Screen grab via YouTube
Parody can all too often be a blunt instrument when attempting to employ what passes for a sense of humour in a world ruled by an elite required to undergo a sense of humour by-pass.
The original premise of the Downfall Parody clips posted to YouTube was very clever, nicely crafted and rather funny. However, the endless repetition of the same joke adapted for football clubs, pop songs and the internet itself resulted in the genre eating itself with a Downfall Parody rant ranting about Downfall Parody rants. It stopped being funny but still has some millage. The actor selected to portray Joseph Goebbels, who stands in sinister silence behind Hitler, bears a striking resemblance to the Heath Secretary, a certain Jeremy Hunt.
There is not enough parody left in the world to direct at Jeremy Hunt. Hyperbole, sarcasm, analogy, ironic juxtaposition, metaphor, derision and cynical mockery will fly way above the head of this freeloading shyster. (more…)
Image via walsall-people.co.uk
It has been brought to my attention that an article recently published on this blog contains an inaccuracy that requires some sort of apology, apparently.
Due to an unfortunate oversight, a trivial snippet of information was allowed to be included in the piece which, on reflection, might suggest in some way given a certain interpretation taken completely out of context and manipulated beyond recognition viz-a-viz evidential credence and factual credibility by certain dark forces wishing to discredit me, might or might not without prejudice, actually be true or not as the case may be.
The minor discrepancy is so insignificant that it hardly warrants a second thought but my experienced and very expensive legal advisors inform me that under new legislation designed to curb free speech and silence the inalienable right to make stuff up about people, some form of correction is expected. Let me state categorically that I am not responsible for this minor lapse in the usually impeccable and irreproachable ethical standards of this publication. In fact, after learning of this inconsequential distraction upon my return from a holiday in Dubai, I replaced my entire team of researchers and reported my correspondents, political editors, sub-editors, editors and managing editors to the local constabulary. (more…)
Image via comedyclowncar.co.uk
When young drivers and some older people who should know better, spend inordinate amounts of time, effort and money in turning their wheels into a statement, it seems unduly cruel to point out that the statement they are making is: “look at me, I`m a prat.”
False eyelashes on headlights, butterfly decals on a two-door hot-hatch and a parcel shelf full of teddy bears obscuring the rear-view mirror is, I`m afraid, in no way amusing or endearing. I recall observing the son of gullible neighbours spend a week or two “pimping his ride” as the urban cognoscenti would have it. Week one involved installing a sound system into the boot of a car that was considerably smaller than the bass bin being fitted. Rather than modify the four by twelve speaker, the nascent Jeremy Clarkson took an angle-grinder to the body work of an impressive Fiat Punto thus rendering his very expensive insurance premium null and void. His choice of a Drum and Bass CD to test the sound system had pigeons falling dead from the sky and disrupted the turn to final approach into Birmingham International Airport by a Boeing 777 inbound from Dubai. (more…)
It is, perhaps, the ultimate proof of failed parenthood when an announcement that the household alpha male has been followed home from the pub by a hedgehog provokes scant surprise or any comment from children glued to Family Guy on the television.
A couple of weeks ago, trudging back from the pub through a night that can only be described as “driech”, a movement in a hedge close to home suggested the presence of a rat. Quickening my step, I turned and saw a hedgehog emerge onto the pavement. I stopped; the hedgehog stopped. I moved on; the hedgehog followed. The vast majority of previous encounters with these creatures had led me to believe that they resembled flat, spiky fish and had external organs but this specimen was round and intact. There was no evidence of physical injury and it seemed in good health so I went home.
“No, really, a hedgehog just followed me home. It`s on the doorstep now.” The youngest cynic, already a veteran of tall stories from a dad full of Guinness, was the only one to respond, probably more out of sympathy than interest. Upon re-opening the front door and finding the hedgehog with wet and doleful eyes attempting to climb the step, the resultant “squeeee” (I believe that this is an acceptable use of language on Facebook) provoked the stirring of the household. Within moments the creature was wrapped in a towel and eating cat food in the kitchen. (more…)
Picture by Adrian Rothery on Gegograph under a Creative Common license and image via brownhillsbob.com
He ain`t a-gonna need this house no longer
Ain`t a-gonna need this house no more
Ain`t got time to fix the shingles
Ain`t got time to fix the floor
Ain`t got time to oil the hinges nor to mend no window panes
He ain`t gonna need this house no longer he`s a-getting` ready to meet the saints.
Talking to a wall can, on some occasions, be therapeutic to those engaged in deep contemplation. Articulating complex thought processes by vocalising at some stout bricks bonded by two parts sand one part cement can be helpful even if the activity attracts some funny looks. Walls, however, are not great conversationalists and unless you happen to be in procession of a very loud trumpet in the manner of Joshua before the Walls of Jericho, it is pointless to ask any questions. Given a reputation for stubbornly refusing to engage in any form of dialogue, it still remains more likely that you will receive a straight answer from a wall rather than a straight answer from Walsall Council`s breeze block cabinet. (more…)