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MISSING JAPANESE TOURISTS FOUND AT GLASTONBURY

"They didn't realise it was all over" say police

Bird Guano's

SAUSAGE LIFE

The column which asks: If politics is show business for the ugly, and war is legalized murder, is religion organized schizophrenia?

READER (sobbing): The Games are over! I can’t believe I’ll have to wait another four years…

MYSELF: I know, it’s heartbreaking. But I see team GB did well. Didn’t they get a Gold in the 10,000 piece synchronised jigsaw?

READER: Very funny. Very droll. You're not a fan of the Olympics are you?

MYSELF: Not especially, but my tropical fish enjoy it.

READER: Your fish like it? How can you tell?

MYSELF: I don't know, they just seem content when it's on

BUDDHA WOULDN’T MELT
Selfie enthusiasts and dungareed men with beards and small dogs queued for hours to get tickets for the opening of Cockmarlin’s new Brahma Masala Exhibitionist Yoga Centre. Those lucky enough to attend were offered a month’s trial membership, which included a free tanning/yoga mat and the use of a professional body double during group exercises in the glass-fronted Narcissus Room. Exhibitionist Yoga, according head guru Dheepan Crispian Evan, is thought to promote empathy-cleansing and social detachment, as well as encouraging ego nourishment via tantric masturbation. Membership applications are now closed.

READER: Closed? That’s a shame, it sounds right up my street.

MYSELF: Yes it does. Have you tried the Ku Klux Klan?

READER: Is that similar?

MYSELF: Broadly.

DOTTY PROTEST

A protest march took place in Upper Dicker earlier this week which terminated at the East Sussex Spiritualist Institute (formerly The Cat’s Pyjama night club), where a 100-strong banner-waving crowd assembled to object to the appearance there of Psychotic Doris, the famously litigious cold-reading mumbo-jumbo lady. Many of the banners were blank, and through a megaphone, the holder of one shouted sarcastically "See if you can guess what I’m protesting about!"

Inside the auditorium the atmosphere was tense as the packed audience waited for Doris to appear. At last, 35 minutes late, she was pushed onstage in a wheelchair by four black-suited security guards wearing mirrored sunglasses and earpieces. After a brief introduction, Doris leapt out of her chair to wild applause and went into a psychic trance in order to contact her Native American spirit guide Chief Malcolm Fourcandles, whereupon the following exchange took place:

PSYCHOTIC DORIS: I'm getting a Bob or a Henry, or maybe a Claudia...something to do with tea.... or biscuits.

HECKLER: You are a fraud and a charlatan!

PSYCHOTIC DORIS (nodding to heckler and making throat-cutting gesture to her security guards): Has anyone lost a beloved pet recently? Or a very old relative? Or a costly libel action?
As Doris started speaking in tongues, we were ushered out of an emergency exit by staff and having refused to sign a non-disclosure agreement, were given express instructions not to return.

WENDY WRITES
A selection from our agony aunt's recurring postbag of angst

Dear Wendy,

Since my mirror broke down, I can’t tell whether I’m here or not.
Can you help?
Maureen Nosferatu (Miss)
Lower Primate
Kent

Dear Ms Nosferatu,
I sympathise. One of my ex-husbands was a professional vampire who had constant trouble shaving in the morning, for all sorts of reasons! But seriously, the loss of a mirror can be severely traumatic. Try using a window instead, which is exactly like a mirror except with other people in it.

Dear Wendy,
My boyfriend Geoff wants me to have plastic surgery. He is only four foot six whereas I am six foot three, and he feels that my face would be better re-situated on my stomach, so that we could have face to face conversations without him having to stand on a box. Attractive though that may seem, I cannot help thinking that the subsequent lack of features on my head would attract undue attention. What should I do?
Catherine Wierl
Warburton cum Twandly

Dear Catherine
My first husband was an Innuit eskimo. He was no good in bed, but boy could he skin seals! That however is neither here nor there. I appreciate your boyfriend's concern, but if God had meant us to have faces on our stomachs, he would have said so in the bible. Have you considered partial lower leg amputation?

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DER FUHRERGATOR
Saturn, an octogenarian alligator from Mississippi who is believed to have belonged to Adolf Hitler, has died in a Moscow zoo. Hitler was known to be a huge animal lover who owned a variety of pets including hamsters, bats, poisonous spiders and his beloved cockatoo Beryl, who could recite Shakespeare and play accomplished soprano saxophone. The zoo noted that Saturn, like his alleged former owner, was a picky eater who would often refuse prunes. (Hitler would often leave peas on the side of his plate or shovel saurkraut into a potted plant when he thought no-one was looking. After his suicide in a Berlin bunker, investigators discovered a cache of food items secreted by the führer during mealtimes and concealed under his mattress; these included artichoke hearts, pork bladders and oddly, moisturising lotion).

The dinosaur-like reptile also loved, according to zoo records, a ‘brush massage’. Precisely what that entailed is not absolutely clear, but Walter Wichser, his one-armed, one-legged keeper told us: “Saturn liked to have a vigorous brush massage at precisely 2:30 every afternoon, and even though he did not wear a watch, he was a stickler for punctuality. If something was not to his liking he would bite it in half, which is what he did to Rolf his previous keeper.”

A tiny tear trickled down Walter’s scarred cheek as he added, “He was like an 83-year-old son to me, only with enormous flesh-tearing teeth. Many visitors to the zoo were terrified of his evil gaze, but apart from the odd tiff, he and I got along famously.”

Sausage Life!

Against all odds, The Huggers, a poor Irish immigrant family rise to the top in 19th century America

Rarely-seen 2Os German Expressionist film about a strange spanner-worshipping cult

JESUS WANTS ME FOR A SUN READER aka PASS THE INSTANT YOGA

JACK POUND

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CHEMTRAILS ON MY MIND
MORT J SPOONBENDER

On September 11th 1958, José Popacatapetl, a retired tree psychologist who's father was head gardener for the CIA during the cold war, was hitchiking through the Alberqueque desert when he was picked up by a black sedan driven by J Edgar Hoover's ex-boyfriend André Pfaff head of FBI underhand operations and extra-terrestrial banking who once worked as a quantum mechanic for the KGB under the direct orders of the zombie reincarnation of Josef Stalin whose mummified corpse was stored in a secret bunker in the basement of the Vatican.

Vote For Countryside Alliance

A party political Broadcast by The Hunt Cult.

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THE SENIOR MOMENTS

SEE THEIR LAST GREAT PERFORMANCE ON THE THE PERRY COMO SHOW 1959

POISON PEOPLE

By Guano Poundhammer

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Video from the album Domestic Bliss

SUPERCALIFUCKINGFRAGIFUCKINGLISTICEXPIALIFUCKINGDOCIOUS

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PODCASTS: ALICE'S CRAZY MOON

EPISODE1:
Travel & transportation

EPISODE2:
Body Parts

EPISODE 3:
Telephones

EPISODE 4:
Economics

EPISODE 5:
Misheard Lyrics

EPISODE 6:
MILK

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Alice's Crazy Moon is an offbeat monthly podcast hosted by Alice Platt (BBC, Soho Radio) with the help of roaming reporter Bird Guano a.k.a Colin Gibson (Comic Strip Presents, Sausage Life). Each episode centres around a different topic chosen by YOU the listener! The show is eclectic mix of music, facts about the artists and songs, surrealistic sponsors, Bird Guano's phone-in and of course, Poetry Corner featuring everyones favourite poet, Big Pillow!

NB: IF YOU DO NOT HAVE A PAID SUBSCRIPTION TO SPOTIFY, THE SONGS WILL BE OF RESTRICTED LENGTH

ATTENZIONE!

‘Watching Paint Die’ EP by Girl Bites Dog is out now and available wherever you rip off your music.

Made entirely without the assistance of AI, each listen is guaranteed to eliminate hair loss, cure gluten intolerance and stop your cat from pissing in next door's garden.

Photo credit: Alice's Dad (circa 2000)

https://open.spotify.com/album/2fHlSX6Dm7hEm9TUYkGUAN...