Join 1,256 other followers
- RT @TheTopoftheD: As the Women’s World Cup starts this week, I’ve written this for @TheHockeyPaper. I suspect it might not be as popular… 1 month ago
Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.
Pssst! It’s me, Jon Bon Jovi. Not the real Bon Jovi of course, it’s just a pretend name that I use to cover my tracks. I was in Sainsbury’s supermarket the other day, perusing the delicatessen, when I heard a rustling in the Bon Bon Cake section. It sounded very suspicious so I did what I always do when I feel threatened, which is to shout “Not now, Margaret!” at the top of my voice. It’s a defensive reaction that has always served me well and I got the idea from hedgehogs. And why not? If a hedgehog hears a twig snap or an amorous couple engaging in a spot of noisy impromptu coitus on a picnic blanket, then he will roll himself up into a ball until the threat has passed.
It’s been about twenty years since I last got on a plane and with good reason: I am scared to death of them! The authorities spend all that money on X-ray machines, metal detectors, and bald men who want to sneak a digit up your backside, yet none of that is going to stop anything with a biscuit buttery base is it? What will these security bods do if some chocolate fingers and sultana croissants team up and start sneaking through the air vents? Are they going to go after them, armed with cups of warm sugary tea, hoping to dissolve them before they get anywhere near the fuel tanks? I think not.
Even the roads aren’t safe anymore. Cats eyes? Street lights? Toll roads? Like, hello! A baked lump of fundamentalist flour, sugar, and egg simply isn’t going to take any notice of those things. They are masters of strategy and will simply outflank anything that you put in their way. But no-one ever listens to me, they just roll their eyes and call me a nutter. Wait, hold on. Why are those security guards looking at me? Why are they surrounding me? Good Lord, not even Bon Jovi is safe from these tasty snacks! Somebody, please help!
Not now, Margaret!
38-year old amateur athlete Bryan Richards has spoken out after realising that “Treating objects as if they are a heavy metal ball resting against my shoulder isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. It’s given me a permanent crick in the neck and shifted my Adam’s apple all over the place. My social life is in tatters.”
“All those shot putters, they look so wily and strong and I wanted to be a part of it,” Bryan said. However, it turns out there is an unknown dark side to having such well-developed shoulders. “If I was on the phone, I would find myself involuntarily hurling it across the room. None of the mobile phone companies will sell me insurance any more.”
“I once had some friends round for dinner. I fried some eggs and couldn’t help but lob them into the frying pan from the other side of the kitchen. All the yolks ended up broken and full of bits of shell, it was a complete disaster. Afterwards we played that game where you pass an orange around under your neck – when it was my turn I squeezed too hard and covered everyone in juice. By the end of the evening the walls were covered in peel and pith, it was humiliating.”
Bryan’s fixation has even resulted in bannings from pet shops. “I was in Pets 4 U and picked up a little baby hedgehog. It started curling itself up into a ball and before I knew what I was doing, I had thrown it across the shop. It even burst a little girl’s balloon. She started crying and then I noticed my hands and neck were all scratched up.”
“It’s a good job I hadn’t picked up a porcupine.”