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The column that Damien Hurst once tried to saw in half

READER: Oh there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.

MYSELF: I’ve been in Belgium.

READER: Belgium? Oh bad luck!

MYSELF: Bad luck? Which hall of superior sophistication are you residing in, you corked-up, dim-witted Little Englander? Or are you just repeating the half-remembered words of lazy stand up comedians who haven’t even been to Belgium?

READER: Ooh, who’s a bit over-sensitive this morning?

MYSELF: Sorry, I’m allergic to ignorance.

READER: Go on then, name me five famous Belgians.

MYSELF: René Magritte, George Remy (Hergé), Audrey Hepburn, Jaques Brel, Toots Thielmans, Adolph Sax, Leo Hendrik Baekeland, Gerardus Mercator …..shall I go on?

READER: Call those famous? I’ve not heard of any of them.

MYSELF: …….Jean-Claude van Damme?

READER: No! Van Damme? The Muscle from Brussels? Belgian? I’ll get my coat.

CLASSIFIED ADS

Enthusiast with approximately 12,000 vintage Eastern European tram tickets (franked and mounted), wishes to exchange entire collection or will separate, for Chinese porcelain thimbles engraved with Hawaiian sunsets by miniaturist installation artist Bandy Sponk, or any early recordings on the American Kosher Goy label by Bob Pierce & His Talking Dog, backed up by The Torture Chamber Orchestra (conductor: Dame Labia Thrush).

DEAR WHOEVER…..

To the disappointment of many readers, this column’s popular ‘agony aunt’ feature Wendy Writes was discontinued recently due to Wendy’s realignment surgery and her subsequent elopement with used car dealer Lily (formerly Frank) Crosby. Good news! Recently, out of the blue, I received a text message from Wendy (now Walter), begging for his job back. He explained that Lily was firmly in the past, that it had all been a tragic misjudgement, and he hoped all was forgiven. Naturally I was delighted, but being cautious, I decided to give him just one letter in this issue, in order to make sure he had lost none of Wendy’s innate cutting-edge wisdom. This enquiry comes from Mrs Dierdre Puce of Upper Dicker:-

Dear Wendy,
Can you recommend a good nasal defoliant? My husband refuses to do anything about the forest of hair clogging up his nose, despite the fact that it’s creeper-like dangling has made the soup course intolerable. Our cleaning lady, Mrs Dungeness, is so frightened by it she has threatened to quit.

Dear Mrs. Puce,
It’s Walter now actually - for the moment anyway. First of all let me say that the very idea of your husband's nasal follicles polluting the soup tureen is an image I would prefer to exclude from the photo album of my life, and your poor cleaning lady has my deepest sympathy.
Help, however, may be at hand, and curiously it comes from France, where hirsuteness of the orifices has never been considered a social stigma. Top Parisian exfoliation specialists, Eaupuantes, have unveiled a new product, Agent L'Orange, only available online at www.nezpoilu.com, which claims to banish all traces of nasal hair, as well as snoring, and if applied indiscreetly, the nose itself.

Advertising feature

CHEESE ‘N CHAIR by HALOUMIOIL

Let’s face it, when you’re out with friends enjoying a nice Greek Meze, nothing poisons the congenial atmosphere more than the chalk-on-blackboard sound of squeaking halloumi cheese. And what about that irritating kitchen chair? The one that makes a noise like a nest of baby mice every time you sit down?
Now it’s time to say goodbye to anti-social culinary squeak misery with new Cheese n’ Chair by Halloumioil. This exciting new product not only eliminates Greek cheese-squeak, but also silences noisy chairs. After applying a few drops of Cheese n’ Chair, you’ll soon be enjoying the luxury of eating Al Greco in total silence.
Listen to this unsolicited endorsement from Mrs. Vera Popacatapetl of Athens: “I’m ecstatic, and it’s all thanks to Halloumioil’s Cheese n’ Chair. I can’t describe the relief of finally being able to dine on silent cheese in a squeak-free environment… 5 stars… Its like two oils in one.

SPOUTO

Professor Gordon Thinktank has been ruminating on one of the most pressing sociological concerns of our modern age; bag-based teapot spout blockage. Thinktank’s solution requires the addition of only a few drops of his revolutionary hybrid chemical Spouto developed over several years in the inventor’s Hastings laboratory. He told us: “Although the design of the teapot has changed little since the ancient Greeks first thought of adding a curved spout in order to facilitate accurate pouring, one modern innovation has altered our relationship with the tannin-laced pick-me-up; teabags. Marvellous for making a single cup of tea but not quite up to snuff when it comes to a well attended cup and saucer gathering.”

Choking back tears the professor added: “No self-respecting member of the trades union movement could forget the Tadcaster Teabag Rebellion of 1963, when angry members of Yorkshire’s “Bugger the Baggers ” movement hurled over 11 tonnes of Tetley teabags into Bridlington harbour. These brave protesters failed to turn the tide, and the ubiquitous teabag remains a kitchen staple to this day.”

Thinktank claims that Spouto, properly applied, will free any teapot spout from teabag blockage in a matter of hours, after which tea may be poured with a smooth, free flowing action not dissimilar to that of Niagara Falls in Buffallo, New York.

BOOKS: Footballer's names for Children Vol XVI, by Reg Trubshaw

Many people wrongly suppose that professional footballers are stupid and barely able to string two clichés together, however I cannot recommend this book highly enough. Footballer’s Names for Children, was written by goalkeeping wizard Reg Trubshaw of Herstmonceaux Cannibals FC, who is currently serving life in a secure institution for biting off an opponent’s ear and eating it.

READER: Life? Today’s namby-pamby pink-booted footballers don’t know they are born! When I was a lad we played soccer underwater, in deep-sea diving suits, with itchy woollen underwear, and lead boots. The referee and linesmen were in a miniature submarine and were heavily armed and the spectators had to hold their breath for 90 minutes plus injury time. On the other hand, it certainly comes to something when an innocent cannibal going about his unlawful business can be banged up indefinitely in Broadmoor.

MYSELF: Thank you for your invaluable interruption, perhaps we can discuss this on another occasion. Meanwhile here are Reg’s top ten footballer’s children’s names:-

BOYS: Cruciate, Ebola, Asbo, Gangnam, Calfstrain, Nutmeg, Groin, Asteroid, Death Wish 5.

GIRLS: Tapestry, Caramel, Marmalade, Rubella, Lividia, Casablanca, Handbag, Sambucca, Adultery.

DICTIONARY KORNER

Brouhaha (n) a hilarious cup of tea

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