Archive for April, 2009
My previous attempt to have sex with the last girl who sent me an email forward failed after she found out how to block my messages. Now, however, I have completed one of her challenges with responses so nakedly honest that she will have no choice but to be filled with a desire to gaze on my naked honesty…
You’ve just cooked dinner for your four friends, when disaster strikes and you drop the chicken on the kitchen floor. Before you can stop him, the dog dashes in and licks it, but you get it away before he can do anything else. You have nothing else to cook. Do you own up, or do you serve the chicken up for tea? You’re vegetarian anyway.
My ‘four friends’? ‘Dropping the chicken’? Is this a question about playing with yourself? That sends you blind, you know. Oh, apparently it’s just about food. The answer here is quite simple. The dog has ruined the dinner, therefore the dog must replace it. I would give it half an hour to prepare a scintillating repast, or else it would be Fido fricasée for the acolytes of the Mysterious Mr Turtlewind. Some would call this casual cruelty to animals, I call it natural selection.
After the rapturous reception received by my warning against the dissembling nature of McDonalds, my scorpion buddies and I decided to reward you foolish lay people with another glimpse into the fascinating world of the International Turtle of Mystery. I was drawn to this heading because it involves laughing at death, which I like to do most weekday evenings, hiding at retirement homes until the hearses arrive when I leap out giggling at the funny boxes. › Continue reading
It has been a scary few months in the life of your friend, the Mysterious Mr Turtlewind. I was so drained by the tedium of completing some unesteemed fool’s challenge in my previous epistolatory masterpiece that I allowed myself to be abducted by the Anti-Matt, a universe-shattering Mini Cheddar-addicted demon. Who lives in a garage in Harwich.
Anti-Matt has always been a lower-level nemesis, a former housemate who turned against his mentor after a nasty argument about the gas bill while clearing rebels out of Suffolk in the ‘98 Calpol War. I’m still not quite sure where he got his unnatural powers of mould generation and universe shattering, but I think it might have been in the car park toilets where men do things to each other’s bottoms.
I was dangling from the ceiling (there was a chair but you couldn’t get round the battered white Ford Escort to sit on it) for about a week while Anti-Matt revealed his evil schemes. Well, he talked a lot about being a homeless orphan and things, but then his parents came round to see his new flat, so I was left on my own for a bit. › Continue reading
When I was told that for the second year in a row, the BBC’s soap Eastenders would have as its Easter plot a man being buried alive, I scoffed. “Of course not!” I said. “That would be ridiculous.”
Last year housewife Tanya was bored, and so decided to bury her husband Max (Kill-Crazy from Red Dwarf) alive in the woods in a coffin. Max then dug his way out and rose from the dead, and now a year later they are living together as a happy loving family and I haven’t a clue why (apart from the fact that the writers seem to think middle aged balding men are irresistible).
But last night, Phil Mitchell (another irresistible middle aged balding man) had the villainous Archie Mitchell in a pit whilst he stood above him with a cement mixer laughing away evilly. Archie is a classic soap villain in that his sole motivation is ‘he’s evil’. Of course we don’t get a cementy death in a pre-watershed popular drama, so instead Archie just gets water hilariously poured on his head. Then Phil’s mum (played by Barbara Windsor of Carry-On fame) throws him out of the house for not being a murderer. I wish I could make this stuff up.
The sheer amount of deaths and attempted murders in Eastenders recently has made me cast my mind back to those we have lost. Come with me on my journey through Eastenders-Land and my favourite horrible deaths! › Continue reading
It’s always nice to know how things begin. Why Optimus Prime doesn’t like Megatron. Where those freaky holograms from the Visionaries came from. Why I was in the ditch that morning wearing the chicken suit.
He-Man never got any sort of beginning or attempts at an explanation though. The audience was just thrown straight in to the crazy world of a big semi-naked man wrestling a blue skeleton. And to be fair the franchise was aimed at five-year-olds, so creating a complex back-story wasn’t really on anyone’s mind.
There was always that niggling question though – just who was Skeletor? Why was he so powerful, and what was his motivation besides ‘being a huge jerk’? There were no answers forthcoming in the classic series, though we did get close.
He-Man toys had the added value of a minicomic packaged with them, which helped advertise the toys and show how amazing they were. They really helped my little child-brain love He-Man, and I kept them all neat in my secret cupboard! (Ever kid needs a secret cupboard). The 1987 line of toys came with what is perhaps the most interesting minicomic produced – The Search For Keldor! › Continue reading