at all.

 

England claim success. The referee is unsure. He confers with the Georgian linesman. With a firm nod of his head Dimitri Yashmilli-Vanilli confirms a goal has been scored.

England go on to win the greatest prize in world football. In West Germany there is outrage. So angry are the Germans that they take revenge by developing a sustainable industrial base.

 THE BASTARDS!

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Hello Oily,

Several weeks ago I went to a health spa and had the nose spore cleansing that uses Siamese cat spittle as the cleansing agent. My nose has never been so shiny!

However since then I am becoming increasingly feline in my daily activities. Nocturnal, urinating over furniture, munching on mice and not really giving a shit. I have also developed a taste for licking my bottom in front of the TV.

My man has put a bell around my neck.

Do you think I should ask for my money back?

Tiddles, Avondale

Oily Replies;

Tiddles

This problem screams to me of someone who ain’t getting any.

Not surprising if you have allowed your pink canoe to go unused. My lady loveboy is always kept well manicured. In fact I insist on helping in this task myself using my own personal bag of tricks to aid him. I will send you one of these Lovebags on receipt of £ 39.99 plus p&p and a DVD of you and your girlfriend at the masseurs all hot and lithesome and……

Ahem oops..sorry I got sidetracked. Slightly. God is it hot and clammy in here or is it just me?

Anyway poppet the important thing is that once that lawn has been mowed and your punanny pavement has been pounded, the world will seem a much better place.

Have a saucer of milk to get you in the mood…..

Oily

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Goose

Hello,

I hope you enjoyed Part 1 yesterday. You can Read Part 1 here!

Here is Part 2 - Read on……….

Day 41 – Lisbon – scurry aboard Recife bound ship “Obrigado” – the principal cargo is buttock emollient cream, samba costumes and whistles – wriggle into a nice floral headpiece, matching sequinned bra and thong – I blending in with Brazilian culture!

Day 43 – The Obrigado – Unmasked by Boson as not “Hector” the vessel’s happy go lucky First Mate but as a non-paying transgender guest with well-honed buttocks – thrown in the Brig.

Day 43 – The Obrigado – Brought to ship’s captain – he is an unreconstructed romantic who is in a state of high dudgeon after reading the Bronte Classic Jane Eyre – he clutches me to his swelling breast and sobs uncontrollably “Poor Rochester,” he cries – tells me of his loon of a wife – a woman with a predilection for salty old tars – she is sealed away in ship’s bulkhead on account of her madness and “needs”.

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Day 46 – The Obrigado – Mass panic as Captain’s wife escapes and ravishes the ships Bursar, First and Second Mate, Boson, Petty Officer, Cook and a lad who happened to be passing in a Tuna fishing boat she spotted on the starboard bow – swam over to and ravished – she is captured and restored to her cell – the Captain sobs – I read him extracts from Wuthering Heights – “Poor Cathy,” is all he says.

Day 50 – Recife – Leave Obrigado - Captain donates lifetime supply of buttock emollient to thank me for my support – his wife ravishes me before I skip ashore – “Poor Cathy,” are the last words I hear.

Day 51 – Trans-Amazonian Highway – Sashay my way towards Belem – my bottom is revered by buttock cognoscenti.

Day 54 – Belem – Join Samba dance band - band rooted in bizarre Marxist theory that believes buttock wobbling in camp outfits will eventually destroy capitalism – I have my doubts.

Day 68 – Mouth of Amazon – Say farewell to my Samba Band colleagues with a toot on my whistle – Capitalism still intact – chop down big tree – shape it into giant clog and paddle towards Manaus.

Useful Tip in the Rain Forest #1 Never paddle in a thong.

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Day 71 The Amazon – See off attack from shoal of synchronised swimming Piranhas by dazzling them with my sequin studded brassiere – smear myself in emollient to fend off flesh-eating insects and mosquitos.

Day 75 – Fishing village of Maracaibo – Befriended by Geoff a double glazing salesman from Cornwall who. “turned left at Plymouth instead of right” – barter my whistle with him for a set of triple glazed French windows he happens to be carrying – lash them to clog and sail up the Amazon!

Day 80 – Manaus – Leave clog and trek into Forest – see all types of creatures – Jaguars, Monkeys, Lions, Tigers, Penguins, Polar Bears, even a Giraffe – realise I am in Manaus Zoo and head for exit – easy mistake to make. Turn left at MacDonald’s and find myself deep in the Rain Forest.

Useful Tip in the Rain Forest #2 – Never walk in a thong and stilettos in the Rain Forest.

Day 84 – Rain Forest – Felled by dart fired from blowpipe – fall into delirious fever – imagine erotic romps with Bilbo Baggins.

Day 86 – Rain Forest – Fever breaks and awake to find short lad with big ears and enormous feet next to me! I am in Middle Earth!

Day 86 – Rain Forest – Lad wakes up and smiles – he only communicates by twanging his nasal hairs in complex melodies – I discover his name is Whothefuckareyou? Chief of a long lost tribe who still don’t have a clue where they are – The Wherethefuckarewe?

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Day 86  - Rain Forest – I am the first white man in samba outfit with smooth buttocks the Wherethefuckarewe? have encountered – I am worshipped as their long lost God and christened Wherethefuckdidhecomefrom?

Day 87 – Rain Forest – The Wherethefuckarewe? are a proud people – traditional costume is an Adidas Shellsuit – it is good to see that they have not been tainted by western culture – Whothefuckareyou? organises a feast in my honour!

Day 88 – Rain Forest The feast comprises the traditional Amazonian dish of Burger and Chips washed down with a highly intoxicating liquor made by fermenting the bark of dogs – we partake in a fertility dance with a number of toothless harpies – nasal hairs plucked with much ferocity – Before passing out all I recall is a nasal hair plucking rendition of the Hokey Cokey, followed by Hi Ho Silver Lining……..

Day 93 – Rain Forest – Whothefuckareyou? leads me deep into the jungle – day after day I toil moving ever further from civilisation towards what? I know not – I am wilting – cannot go much further – chafed and blistered – my headgear a bit wonky – Finally he holds out a slightly wonky Light Sabre without batteries towards a clearing in the Forest.

Day 93 – In The Rain Forest – A place of serene beauty – never before seen by a white man dressed in a samba outfit – giant statues – thousands of years old – bearing a remarkable resemblance to the cast of US Sitcom Friends – guard this place – I hear water nearby – Whothefuckareyou? twangs on his nose hair – the sounds tell me that we have reached the source of the Amazon – A washer is needed to stop the dripping – slightly disappointing.

I think of Simon Cowell with a sausage on his head.

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Hello,

The best way to crack a terrorist?  Veruccas.

Sargent_Stench_Mctavish

I learned to love and cherish my veruccas. Not only were they a food source they also made steadfast companions. Easy to look after and not requiring sustenance apart from a sweaty sock or two, they make the perfect pet for us special forces types.

Terrorists cannot cope with Verucca Boarding. Whenever I whipped out my verucca sock and placed it on the nose of an evil terrorist – Boy oh Boy would that evil terrorist spill the beans.

Even beans he didn’t know about.

Think of it compadre – would YOU like an infestation of these little critters on the end of your conk? Thought not!

The technique was invented by Colonel Jock “McJock” Bollocks who headed up the deep cover Fungal Foot Fighting Force. Jock once took out an Iraqi machine gun nest armed only with a can of Athlete’s Foot spray and a belief in the redemptive qualities of Jesus Christ.

Legend or loon – you decide!

Now in civvy street when I go to the local baths for a swim, I think of all my little verucca chums nestling around the pool’s edge waiting to be called to defend our freedoms.

Thank you  Colonel Bollocks.

 

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Hi Kids,

Smoking Tobacco Is Bad For YOU!

cupboard crackhead copy

 

This applies to Cigarettes, Cigars, Cigarillos and Pipes (but not crack pipes). I would also counsel against smoking petrol, carpets and/or soap.

Do not confuse this with smoking fish. That is an ancient custom which provides a marvellous erm..erm….smokey taste to fish. Do not confuse this with fish that smoke - they have no hands, access to matches/lighters and being water based creatures……..you get my drift.

Just remember you’ve only got one set of lungs, but hundreds and hundreds of veins!

So Kids - SAY NO TO CIGARETTES (BUT YES TO OPIATES!)

Peace and Love

Uncle Crackhead

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Many of you will have read that Prince Charles had a pop at Russian President and leading gay rights advocate, Vladimir Putin “On The Ritz” calling Vlad a Nazi. (Best not to look too deeply at Charles’ Grandmother then!)

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Defender Of The Sausage

What was not revealed was the Chuck, currently annoying people in Nova Scotia, then went on to slam Beatles legend and champion of misjudged cosmetic surgery, Paul McCartney.

Gfb can reveal that Chas said about Macca, “Christ I’m sick of that scouse arsewipe. Ever since he married that one legged Geordie Harpie he’s been a right pain in one’s arse. Always turning up uninvited, Olympics, Jubilee, Weddings. If I hear “Hey Fuckin’ Jude”  emanating from his gob off key one more time I’ll get Mama to lock him in the fuckin’ Tower. He only gets the gig cos Camilla uses his plastic surgeon. Can’t you tell? They have the same nose and chin. Na Na Na Na me arse.”

But that was not all.

An hour later, drink in hand and a touch world weary, Charles was heard to say about the Dalai Lama, “Speccy Chink Wanker. Buddhist my arse. Looks like a nonce to me. Fuckin’ hate vegetarians I do. Never known any situation where having a sausage doesn’t make things better.”

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He then hopped over the garden fence to steal a pair of women’s knickers that were drying on a rotary dryer in the balmy Nova Scotian spring air.

 

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“One’s Always Been A Thong Man!”

 

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Hello

To celebrate world chinstrap week, Gingerfightback brings to you some of the great and good down the years who have proudly borne one. As Descartes said, “I chinstrap therefore I am.”

Enjoy

Here is The Pope

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And here is Steve McQueen!

McQueen – The Great Escape – The Chinstrap

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Hello People,

A few years ago I spent a most enjoyable fortnight reincarnated as Albert Einstein. It was great being brainy for a while.

During my time as Albert Einstein I discovered that light has slowed down a bit. This is good news for all those who rely on torches to see in the dark as the batteries will last longer.

I also invented the dashes to add to the dots in Morse Code which up to that point hadn’t worked very well. As you can see, —…— tells a whole different story!

Yep, It Was Fun Being Albert Einstein.

You may think I am a fantasist who eats cheese late at night……….I would beg to differ. I was there.

Regards,

Agnes

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