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Robber Rabbit : The Scaryduck Brain Dump



Thursday, April 29, 2004


Hobbies of the rich and famous

No.6: Taking a clandestine dump in shoe shops : Time-traveller Tom Baker answers your questions.

Greetings, humans! It is I, The Doctor, otherwise known by my earthly moniker Tom Baker. Many people ask me what I'm up to these days now that my career gallavanting around the cosmos is over. The answer to this, my friend, is simple - myself and my electronic companion K-9 like nothing more than browsing through High Street shoe shops and nipping off a length into a Hugh Puppy before anyone notices. Hours of harmless fun, unless you happen to try on said shoe, and then your day is more or less spoiled, wouldn't you say?

Q: Why, in the name of God and all that is holy, why?
A: Tis a question a mere mummer such as I often ask myself, but let us make it perfectly clear when I tell you that a well-timed dump in a pair of fluffy carpet slippers is the ideal deterrent to a cyberman invasion. Not a single cyberman has ever tried to invade this planet via a dhoe shop where I've taken a shit. QED.

Q: Any tips for a beginner such as myself?
A: Why of course ! Tis a fine and noble hobby, and I welcome you with open arms. One hint for you - just make sure you take your own paper. There's nothing more embarrassing than making your escape with a trail of clag and winnetts leading straight to the front door of your TARDIS. Wipe well, my friend, and the universe is your oyster.

Q: I habitually do a number one ans well as a number two. Help!
A: Good God, keep your sonic screwdriver under ontrol, you deviant. Never underestimate, however, the uses of a fine pair of wellie boots.

Q: Ever been caught?
A: Oh yes, that's half the fun of it - you'd never have thought that my arch-enemies the Daleks owned Clarks, but it's obvious when you put your mind to it. All those Daleks going around on castors - small wonder that Davros is going to have crates of spare shoes kicking about. Far too tempting for a renegade Timelord such as I.

Q: Any "jobs" you're particularly proud of?
A: Ha ha!!! I see the joke you made there. But yes - a mammoth strain from the top floor of a gentleman's outfitters on the Planet Nimnod IV straight into a pair of hand-made boots just as my arch-nemesis The Master tried them on. Romana pissed herself laughing, coincidentally, just at the moment he looked up. She's got a tremendous aim on her, that girl.

Q: Ever shat in a hat?
A: Fuck off.


posted by Alistair Coleman at 9:03 AM (0) comments



Friday, April 23, 2004


The Sketch that Little Britain didn't want. Punks.

SCENE: RUBBISH TRANSVESTITE EMILY HOWARD'S DRAWING ROOM, INTERIOR, DAY. IT IS DECORATED PRETTY MUCH AS YOU'D EXPECT, ALL PINK FRILLS AND BOWS. ENTER EMILY, "SHE" IS STILL CARRYING "HER" DAINTY UMBRELLA INDOORS. SHE SITS IN A COMPLETELY OVERDONE CHAIR NEXT TO A TWEE TELEPHONE TABLE. THE TELEPHONE IS ONE OF THOSE OLDE WORLDE ONES YOU GET AT ARGOS. SHE DIALS A NUMBER.

EMILY
Hello? Is that Emerald Car Insurance, the car insurance company for ladies? I'm a lady and I wish to insure my ladies' car.

SPLIT SCREEN - EMILY ON THE LEFT, THE RIGHT HAND SIDE IS A CALL CENTRE, WITH HARRASSED CALL CENTRE OPERATOR (FEMALE) WEARING A HEADSET.

OPERATOR
I'm sorry sir, Emerald car insurance only sells its products to women.

EMILY
But I AM a lady! I'm a real, live lady with ladies' front bottom parts, and I wish to insure my ladies' car.

OPERATOR
No sir, I can tell - you're a man and the seventh I've had this morning. We only sell our products to women.

EMILY (flustered)
Are you insinuating that I am something that I am not? Everybody who knows me can prove that I am a genuine, convincing lady, and not some sad little man who chooses to by his clothing from a very understanding charity shop on the outskirts of the town centre, just round the corner from Kwik Save.

OPERATOR (annoyed)
Look, sir, I'll have to get my supervisor to speak to you. Hold the line for a minute.

OPERATOR CAN BE SEEN PUTTING EMILY ON HOLD - YOU CAN POSSIBLY HEAR "GREENSLEEVES" BEING PLAYED IN THE BACKGROUND ON THE STYLOPHONE, AS EMILY ON THE LEFT HAND SIDE OF THE SCREEN LOOKS AT HER NAILS AND FIDGETS. OPERATOR DIALS A NUMBER ON HER KEYPAD.

OPERATOR
Hi, Marilyn-Jade? It's Debbie on desk twelve. I've got another bloke here. Yeah... Yeah... Claims he's a "lady". Yeah.... Right... You'll speak to him? Great... Thanks.

OPERATOR PRESSES A KEY, MUSIC STOPS AS SHE SPEAKS TO EMILY

OPERATOR
Hello, sir?

EMILY
That's madam.

OPERATOR (exasperated)
My supervior will speak to you now.

OPERATOR PRESSES ANOTHER KEY AS EMILY IS PUT THROUGH. CUT TO (RIGHT HAND OF SCREEN ONLY) SUPERVISOR'S DESK IN THE SAME CALL CENTRE. THE SUPERVISOR IS ANOTHER RUBBISH TRANSVESTITE, WEARING ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, THE SAME OUTFIT AS EMILY. "SHE" ALSO HAS A DAINTY UMBRELLA, AND IS SPORTING A FIVE O'CLOCK SHADOW.

SUPERVISOR
Hello, madam? I understand you wish to insure your ladies' car with us.

EMILY
At last! yes, I AM a lady with all the requisite ladies' parts and I wish to insure my ladies' car with your company at the special low ladies' rate you advertise.

SUPERVISOR
That shouldn't be a problem, madam. Tell us about your lovely ladies' car and we'll get started.

EMILY (bloke voice)
It's a VW Golf, 2001, sixteen valve in racin' green. Done a few of me own mods - petrol injection, turbo charge, full body kit...

SUPERVISOR (bloke voice)
Lahvley set o' wheels...

EMILY (back to girlie voice)
...in cerise pink.

SUPERVISOR (girlie voice)
How charming. Now, if you'd give us your name and address so we can send you your free massager, we'll be able quote you orgasmic.

CUT TO EMILY, FULL-SCREEN, DREAMY SMILE ON HER FACE, CLUTCHING THE HANDSET WITH BOTH HANDS.

EMILY
My name? That's MS. E Howard. "E" for Emily, and certainly not Eric because I'm a lady...

[END]


posted by Alistair Coleman at 12:22 PM (0) comments



Wednesday, April 21, 2004


Hobbies of the rich and famous

No.5: Sticking your todger in a warm cup of tea: Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams answers your questions

Bless you, my children. People are always asking me: "Archbishop, is it sinful to stick your todger in a warm cup of tea?", and I'd like to take some time to address this valid concern that blights ordinary citizens' everyday lives. Let me say straight from the start, that it is your God-given right to whip out your Old Man and poke it into a cup of Earl Grey, for indeed it is written in the Gospel according to St Lenny, Chapter one, verses six to nine:

"And yay, our Father did verily have Mary Magdelene and Judas Iscariot round for tea before they went to the stoning. And they did feast on cakes, biscuits, choccy bars, double egg and chips and a nice fruit pie that Mary Magdelene did baketh herself. And when Judas nipped out to go to the bog, our Father did winketh mischieviously at Mary Magdelene, and stuck his todger in Judas' cup of tea and stirreth it vigourously. When Judas returneth from the shitter, he knoweth not what came to pass with his tea, and he knocketh it back in one gulp. And our Lord and Mary Magdelene did laugh with great mirth while Jesus tried not to stare at her norks."

Praise be!

Q: Do you have any tips for tea-making?
A: Follow John the Baptist's example and alway draw fresh water for your kettle and warm the pot before use. If you prefer milk, only Satan and Catholics put it in second. Milk in first, or an eternity in the burning fires of hell awaits ye sinner! In the Church of England, deep theological discussion has ended in a preference for leman, but do ensure that you remove the pips first, as they're a bastard to get out if one gets stuck in your bell-end.

Q: What if the tea's cold?
A: In this case, use of the microwave oven is acceptable before a successful todger insertion. For food safety reasons, please ensure that the tea is piping hot before drinking it. Beware, however, of scalding your old man, as microwaves tend to heat unevenly. As a rule of thumb, if you are rolling around on the floor screaming in agony, it would be advisable to get your housekeeper to dial for an ambulance.

Q: I prefer coffee...
A: Then prepare to burn, heretic. Did not the Book of Exodus say "And Moses came down from the mountain and seeing the people worshipping false idols and sticking their todgers into Nescafe Instant; did he show his great wrath and struck them with mighty blows to their private parts. Which pleased the Lord immensely."

Q: Is todger dipping acceptable in public?
A: Why of course! Many's the tea stall I've run at parish jumble sales where satisfied customers have gone away in the full knowledge that their tea has been "blessed" by the Archbishop's wang. I do, however, ensure that I am well shaven to avoid that unfortunate pubic hair incident with Cherie Blair. "Topping up" the cup is stretching the bounds of acceptability - no wonder she's always making that face.

Q: Isn't todger dipping difficult with those long robes?
A: It was at first, but after I had accepted my calling, I sent them away to have a specail flap sewn in. Now I can dip my cock in an elderly parishoner's cuppa with her even knowing it. My special "brown dough" flapjacks go down well in such circumstances.

Q: More tea vicar?
A: Oh, I don't mind if I do.
Q: One wang or two?
A: I'm not drinking that, you filthy bastard.

Next week, time-traveller Tom Baker talks to us about taking a dump in shoe shops.


posted by Alistair Coleman at 8:05 AM (0) comments



Sunday, April 18, 2004


Knickers Knackers Knockers!

But what, I hear you ask, is this Dirty Bomb all about then? Let me tell you.

Originally designed by British scientist Dr Benny Hill, the Dirty Bomb comprises a small amount of explosives surrounded by an enormous quanity of used women’s lingerie, smutty seaside postcards and vintage photographs of young ladies in bikinis.

On detonation, entire city blocks are rendered uninhabitable with near-the-knuckle smut, vicars saying “Oh Crikey!”, middle-aged men with their trousers round their ankles and the frenzied cry of “Knickers Knackers Knockers!” The very fabric of modern society rent asunder, all we hold dear torn to shreds and flushed down the lavatory. Four Horsemen. Nostradamus. Mystic Meg.

On a wave of public disgust, Hill was deported to America as a dangerously unstable madman, where he later became president.


posted by Robber Rabbit at 12:26 PM (0) comments



Wednesday, April 14, 2004


Hobbies of the rich and famous

No.4: Whopping your norks out in public: Former Blue Peter presenter Janet Ellis answers your questions.

Hello there! As a former Blue Peter presenter and celebrity mother, people are always asking me "Janet, how do you find time in your busy schedule to whop your norks out in public?" It's simple. Whopping them out in public takes up rather less time that you think, and is a fulfilling, harmless and satisfying hobby, not to mention one hundred per cent legal!

Q: Can anyone whop their norks out in public?
A: Of course, but it does help if you've got norks to start with. Celebrity ironing board Tara Palmer-Tompkinson can forget it for a start, as can most of the male population. However, extremely fat blokes with frightening man-breasts have a certain shock value. My advice to them: is keep them covered up - leave this to the highly trained professionals!

Q: Is there an approved whopping-out technique?
A: It's more-or-less up to the individual, I prefer baggy jumpers for a quick-and-easy lift. Others prefer jackets and coats of an old-style flash. Each to his or her own. Sponsor's messages are a big no-no. It's norks or nothing in my book.

Q: What about timing?
A: As I always say, it's always a good time to whop them out in public, but you have to be prepared to take the fall-out as it were. I remember when I opened a fete at my daughter Sophie's school. I had the local mayor, vicar and the town crier up there - I gave 'em what they wanted and got out. Sophie didn't talk to me for six months, however.

Q: You make it sound like a lonely, individual pursuit. Is it?
A: Good gracious no! Some of my best whop-outs have been in teams of two, three or more. The best one I took part in was on The Mall during her Majesty the Queen's Golden Jubilee celebrations. Myself, Valerie Singleton, Brian Blessed and the lovely Konnie Huq. Haven't had so much fun in years.

Q: Any advice for up-and-coming whoppers?
A: Practice, practice and more practice. Timing is everything, but don't forget correct nipple technique, or it'll all go pear-shaped. Look at Jordan - a disgrace to the profession. I'm impressed by the young Kirstie Allsopp, she's going to big a big star in this Olympic year.

Q: Any chance of a...
A: You filthy bastard!

Next Week: Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams chats to us on the ethics of sticking your todger in a warm cup of tea.


posted by Alistair Coleman at 12:04 AM (0) comments



Friday, April 09, 2004


Holiday from Hell

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"That's the last time I believe the brochure"

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posted by Robber Rabbit at 10:11 AM (0) comments



Tuesday, April 06, 2004


Hobbies of the rich and famous

No.3: Profanity in public: Royal totty Camilla Parker-Bowles answers your questions.

Greetings, loyal subjects! I will never forget the first time I was formally introduced to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother. It was on the polo lawn at Windsor Great Park, and Princess Margaret, the Duke of Kent and the French Ambassador were all in attendance as the Prince of Wales engaged in a chukka of his favourite sport.

"Totally charmed to meet you," said the late Queen Mother.

"CUNT!" I replied at the top of my voice, "totally charmed to meet you, too, your majesty." I knew from that moment my life would never be the same again. Cocktail parties, receptions, even popping down to Safeways for twenty Woodbines and a tube of KY Jelly could only satisfy me if I let out a lung-blistering volley of CUNT! at an inopportune moment. A wonderful release from that starchy formality and I thoroughly recommend it.

Q: I've heard that the C-word is still taboo. How can a woman of your breeding justify these public outbursts?
A: The First Amendment. As a bona fide citizen of the 53rd state, my arse is well and truly covered. As I reminded President Bush at a recent satate banquet: 'How utterly charming to have a genuine Texan CUNT! rancher at the Palace!' and no-one batted an eye-lid.

Q: What an interesting hobby! Should I be starting with something tamer, or go straight for the hard stuff?
A: Shouting pre-school profanities like "bogies" is for kids' TV presenters. Pick the foulest word you know and stick with it. I still get free drinks on the back of the resounding CUNT! at the cenotaph a couple of years ago. Nobody's using "FELCH!" these days since the Duchess of Argyle passed away. Good obscenties are so hard to come by these days.

Q: Have you been tempted to branch out in any way?
A: I once dallied with "Wank on my tits!" during a school prize-giving, but the poor dears do tend to take things like that rather too literally. Not a great success.

Q: I once heard Tony Blair shouting "CUNT!" during Prime Minister's questions. Are you planning to sue?
A: That's Blair's problem - not an original idea in his head. The cunt.

Q: One day, you may be Queen, and God help us all if that happens. Have you any plans to give up your little pecadillo?
A: Certainly not! Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands' "KUTWIJF!" is the talk of the Ambassadors' Balls. We have already ordered top government scientists and researchers to find an even stronger swear word, one fit for a monarch and absolute dictator. And I think we have found it.

Q: And...?
A: "TWADGE!" It needs a bit of work, mind you.

Next week: Former Blue Peter presenter Janet Ellis on whopping them out in public.


posted by Alistair Coleman at 8:01 AM (0) comments



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