The great gig in the sky

Mickey had played some venues in his time. He started out on park benches and bus stops entertaining friends, as time passed he elevated to the end of year shows at school and then college. He then moved to pubs and clubs. Weddings, Barmitzva's, Stag doo's and the like. Once he's even ended up on the regional news when he won "Newcomer of the year" 2 years running.
But Mickey had never, ever done a rotating gig in the waiting room of an Abortion clinique.

In the running...

Is there a reason you've asked me into the office an 3am?
Yes Philip. Philip there is.
Jonty's out.
Jonty's out and you're in.
What do you mean by 'I'm in'?
You're in.
You are in.
We want them to offer you the job.
You're in the running.
Offer me Jonty's job?
Yes.
They're going to offer me his job?
Oh no, They'll most likely offer it to Patrick.
Yeah, big Pat is the most likely candidate.
We like Pat.
We do.
But we don't want him to have the job.
You don't?
No.
No, we want you to have the job.
You think I'm the right man for the job?
Honest answer?
Honest answer.
We'd like Doug to have the job.
Or at a push, Lizzy.
You'd like Lizzy fuckin' Green to have the job?
At a push.
Jesus, over me?
In an ideal world yes.
Then why don't you fucking ask her in a 3AM?
Cause we work for you.
If you get the job, we get the job.
And we're the best team for the job.
Jonty's team are a bunch of nib-ends.
Jonty's a prick too.
I hate fuckin' Jonty.
So how come the jobs on offer?
He's dying.
What?
Yeah, he's dying.
JESUS!! Cancer?
No.
No, whore flu.
Whore flu?
Oui.
Bagsy fuckin' his wife at the funeral.

Happy Birthday to Jew

Bryan and his Nan stood staring at the long, thin, cylindrical object atop of her kitchen table. Anticipation filled the air. Nan always bought the best gifts for ‘Her Bryan’, but this one, well, it was Bryan’s 30^th.

“It looks like a massive dildo Nan”

“Does it?”

“Is it?”

“Open it”

Bry did has he was told. He always did has he was told when it came to Nan.

“Yep, it’s a massive dildo”

“Not exactly son, it’s a massive wooden dildo. It’s an antique. Mary Magdalene used it, and because it wooden, it is believed that her dried up cunt juice’s can be found within the perfectly crafted bell end”

Bry stood, gob ajar, in amazement.

“Nan” he said. “This is by far the most useless thing anyone has ever bought me. I mean, I have no fuckin’ use for this what so ever. At all!! At the same time Nan, it’s the best fuckin’ thing anyone has ever bought me in my thirty years on this island we call earth”

“Don’t talk like that Bryan. You sound like a twat”

“Sorry Nan”

“I’m glad you like it. But a massive wooden dick isn’t your only gift. You see that box up there? Fetch it down would ya?”

Again, Bry did has Bry was told. There was no way of mistaking this box. It contained a cake, but not just any old cake. As he opened his box he was instantly hit by the ‘Gregg’s’ logo right in the centre of the cake.

“Obama’s bung hole! It’s a Gregg’s cake Nan. A fuckin’ Gregg’s cake. Gregg’s don’t make birthday cake?”

“They do for you canny lad” His Nan replied.

This was turning out to be the best day in Bry’s life, ever.

“This is turning out to be the best day in my life, ever”

“Open the cake”

“Open the cake?”

“Open the cake like the way that guy’s chest open’s in ‘The Thing’ and dive in”

Bryan did and pulled out a served hand. It was a left hand and on the middle finger there was a sovereign ring.

“That Paddy McGuinness’s hand. He cut it off and placed there himself”

“I hate Paddy McGuinness he’s just a one trick pony, that trick being he’s Peter Kayes mate. But I bastard love Greggs”

“Take a look at that ring. It’s been specially made just for you. It’s your Favourite footballer”

Bry looked at the sovereign and upon it laid the face of Alan Sugar.

“Alan Sugar?”

“Yes, he plays for Newcastle doesn’t he?”

“Does he fuck Nan? Does he fuck!”

Bryan wanted to call his Nan the ‘C’ word but his balls were the size if baby rabbits turds. He just lets the anger burn his insides.

BANG!

Bry was on his ass.

Had she?

She fucking had!

Bry felt his forehead.

“Nan you’ve just punch me in the forehead knocking me on my arse”

“Yes I have you pussy, now get up and look in the Mirror”

Bryan Did.

“What the funk!?”

Upon His red bleeding forehead lay a perfect imprint of Alan Shearers boat race.

He turned to his Nan, she was removing a ring from her busted knuckles.

“This is for you boy. Happy birthday”

She gave him a kiss. Bryan was Semi.

He placed the ring on his finger. Alan was a god to Bryan, but his Nan was something more.

It’s only 09:23 and this is by far the most perfect day.

“It gets better love. Let’s go to the Living room”

In the living room the telly was talking to itself, ITV1 was on and The Jeremy Kyle show was just about to begin.

Both Bry and his Nan sat on the sofa and turned the sound up on the TV.

“Hello and welcome to Jeremy Kyle. Before we start may I just wish Bryan Cutcura a very happy Birthday and can I also present to him my cock and balls”

Bryan was now fully erect.

Fin.

Somefang for the weekend.

1. Every time 'Razorlight' release an album a hooker is found dead in a wheelie bin.

2. "You couldn't organize a gang-rape in a prison riot".

2a."You couldn't organize a rape in prison shower"

3. 87% of children hate Peter Davidson's 'Doctor Who'.

4. If you reading this you've come to the end.

The tale of Cack

This is the story of Cacktus Green

Cacktus Green was very mean

Cacktus Green was a violent cunt

Cacktus Green loved the hunt

Cacktus Green knew a man named Paul

Cacktus Green would give him a call

Cacktus Green once wore a hat

And he beat a cat to death with a cricket bat

Cacktus Green saw the doctor

Cacktus Green sat in the doctors chair

He loved the doctor fore she had nice hair

The doctor asked Cacktus 'why he hurt'?

He told her it was because it was an angry pervert

This is the story of Cacktus Green

A man who, thru age became mean

A man who had no core

A man who's soul was sour

This is the end of Cacktus Green

You'll never believe what he's seen.

My Diary '95

This is a excerpt from my diary dated

'3rd June 1995'

"Came home from school to an empty house. I made Sausage and chips for tea. Whilst waiting for the food I watch 'Art attack' on the telly. I don't believe that's really Neil Buchanan doing all the art work. He's not Tony Hart of Rolf now is he? He host 'Finders fucking keepers'.

I take a look at my homework diary. I have no homework to hand in tomorrow.

I ate my tea. The sausages taste fine but I overcooked my chips and no amount of red sauce can cover that fact I fucked up with cooking my tea. Maybe I should have got a stand in like Neil.

My dad rings to tell me he'd like me to come over to his this weekend has he's not seen me in an while. Only thing is if I did, I'd have to get the bus myself. I tell him I'll come knowing full well I won't when the time comes.

I turn on the news to find out the Noel Gallagher has died."

Job 2965582a

We have not had a cleaner for three days. This seems to be an ongoing problem. Please could you investigate.