Bird Guano


I was at the barber’s the other day and overheard this:

CUSTOMER: I want a footballer’s haircut, innit.

BARBER: Certainly sir, would you like “Serial killer on parole” or “Nuremberg 1945”?

READER: Which barber's was that?

MYSELF:  Hair Hitler, the new one on the high street, next door to the Good Friday Nail Bar.



From his secret Monte Carlo hideaway, Hugh Jarce, the controversial ex-Top Gear presenter, has lashed out  at the 'government food fascists' whom he accuses of being “namby-pamby nanny-society dictators interfering in our Great British Diet”.
During a characteristic outburst in his Daily Mail column Bollocks, he fumed: “If the Police State is allowed to get away with Nazi-style propaganda about what we can and cannot eat, this once noble nation of ours will end up as gastronomic slaves, nibbling lettuce leaves and munching on raw carrots and other organic rubbish (which incidentally is grown in shit), until, literally, the cows come home". "Personally I would like the cows to stay where they are, in the abbatoir, where they can be safely disposed of and fitted into a bun.'


“Health is all in the mind", He continued, "as any decent food processing company will tell you. This government is complicit in a plot of Stalin-like proportions, designed to con the public into believing that eating burgers makes you fat. Stuff and nonsense! I myself eat burgers, chips, ice cream, marzipan, chocolate and lard, as well as drinking like a fish (which, incidentally, I also eat, but only if it is covered in thick batter, deep fried in beef dripping, and served with a generous portion of salt n' vinegar laced chips and a tub of microwaved mushy peas - lovely!), yet clearly, as the whole world can see, I am still the same svelte, Davidian figure I always was, easily able to fit into the same pair of jeans I bought forty years ago! No further questions M'Lud!


READER: Tut. How rectionary! Television will never be the same without Top Gear's adolescent obsession with the world of petrol-powered penis substitutes. If you ask me you’re obviously a firm believer in the nanny state yourself.

MYSELF: Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but most of the people who object to the nanny state actually had nannies.



An occasional column in which High Court Judge Lord Justice Hyphen-Hyphen QC. dispenses advice for the judicially impaired. This week, an appeal for legal clarification from Mrs Sonia Cattlegrid-Kitsch, formally plain Mrs Cattlegrid, of Herzmonceaux.

Dear Your Worship,

I am 56 years old, and recently lost my husband, Norman. We were browsing in a camping supplies shop on the Edgware Rd, during a visit to London. One minute we were both admiring some Belgian primus stoves, the next, I was all alone. A thorough search of the family-sized ridge tents (with awning and sewn-in groundsheet), proved fruitless, as did a quick survey of the two-man pup tents, which revealed nothing bar a few amorous couples and some homeless Australians. With the shop about to close and no sign of my husband, I gave up and returned home. Imagine my surprise when 3 weeks later my husband was discovered living in the South Pole exhibit in the Frozen Tundra department of the very same store, with a woman explorer named Dierdre Privette-Hedges. It turns out that in the interim they had managed to survive on nothing but concentrated chicken liver paté and slimline tonics.

Naturally by this time I had assumed my husband dead, and remarried (a wonderful gas fitter named Bert Kitsch). My question is this; what is my present legal position viz a viz my marital status?

Sonia Cattlegrid-Kitsch (Mrs), Herzmonceaux


Dear Mrs Cattlegrid-Kitsch,

First of all let me express my deepest sympathy at the loss of your dear husband Norman. This is certainly an unusual case, but not without precedent, as I discovered in my copy of Sir Mortimer Spoonbender’s Essential Precedents (every consultation saves a guinea), where I came a cross the case of Zeighaller vs Schtoppfhaus & Zeighaller (Munich Crown Court 1947):
Frau Zeighaller and her husband Klaus, of Ingolstadt, were visiting Munich for the famous Oktoberfest beer festival. During a drinking-song competition, they became separated in the crowd. A distraught Frau Zeighaller searched the beer halls and Kellars for several hours, then, assuming her husband to be dead, caught the last tram back to Ingolstadt. Next day she married next-door neighbour Hermann Schtoppfhaus, an unemployed orthopaedic surgeon. Incredibly, on the morning of the wedding, her husband Klaus turned up exhausted, but very much alive, on their doorstep. He explained that he had become intoxicated in the Beer Hall, and fallen into a vat of sausages, wherein he was discovered next morning by officials and escorted from the premises. Having also lost his wallet, he was forced to walk the 56 kilometres home.

At the subsequent hearing at Ingolstadt Assizes, notoriously fair presiding judge Justiche Baron von Oberschtummenkopf of Bavaria, after much legal deliberation, ruled that the Zeighallers were still married, but that Herr Schtopfhausen should assume custody of the Zeighaller’s pet goat, Himmel, allowing Frau Zeighaller access on alternate Thursdays. The Munich Beer Hall Company was awarded DM875 (approx. €180) to be paid from public funds, to cover the cost of the damaged sausages which, following the incident, were condemned as unsuitable for human consumption.

I sincerely hope this has shed some light regarding your current status and I wish you the very best in overcoming your present unfortunate circumstances.

Your humble servant, Lord Sydney Hyphen-Hyphen (QC, AA, RAC & bar)
The Chambers, Gas St, Upper Dicker



Finally, welcome news for theatre-goers. Jedward, the result of an illicit relationship between Noel Edmunds and Edward Woodward, are to play the Kray Brothers in the new Andrew Lloyd Webber musical Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Murder (But Were Afraid To Axe) featuring the music of Emphysema Ratatouille with lyrics by Mad Frankie Fraser.



Sausage Life!





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From the album Domestic Bliss

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