Thursday, August 18, 2005

Three Bedouins and a Tribunal


Bunker is furnished like a Boardroom. 3 Saddam Husseins, an Iraqi General and a Concubine in a burkha sit around a large meeting table. Two guards stand to attention in the background, between them hangs an Iraqi flag.

GENERAL : Ok! stop messin about. Which one of you is it?

SADDAM 2 : Hai... am he.

CONCUBINE : I hope he is, he just pinched my ass.

All 3 Saddams jump to their feet, hands hovering over their holsters.

ALL SADDAMS : [Unison] I am Saddam. [Music box type tune begins to play]

GENERAL : [Counts them] Hang on! where,s the other one?

All saddams look at their feet whistling.

An Aid bursts into the room, gasping for breath

AID : It's Saddam. He's in the infirmary. He sliced off his finger whilst chopping Shallots

[Points to left hand]

One of the guards steps forward. It's a Robert Mitchum lookalike. He holds a wicked looking 'YAKUZA' knife. Flicks the blade with the ball of his thumb.

MITCHUM : Shall I play mum?

All 3 Saddams thrust their left hands into their trouser pockets.

SADDAM 1 : If I lost a few pounds I could do Charlie Chaplin. [Holds his left hand to his chest protectively]


The front end of a Cruise Missile appears through the wall 'PRESENT FOR SADDAM', written in black on the side.

The Concubine removes her Yazmak... It's a Meg Ryan lookalike

MEG : You got mai...ail !!!

ALL SADDAMS : [Pointing at each other] It's for him.


3 Saddams and half a Robert Mitchum exit crator left


Scene 2


3 Saddams stand in the dock, a small contingent of NATO representatives sit to the left. Various Courtroom officials are in position around the room. The judge presides

JUDGE: Saddam Abedneggar 'Lucille' Hussein. You stand before this court accused of War Crimes, Genocide, Breach of NATO resolutions and flicking bogeys at David Mellor on a trip to Baghdad in 1988... How do you plead?

SADDAM 3: [Turns to Saddam1] He's talking to you

SADDAM 1: [Stabs Saddam 2 in the chest with his finger]. You told him to say that

SADDAM 2: [Scouse accent] Hey Lah, wot's wiv the finger, Cum 'ead

Saddam 2 dances around trying to headbutt Saddam 1

DEFENCE LAWYER: M' Lud! I call for a mis-trial. We can't try three men for the crimes of one

PROSECUTOR: A suggestion Y' ronnor. It's known that the real Saddam has an abnormally large Todger. I simple comparison might solve the problem.

One of the NATO contingent stands and addresses the Judge

U.S. REPRESENTATIVE: If I may speak M' Lud? Saddam Hussien can't be identified by the size of his Wibbledy Wand. It's contrary to NATO agreements on U.S. foreign policy.

JUDGE: I don't understand.

U.S. REP: Section HV105/P2... A breach will deemed to have occurred if unfavourabe comparisons are made between any suspected War Criminal and the size of the Presidential Hampton. Furthermore, any negative discourse, whether public or private, on the size of the President's MR Pickle will be seen as an act of Terrorism©

The judge scratches his forehead and straightens his wig.

JUDGE: How inconvenient, So what is the size of the president's, hmmmm... Mr. Peanut?

U.S. REP: [Shaking his head] No... That’s Mr. Pickle M'Lud, I’m afraid that's under a 75 yr non-disclosure Sir. National security measure

JUDGE : Yes, quite. You may approach the bench; I'm cleared to the highest level.

U.S. Representative approaches the bench and whispers in the judges ear

JUDGE: [Smiling broadly] Really!!! Failed the Lewinsky test you say? My condolences to his stenographer. However, I think I see a way around our little [snigger] problem

The judge bangs his gavel and straightens his wig again

JUDGE: Bailiff? Bring me one of those Cuban Cigars and a Meat Cleaver.

[Looks at the dock with raised eyebrows].

JUDGE: On second thoughts Bailiff, make that a half corona.

Saddam 1 vaults from the dock and makes a run for it


Scene 3


3 Saddams are perched on a Camel. They are ill equipped for their journey.
Obviously they are suffering with the heat.

SADDAM 2 : Right what do we do now?

SADDAM 1 : [German accent] Vell, ve kan't go beck to ze 'Saddam trade'. Ze market hass kaput. Ya???

SADDAM 3 : What about the Pope? He has body doubles. All you have to do is put on a Dress, a big hat and pretend to be arthritic.

SADDAM 2 : Nah, we're too young, besides, anyway I don't fancy being a Pope. You have to wear the Fisherman's Ring.

SADDAM 3 : Don't they use lubrication? Y'know, cut down on friction.

SADDAM 2 : Don't be daft, it wouldn't get worn then would it?

SADDAM 1 : Vot a Boomer!!!

SADDAM 2 : Well at least the altar boys never have to genuflect in the Apse. Now, concentrate, what we really need is a disguise.

SADDAM 3 : I know... EuroDisney... We could do hospitality. They get to wear costumes

SADDAM 2 : I wouldn't want to get a job as the little mermaid... That tail gives me the willies

SADDAM 3 : I'm getting worried about you, What's all this about fishing and homosexuality?

SADDAM 2 : Something I heard about Michael Jackson performing on the net. O.K... Eurodisney it is


To be Continued…

The Crystal Skulls

The water, falling in droplets from the numerous stalagtites, beats a constant tattoo like some natural, ritual, torture. The L shaped cave isn’t large but the acoustics seem to hint at depths unseen. At spaces that, maybe, don’t exist solely in this dimension. And what dimension is this, exactly? How did you come to be here? You don’t recall an entrance or a tunnel of any type.

A cursory inspection leads to the inescapable conclusion that this must be a dream or some out of body experience. No way to get in, no way to get out. It seems real enough, the caustic ammonia tang, of Bat guano, a pungent explanation of the crunchy yet slime treacherous footing. The water, of course, the perceptible chill of ancient rock, provides all the sensory evidence of existence you need.

The thought occurs that something must be lighting the way. Reaching the corner you turn into the adjacent leg of the L to find a roughly hewn, stone table. The table holds 3 perfectly fashioned crystal skulls of various, ethnic design.

Amazingly, the skull on the left speaks,

LEFT SKULL: God, I need a shag

RIGHT SKULL: Don’t be stupid, flatface, you can’t shag. You don’t have the necessary equipment.”

The skull in the centre, larger and somehow more refined than the others, answers in a patronising tone.

CENTRE SKULL: Speak for yourself, I can "shag" anyone I choose. I’m a multi-dimensional entity

RIGHT SKULL: That’s just it, you stuck up sod! It has to be a communion of minds. A meeting of souls

LEFT SKULL: Bollocks to that, I want a tight piece of ass

RIGHT SKULL: You’ll just have to make do with the cerebral won’t you?

LEFT SKULL: I can’t.

RIGHT SKULL: What’s wrong now?

LEFT SKULL: I’ve forgotten how to do it

To be continued…

Monday, August 15, 2005

Only One

Ok work with this one will ya? it was a
fun article for me. So give it your best shot.


The world is a stage, there is only one actor,
only one producer, only one that directs all things.

There is only one voice, only one script, and only one roll.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.. "hello." "Someone is at the door,
I must answer it." Let me ask you a question, "where did
the KNOCK come from?" "From the door, someone is there."

The world is a stage, there is only one actor, only
one producer, only one that directs all things.

There is only one voice, only one script, and only one roll.

Who stands at the door and KNOCKS?

~By shyloh~

I'm up for it (always blowing my own trumpet (I wish)) -Kah

Ooer! There’s Only One Script


A group of actors are relaxing in a corner of the studio. A scriptwriter sits in a Directors chair leafing through a script. On the back of the chair, scribbled in chalk, are the words ‘I AM GOD’.

SOUND OVER: [door slams shut, footsteps echo across the wooden, studio floor, getting nearer.].

A man in a fur coat enters left

FUR COAT MAN: Right everyone! Stop what you’re doing and listen up. My name is Frank Coley. I’m your new director. You! Get off my chair.

SCRIPTWRITER: {stage whisper} Oooh! Someone crawled out of the swamp on the wrong side this morning.

COLEY: Very funny, are you the piss-taker responsible for that?


COLEY:That! On the back of the chair, ‘I am Cod’.

SCRIPTWRITER: COD??? It looks like I AM GOD to me, G. O. D. Yep, it’s GOD alright.

COLEY: Do I look like I was born yesterday, do you think with a name like Coley I haven’t seen and heard that one a million times before? Get it wiped off. NOW!!!

MALE LEAD: What’s he rattling on about?

FEMALE LEAD: His name is Coley, it’s a type of fish.


No-one moves to wipe off the chalk. Coley is forced to wipe it off himself.

COLEY: Ok, where’s the script?

SCRIPTWRITER: Slight problem there Mr. Cod, I mean Coley, we only have one copy.

COLEY: Say again?

SCRIPTWRITER: There’s only one script.

COLEY: Jesus!!!

MALE LEAD: I thought he WAS Jesus

FEMALE LEAD: No, he’s a fish who thinks he’s God, big difference.

COLEY: I heard that.

FEMALE LEAD: Correction, a God-fish with ears

COLEY: Who are you two?

FEMALE LEAD: I’m Flo Thornley, and this is Brad Updike

COLEY: Aaah! The leading lady, hold this for me will you

He takes off his oversize fur coat and throws it at Flo, she catches it on reflex. Curls her lip in distaste and holds it at arms length.

FLO: Are you sure it’s dead?

SCRIPTWRITER: If it isn’t the animal rights will be picketing Grizzly Adams here

She drops the coat over the back of the chair

COLEY: I take it you know your lines?

SCRIPTWRITER: Another slight problem there

COLEY: What now?

SCRIPTWRITER: The last director had messed so much with the script we had to do a complete re-write. None of the cast has seen this script yet.

COLEY: Oh brother!

FLO: Now, he’s a monk

BRAD: A monkfish?

FLO: Bit out of his depth, then.

COLEY: SHUT UP!!! Let me think. Why is there only one script?

SCRIPTWRITER: The runner twisted an ankle, she didn’t show today. We couldn’t get it copied in time.

COLEY: Right, here’s what we’ll do, Who’s got the chalk?

They all look at each other shrugging.


Site Announcements

I'm in the process of moving house at the moment so I'm trying to get together some sketches to post (have to backtrack through some databurns 'cos my main PC's are in storage).


Thoughts for the day (mysteries of the universe)

What does 'occasional furniture' do when it isn't being furniture?

Does a 'stationary shop' imply that other shops move around?

How does Diarrhea know which way to go?

When one hand waves about on it's own, looking kinda silly and embarrassed, why do little bald orientals think it is clapping?


Sunday, August 14, 2005

The War on Saddam

The War on Saddam.

Sally Vator : War Correspondent


As you may have noticed by now, coalition forces have invaded Saddam. Two nights ago, crack troops crossed over the border from a neighbour, probably Mrs Hassan from number 34, and made their way up his left trouser leg laying siege to the strategic port of Nee Qap.

Acting on information received from a mole on his left thigh, the troops executed a daring raid up his Ali Men Tari canal in an attempt to 'decapitate' him. It isn't certain if the attack was successful but considering there is still evidence of bodily processes it seems unlikely.

Due to the nature of the campaign the number of troops are restricted but we are doing all we can to administer humanitarian aid, possibly a paracetamol or two.

Aid workers have been warned that Saddam is known to have produced dangerous chemicals, such as adrenalin and a particularly lethal form of Methane Gas. Special care should be taken around the twin towns of Bue toqz and the Anul Sphin Qatr ring road.

The War on Saddam, News update 24th Mar

Sally Vator : War correspondent


Following initial reports of easy progress the allies have met stiff resistance while trying to penetrate Niq ur el Astiq.

A full frontal assault on the Wire Fronts was pushed back when it encountered a huge warhead hidden in thick shrub surrounding an area known locally as the Pu Biq region.

The Anul Sphin Qatr ring road is now open again causing several gas alerts in the early hours of the morning, our reporter confirmed.

In the south, aid is being held up, by pockets of resistence, around the Ankh El Soq penninsula. Troops fear that after a lack of activity in the area that residue from the long walk taken by Saddam last thursday may make progress hazardous... Gas masks have been issued to aid workers in the area.

The War on Saddam, News update 25th Mar

Sally Vator : War correspondent


Several 'crack' troops are feared missing after they entered Gunjib Umm Fluph on the outskirts of Anul Sphin Qatr today. Although Saddam is thought to have a hidden supply of Andrex it seems he hasn’t used any yet.


Saturday, August 13, 2005

The End is Nigh


God sits at a cluttered desk in a swivel chair. He wears loose fitting robes and a necktie hangs loosely around his throat. A large bank of TV monitors, showing various regions of the world flicker behind him. A plate on his desk reads, JHWH – C.E.O. Afterlife LTD.
The intercom on his desk buzzes


GOD: Yes Mary?

MARY: Lady Di to see you ,sir.

GOD : Good send her in will you.

The door opens and Lady Di Spencer, dressed in sweat pants and shirt, breezes into the room and flops down in a vacant chair

DI: Hi JH! Just dropped by for a chat.

GOD: [looks over to the drink’s cabinet], Good, I’ll get the kettle on.

DI: No thanks, can’t stay long. I’m on official business, Chair of the Sufferers Union.

GOD: Damnation!!!

DI: That’s what I want to talk to you about. The conditions down there are appalling. All that Brimstone lying around, it’s against C.O.S.H.H. regulations and the latrine facilities are non-existent. Human Resources are having a fit.

GOD: I didn’t know they were down there. No-one tells me anything since the business went corporate.

DI: They aren’t down there, silly. They want to see some improvements in working conditions, that’s all. Oh! The fire regulations state that at least two fire extinguishers and a fire blanket should be available per 100sq feet as well.

Mobile phone rings

S/O: [ electronic ‘oh come all ye faithful’]

GOD: ‘Scuse me a minute, Di

He reaches into his robes and pulls out a flip phone

GOD: Hells bells! How do I answer this contraption?

DI: It’s the button with the green icon.

GOD: That’s technology for you.

he holds the phone, gingerly, away from his ear

GOD: Hello, God here… Ah, it’s you Peter. What is it this time?

He pauses whilst Peter speaks

GOD: Oh Christ, Jehovah’s Witnesses???

Another pause

GOD: No… No… Send ‘em next door to Allah. That should be good for a laugh. He loathes hawkers. Ok, see you at lunch… Oh and Peter? Keep me posted will you?

He folds away the flip –phone, can’t resist the temptation to flip it open again

GOD: [Into the flip phone]. Beam me up, Scotty!!!

He remembers Di

GOD: Ahem, now where were we, ah yes, fire regulations?

DI: Yes, you don’t need me to tell you what will happen if the inspector fails you on fire regs again?

GOD: Another fine?

DI: No, he’ll close the facility, you’ll have to relocate.

GOD: He can’t do that… Where will we put the Lutherians? They can’t go in with the Scientologists, there’d be a bloodbath!!!

DI: He won’t care about that. Holy wars are your department.

GOD: By Thor’s golden hammer, how much is it going to cost? We’re already over budget for this quarter.

DI: Leave it to finance, they have their ways.

GOD: Ah! It was all so much simpler in the old days. A bit of Smiting here, plague of seagulls there, it all got sorted out one way or another.

DI: You have to move with the times JH. People these days want to see some features and benefits or they’ll turn to your competitors. It’s all about PR and Marketing.

GOD: I suppose… I can leave it with you then Di???

DI: Can do. Right I’m off for some colonic irrigation.

GOD: What IS that exactly???



Two Jehovah’s Witnesses, clutching pamphlets, are walking towards a large Golden Gate (two broad, ornate, lattices supported by a pair of arms which hold crossed scimitars). They are approached by two, burly, Saracens who wear Kevlar BPV’s. They are armed with Gold plated AK47s The Saracens stop at a portable barrier which has been erected across the driveway.

SARACEN 1: Security passes, please, gentlemen,

JEHWIT 1: Erm, we want to see the houseowner

SARACEN 1: No-one gets past the barrier without a pass. There’s a terrorist alert.

JEHWIT 2 : Terrorist alert? Here?

SARACEN 1: That’s right we have a coach load of suicide bombers arriving at 1600 hrs. Ossama Full Trashcan’s lot..

JEHWIT 2 : Is that a problem? I mean, surely they wouldn’t bomb Allah?

SARACEN 1: They can’t help it, it’s in the training, as soon as they see a closed gate it’s out with the semtex and faster than a Hassari with a Pashtun girlfriend it’s, wam, bam, salaam mam. Habit of a lifetime… Well, what there was of it.

He throws a cigarette stub to the floor. Stubbing it out with the butt of his AK

JEHWIT 2 : I thought they got welcomed with open arms.

SARACEN 1: Don’t be daft lad… We have Mohamed (pbuh) in here, and the place is full of Sunni Delight. Ossama’s lot go off at the slightest provocation. Ain’t that right Abdullah.

ABDULLAH: Too true, Hassan. It’s the detonators, very sensitive to spoof trade names. Mohamed (pbuh) drinks Sunni D by the gallon. He’s famous for his drinking ‘round these parts is our Mohamed (pbuh)

JEHWIT 1: Do you want to borrow a handkerchief


JEHWIT 1: You sound like you have a cold coming on

SARACEN 1: Are you taking the St Michael?

JEHWIT 2: Certainly not, he’s designing menswear for M&S isn’t he?

SARACEN 1: Right! That’s it… Bugger off the pair of you. Allah isn’t seeing anyone he’s having his hair done.




It’s a fine summer day. The moulting thistledown clings to the weave of your Chino’s as you push forward, through the scrub, towards the stand of trees ahead. As you near the copse you hear the rustling of robes, the squeak of a wheel sorely needing oil. You smell incense.
Several carrion crows rise from the trees, caw-cawing in indignation. Endorsing a sharp noise that disturbs the calm air like a harbinger. PHWAAAP! It recalls the noise made when a good driving wood strikes the tee, fair and true. As it should recall the noise, for that is exactly what you just heard. Follow the ball through the air… No… BE the ball.
You slam through the air. Picking up speed as gravity loses its jealous grip, slides away to mumble in your slipstream. You leave the ground behind as you accelerate. Had you lungs, you would scream them raw with the joy of it. Had you lungs you would gasp for breath as the air fans out around your tight, dimpled, skin, evading the greedy attempt to imprison it within. Exuberant, you thrust blindly upward, like a chance deflowering, into the clear sky.

It won’t be a long flight by any standards. You are already reaching your climax, your apex. You are already failing. Your momentum spent as gravity, victorious after all, reaches out to reclaim it’s own. Reaches out to claw you back to solid ground.

You feel the crosswind now. You dip and swerve, buffeted by the currents that, only a moment ago, you sought to consume. There is a flag down below. You arrow towards it on your descent. Homing in on the dark pock where it meets the fine, green, turf. Rebounding slightly between the pole and the back of the hole, your pristine, doomed, flight comes to its natural end. You nestle safely in the damp sod… PLINK !

Snap back to the stand of trees…

You hear voices on the other side

VOICE 1: Will you stop doing that?

VOICE 2: Doing what?

VOICE 1: That… It’s cheating, we’re on the tenth hole and THAT is your tenth ‘hole in one’

VOICE 2: I’m sorry but you don’t seem to understand. I’m the Almighty. It can’t be any other way for me.

VOICE 1: Pfah!!!

VOICE 2: It’s true, one thing the vanquished find it hard to accept is that perfection has no free will, no choice. It is what it always has been and what it always will be… Perfect.

VOICE 1: Vanquished is it? Just because you threw me out doesn’t mean I can’t do hole in ones, you know. It’s just that I choose not to. Ruins a good round.

VOICE 2: That was my point, it isn’t my kind of game.

VOICE 1: What is?

VOICE 2: Solitaire, maybe patience.

VOICE 1: Ok, let’s talk business, what do you want?

VOICE 2: The Fire Inspector is coming at 4:30 today. We have a consignment of extinguishers and blankets arriving at 4:00. Can you see them distributed as per regulations?

VOICE 1: Can’t your guys do it?

VOICE 2: Tsk, Tsk. Always trying to get your hands on extra souls. No! Your staff can handle it.

VOICE 1: If we must. Anything else?

VOICE 2: No, I must be going. I have some loose ends to attend to.

VOICE 1: You concede the game then?

VOICE 2: No… No, I don’t think so… I already won it.

Soft footfalls retreat into the silence, a moment then…

VOICE 1: Beelzebub?

A wheel squeaks as the caddy shifts position


VOICE 1: Can you see to it that the 4:00 p.m. assignment gets lost in the lake of Sulphur?


VOICE 1: Don’t you see? If we fail another inspection he’ll have to relocate us

BEELZEBUB: Which means?

VOICE 1: We’ll be free!!!