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Peeps who interviewed me
Trailer for Underneath
Trailer for Shades of Grey
Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.
Yeeees! I’ve finally done it, what everyone has been wanting me to do for so long now! A vasectomy! Er, I mean, erm, I finally published all my funniest articles as a book.
Here, check out the blurby bit:
Michael Cargill has established himself as the world’s leading authority on all things sarcastic, irreverent, and nonsensical. He first appeared in 2012 with a satirical news item about a stray car tyre causing chaos on the streets of Cambridge and since then his efforts have brought forth hundreds of hilarious observations and witticisms about the world we inhabit.
From Justin Bieber’s diary, to Vladimir Putin reviewing a glass of Coke, to Steve Jobs and Princess Diana speaking from heaven, and living proof that vegetarians are the real hunters, this isn’t something anyone should miss out on.
Phew, I’m exhausted. If you’re already a blog subscriber, then feel free to make use of the Smashwords code below to download a free copy. Likewise, if you’re a book reviewer of some sort, then feel free to use the code as well. Any streakers that are planning on running naked in front of the cameras at the Olympics, feel free to use the code in exchange for writing the book title across your bum cheeks.
The Smashwords code for a free version is – WB24B
Colonel Gaddafi’s son, Saif al-Islam, has surrendered peacefully in Libya after “Getting fed up with surviving on that Muesli shit,” and because “I really miss the awesome bacon and egg sandwiches that Dad used to make me each morning.” Saif, who had been hiding a cave, said that being outdoors “Was good fun at first,” but after a while “I started to feel like Stig of the Dump,” especially when “My deodorant started to run out.”
Recent media reports stated that Saif was captured, but he said “That’s a load of old bobbins,” as the rebels are “Nothing more than a bunch of cowboys.” More than once, he would be “Hiding under a blanket like those hobbits did in Lord of the Rings,” when some rebel soldiers would “Walk right past me, usually talking about Kim Kardashian,” and Saif would “Just lie there happily munching on a Twix until they went away.”
Saif had access to a large stockpile of goodies, but “I’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth,” which meant that “None of the fun stuff lasted as long as it should have.” Each week he looked forward to opening a new box of cereal, but “The free toys aren’t as good as they were in the 1980s. It used to be Star Wars and GI Joe stuff, but now it’s all Jelly Tots and Toy Story,” and he was disappointed to see that “The chocolate wagon wheels are smaller than I remember.”
Saif also admitted that one of the reasons he handed himself in was that “It gets really dusty out there,” and compared the desert climate to “Living on the bloody moon.” He tried to keep himself entertained but “My iPhone screen reflects the sun too much,” so he “really struggled with those later Angry Birds levels.” He also heard a rumour that “Apple’s batteries might explode in the heat.”
“My Ugg Boots are in tatters as well.”
Controversial funny man Ricky Gervais has been given the green light to host the upcoming Golden Globes awards. Described in the past as “a ceremony of pompous shite,” the awards have experienced “a breath of fresh air,” ever since Gervais first hosted them two years ago. Most actors these days have “Spent too long eating their peeled grapes,” and Gervais is ready to “Kick them in the shins for a couple of hours.”
The star first got into comedy at the age of five by hiding his grandmother’s walking stick and refusing to give it back until she “Promised to release Hansel and Gretel.” Friends and family have often described him as “A right piss-taking little shit,” but that his “Infectious squealing laugh and loveable beard more than make up for it.”
Some stars are actively worried with Gwyneth Paltrow’s agent stating that the star will be “insuring her ego and tear ducts,” because she knows that “after thanking all her cats,” she will not be “in any state to handle Gervais asking if she’s wearing a wig.” Speaking about her award-winning crying performance whilst collecting a winning award at the Acadamy Awards in 1999, she said the emotional scars “Still haven’t healed yet,” and that despite plenty of scrubbing “The dried tears are still visible on the front of her pink dress.”
Gervais recalled a stand-out memory of his previous hosting of the Golden Globe awards stating that “Halfway through the night I noticed an old withered man sitting near the front.” Although the man was “Laughing along with everyone else,” he “just looked like some homeless guy who had managed to sneak in.”
“Turns out it was Robert de Niro.”
Hello there Earthlings, it’s the former Queen of Hearts here. First of all, can I just say that if anyone calls me Di, Diana, or uses any of my previous names and titles from my mortal era, I’ll be waiting for you at the Pearly Gates when you finally cop it. Although me and St. Peter got off to a rocky start we’ve become good pals so just watch your mouths now that I’ve got the head bouncer’s phone number – he lets me out for a cheeky fag and I let him fondle my tiara on the way back in. He gets all the good gossip and he has such a nice bum too! Anyway, just drop all the soppy names that the shitrag journalists thought up after they chased me down that French tunnel and everything will be just peachy. I tell you something though… those journos with their cocaine parties and witty headlines think they are the smartest people in the world, but boy have they got a shock coming to them when they come up here.
Initially life was tough up here in the sky with the big, invisible man constantly talking to me from under my bed. I tried to set up a charity dedicated to landmine victims so I could condescendingly pat them on the head before retiring back to my trailer for a white wine spritzer and a spray of Christian Dior; unfortunately, poverty and war don’t exist up here so I had to reinvent myself like that Spice Girl with the massive tits did when her career went to shit.
Money and time are practically infinite up here which is a damn good job because that £17 million divorce settlement is still holed up in some bank vault – I even went and forgot me bleedin’ PIN number as well! Sometimes I am such a ditzy!
No doubt you’ve all got a hundred questions for me… does Dodi look buff when stepping out of the shower… how many cotton buds Charlie needed to clean out those big ugly ears of his… and just what happened that night in Paris…? Well, as much as I would love to answer these questions I’m afraid that our time is getting short and I can already feel myself fading away.
Actually that’s bollocks. St Peter is making ‘honk honk’ signals with his hands again – it’s chinwag and fag time again, yippee!
A cutlery drawer war is currently brewing in domestic kitchens as a new generation of butter knives comes to terms with just how much discrimination is involved when mass-murderers decide which tool is best for the job. Describing the situation as “Totally unfair,” and even as “just another form of racism,” the butter knives claim they are equally entitled to “A bit of fun now and again.”
Although butter knives are generally “easy going and down to earth,” and that “we would probably turn it down anyway,” they just want homicidal maniacs, jilted lovers, and neglected teenagers to know that “it’s still nice to be asked once in a while.” One side of the debate has centred on the fact that “Murder doesn’t always have to involve stabbing, thrusting, and/or slashing,” as a “Well-placed blob of butter, margarine, or lemon curd can be used to block up even the largest of nostrils.”
Not everyone is sympathetic to the plight of the butter knives as tin openers of various types say, “We are gobsmacked at the arrogance of our non-pointy cousins,” and “I would leap at the chance to be used to slowly pry off the top of someone’s skull.” The Christmas period is a “time of real jealousy these days,” as carving knives are “Dusted down and sharpened” in preparation of “Slicing, dicing, and even hacking,” an event for which “no-one else even gets a look in.”
A set of wooden spoons has said “Killing is old hat to us, our ancestors were doing it with sticks and spears a couple of millennia ago.” The metal implements responded with “Whatever you say, old man. Not even the emos will bother trying to slit their wrists with you guys.”
Mummy woke me up this morning and said that as it had now been two weeks since I last wet the bed, I could have an extra boiled egg for breakfast as a treat. I asked if I could butter and cut the soldiers myself and she said yes. I got up and found my ‘Three Blind Mice’ music tape and left it playing in my tape player whilst I had a bath. I had to call mummy to help me wash my hair because I have to use both hands to hold a flannel to my face so that the shampoo doesn’t makes my eyes sting.
I usually have my Coco Pops in a Winnie the Pooh bowl but it was still in the dishwasher so I used one of the grown up bowls that Daddy uses instead. The grown up spoons are still too big for me so I used one of my plastic crocodile ones instead. When I had finished I looked down at my bib and saw that I had managed to eat the whole bowl without spilling anything.
Later on during the day I went upstairs to my bedroom and looked at my naughty notebook. Sometimes, when I am angry and upset, I will open this notebook and write down the naughty words that I wouldn’t dare say out loud over and over again. Two days ago Mummy wouldn’t let me go out and play in the garden because it was getting dark. I had left my afternoon banana out there by accident but Mummy said it was too dangerous to go out there now as a fox might be sniffing around. I screamed really loudly and went upstairs and wrote ‘poo’ in my naughty notebook.
When I am angry I press down really hard with my crayons but after half a page I will calm down and sharpen it again so it still looks nice on my bookshelf.
I bought an instrument the other day; can you guess what it was? It’s large, it’s brown, and it can be found in orchestra buildings… and it rhymes with ‘cello’. No, wait, I meant ‘yellow’. Damn, I mucked the game up. Oh well, on with the show.
Pisces, Taurus, Gemini
An Xbox will be your downfall this week. Whether it is from being electrocuted in your own house, from one falling from a shelf onto your head, or just being beaten whilst playing Call of Duty online I cannot say, so I recommend wearing rubber gloves and a motorbike helmet for a few days. Don’t fall asleep in department stores either.
Cancer, Leo, Scorpio
Pick up a stick and throw it really hard. Now wait a few minutes to see if a friendly dog proudly brings it back to you. If he does, then throw it again, but harder and in a different direction and see if the dog brings it back again. Kidnap the dog and claim a reward when the owners notice it is missing. If no dogs appear for you, make sure you aren’t still in your bedroom and try doing it in a park instead.
Capricorn, Aquarius, Libra
Think of a number and double it. Then treble that number, add some zeroes, and double it again. That number still isn’t as large as the number of bacteria on your face so go and have a bath and rinse yourself off with a cold shower lest you catch something. You people are filthy.
Virgo, Sagittarius, Aries
Be sure to stock up on batteries over the next few days as there’s a kleptomaniac on the loose, and he’s out there stealing TV remote controls from the unwary. He has a weird OCD thing where he requires all these stolen remotes to have fresh batteries, so if you deny him this outlet he will get frustrated and hand himself back in.
Bonjour, I am Pierre and my motto is Vive la France! France is so amazing that we are currently on our Fifth Republic. Those stupid Brits and Yankees copied us so we went lots better and had many more revolutions than they did; ha! In my native France I love eating pickled onions as they are so tasty and nice. I have one with breakfast of croissant, red wine, and cheese. Sometimes I even have TWO pickled onions. If I brew pickled onion for long enough and it look handsome enough, I nail it to front door of house so I am greeted by it each time I come home from having big sex in street. You should come visit one day, is nice. If you are a Brit or a Yankee, you can’t stay more than one hour in case you steal from me.
Have you seen television? In case you don’t know television is like radio but in a box with moving picture. At first I thought it pixie theatre but after turning it off and on many times I never catch pixies in middle of toilet or resting. If I was in a pixie theatre I would write play about France culture habit of having big sex in street. Television was invented in France in 1985 and now nearly everyone has one. We keep the recipe a secret so no-one else in world has a TV and we make them very heavy so no-one can steal them. If I came home to find Brit and Yankee taking Polaroid photo of TV to steal idea I would bop their noses off. Polaroid was invented in France as well, I think in 1982 or 1923, I not really sure.
I did student exchange with Brit school many years ago. They had competition with conkers so I entered with pickled onion. Pickled onion is tough but rubbery, so they couldn’t break it no matter what they try. I not win because pickled onion not hard enough but I not lose either. I ended my year there with no loses in conkers competition and they bastards who not even give me medal or scarf or socks for a prize.
While I was there someone broke into my locker many times I think to try to steal my pickled onions. It was Brit school in Brit so it was probably Brit thief. I out fooled them by keeping onions in my pockets at all times so I can touch them, feel them, stroke them, and then smell my fingers afterwards. Smell is nice and many Brit badgers and weasels think so too, because they followed me every day. I wondered if Brit animals are thieves, too, so I stayed up a tree most days.
Next year I look forward to getting colour TV when they invented by French TV inventors.
I was in the supermarket the other day and found myself shocked and appalled at the amount of chocolate, sugar, and honey-based cereals on the shelves. No wonder the kids are so soft and spoilt these days, they’re full of nothing but Sugar Puffs and free ringtones.
Dear Nurse Ratched
Someone keeps kicking the piles of leaves that I sweep up outside my house. It takes me quite a while to make the path look all nice and tidy and then my work is ruined. What should I do?
Toughen yourself up and stop eating Sugar Puffs for breakfast would be my initial advice. You could put some heavy bricks under the leaves in the hope that the prankster breaks their foot. Spike the brick with some nails if you like and liberally apply rat poison to the tips to spice things up. If you don’t have any nails or poison handy, you could steal some dirty needles from the local homeless drug addict instead. Although stealing is a sin recreational drug users are nearly always ugly and I hate homeless people anyway. If that doesn’t work you should kill yourself.
Dear Nurse Ratched
One of my work colleagues never, ever offers to make me a cup of tea. I always offer him one when I go to the kitchen but he never returns the favour. What should I do?
Your colleague is a horrendous parasite but you sound quite, quite pathetic. Put superglue on the handle of his mug and smear washing up liquid around the inside of it. Wire up his chair and connect a small battery to the mug so that he gets an electric shock when he touches it. I don’t know much about electronics so you’ll have to ask the bearded man in a hardware shop about that side of things. Don’t stand too close to him though as he might be a pervert or a paedophile or an HIV positive transvestite with AIDs and a wooden leg. If that doesn’t work you should kill yourself.