Supermodels make me sick........or themselves sick.........look, I don't really know what I'm talking about but there's definitely some sick involved somewhere

Nottingham: Ready For War

This photograph shows what appears to be the erection of the dome/clock tower of Nottingham's famous council house during it's construction in the late nineteen-twenties. The eagle-eyed among you however, will not have failed to notice the obvious similarities between this photograph and the infamous U2 spy plane photographs of Soviet ICBM silos under construction near Havana some thirty years later which led directly to the Cuban missile crisis, pushing the world to the very brink of nuclear armageddon . 
The truth of the matter is that the Council House dome was not built for aesthetic reasons at all, but does in fact house a Russian built R36 intercontinental ballistic missile armed with a single warhead containing an eight megaton yield nuclear device capable of creating a fireball with a 30 mile blast radius, which is kept permanently fuelled and ready to launch at Derby city centre at a moment's notice.
While we all hope that the use of the missile will be necessary, it is reassuring to know that it is there, guarding us like a huge and utterly insane thermonuclear dog guarding it's favourite radioactive megabone even though the deranged canine knows that exploding the deadly megabone a mere 15 miles from it's own kennel would inevitably result in it's own instantaneous vaporisation. Ironically, at the same time as killing it, the fireball would completely cure the hypothetical dog(which I have named Cloughie) of the rabies which led to it's insanity in the first place. The Lord giveth, The Lord taketh away.
Fortunately the city council have built in rigorous safeguards to prevent an accidental launch of the device. On deciding that the time is right to launch a pre-emptive strike against Pride Park, Robin Hood will send the launch codes via two blindfolded carrier pigeons to Sue Pollard and Christopher Dean, who both hold one of the keys which simultaneously need to be inserted into the anus of each of the two stone lions guarding the Council House on The Old Market Square side of the building. Once this is done, the launch procedure is(for obvious safety reasons) irreversible.

Just watched 'The Elephant Man'. Worst f*cking super-hero film I've ever seen. Pretty cool disguise though.

Progress

In the nineteen-eighties the once proud city of Liverpool seemed like a lost cause. Urban decay, unemployment, Derek Hatton, Margaret Thatcher and Ken Dodd all did their bit to sink the place into the Mersey sludge. Then the entire population stops reading The Sun for twenty-five years and now look at it! Maybe we should all give it a try. What have you got to lose? Not reading The Sun involves no effort whatsoever. Seriously, it's an absolute Ken Doddle.


Actually, I quite like Ken Dodd.

BONG! Dirk Benedict joins Van Halen. Now sports.

Some people think that our ancient ancestors were more spiritually aware than us and were in touch with psychic energies in a way which we have lost, but I think that they led nasty, short, cold, disease ridden lives because they knew f*ck all.

Insane Crown Posse

Outstanding In His Field

Scarecrows really are getting frighteningly realistic these days. I saw one driving a tractor earlier!

Uranus

Did you know that you can use astrology to quickly find out if you are compatible with a potential partner? Simply ask them if they believe in astrology, if they say yes, turn around and find someone less stupid.

Queen's Visit To Nottingham

Imagine my horror: Knowing that The Queen was visiting my home town of Nottingham today to open something we probably don't want(like a tractor factory or Prince Edward or something), and knowing that the flightpath of the royal helicopter would lead her directly over my house, I prepared myself to strike a decisive victory for democracy.
Both my parents are French*, and they recently passed to me our most valued family heirloom, the very guillotine once used to decapitate Louis XVI! I could feel the regicidal power of this monarch hating super weapon boiling away beneath it's utilitarian exterior, so I readied myself to help it relive it's 18th century heyday one last time by firing it at the royal flight as it passed overhead. I hefted the guillotine onto my shoulder, and aimed it directly at the Q's helicopter and(knowing that my aim was straight and true) depressed the release catch.
Nothing happened.
Of course, what my parents failed to tell me, is that the guillotine is a gravity powered weapon which is only useful for murdering monarchs who's heads are BELOW the height of it's flashing blade at the point of release.
When I say 'nothing happened', I do of course mean 'I condemned us to another thousand years of chinless tyranny'. Sorry about that.


*Not true.

I see that David Cameron has criticised Prince William for not doing enough to earn his privileged lifestyle. No really, David Cameron......

......the man born with a silver yacht up his arse, who's failing in his difficult job of not being even worse at running the country than New Labour.

You are what you eat, and she ate Mariah Carey

I don't know about you, but I very much enjoyed last night's 'You Are What You Eat: Celebrity Special' featuring Mariah Carey. I don't think any of us were surprised when Gillian McKeith examined Mariah's stool sample and found that the empty-headed Ameriwarbler had mistakenly shat out yet another god-awful dinner party power ballad. For God's sake Gillian, put it back up. PUT IT BACK UP!

 Picture shows Mariah Carey taking a Tom Tit in readiness for the show.

Jubilee Concert: Prince Philip Plays Dead

I think we can all understand Prince Philip's brilliant idea of pretending to have a bladder infection on this, the most tedious day so far of The Queen's sixty years in charge of this nasty little country. Palace sources claim that the palace sauce himself has been taken to hospital as a precautionary measure. A precautionary measure against the wily old bastard dusting off his elephant gun and taking a few pot-shots at the various slices of nob cheese who will be performing at this evening's Jubilee concert no doubt. Perhaps these performers would do well to remember that The Queen and Prince Philip were young approximately seventy-five years ago and as such, are unlikely to give a shit about them. Even though our entire royal family does a very good job of appearing to be almost unbelievably dim, I don't think that even The Q-Unit In Chief herself is dim enough to want to watch Gary fucking Barlow wheeled out in his fat-suit for the whole nation to patriotically hate/ignore.
Nice one Philip, give the nurse one from me will ya? Ya fecking dirty old genius you.

When a colleague asked me if I watched Sky News last night, I decided not to tell him that, although I am proud that I am not thick enough to watch Sky News, I am ashamed that I am thick enough to work with someone who does.

I have applied for planning permission to build a grassy knoll outside Downing Street. I just hope that the customers at my new high powered rifle shop opposite the mental hospital aren't too mental to put two and two together. I have also constructed a deserted Book Depository which coincidentally has excellent views of Rupert Murdoch.

No, I don't know what a 'knoll' is either, but I know it's going to be grassy.

Did you know that the reason men and women hold hands is nothing to do with love? It's to do with women needing to hang on to something because they can't walk properly in their stupid shoes.

 Women: Buy some proper shoes.

Putting the 'bile' into 'Jubilee'.

I would like to take this opportunity to express on behalf of the nation, the gratitude that we all feel for the magnificent sixty year reign of The Big Q. We could all do well to remember that The Q-Unit spends very little of her royal time floating down The Thames on a golden barge, in fact she very rarely leaves her bed chamber at all, where she spends most of her time laying the millions of eggs from which all English speaking people are born.
So next time you think about making some smart-arsed comment on our mentally ill royal family, just remember HMtheQ stuck in Buck Palace firing eggs out of her cod-cannon like a Bangkok lady-boy with a brand new man-clam and a fresh bucket of ping-pong balls.
I for one am dreading that fateful day when our illustrious leader finally pops her clogs and the sky darkens when, as one, the entire population of The Commonwealth rises up into the air to form a giant swarm in order to locate a new Queen.

I've Only Landed In A F*cking Crumble

Royal Family Tries Not to Laugh As Tunnel Brings Back Happy Memories

I don't care if he has discovered two new purple furry planets, nobody needs a monocle AND an effin' telescope.