SAUSAGE LIFE

SAUSAGE LIFE

Bird Guano

The column which thinks that people are those who populate humanity, and peeps are what people do from behind curtains.

READER: What are you listening to these days? I just bought a 20-CD boxed set of 80s & 90s classics.

MYSELF: Classics? Are you sure there’s no rubbish hidden in there?

READER: Cynic! Surely no self-respecting company would try to sell you a pile of poo concealed inside nuggets of pure pop gold?

MYSELF: Tell that to all those self respecting banks and junk bond traders. They will be thrilled to find out yesterday's worthless dross has now acquired the rose-tinted glow of nostalgia. I imagine window cleaners and taxi drivers in 20 years time will be whistling the tunes of Kanye West, which, let's face it, sound much the same as Cole Porter.

READER: Absolutely. And with better lyrics too.

WAITER, THERE’S A FLAW IN MY SOUP

Although it's tempting to think that good manners have disappeared entirely, I can assure you they have not. This came home to me as I was lunching recently at DFL’S, the latest hipster restaurant to hit town. Inside, everything, including the artisan unisex toilet, has the prefix ‘craft’ attached to it. All the waiters sport long Rasputin-style facial hair (neatly coiffured, like a retired brigadier’s hedge), red and blue checked woodsman’s shirts, and braces which can only be described as defiantly pink. Alarmingly, as my soup was delivered, I spotted an inch and a half of the waiter’s face fuzz dangling in the bowl. The poor chap must have seen my furious expression, but happily, he appeared to have been brought up properly. Leaning over my shoulder with a smile, he carefully removed the end of his beard and wrung the last drop of soup back into the bowl. Manners cost nothing.

THE BIG FIGHT

Next week’s big heavyweight bout between Bobby ‘The Anvil’ Crabtree and Louis ‘Creampuff’ Knowles is set for a sell-out at The Hastings Arena. Crabtree’s manager Georgiou Falafel was in no doubt as to the outcome. “Creampuff doesn’t stand a chance. The Anvil will crush him underfoot like an insignificant cockroach. Knowles’s jaw is like a delicate Fabergé egg waiting to be shattered by Bobby’s sledgehammer fists. His footwork is laughable. He moves like a hobnail-booted sloth in a bowl of treacle. His right hook is about as lethal as a rolled-up fashion magazine. He’s a flake, a popinjay, a gadfly and a coxcomb. My boy will pummel him into the middle of next week and possibly the Friday or Saturday.”

The opposite camp was equally adamant about how they thought the scrap might go. “The so-called Anvil is nothing of the sort.” claimed Knowles’s manager Rupert Mungbean, “He’s more like an overwound grandfather clock with a faulty mainspring. Let’s face it, once he steps in the ring, he’s toast. One uppercut from The Creampuff will send him bandy- legged. Everyone knows Crabtree’s got a weak left - eight days at the most - he doesn’t stand a chance. Footwork? Falafel doesn’t know what he’s talking about. My boy’s footwork is faultless. He’s like Michael Flatley, only with Popeye’s arms.”

SAUSAGE CITY PRICES

Palindrome Pneumatics up 55 pu

Quicksand Developments down 44ft

Big McSteak Burgers down 2 then straight back up

Humpty Dumpty Futures down 100

My advice? Get out of Humpty Dumpty before the shit hits the fan.

WILL THAT BE A LARGE ONE?

Yes, however unique you consider your visage, we all have a double. I happen to know that mine is an industrial steam trouser press salesman from Hartlepool who, during a course in anger management, developed a device for reinforcing old milk cartons so they could be used as miniature tea chest basses by tiny skiffle groups.

GIZZA JOB

BBC4’s topical reboot of a gritty 70s Ian le Frenais sitcom, Auf Weidersein Pet comes to our screens this March. Asta La Vista Pet concerns a bunch of lads from the north who decide to ‘get on their bikes’ and head for the US-Mexican border, having heard there is plenty of casual labour required for the construction of ex-president Donald Trump’s Great Mexican Wall. Once they have overcome the language barrier and cultural differences, they begin to adapt to local customs, and, more importantly, embrace the concept of mañana. This leads to a string of amusing escapades involving fake cement, drug cartels, members of the Ku Klux Klan, and postal order fraud.

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VOTES FOR THE DEAD

Hastings’ famous inventor Professor Gordon Thinktank was honoured by the business community at a recent meeting of The Ancient and Venerable Order of Warthogs (Hastings Lodge). His ingenius machine for counting the votes of dead people was hailed by The Warthog’s Grand Wizard and MP for Little Snarling, Walter Hootenanny, as “Nothing short of genius,” adding, as he patted professor Thinktank so furiously on the back that he had to be helped back to his feet, “and about time too. Dead people, a marginalized, disenfranchised section of our society, have for too long been historically and unfairly prevented from expressing their political preferences at the polling booth.” (our italics)

Sausage Life!

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