A Mo Collarup PI Investigation

“’Ello……‘ello……….can you hear me…….’ello………are you there?”

“Mo Collarup Private Investigator at your service. How can I help you?”

“Got your number out of Yellow Pages Mo…….got a bit of a problem you see………..what it is is…..”

“Before we carry on may I ask exactly who is calling?”

“Oh you want me name…….promise not to laugh.”


“Anita Bush…….even worse the old man is called Seymour. We have been the brunt of many a joke all our married life as it happens……you know, ‘I really would like to Seymour of Anita Bush’ and that sort of stuff. Still suppose it’s better than me maiden name.”

“What was that then Anita?”

“Oh I was Anita Ringpiece back then……..anyway it’s me husband I’m calling about, you see he’s only gone and left me for a frog……….well I think he has, having had a sneaky gander at his text messages whilst he was on the throne studying National Geographic the other morning……..I was hoping you might put a tail on him… know catch him in the act.   If me suspicions are correct I’ll take the bastard to the cleaners.”

“A ‘frog’ you say. Most unusual! You do realize that a frog heralds from a largely carnivorous group of short-bodied, tailless amphibians. To obtain admissible evidence of what I presume to be a sexual relationship between the pair will prove an insoluble problem methinks………however, let’s take first things first……….how comes your husband is suddenly become attracted to ‘frogs’?”

“Whatcha mean….I mean a frog is not that unlike me….you know what with her characteristic features being stout body, protruding eyes, cleft tongue, limbs folded underneath and the absence of a tail. I think that he’s simply gone for a younger model you see………I’ve not been up for much on the conjugal front since the change kicked off if the truth be told.”

“Still a tad perplexed Anita…… affair twixt a human male and an amphibian would be a first in my experience.”

“What do you mean…….amphibian…… Mo she’s not from Amphibia she’s from fucking France – the French tart wot she is………can you help me?”

“Gotcha now Anita……..I’ll give it my best shot and report back to you…….simply email over every bit of evidence of an affair and rest assured I shall be on the case.”


“Glad I caught you in Anita only I’ve got some bad, albeit improbable news for you.”

“What’s that then Mo……you can give it to me straight……Anita Bush wouldn’t take it any other way.”

“Well you see from the transcripts of the text messages you are certainly correct insofar as incoming and outgoing messages are concerned. Certainly Seymour refers to the female as ‘Frog’ and for her part she always signs off any message as ‘Love, Frog’ so I can see just how you thought her to be French. However, and I do hope you are sitting down……… see she is an actual frog……..and yes he is having an affair with her…………um……….they meet down by the pond she lives in regular as clockwork every Thursday night as it happens.   I have the photographic evidence of the pair of them at it.”

“Well knock me down with a feather…….I mean I always worried a bit that since the day we married he’s hankered after a pond in the garden……..goes on and on and on about it……….but shagging a frog….what a sicko Seymour Bush is.”

“True, at first I thought their union would offer some credence to the old fairy tales……you know the Princess snogs a frog and bingo he turns back into a Prince and they all live happily ever after, yet after seeing them kiss…….and so much more……..I’ve discounted that theory.”

“What photographic evidence you got then?”

“First let me explain that the other party in this matter is an unusual frog not usually found in the British Isles.   From my research I can say with a good measure of certainty that she is a Purple frog generally heralding from the mountainous regions of Southern India. I suspect she’s an escapee from a zoo or private collection. She has smooth, purple skin and a large, round body with stumpy limbs. Her head is small and it has a pig-like nose – not unlike the wedding photo of you and Seymour you sent me for recognition purposes. They always say bluebirds fly with bluebirds and Seymour is certainly stereotypical in that regard.”

“Oi I’ll have you know I only go purple when me blood pressure is up…….but carry on I’m all ears…..I mean how does the dirty rascal have it off with a frog?”

“Orally……..Clinton’esque style……..a ‘Monica on the Rock’ to put it another way……..which of course with the size differential Seymour cannot proceed with love making any other way.”

“What a blow job?”

“Yup, spot on. Got video and audio evidence…….he talks to her all sweet and lovey dovey and she sort of, kinda like, sort of, know what I mean……burps back demurely….save for when they’re at it when quite obviously a burp would be out of the question.”

“Will it stand up in court?”

“No luv the best you can hope for is a hop.”



Filed under The League Of Mental Men

The Devil Wears A Donkey Jacket

Demonic dialogue by Gary Hoadley. Infernal editing by Clivey Dee



The Devil and his wife are sitting in their lounge.

“Look, what I’m saying is, when Jesus comes back, I wont have
so many working hours, so we will need to cut darn a bit”

“Why is that then?”.

“Cos he’s offered the Nergals and the Hades jobs in His Heaven”.

“How does that effect you then?”

“Gawd’s sake!…Wivart the Nergals and the Hades there won’t
be a bleedin Hell will there, you great, fat, puddin!”.

“So, will they make you redundant?”

“Well, they can try…I mean, you can’t have goodwill to
all men all over the world can yer? You got to ‘ave a bit of bad”.


“Why?…’Cos it’s yer working class right to have a bluddy good drink and a punch up on a Saturday night!  That’s why my dear…it’s tradition innit?”.

“Well Jesus don’t think so”.

“Look…LOOOOK! If they had all listened to Him, I’d have never got the job in the first place”.

“He’s got more followers than your lot”.

“I know, we never had time to write a rule book did we? Bluddy
Communist swine He was! He had it all planned out from the off”.

“It was your lot caused the division”.

“Don’t be bluddy daft my dear! It was them! They wanted  men and women
to walk abart in the nude! We stuck one of our shop stewards in there
and he reported back to the guvnor and that was it.”

“You got thrown out of Eden”.

“We didn’t get thrown out, we formed our own union”.

“Well it hasn’t done you much good has it?”

“You’re bluddy right there! I’m still  stuck darn here
married to you! I’m going darn the pub!”.

Editor’s Footnote: This infernal skit is loosely based on the convoluted interactions between the legendary TV character, Alf Garnet, a committed racist and right wing misogynist, and his long suffering wife, Elsie. He was created by the great Johnny Speight in the 1970s as an East London anti-hero and was a real favourite of mine…despite the fact that a number of people have said that Alf’s accent and my own are indistinguishable…the saucy gits!!!



Filed under Humor, Humour, Satire

Report of Nottingham Job Centre Disruption (Updated)


Riot0001Chaos erupted earlier today at the Nottingham Job Centre Plus on Upper Parliament Street, reports are now coming in from Nottingham Evening Liar Gazette correspondent Mike Steedenski, Now released from prison on a the technicality that he was fitted-up.


Riot001aJuan Inchcock, a plain living simple but confused 65 year old (then) claimant, made redundant through no fault of his own, was spotted on the JCP-CCTV smiling while waiting for his JCP investigators interrogation.

Emergency action was taken, and the JCP management placed the entire office immediately into Defcon-One status, and the Government informed of the situation.

This involved:

An emergency call made to the local investigative unit.

Who responded with great alacrity arriving on site within 6 minutes of the call.

The local constabulary were informed but took a while to arrive due to lack of officers available.

Group4 security asked to increase the number of officers without delay.

The centre was evacuated, and staff removed to the safe room.

This left the 65 year claimant alone in the offices, apart from two armed police officers with their dogs and a supply of tear-gas and two members of the investigative team.

Both sets of officers were being given cover by Police snipers from across the road at the Chinese restaurant.

Unfortunately the simple and indeed non-aggressive natured duck feeding 65 year old claimant was unaware of what was going on, as he had removed his hearing aids in an effort not to look so unemployable at his interview.


Artist’s Impression of the altercation during the arrest

The investigators, covered by the armed police officers, approached the 65 year old, and the officers spread eagled the short portly-built Juan Inchcock on the floor – causing him much consternation and fear for his angina, stomach ulcer, and arthritic knees… Juan became confused his biggest mistake was greeting them with a Nazi salute that he thought they might have appreciated.

They searched his carrier bag and person for any offensive weapons, they were suspicious of his ear-wax-remover-spray and his tube of full-strength painkiller gel, and both were taken away for forensic testing.


Not Inchys best move the Nazi greeting?

They confiscated his walking stick, and removed his packet of seaweed and his plastic bazooka.

They interrogated him about his reason for the unacceptable actions of appearing happy within the confines of a job-centre-plus establishment… and demanded to know why he had carried out this sacrilege.

He explained that he was not actually smiling, but he was suffering from tooth-ache, and this might have distorted his face somewhat.


He accepted a verbal warning from the authorities, passed wind and was allowed home. But it being so late, he could not use his bus-pass so had to walk all the way.

Riot04The alert status was returned to Defcon 3, and the emergency services retired, leaving a warning that the 65 year old if the ear-wax-remover-spray or pain gel turned out to be anything dodgy, they would return.

The 65 year old, now a 69 year old is no longer looking for work today in 2014, but still develops a nervous tic when he hobbles passed the Job Centre Plus, and thinks he can still see Firearm officers in the Chinese Restaurant across the road when he hobbled by?


Filed under Humour, Satire, The League Of Mental Men

Home Workshop Manual for 29 Tools: with users’ advice (Updated)



To the uninitiated, the workshop can be an intimidating place, full of tools you may not know what to do with.

To help, here’s a helpful explanation of common tools and their uses, followed by some DIY tips provided by Mike Steeden Construction and Demolition expert.

1: Socket-Sets:

A definitely much needed tool. You’ll always lose the one you want to use, but the nearest width one can always be utilised to chew-up the bolt heads.

2: Drill Press:

A tall upright machine useful for suddenly snatching flat metal bar stock out of your hands so that it smacks you in the chest and flings your beer across the room, denting the freshly-painted vertical stabilizer which you had carefully set in the corner where nothing could get to it.

3: Allen Keys:

Highly losable. You can keep them on a key-ring, for you to sort through them to find the size out of the 60 you have on the ring isn’t there, more easily.

4: Multi-Pliers:

Contain a handy assortment of sharp and dangerous tools. Best left in its leather sheath and worn on a homeowners belt to make you look macho and increase testosterone levels.

5: Wire Wheel:

Cleans paint off bolts and then throws them somewhere under the workbench with the speed of light. Also removes fingerprints and hard-earned calluses from fingers in about the time it takes you to say, “Oh shit!”

6: Halogen Light:

A work-light that lights up your backyard with the incandescence of a football stadium, causing you to cast a heavy shadow over the area you’re working on so that you need to use a flashlight anyway.

7: Electric Hand Drill

Normally used for spinning pop rivets in their holes until you die of old age.

8: Cordless Drill:

A device that lessens your chance of electrocution 90% over a standard plug-in tool. Guaranteed to lose your power when you need it.

9: Skill Saw:

A portable cutting tool used to make studs too short.

10: Pliers:

Used to round off bolt heads. Sometimes used in the creation of blood-blisters. These have been known to mysteriously increase a man’s cursing vocabulary.

11: Belt Sander:

An electric sanding tool commonly used to convert minor touch-up jobs into major refurnishing jobs.

12: Hacksaw:

One of a family of cutting tools built on the Ouija board principle. It transforms human energy into a crooked, unpredictable motion, and the more you attempt to influence its course, the more dismal your future becomes.

13: Vice-Grips:

Generally used after pliers have failed in the task. To completely round off bolt heads. If nothing else is available, they can also be used to transfer intense welding heat to the palm of your hands.

14: Welding Gloves:

Heavy duty leather gloves used to prolong the conduction of intense welding heat to the palm of your hands.

15: Oxyacetylene Torch:

Used almost entirely for lighting various flammable objects in your workshop on fire. Also handy for igniting the grease inside the wheel hub you want the bearing taken out of.

16: Table Saw:

A large stationary power tool commonly used to launch wood projectiles for testing wall integrity.

17: Hydraulic Floor Jack:

Used for lowering an automobile to the ground after you have installed your new brake shoes, trapping the jack handle firmly under the bumper.

18: Eight-foot long Yellow Pine 2×4:

Used for levering an automobile upward off of a trapped hydraulic jack- handle.

19: Ease-it-out Bolt & Stud Extractor:

A tool ten times harder than any known drill bit that snaps neatly off in bolt holes thereby ending any possible future use.

20: Band Saw

A large stationary power saw primarily used by most handymen to cut good aluminium sheet into smaller pieces that more easily fit into the trash can after you cut on the inside of the line instead of the outside edge.

21: Two-Ton Engine Hoist:

A tool for testing the maximum tensile strength of everything you forgot to disconnect.

22: Phillips Screwdriver

Normally used to stab the vacuum seals under lids and for opening old-style paper-and-tin oil cans and splashing oil on your shirt; but can also be used, as the name implies, to mangle-up Phillips screw heads.

23: Plain-flat headed Screwdriver

A tool for opening paint cans. These are often used to convert the common slotted screws into non-removable slotted screws.

24: Crow Bar:

A tool used to crumple the metal surrounding that clip or bracket you needed to remove in order to replace a 50p part. Also useful during burglaries and street riots.

25: Hose Cutter:

A tool used to make hoses too short.

26: Hammer:

Originally employed as a weapon of war, the hammer nowadays is used as a kind of divining rod to locate the most expensive parts adjacent the object we are trying to hit with it.

27: Stanley-Knife:

Used to open and slice through the contents of cardboard cartons delivered to your front door. Works particularly well on contents such as seats, vinyl records, liquids in plastic bottles, collector magazines, refund cheques, and rubber or plastic parts. Especially useful for slicing work clothes, but only while in use.

28: Swiss Army Knife:

Can always come in handy as a substitute for the tool you need, but you cannot find.

29: Dammit Tools:

Any handy tool that you grab and throw across the garage while yelling “Dammit” at the top of voice. It is also, most often, the next tool that you will need at any given time.

Guest Advisor Mike Steeden’s Advice for the Handy-Man:

JCP05If you can’t find a screwdriver, use a knife. If you break off the tip, it becomes an improvised screwdriver.

Try to work alone, an audience is rarely any help and only takes the piss out if you when you get it wrong again.

Despite what you may have been told by your mother, praying and cursing are both helpful in home repair… but only if you are working alone.

Work in the kitchen whenever you can… many fine tools are there. It’s warm and dry, and you are close to the refrigerator.

If it’s electronic, get a new one, or consult a twelve-year-old.

Stay simple minded, Plug it in, Get a new battery, Replace the bulb or fuse, See if the tank is empty, Try turning it to the “on” switch. Or Just paint over it.

Always take credit for miracles. If you dropped the alarm clock while taking it apart and it suddenly starts working, you have healed it.

Regardless what people say, kicking, pounding, throwing, and shaking sometimes does help.

If something looks level, it is level.

If at first you don’t succeed, redefine success.

Above all, if what you’ve done is stupid, but it works, don’t toy with it any-more!


Filed under Humor, Humour, Satire, Soz Satire Magazine, The League Of Mental Men

Inchy’s Weekly Diary 3: W/E 28th Sept 14


Monday 22nd September 2014

Got up about 0445hrs.


Been dreaming about something that must have been good, ‘cause me stiffy Inch was sore and bleeding again. Tsk! Still, there were plenty of bandages and pure dermatological creams at hand and were put to use. I must tell the doctor about this when I go later.

Now what have I got to tell her I thought, so wrote the things down there and then so as not to forget later.

  1. About me new chest pains that are very sharp when i sneeze or cough vigorously.
  2. Arthritis in me left knee very much worse, so much so I no longer look forward to me walks.
  3. My Inch bleeding overnight.
  4. My right ear-hole bleeding.

Gingerly I tackled the going down the stairs bit, and started the laptop and made a cuppa.


The poor old laptop played up this morning. I had when it was supposed to have loaded fully, a blank white screen. I cried a bit. Then ran the mouse over the screen, and as I did, the stuff came back on as i ran it over where they should be?


When I started the BT web and WordPress, it was mighty twitchy and slow. So I closed it and re started it, and it seemed okay…

Then I posted me Monday’s LOMM stuff in case it conked out later.

Did some graphics on Coreldraw9, but it was hard work, it kept freezing.


Went back up and beautified missen as best I could, the right ear-hole was bleeding again, I stubbed me flaming toe on the sink pedestal, and me gums started bleeding when I did me teggies.

Had a feeling this was not going to be one of my better days like.

I made the treat/nibbles bags up for the GP staff, girls at the Nottingham hospice shop and the nurses at the Warfarin check at the QMC. Remembering to put the stuff to donate in one of me two bags. Then made sure I’d got me hearing aids in, bus-pass in pocket, attack alarm in jacket pocket, and mobile phone with me.

Then I struggled with the bags, as I set off from the flea-pit to the GP surgery.

As I arrived at the doctors, I realised I’d forgotten me camera to record me adventures. Double Tsk!

I reported to the receptionist, Frau Goebbels I think her name is. Sat down and got comfortable to wait, and three seconds later Dr Vindla appeared calling out my name to go in to see her! (Perhaps I’d got the time of the appointment wrong? Not like me… cough cough!)

She greeted me cheerfully, and told me how well I was looking? Then asked what she could do for me.

After an embarrassing few minutes searching me pockets and bags for the list I’d made and left in the bathroom back at the dump, I managed to remember some of them.

She had a peep in me right lug-hole, and informed me the skin on the outer bit had ruptured. If I left me right hearing aid out for a few days, it should heal on its own. (How long before I get ran over due to not hearing traffic or the deadly motorbility scooters coming I thought?)

The different pains in the chest she said was not due to my angina, but the wounds from the heart operation? (After all this time… I said nothing to her in response… me being a born coward like)

She had a good look at me left knee, and seemed to enjoy manipulating it. She would make an appointment for an E-ray to be done on it, but there is a long waiting list.

I forgot to tell her about me Inch problems… Tsk!

She asked about the yobs and housing situation bless her.

Then she took me BP, and as concerned at how high it was. I explained about me getting agitated over the BT Internet treatment I had to go through.

She then told me to make an appointment for my Flu jab, as I am high priority/risk for them.

So I offered me thanks to her, and approached the receptionists to make the urgent appointment.  Wednesday 8th October booked.

I left the surgery, and hobbled, and I mean hobbled painfully into Sherwood, to leave me stuff at the Hospice Shop. I forgot to give em me number though… huh!

I caught the bus into town.

Typical, just when I forget me camera, there was a fight going on between three alcho’s that I could have recorded. Never mind, better to forget me camera than medications I thought.

Then I realised me midday one’s were due, so with the help of a little bottle of orange juice, I took em.

While on the bus to the hospital, a kind lady banged into left knee with her shopping trolley, hey-ho she didn’t mean to.

No fire-alarms at the hospital today. As I approached the entrance it dawned on me, I had forgotten me Anticoagulation Therapy Record log, do had to walk up two flights of stairs to the Anticoagulation Unit and get another copy – they were very nice about it.

Worrying me a bit you know; the Doctor was very nice to me, the ladies in the Charity shop were very nice to me and now the staff at the Anticoagulation Unit were very nice to me. When I asked her about where I could get a new Emergency card to carry, as the one I had was wearing out – she just said, “I’ll do that for you!” And did too. Mmm?

I wobbled gently down the stairs to the Haematology Dept, and there was a big queue, but no bother for me, I took a ticket and had a go at me crossword book.

When I got into the room, there were many new faces to me, but they all knew who I was; “The man who brought nibbles for them every week” Fame at last. The girl who tended to me was very nice to me…

Afterwards I caught the bus to town, the limped to the bus to Arnold, where I tried to obtain some more microwave sausages, but they had none, and did not expect anymore to come in stock.

I almost cried.

Despondently I caught the bus back to Carrington. Took the long route back to the hovel, to avoid some ‘Right ‘Erbert’ looking youths lurking near the Church.

I got in, WC. And the laptop started first time, the new BT Infinity wasn’t too keen on starting and took a good while.

As I was clearing up ready to go to kip – the BT landline phone rang! I answered it, but so much background noise prevented me from hearing anything said. Weird eh? Not with BT it ain’t.

Feeling very tired again now, so I’ll microwave me box of chips in gravy along with me tin of cocktail sausages and get misssen summat to eat.

TTFN all.


Tuesday 23rd September 2014

Awake at 0410hrs, chest pains rampant.


Down at 0505hrs. Laptop went through same procedure as yesterday; When it was supposed to have been loaded fully, a blank white screen. I cried a bit. Then ran the mouse over the screen, and as I did, the stuff came back on as I ran it over where the icons should be?

I fear I’m going to lose everything soon.

I must remember to put the camera batteries on charge.

Made a cuppa and took medications.

I wrote down some notes for an idea I had for a humorous post – but was not so sure it would work. I’ll take another gander after I get back from the launderette this morning.

Did me ablutions, and set off with me bag of washing. (With me knees twinging rather persistently).

Bought a very interesting ‘Nottingham Bygones’ paper to read on the way. There was many articles worthy of a good read in it.

The big Polish gal was on duty at the launderette, I can’t pronounce her name, so I’ve Christened her Bertha.

Big John arrived to do his laundry. Had a good natter about his holiday in Cornwall.

I departed with me now clean laundry back to the flea-pit.


Laptop started, kettle on, up and put the togs away, WC again, came down and made a cuppa, took me midday medications… then the laptop had loaded itself at last.

Had a look at the notes wot I made earlier about a post idea, and decided to work on it, then create some graphics to support it.


Wednesday 24th September 2014

WC visits more regular overnight, and have continued this morning.

Inch bleeding again. Tended to, sorry I forgot to mention this to Dr Vindla yesterday now.

Left ear-hole blocked, I must have slept a bit on it. Dropped some olive oil in both lug-holes as usual, and pain-gel applied to knees and hands.

Down at 0525hrs. Took rubbish out to bins, checking for any yobs about first.

Laptop on, and made cuppa and some porridge with added honey. (By gum I live well!) Took me morning medications. WC.

03W02Updated this diary.

Received my Anticoagulation Therapy Record dosage from the hospital.

Apparently my target is NRI 3.5 but I’ve never got that yet. I’m on 5.0 this time. So that explains why I’ve been feeling so cold lately? Or does it? I think the higher the IHR is, the thinner the blood is.

Better try not to cut myself! I might bleed to death, but at least I shouldn’t get a blood clot taking me out. Hehehe, you’ve got to laugh yer know.

I must get me things ready to take to the Nottingham Hospice Charity shop later. I’ll do it now; back in a bit…

I’m back… oh dear, WC beckons, I’m off again…

Must get myself beautified for me walk, and hope it isn’t too painful today.

0840hrs: Back later folks…

1205hrs: I’m back, and it was painful; but not so bad it would stop me hobbling about today.

Walked into Sherwood and dropped me stuff off at the Nottingham Hospice Charity Shop. I 03W03aasked the lay there if she knew where I could get a “Reacher/picker” from. She told me to try the Mobility Scooter shop about half a mile up the road. So I did.

As I approached the shop, I was nervous in case any of the deadly mobility scooter drivers appeared out of nowhere… as they do tend to do to me yer know.

None about so I went in. They only had short ones in, so I got one for £10.

0603Walked back into Sherwood and caught a bus to town.

Limped to the second hand music shop to see if he had managed to get me Acker Bilk’s ‘Gotta see mama tonight’, but he hadn’t.

Walked down through the arcade and went into the Library Contact point and asked them if they knew where I could get details of the Meals at home service. A very nice lady called them for me, and handed me the phone. They are going to send me details through the post.

03W04bI wondered through the Slab Square, where I noted, that they had now got G4 security doing the mobile cameras.

I saw two people of the many people sat around the square, were not using a mobile or ipod thingamajig.

Took a picture of the Council house.

Hobbled up and through Victoria, and came out the other end and went into PC World/Curry’s to have a look at their portable DVD players, but they have stopped selling them?

Took an extra painkiller with me midday medications, cause the left knee had started to get worse again.

Staggered to the bus stop and caught bus back to Carrington.

Called in the local Co-op to get some of their special prices Warburton Thins, but the queue was so long, I decided not to.

I painfully limped the last leg of the journey home.

Got in, and rushed to the WC. (Just in time) Unfortunately in the rush, I banged me knee on the side of the bath… I believe I said something like; “Well fancy that!”

It’s still stinging now. (Tsk!)

Got the laptop going and updated this tosh.

Started work on graphics for the posts.


Thursday 25th September 2014


Up at 0545hrs.

All through the night the porcelain was visited for both activations, bit worrying that.

Bit of blood from the ‘Inch’.

Down and started laptop, kettle on, did the pots, back up to the WC.

I am feeling nervous for some reason this morning, left knee giving gip again.

Updated this diary, then spent 4 hours finishing graphics for the ‘Inchy causes Nottingham Job Centre Disruption – by smiling’ post and posted it. Reacting to four calls to the porcelain during its creation.

Went (slowly) up the stairs, and did me ablutions…

At this point, I was weary of stubbing me toes like wot I‘ve been doing recently. Shame I hit me head of the cupboard door.

03W04Everything assembled (I hope) I set off on me limp into Sherwood, to the Nottingham Hospice Charity Shop first.

Then I caught the bus into town. Called into Tesco and got a Cornish pasty and some bread for the ducks in Derby.

04Thur03Then caught bus into Derby. Had a walk along the Riverside, fed the ducks and dicky-birds.

Suddenly feeling drained again, I caught the bus back into Nottingham. Took the scenic routed bus.

Once the bus got into Beeston, it slowed to a crawl due to the Tram works, which let me have a good read of me book, and nibble me nosh.

03W05In town, the place seemed busy, but I could not see any mobility scooters; skateboarders and cyclist on the pavements yes.

Walked up passing Brain Clough’s statue, where some yobs were fighting with each other, no signs of the constabulary about.

Caught bus back to Carrington, limped back to the flea-pit, just made the WC in time again.

Started laptop, made cuppa and updated this tosh.


 Friday 26th September 2014

What a mess this morning.

Following a bad night, dreams, waking ups and pain in the chest – I attended the WC around about 0430hrs to find; Blood and tender swelling from the Inch, blood from the haemorrhoids and new blood welt spots on my hands.

I must get to see the GP again.

I should get me letter with details of the Nottingham Meals at Home system today. (But it didn’t come)

o535hrs: I cleaned myself up and came downstairs, wearily I might add, Put the medical stuff in a bag, took it out to the dustbin and moved it ready for collection.

Started laptop and put the kettle on.

WC both ends attended to.

Came down gingerly and made cuppa, then I waited for the laptop to finish loading to update this diary.

Medications taken with me cuppa tea, then I sorted out the things for the Nottingham Hospice Shop.

Titivated meself, managing to end up with a shaving cut under each eye, then got ready and set off on me walk into Sherwood to the Hospice shop.

Bit of traffic about today.

The left knee being so bad might not be such a bad thing yer know; because it takes away yer concentration on the pain from the right knee?

I dropped off the things at the shop and crossed the road to catch a bus to Mansfield. When it arrived, it was nearly full and I had to sit on one of the pull-down seats. I spent the whole journey hanging on for dear life… hehehe!

05F03I arrived at Mansfield bus station and poddled down to investigate B&M and Pound Stretcher shops for any bargains they might have on offer. Got some cheapo little tins of ham and some nice looking honeyed ham slices from B&M, then got some biscuits from the Stretcher shop.

Took a walk through the shopping centre, and boy was there some mobility scooters about or what! Still, I have to say, although nervous of 05F04‘em, none actually attacked or blitzkrieged me.

I came out the other end, and waddled me way down to open market for a while… this is where I noticed the fine array of mobility scooters on sale.

I ambled my way back up to the bus station, and caught the bus back to Nottingham, dropping off at Carrington. I walked past the car I often looked at as I did so, a Bedford CA 0506van… it’s burnt out now, and the wheels have gone?

Tried to take a photo of it, but the camera would not work, it just took blank shots? Oh ‘eck. Summat else dying? Tsk!

Got into the flea-pit, well tired again and made a cuppa, some ham sandwiches and took me evening medications – then head down and hopefully some decent sleep.



Saturday 20th September 2014

Up at 0430hrs, WC, tended to the sore bulbous red Inch. No blood this morning thank heavens.

While doing so I remembered some of a dream I’d had, so wrote bits of the memory down to put on here, cause it was an odd one. (Aren’t they all though?)

I was in command of the German Kriegsmarine, and I realised that Germany would not win this war, so I hid U-boats under seashore locations, to use later, and stocked up with ammunition food, and Nazi Youth members.

It became the current time, and our unterseeboots were sinking all the ferries travelling from Europe to the UK.

Then we blew up France’s part of the channel tunnel.

I think we shot down some planes on their way to England as well.

That’s about all I can recall though.

After I get me food delivery, I’ll have to think about going into town and checking out the prices and availability of cameras I suppose. Might try Jessops methinks.

Food delivery arrived an hour late, 3 substitutes and two items missing. Tsk!

Went up a beautified myself; managing to acquire another nick on me mush.

Used me Colgate ‘Herbal’ toothpaste today, if you were considering using it, be warned it tastes horrible!

0602Set off on me hobble into Sherwood.

It’s getting harder and more painful by the day this walking lark!

Dropped me stuff off at the Nottingham Hospice Charity Shop.

Then I went out and to the bus-stop to catch bus into City.

It was an all-around the place bus, so I managed to get some reading on me football book done.

0604Dropped off in the city on Parliament Street.

Very busy today, that was when I realised it was a Saturday.

Took a walk around, and dropped into Jessops photography shop. A bloke talked me into buying a Sony DSC HX50 Camera, with a free carrying case, an Intergral Multi-Card reader, and a Sandisk Extreme HD SDHC 8GB 705268387.

I managed to resist his attempts at selling me a 3 year extended warranty, pointing out I expect not being here in three years according to the doctors.

I’d sooner not think about how much I had spent.

Un-bemused at how I got conned into spending so much, I waddled through the crowds to the County Contact Point in the library.

Where I asked about the Meals at Home delivery day, because I thought it might on me hospital days, Monday or a Tuesday. The kind lady said they were closed there at the weekends. But if I could call on Tuesday as I go through to the Queens medical centre, she would call them for me. That was nice of her.

Then I remembered me INR level tests were on Monday this week. Huh!

What are the odds that something will happen that causes me forget to do just that?

0606I hobbled up the arcade stairs to see if the second hand record man has had any luck with finding me ‘Acker Bilks Gotta see mama tonight’ recording on CD. He was closed. Huh!

I wandered painfully to Victoria Market for a look around. I asked at two book stall if they had any memories of Stalingrad book, no luck.

The market was almost abandoned, very sad.

I limped along and down the escalator, and out into the streets of my beloved Nottingham. (Cough cough!)

I popped into Waitrose to have a look around, but decided against it when I saw the queue winding down the shop.

I started walking towards Kings Walk that led to me bus-stop home, but ended up taking the long route to it after seeing a fight starting near the cafe there.

I got back to the dumping ground (house) and made a cuppa.

0607Updated this diary – then somehow managed to put the new camera on charge – I hope I did at least.

I took a photo of the new camera on charge with me old faithful but dying a death old camera.

Back to the laptop, with another cuppa wot I made.


Remembered I’d forgotten to get some spread. So no sarnies tonight for me. Good job I’ve got some microwave sausages left to nosh.

I’ll watch me New Tricks DVD tonight methinks.


Sunday 21st September 2014

Not so many WC visits last night – but I did get stomach pains grumbling?

Up at 0455hrs, cream on me flaming sore Inch, WC, then down to make a cuppa laptop on.

Hope to create some graphics today and get them posted on Facebook. I’ll see how the old laptop allows me proceed.

Took the new camera off charge, and got the ‘free’ holder out of its box: then put it back again! It looks a bit too complicated assemble for me, talk about Air-fix model kits… Huh! I’ll have to take it to me brother in law Pete to have a go at. The words in the manual sheet look like dots to me?

I spent the whole day on the web, reading wordpress, doing  graphic etc. Felt guilty, but enjoyed it.

Leave a comment

Filed under Humour, Satire, The League Of Mental Men

Jihadists Need To “Dress For Success” Says UN Envoy Victoria Beckham


Victoria Beckham pictured last week showing the General Synod Of Great Britain how to look classy but sexy during a fractious, religious schism 

Newly appointed United Nations envoy and fashionista, Victoria Beckham, has hit out at what she calls the “appalling and outdated” dress sense of Islamist terrorists, insisting that if they were to “smarten themselves up a bit” and start “dressing for success” the rest of the world wouldn’t see them in such a bad light.

In her maiden speech to the UN in Geneva last night, Ms Beckham, 73, was particularly scathing about the Islamic State fighters, currently cutting a murderous swathe through Syria and Iraq, whose full length black robes and matching face masks were described as “samey” and “lacking in oomph” by the star

“Perhaps if these jihadist people were to pay a little more attention to their wardrobe the British and Americans wouldn’t be quite so keen to bomb them” she told delegates.

“If I were in charge out in Iraq or Syria I’d make sure a full range of top name designer clothes were available at all times. It’s a disgrace the way they present themselves in public during these beheadings and suchlike. Where do they think they are for God’s sake? Manchester?

“I went for a coffee with Sporty Spice last week and she agreed with me wholeheartedly. Although what right she has to talk about fashion I don’t know. I mean to say have you seen those shellsuits? Scruffy little cow!”

“While we’re on the subject of public executions, surely it wouldn’t do any harm if the victims were given a decent ensemble to wear before being despatched would it?  Imagine being beheaded in public wearing an orange jump suit. Their friends and loved ones must be absolutely appalled. Surely it wouldn’t be too much to ask to kit them out in a nice pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs would it? They could even offer them some optional padding seeing as it’s their last public appearance. Well it never did my David any harm did it?”

Ms Beckham was unavailable for comment last night and is believed to be in Nigeria, advising terror group, Boko Haram, fighters, on how best to match handbags and shoes with casual evening wear.

The above piece of satire was inspired by the, somewhat surprising, news that Posh Spice was yesterday unveiled as a UN envoy.

Disclaimer: No nails were broken or fashion faux pas were committed during it’s writing, although I was a bit worried at one point that one of my tits had popped out.



Filed under Satire

Supreme Leader, the Musical

 Another diary entry by Kim Jong Un, Supreme Leader of North Korea

Dear diary,

I like Lady GaGa. She’s not as hot as Beyoncé, but her music makes up for that. I wish we had singers like that in North Korea. My wife used to be a singer, but she was not as good as Lady Gaga.

Tonight I will attend the premiere of Supreme Leader, the Musical. It’s about me. It will be in the May Day Stadium.

May Day Stadium

I will have the best seat, where I can see everything and everybody.

During last year’s premiere of Supreme Leader on Ice I arrived late. The announcer said I was stuck in traffic, but that was stupid so I had him sent to prison: all the cars in Pyongyang were at May Day Stadium, so there was no traffic.

I then had to threaten South Korea so my people would think I was busy working and that made me arrive late. Stupid announcer!

I didn’t arrive late because of traffic last year. I arrived late because of Lady Gaga. I had just gotten her new CD and it was awesome. I was listening to it all day and forgot all about the time. It was such a happy feeling. My dead dad never let me listen to cool music, but my wife does.

‘Porker Face’ is my favorite. I didn’t know what it means, so I called my best friend Dennis Rodman and he explained it to me. It reminds me of my generals. And advisors and scientists and government and people.

I have a porker face too.

Sometimes I act really nice to my people, but then I secretly think they are losers. And then in my head I’m like Can’t read my, Can’t read my, No, he can’t read my…pooorkerface. That makes me laugh inside.

I don’t really feel like going to Supreme Leader, the Musical. But everybody expects me to be there. They all come to see me. I guess it’ll be rude of me not to show up.

I’d rather stay home and finish writing my letter in which I ask the world’s greatest dancer if he will produce next year’s event with me. I think it should be called Michael Flatley’s Supreme Leader.

Your one and unly,


I’m playing Wordfeud on my Iphone with a 36 year old housewife from Bristol. She’s very good. She thinks I’m the mother of one of her kid’s friends. She’s British, so she scores more points than me; labour, harbour, humour, dictatour, vibratour, etc.


This cynical character assassination of a wonderful human being comes courtesy of Lenny Van Ree & Satire Nation.



Filed under Humor, Humour, Satire


An extract from the autobiography of Twatersley Fromage MBE

resized_99263-houseofpleasure2_68-15394_t728In the times before misfortune struck it was as if I owned the world. As an explorer of international renown I had conquered that glorified molehill that is Everest no less than seventeen times blindfolded and with a rucksack full of house bricks on my back. Additionally I had taken it upon myself to traverse the poles – in winter mind – naked upon a push bike as well as having swum the seven seas wearing a wetsuit fashioned using only Portland cement. Sponsors were positively gagging to part with hard cash in order to fund my each and every expedition.

Then infelicity struck the day the headhunting Konyak tribesmen of Nagaland set about me with a chain saw and sharp sticks. Those facially tattooed beasts robbed me of a leg, an arm and an eye. Life would never be the same again.

Whereas before money was being thrust my way so often and in such vast sums it was all becoming a little tedious now the well of prosperity had dried up. It was only then I realised friends are few and far between when a man has a deficiency of limbs and of faculties.

Of course they took my driving licence away. Shortly thereafter my mansion was repossessed by the bank; the wife left me for another claiming that if I thought the gig of wiping my bum (yes I am right handed and it was my right arm the brutes molested so) and holding me upright was for her then I had another thought coming (the bitch). Worse still whilst in Leeds trying to drum up some interest in my invention of a ‘remote controlled skate board for the partially limbless’ a local ruffian stole the fucking thing. Albeit a prototype it had served me well enough and maybe could have changed my fortunes. It was not to be though.

It was thus that I took to begging. Many kind folk would throw a twenty pence piece my way – more often than not out of my reach – many would simply walk on by. To think only a short time previous such people had begged me for my autograph.

It was at my bleakest moment, having taken to rolling down Box Hill for exercise only realizing when I got to the bottom the cattle herd had been grazing there the day before, the idea struck me – an idea that would likely get me back on the road to prosperity.

My idea you ask? Prosthetics……..I needed both a prosthetic arm and leg and a bonus would be a glass eye as this empty socket does attract grit and dust and also earwigs seem to prefer such an orifice to the regular lug hole they once so favoured. It was thus that the concept of a sponsored charitable enterprise came about me. In the days when I took my mobility for granted I, when not exploring the planet would with some regularity visit the brothels of Paris in order to retain my six pack. La Rue Saint-Denis was like a second home to me back then for I was on first name terms with madams and girls alike. I determined that I would seek sponsorship for visiting each and every brothel that ‘City of Love’ had to offer. I realized, of course I realized that the idea of a man short changed on the appendage front could not expect to raise much in the way of funds for just visiting a succession of bordellos. You see the cunning ‘hook’ I had thought of was that I would journey twixt houses of ill repute using only a space hopper as my chosen form of transportation. How very, very clever of me……you see I still had the one arm to hang on by and one leg to kick off the first ‘hop’ with plus one eye to see my way about.

The tabloid press were quick to see the merit in my scheme and published stories far and wide. Furthermore sponsorships were promised from not only aristocrats yet even impoverished grannies from as far afield as Elgin.   Certainly enough money was effectively on the table to cover not only my disbursements – after all a man of my standing (so to speak) could never expect the harlots of Paris to hoist me around somewhat until a love making position that suited was achieved without a worthwhile tip; a little extra on the side (so to speak) – my prosthetics with enough left over to adequately restore me to my former glory. In short all I had to do was get one whore in each of the forty eight brothels scattered about the city to merely ‘tick’ and sign the booklet thus verifying that I had arrived on my space hopper and had ‘performed’ to their satisfaction.

What could go wrong? Well at first everything was going swimmingly well – indeed the pace and momentum of both space hopping and carnal delight surprised even me. On the very first day Fifi, a lovely girl working out of Le Chabanais even drew five little gold stars on my entry although I wish now she had used a biro rather than a nibbed pen. I presumed my luck had at last turned and that self-same night I offered prayers of thanks to the Lord above.

However to my dismay as I set out on day two disaster struck. If the cobblestones of the West Bank were not enough to contend with the discarded hat pins about the shops at the base of the Sacre Coeur Cathedral proved to be my downfall. Fucking puncture ruined the entire enterprise.

Back to square one then. I console myself a little in the fact that Fifi has gifted me an eye patch a Prussian general left in her care. I did the whereabouts on her person of her ‘care’ yet she just gawped at me quizzically. Whatever the girl has also offered me therapeutic hopping lessons and worthwhile ideas for things I can do with my one arm in her free time! She’s a good girl is Fifi.


Filed under The League Of Mental Men

Utter Codswallop!: An Everyday Story Of Fish-Wielding Folk

The Soz Satire Crime Files nervously presents:

The Strange Case Of The Cod Walloper Of Olde London Towne

Dastardly script by Gary Hoadley

Murderous editing by Clivey Dee

Merciless graphic by The Artful Dodger


A cold winter night. October 1888. London. Mr Fred Bunge is walking along the
Whitechapel road in Shadwell. East End. From nowhere, Fred is struck with a huge Cod across the back of the head. The blow sent him reeling. It also stung a bit.
Fred Bunge was the tenth victim of the Cod Walloper. Police questioned Fred.
They asked if the fish had been left at the crime scene. Fred said he had taken it
home and that his wife, Maud, “Did it wiv a bit of bread an butter an some left over liquour from the pie an mash shop”.

The police needed to act fast, victim’s of the Walloper were eating the evidence.

October 17th 1888

Inspector Ball and his deputy, DS Chalk, made their way to Smithfield Market.
They began to question members of staff. One of the porters immediately became a suspect, it was clear he had something to hide. Inspector Ball pressed him further.

“So, how much do you know about cod Mr Pickle?” Asked Inspector Ball.
“Nuffin at all mate” replied Pickles.
“I see, so you deny having any knowledge of things piscatorial” said Ball.
“Yers, me old china”. stated Pickles.
“And why would that be?” asked DS Chalk.
“Cos I works in a meat market”. replied Pickles.
“Ah ha! So, you work in a meat market eh? And where would that be” pressed Ball.
“The one you is standin in mate”. offered Pickles.
“Right, well, don’t do it again” warned DS Chalk.

The Star public house in Bethnal Green, has a good reputation for a knees up,
punch ups, and a Saturday night lock in. On 25th of October, 1888. Alf Mullet and his best friend, Ted Lemon, stood outside The Star. They rolled up their sleeves in anticipation of thudding each other up the throat. Suddenly, from nowhere, both men were felled by a huge cod. The two friends hit the ground.

“Earr, yu bugger, you gawn an done me wiv a fish yu cheating tyke!” shouted Alf.
“Wot!…Yu jus done me rand the canister wiv the very same!” Ted retorted.

The two men then realised, they had been attacked by the Cod Walloper, of Old London town.
Inspector Ball arrived at the scene. On the pavement lay two large cod.
Inside the mouth of one cod, a note protruded. DS Chalk removed the paper
and read aloud. “If you is not catching me soon, I is going to start using Mullet”.

“This is serious Chalk”, said Inspector Ball. “If this madman gets his hands on a
Mullet, the consequences will be dire, we have to catch him”.

Mrs Eider Down, landlady of the Sea View bed and breakfast hotel in Argyle Square, began to have some suspicions about one of her residents.
Mr John West, had arrived some months ago, he told Mrs Down that he was employed as a Clerk for a law firm in the Caledonian Road.
The problem was, he smelled of fish. His clothes, his hair, even his room. Why did a clerk at a law firm smell of fish? Mrs Down decided to contact the police.

2nd of November 1888. 2pm.

Inspector Ball and DS Chalk arrived at the Sea View hotel. They were shown into
the parlour where they met Mrs Eider Down, the proprietor.

“Hello Mrs Down, I’m Inspector Ball, and this is DS Chalk, we understand you have some worries about one of your residents”.

“Yers, he ain’t right, comes ome from work, smelling of fish, an he didn’t want
the cruet, I mean to say, how do yu eat mutton wivart salt an pepper?” Said Mrs Down.

“Quite. May we have a look in his room?” Enquired DS Chalk.

“Oooh, I don’t know, it’s the privy you see, he might not of emptied it”.

“The privy Mrs Down?” said Inspector Ball.

“She means the Edgar Allen guv”. offered DS Chalk.

“Oh, right, that’s not a problem for men like us Mrs Down” answered Inspector Ball.

“You aven’t seen his privy dear”. replied Mrs Down.

The detectives made their way up the stairs . With trepidation and
a growing sense of foreboding, they opened the door to room 101. At first all seemed normal.
The bed, the chair, the row of freshly gutted Cod…it looked like any run down
bed and breakfast hotel room. Inspector Ball was not fooled however.
“Lets have a good look round Chalk, there has got to be something here.
After several minutes of searching, Chalk found a clue.

“Guv, look at this”…

Inside a chest of draws, lay several unwashed handkerchiefs.

“The dirty bastard!” exclaimed Ball.

“What sort of depraved fiend leaves stuff like this in their dresser?” asked Chalk.

“Only a madman, and the sort of person that should be in an institution”. replied Ball.

“We need to set a trap for this person and have him off the streets within the day”.

“You’re right Guv, let’s inform Mrs Down” replied Chalk.

Downstairs in the parlour, the detectives informed Mrs Down of their find.
She was overcome with shame and fear. They gave her succour, and a few slaps around the head.
The plan now, was to catch the Cod Walloper, without raising suspicion.

3rd of November 1888 6pm. The Sea View Hotel. Argyle Square. Kings Cross.

Inspector Ball hid in the wardrobe of room 101 while DS Chalk concealed himslef under the bed.
After a while, the door opened and in walked Mr West. He did indeed smell of fish.
Both detectives leapt from their concealment.

“Mr John West, I arrest you in the name of the law!” shouted Ball.
Startled, Mr West fell back onto his bed. “What! What have I done?”
“You are the Cod Walloper of Olde London Towne!” shouted DS Chalk in Olde English

Without a struggle, West was led to Whitechapel police station.
In the interview room, Inspector Ball began his questioning.

“Now then West, what made you become such a beast?”
“It all started a few years ago”. replied West.
“What started?” enquired DS Chalk.
“My dad was a fisherman. He supplied all the shops in the east of London.
One day, he got into trouble and fell overboard from his boat. I can remember
his last words to this day”….
“What were the they West?” whispered Inspector Ball.
“Fuck me! It’s a Shark!”…shouted Mr West.
“So your dad was killed by a shark?” asked DS Chalk.
“Yes, unless it was an irate Dolphin”. replied West.
“Why did you start the attacks?” Asked Ball.
“The fish shops owed my dad money, when they found out he was brown
bread, they refused to pay, so I hatched a plan of revenge” explained West.

“That’s all well and good Mr West, but what about the dirty handkerchiefs?”
“No comment guv”.

Mr John West was sentenced to five years hard labour. On his release he moved
to Burnham on Crouch and became a drag artist at the Nell Gwyn tea rooms.

Disclaimer: No Inchcocks or Mike Steedens were harmed during the constructing of the graphic that accompanies this skit…much.


Filed under Humor, Humour, Spoof

Nottingham Arboretum’s New Pondside Cafe’ (Updated)


Nottingham’s new Arboretum Pond-side Cafe/Take Away Opens with 99% local menu dishes!


Nottingham Arboretum Hotel. A Listed building graffiti’d then fire-bombed!

The inventiveness of a Nottingham pensioner, with the help of the Job Centre Plus staff, and a grant from the Alcoholics Association Support Group, has opened a new take-away in the local City Centre situated in the picturesque crime ridden Nottingham Arboretum.

Handily positioned for the Fire Station, Benefit’s office and NHS drop-in centre.

It’s been built in the renovated old Public Conveniences’ building. And fitted out with equipment from closed down Old People’s AC05Homes, Fire bombed Police stations, and the recently closed Ukrainian Soup Kitchen, it is now, after 3 years hard work, ready for business.

Situated in the centre of Nottingham’s Arboretum, it’s just up the hill behind the aviary, where the mugging took place last week; it has been painted in City Council colours of green and yellow, and has a special AC05bkitchen chimney to avoid polluting the Arboretum’s ambience.

Mr Zoltan Peppa, the chef and co-proprietor, claims 99% of his menu is sourced locally.

He said: “My dishes willa be different, and mosta importantly, reasonably priced, (Hic!), un ahaving local a connecotions”

A very pretty American Waitress Manageress will be in attendance to ensure an excellent service will be provided at all times.

Finance for the project has been supplied by Mike Steeden Financial Services Conglomerate.

On the opening menu are:

African Grey Parrot and suet dumplings (Do get confused ith the cheaper dish of Nottingham Pigeons and suet dumplings as the they both have grey feathers)

Served with baked acorns on a bed of Pondweed and crushed periwinkles. Marinated in a thick ketchup and rice-vinegar sauce. Served with wild mushrooms, acorn juice, fried conker skins, and if requested can be coated in Marijuana pepper.

£2.99 without pepper - £17.50 with pepper.

Beheaded Stickleback Stew

The delicately boned flesh of (The Gasterosteidae family) choice Arboretum Pond stickleback fish, plopped in a pan of seasoned Arboretum Pond-water favoured imitation bream-brine, white pepper, salt, gungo beans, plain Lithuanian flour, mango-sugar, and local tap water. Stewed for over two hours until the concoction starts to lose it’s rigidity, then marinated in Guinness and HP sauce for two days.


Pigeon Curry with Elephant skin

Locally procured plump pigeons, de-feathered, beheaded, gutted and marinated in a rich popular local marinade of curry powder, Chilli powder, BBQ ketchup, none brewed condiment, raspberry jam, salt, and crushed beaks of Nottingham Arboretum Mallard pond ducks. Served in a  five inch round portion of South London bred seasoned elephant skin.


Jobcentre Soup

Local tap water, with Mulligatawny soup (Asda own label), pretend balsamic vinegar, and freshly dug potatoes from the allotments of nearby residents at night to assure freshness are added. With a four inch thick slice of locally shop-lifted Continental bread. Toasted toadstools extra.


Police Station Fire Bombed Tikka Surprise

Vindaloo curry, garlic, raw red capsicums, flamed Patna rice and rare Nottingham canal seaweed, hot chilli, pulled Hedgehog meat, and locally bred roasted frog legs, with Szechuan sauce. Then roasted over an ash fire of the remains of arsons premises.


Unemployed Pasty

Due to excessive demand in advanced bookings, we’ve run out of ingredients for this pasty. It is no longer unavailable, sorry.

(Locally collected) Birds (Swifts) Nest Soup

Swiftlets make their nest from strands of gummy saliva, which hardens when exposed to air. Once the nests are harvested, they are cleaned and collected by ourselves from the many trees in the Arboretum, where they are prepared and served simmered in our own recipe of squirrel’s broth, with rock sugar, pond water, green onions, lamb stock, Sparrow’s egg whites, ginseng roots, cornstarch, and used McDonald’s cooking fat. Served on its own, and very enjoyable with a stick of Albanian root liquorice. 


Sparrow legs & Imitation Belly Pork slices steamed in local sunflower leaves.

A cheap meal for one. The skilfully dissected toasted legs, are marinated in black bean sauce with suet overnight, and served with a side dish of (Tesco) out of date Boczek fried in beef stock imitation belly pork slices, decorated with the delicately prepared blanched spread Sparrows wings.


Boiled Locally gathered Eggs Cocktail

A nice mix of Budgerigar, Mallard duck, Pigeon, Sparrow, Blackbird, and Canary eggs, gathered in from local pet shops at night, mixed in a favourite local mixture of pizza, hamburger, and chip patties. With, ketchup, mayonnaise, curry powder, and beef dripping.


Drinks Available:

Cheap Tea (Asda, Morrisons, or Tesco own label) 19p

Best Tea (Yorkshire, Co-op 99, or English Breakfast) 70p

Cheat Tea made with Purified Pond water & lemon 40p

Coffee – Not available

Shoplifted Coke or Cola 50p

Brewed tap water & Red Bull 90p

Health Warning:

When entering the Arboretum, we thought you would like to know that the majority of the muggings take place at the Mansfield Road end entrance, or near the trees. And the last two murders took place at the top end near the fire-bombed destroyed Arboretum Hotel.


Filed under Humor, Humour, Satire, The League Of Mental Men