The column that has never allowed dyslexia to hold it bakc


MYSELF: I've had enough of acronyms. Social media has become the acronym's graveyard. I want nothing further to do with them, which is why I have joined a group called NAH (no acronyms here).


MYSELF: IDGI?  What's that supposed to mean?
READER: IDGI? means "I don't get it"

MYSELF:  That's appalling. Awful. May God have mercy on your barbarian soul.

READER: God? I thought you were an atheist fundamentalist.

MYSELF: No, I'm an an anaesthetist fundamentalist.





Mrs Elizabeth Obergruppenfuhrer of Lower Dicker is the winner of January's haiku competition:



With braces fractured

And trousers now descended

Hari Kiri calls


Mrs Obergruppenfuhrer will be the lucky recipient of our grand poetry prize, The Brexit Hamper, containing essential items to keep the larder stocked until the opening of the new ferry service between Holyhead and Sydney in 2030. These include Marmite, PG Tips, Coleman’s Mustard, a boxed set of Eastenders, an entire pantomime horse and a single episode of The Archers (the one where a cow falls on Peggy Woolly with hilarious consequences).   




Herstmonceux Observatory, Jan 12-15 2022

Celebrating its fifteenth year, the popular "festival of stars" goes from strength to strength. Highlights for me so far have been The Sewing Machine Singers with their gritty take on hard core smut-garage containing more than a hint of Al Jolson, veteran US comics Smoulders & Burns "A song, a dance and a little piece of wood with a hole in it" and an Astronomy first, The Amazing Marzo and Maureen, who specialise in hot and cold readings, pretending to talk to dead people, tarot card gin rummy and face-painting.

READER: The Amazing Marzo? At Astronomy? At last! Brilliant!

MYSELF: Oh yes, I forgot you subscribe to all that superstitious mumbo jumbo. You really ought to grow up. I mean, everybody knows The Amazing Marzo is not actually a psychic, he's just a bit mad.

READER: Oy! Wokey wokey! You are perfectly entitled to deny the existence of psychic phenomena, but can't call people that anymore!

MYSELF: You can't call people anything anymore, its political correctness gone The M-word.



The Beyonden cat bugler has struck again. By blowing into the anus of a Persian cat with a horn wedged in its mouth, he wakes residents in the middle of the night by playing Vaughan Williams' The Lark Ascending at a frantic tempo, and then running off. Police are seeking a tall white man with dreadlocks and stained lips. Police chief Hydra Gorgon issued a statement warning the public not to approach the man who, she says, has "the embouchure of classically trained trombonist" but may have "dangerously bad breath".



Channel 5, sold by pornographer Richard Desmond to multi media conglomerate Viacom in 2014, have announced a brand new sitcom, which they claim will "blow Netflix out of the water". Opium All Hours, is to star Russell Brand as Derek Bargepole, proprietor of an all night grocery shop with a secret chamber concealed behind the stock room. Tongues begin to wag after Derek hires a mysterious Chinese assistant, and long queues begin to snake around the block far into the night.


Latest offering from BBC Cymru, the police drama stopiwch yr heddlu! is haemorraging viewers. Critics blame the overcomplicated plot which revolves around esoteric Welsh police procedure. As ascerbic reviewer Daffyd Pwelli of the Aberystwith Times put it "My problem is that whenever the detectives jump into their cars and swing into action, they over-emphasise their Welshness with a cry of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysilio.....go go goch! by which time, realistically speaking, the suspects would have fled the scene.



Doctors have warned of a serious epidemic striking the South East, where clusters of Munchausen's Syndrome by Proxy have broken out over a wide area of East Sussex. In Cockmarlin, after a man with his leg in plaster boarded a bus, a polite student who stood up to offer him a seat was immediately overcome with intense pain, fell over, and was thrown off by the driver for being drunk.
A similar incident occurred in Battle, when Ron Anchovy, a local jockey who is partially sighted, chastised a group of tourists on an exchange visit from Hartlepool who were blocking the pavement. Within seconds they were all struck blind and staggered into the road in a panic, causing a 30-tonne French juggernaut laden with goose paté to swerve into the path of a coach party of Swedish theatregoers who had just attended the Wealdon Amateur Dramatic Society's 100th performance of Noel Coward's burlesque farce, A Scotch Egg in My Bra. There were no serious injuries apart from a paramedic who sprained an ankle after he slipped on a patch of the spilled fois gras whilst attending to the concussed truck driver, and one of the coach passengers, a lady fishmonger from Målmo, who had become trapped under a pile of accordions and had to be cut free by firemen.
A senior NHS spokesman added, "There is no cause for alarm. The epidemic has peaked and should have disappeared by the end of the month. Until then, my advice is to avoid standing next to anyone with an infirmity, wear braces rather than a belt and always make sure chicken is thoroughly cooked, by getting a friend to try it first."




Sausage Life!

"...Somewher between Viv Stanshall's Bonzo Dog Band, Penguin Café Orchestra and Frank Zappa"

- Alan Dearing, International Times

Vote For Countryside Alliance

by The Hunt Cult. Click for video


"Sometimes you just need a tool that doesn't do anything"



guano poundhammer

From the album Domestic Bliss

click images for videos