Author: R.

Virgin

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Andrew Ian Dodge learns the agony of defeat…

The L’Affaire England, Please Lose It has ended unsatisfactorily for Growing Old Disgracefully. You see Virgin Radio had a bit of contest to pick an A & B-side of a world Cup charity single. A side was meant to be a pro-England footie and B anti-World Cup/footie. Well it seems what they didn’t tell us was that the b-side was suppose to be shite. We didn’t realise this; GoD submitted an anti-footie love song. Instead of telling us it was not appropriate; the bastards have “lost” the track which I hand-delivered to their London offices. What a bunch of wankers.

Dreamthief

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People are stealing my dreams and posting them online.
I have no idea who is doing it or how they are doing it, but the dreams I have while I’m asleep appear on the Internet the next morning.
The more vivid the dream, the more vivid the form in which it appears.
For a while, I wondered how they did it. I tore apart pillows, alarm clocks, my ceiling lamp… anything a mind-reading sensor or recorder could conceivably be hidden in.
I never found any.
Maybe this podcasted story is one of my dreams, stolen and posted online?
Thieving bastards.

Camoron

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Andrew Ian Dodge looks at the leader of the CONSERVATIVES with… less than hope.

Recently David Cameron, Tory leader, has called UKIP a bunch of fruitcakes, loonies and closet racists. Now considering that UKIP is made up of lots of former Conservative voters and potential future ones it is amazingly stupid to be so beastly about the anti-EU party. If he thinks he can ditch the right (no the BNP is not right they are national socialists) and merely get elected via the middle road he is a bigger fool than I ever believed him to be. Let’s hope that Dan Hannan can talk some sense into Cameron next time he sees him.

Giving the fingers

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Ever say something you wish you could take back?
Mine’s easy. It’s: “If you’re going to censor people’s free speech for fear of offending anyone, why not just cut off everyone’s middle finger while you’re at it?”
Five weeks later, and I’m sitting on top of the largest pile of severed middle fingers in history. It’s a bloody, rotting heap of madness, and it’s getting bigger by the pair.
I think it’s some kind of World Record. World’s largest pile of severed human appendages. The guys who confirm those things came by last week.
And lost their middle fingers, too.

Wembley sinking

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Wembley is sinking, and Andrew Ian Dodge wonders if it is in London or not…

We are getting reports that the new Wembley Studium is in fact sinking in situ. Workers at the site have been discussing it avidly, despite protestations from site managers and governments officials. It seems that the new edifice might be rather too heavy for the land on which it is situated. It is so bad that the Conservative Party have called for an inquiry by the N.A.O, There is a mild panic in various circles as this does not bode well for the completion of the stadia and facilities necessary for the 2012 London Olympics. You’d think we’re in NOLA!

Cup

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Andrew Ian Dodge spins a tune while The Holy Gail Of Soccer looms on the horizon…

Obviously with a keen eye on what is important in life…MP Graham Allen has demanded a debate in the House of Commons on cheating in professional soccer here in the UK. He wants to force the Football Association to stop the diving and bad behaviour in footie. Of course, this has nothing to do with the fact that World Cup is coming up and he wants to get a freebie to Germany. Speaking of the World Cup, Growing Old Disgracefully has written a love song around the event. Head over to www.garageband.com/disgracefulmusic to find the track: England, Please Lose It.

Paranoia Sandwich

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Just as the simultaneous invention of the telephone led to a rivalry between Alexander Graham Bell and some Italian dude, apparently “my” sandwich is being claimed as the development of a shopkeeper in Kazakhstan.
Thieving foreign scum…
Hey, what would you rather eat: a Laurence Simon or an Abu Salam Abdul Khouri Al-Mohammed Jafari?
What’s in it? What’s in my sandwich? Well, there’s… wait a minute. I know what you’re trying to do…
You’re trying to steal my sandwich!
I know who you are… you’re an agent of Jafari. Well, I’m no fool. I won’t tell you a damned thing!

The Kid Talked

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I couldn’t believe my ears! The kid talked! The kid opened his mouth, and instead of sucking on something or barfing, he talked!
The baby is only three or four months old, and he’s reciting Shakespeare.
No, really. Shakespeare. William Shakespeare.
Can’t use the toilet. Can’t walk. Can’t even crawl.
And sure enough, he’s into the third act of Julius Caesar.
I hate Julius Caesar. Give me a copy of As You Like It or a Midsummer’s Night Dream with a nice bottle of red wine to make the evening.
Oh well. We can always try for having another kid.

Vampire Insurance

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Some guy at a garlic processing plant claimed to have been bitten by a vampire and turned into one of them, on his disability claim form.
We suggested that he change to the night shift. You know, because that way he’d stay out of the sun.
Not good enough, he said. Vampires hate garlic at any time of the day, it seems.
So we asked him to prove that he’s a vampire. Turning into a bat or a vapor cloud or something like that. Not giving a reflection would be good enough for us, too.
Claimants can be such bloodsuckers.

Elevator Angst

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I used to be deathly afraid of elevators. I’d look down the gap between the elevator floor and the building floor and worry I’d fall through that crack.
I had nightmares about the bottom of the elevator shaft. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, screaming.
The doctors couldn’t help me. I kept thinking about that dark, bottomless pit.
One day, an elevator supervisor took me to a panel at the bottom of the elevator shaft. He opened it and showed me that the bottom of the shaft was strewn with candy and dimes.
I feel so much better now.