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Bird Guano’s
SAUSAGE LIFE

The column which prefers to travel at the speed of time

READER: I know you probably avoided The Superbowl but they booked a globally popular Spanish-speaking Puerto Rican dissident on the half time show just to annoy Trump so they can't be all that bad right? But I suppose you’re just going to take your usual cynical swipe …

MYSELF: You are a gift to corporate grifters everywhere, so I will simply share this with you. It is a simplified glossary of the great spectacle translated from the original Spanish by Bad Bunny.

THE STUPIDEST SPORT IN THE WORLD

This is what the French call L'Énorme Plaque, the overblown circus which represents the emaciated conscience of liberal Amerika; the annual celebration of US corporate-sponsored sportstainment and a garish icon to our growing population of male Yankophiles - the sort of bozos who like to say elevator and sidewalk, eat unspeakable hot dogs and drink beer that tastes like goat’s piss. If you’ve never seen it, this is how the ridiculous made-for-TV spectacle unfolds:

After hours of overblown ‘build up’ (incomprehensible statistics and endless clips of meatheads crashing into each other, punctuated with processed food commercials and wegovy ads for flag-waving fatties), a reverent, patriotic silence falls as the USA national anthem is publicly executed by whoever has the best publicist.

At last, after some more “messages” (mainly about anti-depressants and their side effects), two teams of overdressed players wearing crash helmets, shoulder pads and tights stuffed with pillows, assemble on opposite sides of the field awaiting the umpire’s signal to begin violently colliding with each other.

Sometimes one of the players grabs the “ball” (a sort of pointed egg), and runs off with it but he is soon caught and crushed under piles of men from the opposing team. This is the signal for another long, expensive commercial break featuring burgers,gambling and ugly cars as the two teams file backstage for some well-earned rest. During this break two pundits, one black, one white, will pretend to understand what is going on as they try to explain why both teams have decided to completely change personnel, depending on whether they are Oh Fence or Dee Fence.

That’s basically all you need to know, since the whole eye-popping charade is essentially a marathon junkfood-sponsored pantomime designed to vacuum the cash out of your pockets. If you must watch, make sure you have nothing else to do for at least ten hours.

READER: Rubbish, and typical, but you’re the one who’s missing out. You would have loved my Superbowl party by the way.

MYSELF: I know and thanks for the invitation. I would certainly have attended, were it not for a very important appointment I had with a certain man about a certain dog on that very day.

READER: What sort of appointment?

MYSELF: I’ve given away far too much already.

LANG MAY YER  TRUMP REAK 
Proud Scot President Donald T Rump has revealed that he is to spend $3,000,000 of taxpayers’ money on another tasteful addition the White House.
The two acre extension, to be named The Scotch Room, will be wallpapered in the distinctive yellow and orange tartan of the ancient McTrumpie clan. The McTrumpie coat of arms, a solid-gold Egyptian Vulture (Neophron percnopterus) laying an extra-large free-range golden egg, will now be displayed prominently in the baronial dining room, replacing the bust of JFK.
Donald’s ancestors, Hamish and Dougal McTrumpie, made their fortunes manufacturing mildew-proof woollen condoms and midge repellent for Caledonian warriors during the Anglo-Scots war of AD 122-127, and are believed to be the masterminds behind The Hadrian-Trump Wall which was erected to keep out illegal British immigrants and Muslims.

Another relative, the Great Bard of Ayrshire Rabbie McTrumpie allegedly composed his tender love ballad Ae Fond Squeeze, from a lap-dancing club hidden deep within its fortified battlements.

SUPERSTITIOUS?

Do you regard organised religion as nothing more than an insurmountable crock of superstitious merde, and yet are unable to cope with the stressful concept of random events or coincidence?

READER: How on earth did you know?

MYSELF: Have you thought of embracing Astrology?

READER: Is this an ad?

MYSELF: Yes, it’s for my new horoscopic service, which I like to call All the Blandness of Spiritual Certainty Without the Messy Unpredictable Consequences of Rational Thought

READER: That’s a bit long isn’t it?

MYSELF: Ok, how about Gobshite for the Gullible?

READER: That’s more like it, bring it on.

YOUR FUTURE IN THE STARS

A personal horoscope curated by The Rev Ho Dim Sung, official astrologer to His Divine Spiritual Eminence The Mazhapatata of Lumpigravi

Capricorn (22 December-20 January) Beware. A rare egg moon is about to enter its Diptherian phase, causing a massive collision with your submerging sign, Porcupine. Check pyjamas for scorpions on the 12^th.

Aquarius (21 January-19 February) Organising an untidy bicycle shed will offer you little respite from the forthcoming meteoric cusp. A cold call from a Jehovah’s Witness will interrupt an important meeting sometime in February.

Pisces (20 February-20 March) Typical Pisces tendencies include the inability to speak French and an irrational fear of eggs. Should the police call, just come clean as it may reduce your sentence even if you didn’t do it.

Aries (21 March-20 April) Mid-month, Gemini and Mars will fall out after an argument about golf during the lunar eclipse. Low pressure may cause cloud to thicken in the south-west, so take advantage of soft furnishing offers during Pluto’s equinox.

Taurus (21 April-21 May) Sagittarius is your trouser sign and brings news of a big win on the horses. Pisces is wedged tightly in Virgo’s chimney, although with Tiger Penis on the ascendant, it is inadvisable to cancel tightrope walking lessons.

Gemini (22 May-21 June) Complications arise when an invitation to a bestiality party puts you in a difficult position. Wear red if you are a boy, green if you are a girl or a muted shade of caramel if you are not sure. Tempers fray during a Scandinavian fish supper on the 4th.

Cancer (22 June 23 July) With retrograde Porcupine still in its 11^th house, a prying neighbour springs an unpleasant surprise. Call the hotel and deny everything.

Leo (24 July-23 August) For Leos, bad memories of a recent gluten-free cruise in the Baltic resurface. A window cleaner calls bearing an urgent message from an aunt in Turin.

Virgo (24 August-23 September) With Mercury ablaze, Virgos must be vigilant and prepared to abandon ship if necessary. Drive on the right during St Valentine’s day, but not blindfolded.

Libra (24 September-23 October) An unexpected windfall from a hot tip on the greyhounds leads to a mishap during an alcohol and nitrous oxide party. Apologise and offer to pay for the damage if you know what’s good for you.

Scorpio (24 October-23 November) Great news for Scorpios! A Russian billionaire oligarch mistakes you for a distant relative and sends you a first-class train ticket to Darlington. When the moon begins waxing avoid anything beginning with F or V. Or L.

Saggitarius (24 November-21 December) With Aries and Capricorn in transit, an ill-planned grocery purchase causes mayhem on 15^th. A fireman mistakes you for a rogue Catharine wheel, but a providential hose failure avoids a soaking.

Sausage Life!

Against all odds, a poor Irish immigrant family rise to the top in 19th century America

Rarely-seen 2Os German Expressionist film about a strange spanner-worshipping cult

JESUS WANTS ME FOR A SUN READER aka PASS THE INSTANT YOGA

JACK POUND

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CHEMTRAILS ON MY MIND
MORT J SPOONBENDER

On September 11th 1958, José Popacatapetl, a retired tree psychologist who's father was head gardener for the CIA during the cold war, was hitchiking through the Alberqueque desert when he was picked up by a black sedan driven by J Edgar Hoover's ex-boyfriend André Pfaff head of FBI underhand operations and extra-terrestrial banking who once worked as a quantum mechanic for the KGB under the direct orders of the zombie reincarnation of Josef Stalin whose mummified corpse was stored in a secret bunker in the basement of the Vatican.

Vote For Countryside Alliance

A party political Broadcast by The Hunt Cult.

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THE SENIOR MOMENTS

SEE THEIR LAST GREAT PERFORMANCE ON THE THE PERRY COMO SHOW 1959

POISON PEOPLE

By Guano Poundhammer

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Video from the album Domestic Bliss

SUPERCALIFUCKINGFRAGIFUCKINGLISTICEXPIALIFUCKINGDOCIOUS

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Photo credit: Alice's Dad (circa 2000)

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