Here are the rest of those bits I began posting yesterday.
Random Thoughts- Crude Health
While walking through the small town of Hebden Bridge recently I sustained an olfactory assault. One moment I was walking along smelling nothing more than bonfires on an autumn evening and the next I fell to my knees coughing and squeezing my nose. You see; I had ventured past a shop, which specialised in the sale of Aromatherapy products and bits of twiggy shite. You know the sort of thing, those mutant dried twigs, which can usually be found, displayed in the windows of council houses and crap pubs.
Anyway as I gasped for air and reached for a cigarette to take away the smell, I began to consider the vast array of bizarre and pointless alternative remedied that are on the market today and decided to write a piece for this mighty organ on that very subject. However the subject is far too vast for an in depth study so I have concentrated on but three treatments, which carry on below.
What in the name of Lisa Goddard is that all about? No don’t get me wrong I believe that smells can be very evocative, for instance when I smell beef roasting I think immediately of Sunday afternoons as a child and Simon & Garfunkle songs which were often playing on the music centre while my mum slaved over a hot stove producing yummy things. Lavender reminds me of an old wardrobe and cheese brings back the memory of Jeremy Bowen’s left cheekbone. Granted the smell of roast beef makes me feel happy, however that’s my own personal smell memory and peculiar to me. How then do the manufacturers of Evening Wangwart Oil know one whiff of it will make your nostrils better, what if for some poor soul that particular smell evokes memories of being buggered roughly by the games master (Not the one played by Patrick Moore or James Grout of course) and leads inevitably to the emergence of terrible memories and a costly prosecution. The fact is they don’t! Because one man’s Simon and Garfunkle is another’s maggoty crisp packet. No my friends this is a crock of shite and should be avoided. Incidentally the smell of a crock o’ shite reminds me of fleshy ankles.
This one is actually my favourite and involves some basic close up magic techniques and a shyster of the first magnitude. You see what happens is a chap pops a card in the off licence window and waits for the gullible and desperate to come and visit him. When the conee gets to the Psychic Surgeon’s house he shows them to an examination table whips up their top or blouse and commences probing the effected area with his fingers. After a few minutes he begins to channel a sixteenth century surgeon who tell the sad victim that he can cure them and starts the surgery. First of all he probes a little more and breaks a blood capsule he palmed earlier to make it appear that he has broken the skin. Then after more channelling and discussion about Coronation Street in the sixteenth century he appears to produce a piece of gristle from the non-existent incision, wipes down the victim, tells them their terminal cancer is cured, relieves them of a few hundred quid and sends them merrily on their way.
Bit of a cunts trick really.
The laying on of hands
Now this is another cunts trick, however the practitioners of this particular ‘therapy’ are often delusional or religious fanatics and not wilfully misleading their clients. They simply believe they can cure people just my groping them and saying things like “Can you feel it getting hotter” of course it’s getting hotter! Humans are warm-blooded creatures for fucks sake. If it were getting colder the patient would be dead and in no need of repair. No sir, avoid these people like the plague and if you already have the plague take a course of antibiotics and call me in a week.
In conclusion, alternative therapies are so called because they are the alternative to things that work. In short drugs good, Evening Wangwart Oil bad. Always seek medical advice from somebody who knows what they’re doing.
Random Thoughts- The Diency Interview
We at Brainjam like not only to amuse but to educate. So last Wednesday I took a jolly trip to the research lab of St Marks Hospital in Roydon. to interview Dr Ptolemy Diency who recently shocked the medical establishment with his theories.
Let me start by saying Dr Diency that I think your work is marvelous, I especially liked your last book ‘Smile Yourself Fat’ (Harper Collins £6.99 ) in which you extolled the benefits of obesity. How did you find yourself entering the world of drink research?
It was an accident really; one evening I found myself alone in my house drinking whisky. After some hours I stumbled to the toilet and caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I looked ten years younger. The next day I began experimenting with drunken rats.
How’s the work progressing?
Slowly very slowly, however we made a small breakthrough by discovering that it is the body rather than the alcohol alone which leads to the transformation. You see, the body is much happier with alcohol in it. We discovered that the human liver will actually release a hormone which causes the brain to produce youth & happiness endorphins (top right)
when it is processing alcohol. If it is asked to process water or soft drinks it simply refuses to release any hormone, the liver at these times is in a ‘Sad’ state (bottom right) which can lead to unhappiness and ageing of other body parts including the face and buttocks.
You stated in your recent paper that it may be possible to halt or reverse the ageing process, how could that be achieved?
Yes the transformation is only stable when alcohol is in the bloodstream. When the alcohol diminishes so do the positive effects.
How would you propose to make the transformation permanent?
Well that’s the million dollar question, an answer to which we are hoping to give very soon. If we can work out how the alcohol molecule interacts with the body then we can probably produce an anti ageing serum, but at the moment work is rather slow.
What would your advice be to people wishing to try alcohol therapy?
At the moment we are working to get alcohol made available on prescription. However you can start treatment immediately at your local pub or bar.
For more information contact St Marks Hospital in Roydon.
Random Thoughts- Election Fever
With only one day to go until the General Erection, I was wondering how elections started so have compiled a small history below.
Democracy started around the year 510 BC by a bloke called Cleisthenes, an Athenian who felt that the old system of absolute rule, killing and man buggery was letting the side down a bit. Therefore, he started something called an assembly, which was a large meeting of blokes who sat around discussing the old days of killing and man buggery.
Democracy then spread around Europe before being squidged by the Roman Empire who thought that man buggery and killing were fun, and saw no reason why they shouldn’t be reinstated. They also added sleeping with close relatives and marrying horses, which led to them eventually going off the rails and appointing a leader who thought himself a god. This David Ike style bloke came a cropper when one day he forgot to wear his dagger proof toga.
Eventually the Romans got bored of buggery, killing and horses so set about strengthening the power of the senate, which had pretty much taken over from the Ike type blokes, then the empire fell blah de bleedin blah.
After that Europe went into the invasion business, the main players in this new market were disinterested in man buggery and obsessed with lady fiddling. This led to lots of integration between invaders and invadees who set up houses together and fiddled with jugs & other pottery.
It took a while, but after some years of being ruled by various syphilitic Kings, a fellow called Cromwell got shit faced on fruit juice, chopped off the head of a bloke called Charlie and declared himself Lord Protector, banned fun, died, was dug up and hanged before having his head cut off.
Then Chuck II was popped on the throne before getting scared when he heard that a bloke called Bill wanted a pagga with him and running away. After that, Bill ruled for a bit and died.
Other people sat on the throne, found it lumpy & died. Then they decided to have elections. Eventually commoners and women got the vote and elected some blokes in top hats before going for blokes in raincoats, sports jackets and eventually dresses. After that, the world nicked the idea of democracy and set up British stylee parliaments, apart from the Americans who set up one like the Romans and filled it with men who secretly thought about man buggery and killing but only talked about moral values and taxes.
Random Thoughts- Shaving Miss Daisy
Having been a bloke for many years…well apart from that time in the mid nineties, we don’t talk about that. Right OK! You twisted my arm, I’ll tell you. To cut a long story short the doctor was a fake and when the staples rusted and pinged out, it emerged (literaly) he’d not actually cut anything off, just tucked it all in. Was the most embarrassing bikini wax I’ve ever had, was like the scene in Alien. My member nearly took the beauticians eye out, terrible business.
Erm…where was I…ah yes.
Having been a bloke for many years I’ve had to shave almost every day and the tools I use (for the job) are a three blade razor, shaving brush and soap. However recently I became aware that there were other products than soap on the market to allow foamy facedness. So in the interest of informing and enlightening you, my only and lovely reader* I tested two forms of lathery product on myself and some animals, the results of which are published here.
1) Gillette Gel Foam: This was a rather nice product if a little wild. Having squirted a quantity into my palm I was shocked to see it expanding into a white foam which almost engulfed me. Luckily I was saved from smothering when in a flash I leapt from my bath and out of the bathroom window, where I hung from a ledge for some hours before the Fire Brigade were able to crane me down.
Some days later when they released me from hospital I resolved to try it again. This time I squirted a smaller amount into my palm and applied it all over the beard area of my face. The sensation was marvelous and I haven’t felt so refreshed since I had my face blown by some boys in Morocco some years ago. Then for the acid test, I took my razor and began to shave, it was smooth and wonderful, probably the smoothest shave I’ve ever enjoyed.
Later in the day after calling my friend to express delight, I shot some into a cow’s eye and it lived.
In conclusion: A superb product which like most things in life should be used in moderation.
2) Mentality: The Ultimate Experience: Shaving Oil for Men: This product promises much in the title but delivers little. Having wet my face and taken ‘Just 3 Drops’ into my hands, as the instructions bade me, I applied the oil to my face where it seemed to disappear. There was no foaminess or indication as to whether it was actually on my face at all. However as the title promised ‘The Ultimate Experience’ I continued in earnest and took my razor to the stubble. Immediately I realized as my razor snagged at my reddening face the product had no effect at all and I discontinued shaving to apply some shaving gel.
Later I rubbed some on a cat, it smelled.
In Conclusion: Absolute bollocks, how the manufacturers of this non product sleep at night I really don’t know.
Well that’s it I do hope you learned something from my experiences and if you would like to read more then a hosepipe and a family car may be your only hope.
Random Thoughts- War Songs
Anyway I digress; I was writing about the songs of WWII. Now don’t get me wrong I think they were terrible as do all normal bipeds, but I wonder whether Tommy Atkins considered them so. Did he sing ‘We’ll meet again’ on the front line while bullets rushed at his face & legs or dance around singing ‘Hang out your washing on the Siegfried Line’ while bayoneting a Gerry? This we will never know, because the moment any old person starts to speak, most of us go to the happy place in our skull and assume that they are talking about the Common Market or decimalization.
At the moment Britain, America & some other countries are still at war. This means that we have a real opportunity to witness the role of popular songs on the front line of bangy places. Do American and British troops taunt rebels by ‘Shakin that ass’? Or perhaps their milkshakes bring all the Al Qaeda boys to the yard.
At this very moment Elton John and Cliff Richard are being dropped over enemy soil to sap their morale. Misletoe & Wine was deployed to great effect in Bosnia and led to the surrender and suicide of many enemy operatives and troops.
However we still have the most powerful force in the war against terror and that is David Bowie. He has constantly produced good tunes to boost the morale of British troops. In fact an entire regiment went androgynous during the Gulf War after listening to Space Oddity and were dropped behind enemy lines to seduce and kill bad men. Sadly (Haha!) a French regiment was slaughtered when they tried to improve cheeriness by playing French pop music. Well I stay slaughtered; they actually killed each other in a way reminiscent of the film ‘Event Horizon’ only without Sam Neill gouging his eyes out for a laugh.
Tomorrow: Fake History