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Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.
So then, nuclear powers – who wants one? I had a meeting with a nuclear engineer man the other day, and he was a very interesting chap. He was telling me all about radioactivity and why you need to wear gloves when picking up lumps of uranium. I had always assumed that uranium would have little finger holes like those ten-pin bowling balls do, but he said they didn’t. Just before he went home, he gave me a free pen and I really like it ‘cos when I press the presser down, the radiation symbol on the side lights up. It reminded me a bit of the Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles and I was a massive fan of them guys back in the day. Well, apart from Raphael that is – he was just a grouch. I liked Donatello’s stick, but Michaelangelo was the best of the lot. I asked the nuclear engineer man if he wanted to go halves on a pizza, but the miserable sod said no. Obviously, his favourite turtle was Raphael.
Right, nuclear power. It sounds BRILL and I have to confess that I’m not a big fan of coal these days. Coal power stations, coal fires, and coalition governments – all of them sound great at first, but after a while they start to get on your tits. I did read that if you crushed a big bit of coal really hard, you could make a diamond. I decided to give this a try, and fished around in my shed for a pair of gloves. I did find them eventually but then I remembered I didn’t have any coal, which put a bit of a downer on things. It reminded me of that time when I went to go and get a lottery ticket, but I somehow lost my £1 coin on the way to the shop. Funds were low at Lib Dem HQ at the time, so we had to go without heating for a week.
Not to be disheartened by my coal-crushing failure, I decided to practice the technique on some eggs. Someone once told me that eggs are really strong, so it was an ideal opportunity to test this theory out. Mind you, I remember when I decided to test out another theory, whereby sitting on an egg would make it hatch into a cute baby chicken – I made a right mess of the chaise longue. Anyway, egg crushing. I somehow lost my gloves, so I had to use an old sock instead. Of course, then I couldn’t remember where I left the eggs.
So, all in all, coal is a load of old crap.
Hi, my name is Mandingo Manning and I’m an egg enthusiast. Eggs are actually kind of weird if you think about it, ‘cos they’re just globes of goo that have fallen out of a hen’s arse. It’s not like you’ll ever see a farmer’s wife squatting down over her cobblestone path, selling whatever just so happens to drop from her hindquarters. Just imagine the mess she’d make if she ever forgot to take off her tights.
If there’s one thing that gets my goat, it’s the use of battery hen farms. Every, single hen should be given land. Shitloads of land, in fact. If cows can have entire fields to themselves, then so can hens. The only thing a cow ever lays, is a sloppy, splatty poo-pat. When I get home from work, I like to sit down in my chair and relax. I’ll take me trousers off, spread my legs and just let my bits dangle off the edge of the seat. Of course, I have to make sure that things don’t caught up in the cushion zip. I’ve still got the scars from last time.
Hens should be afforded these exact, same freedoms. They need room to do their clucking, pecking, flapping and whatever else it is that hens like to do, when they’re not expelling those wonderful little bulbs out of their feathery behinds.
One question that everyone always asks me is, how do I like my eggs in the morning? Well, the answer to that is quite complicated, as each type has their own pros and cons. Fried eggs are like cheese & onion flavour crisps – quick, tasty, and you can be sure that everyone at the party will like them. Your fingers will get greasy and smelly if you manhandle them, so keep a serviette handy.
Hard-boiled eggs are the purest type, and I tend to compare them to a nudist in a nudist camp. Everything is more or less the same shape as before, but there’s no outer shell covering up all that yummy, scrummy flesh. And believe me, once that shell comes off, there’s no holding me back. Sometimes, I’m like a wild beast and will finish my business within a minute or so. It takes a lot out of me, and it’ll be a good half-hour before I’m ready for another go.
If you held a gun to my head and made me choose, I would say that I like my eggs like I like my women: smeared all over my face.