Chase me, ladies, I'm in the cavalry
Saturday, January 28, 2006
For what it’s worth, I wish you a Merry Year of the Dog.

This is my girlfriend’s dog. Did you ever see anything more pathetic in your life? Why anyone would wish to share their house with such a puny relic of vanquished nature is beyond me. And yet, like all dogs, this wimpish creature, this degenerate progeny, is descended from the Grey Wolf. It was probably once a leopard, roaming the steppes in mighty herds, tearing prey with its sharp fangs. And now look at it! If it were locked in a fight to the death with a badger, my money would be on the badger.

From Grey Wolf to Gay Wolf in ten thousand generations.

When she goes out in a minute I’m going to tip cold tea on its head, to toughen it up a bit. This way it learns the value of things, and not just the price.


Friday, January 27, 2006
I had my bag stolen in Bogota airport. By a policeman. Disguised as a clown. I was talking to a woman at the tax counter and he sneaked up and swiped it.

Colombian authorities now deploy police-clowns to patrol the airports looking for people who aren’t taking care of their luggage properly, then make off with their stuff. “Sodding rats’ tits,” I said. I was kind of annoyed because it had my passport and camera in it. Then this clowan comes up and says, “Ha, ha! It was me all the time!” and gives it back.

He probably thinks he taught me a valuable lesson.

Has the world got stupider recently, or has life always been like this?


Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Dear Garry,
Would you be interested in presenting a reality crime show called You Thieving Cunt? Some friends and I have just set up a production company, and this is our first venture. You are our first choice for presenter.

It’s basically a candid camera programme. We’re going to chain a bike in an area notorious for bicycle thieves, and wait. Sooner or later a thieving cunt will come along and steal it. But what the cunt doesn’t know is that the bicycle is booby-trapped! The front wheel will fall off, landing him on his arse! Or the seat will conceal a big spike, tearing his trousers or impaling him up the jacksie!

Another example: a couple of Jap tourists walk around the Tube with one of the pockets on their backpacks unzipped. A cunt puts his hand in to steal something, little suspecting that all it contains is a mousetrap! Ha ha ha! Imagine how stupid he’ll look, howling in pain with a mousetrap on his hand!

Or you leave a handbag on a bus. When someone tries to pick it up, a siren goes off saying “Whoop, whoop! Thieving cunt! Thieving cunt!” Then the other “passengers” all shout “Get the cunt!” and attack him with custard pies.

After each hit we cut to you, or perhaps Jeremy Clarkson, who says, "Bang to rights, my son!" or "Serves him right, the toe rag."

We aim to a. raise awareness, and b. entertain. At the end of the show you do a piece to camera, “Theft isn’t cool, kids. It’s against the law of England. Many people say that I'm a cunt, but if you steal things, the cunt is you.” (I don’t think you’re a cunt, by the way. But what people like about you is that you don’t take yourself too seriously,)

Let us know if you are interested. Still a bit of work to do, but we hope to start filming in spring. I reckon we’ve got a hit on our hands.

Best regards,

Dennis Breen
Bayswater Films

Dear Dennis,
It sounds like the motherfucker of all reality shows... Unfortunately a bit too similar to Guy Ritchie's Swag, but good luck getting it away.
Maybe you'll get the time slot after Songs of Praise.

Best wishes


Dear Garry,
I’d actually never heard of Swag, but it doesn’t surprise me. That Guy Ritchie is always stealing my stuff, the dog.

Are you sure you aren’t interested? As I say, you were our first choice. Perhaps you will change your mind when I reveal that your great rival Boris Johnsons is considering the role.

Is it true that you were at Eton together?

Boris? Tory slime. And you don't sound much better old boy. How about this for a show idea: Get AIDS & Die. A time-wasting tosser is injected with a lethal viral cocktail and slowly rots. To end with a living death-bed autopsy televised on C4.

I already have AIDS, and I found your remarks in poor taste.

It makes me sorry to hear you talking like that, Garry. Success has gone to your head, I fear. The old Bushell would never have spoken to his fans like that. It is people like me, the ordinary man in the street, who have made the Bushell story possible.

But I’m sorry if I “wasted your time”. I’m sorry if you have better things to do than talk to your fans.

When I was first diagnosed with AIDS, Garry’s Goofs was one of the things that kept me going. What we like about you, down there on the Clapham omnibus, is that you are one of us, not stuck up like Boris Johnsons. And how do you repay us? With abuse, throwing tantrums like you’re Jennifer Lopez. It’s a sad day for Britain.

Never forget the fans, Garry. Without us you’d be nowhere. Beckham says the same.

Excellent. I'll see you down at Lourdes; we can exchange case histories and photos of our body sores. Anyway, thanks for the laughs. Who are you? Step forward Hugo/Victor/Chris

Note for American readers: Sir Garry Bushell is one of Britain’s most respected writers and thinkers. His Garry’s Goofs column in the Sunday People has been tipped to win this year’s Somerset Maugham prize.


Tuesday, January 24, 2006
“Ivan the Terrible”, one of the not-quite-certifiable lunatics who infest this site like biscuit weevils, has started his own “web blog”. Recommended. He’s very witty in a seething right-wing kind of way. He’s Bridish, but lives in North Carolina, land of the sweet potato. People may ask what a dazzling urbanite like he is doing in a rustic setting like that. I do not know the answer.

If anyone else linked to me but I didn’t link back, send me an insulting email and I’ll totally link to you: harryhutton01 / yahoo / com

I once had a girlfriend from North Carolina. Great fat thing it was.


Monday, January 23, 2006
Dear Sir,
Anyways, so I’m in like this totally cool restaurant and I was all can I have the terrine de saumon aux épinards with like some grillé cheese and some champignons, and a like side of like relish, and he was all “what would sir like to drink” and I was like bring me a bottle of the Pouilly-Fumé, I understand 2003 was like a totally good year and the waiter was all dude the wines of the Upper Loire are like totally phat. Guy asks if I need anything else, and I'm like breadsticks. HELLO?

Then I said dude what’s up where are all the biatches and he was all duh they’re like totally all over man and I’m all what do I look like a total chump and he was like whatever. And this freak at the next table was talking all loud and shit, some bullshit about the Philadelphia Eagles winning the Kentucky Derby and then he’s all looking over and buttering his rolls like he OWNS the place. I was about to go over and clock him when this totally smoking honey walks in and I’m like DANG.

Yours faithfully,

Todd Mathers

Dear Mr Mathers,
Thank you for contacting us for a free case consultation.

After reviewing the facts of your case, I am afraid our firm will be unable to represent you. Unfortunately, we take only a limited number of cases each year.

Our rejection of your case does not mean that you do not have a valid claim, or that another attorney would not be interested in helping you. Because there are time limits on bringing claims, you should not wait too long to seek other counsel.

Please contact us again, either by e-mail or phone, if we can help you in the future.


Goren, Goren & Harris, P.C

I’m totally gonna contact them by phone.


Saturday, January 21, 2006
Sorry about the lack of posts. I got drunk one night and woke up on, like, this whaling vessel. Just reached land. We seem to be in some kind of African port.

Man, that crème de menthe is nasty stuff.


Thursday, January 12, 2006

I got chatting to a ruffian in a bar last night, and for some reason he thought he'd share his prison survival tips with me. Apparently what you do is this: on your first day you seek out the biggest brute in the whole zoo and try to bite his nose off in a frenzied assault. This tells them that you are kind of chap who won’t stand for any ballyhoo.

But would he not chew off your nose in retaliation? He might, to be honest. Anyway, I thought I’d pass it on. I hope you find it useful.

I remember my first day at school. I saw this hard-looking bastard, so I walked up and gave him a punch on the ear. He turned out to be Mr Cribbins, the Latin master, and I was expelled on the spot.


Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Open letter to Rob Wilson MP, Member of Parliament for Reading East:

Dear Sir,
I was in your constituency last week and it was a right dump. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Only a poltroon would represent such a place.

My friend Kevin says that Reading was on our side during the war*. This is a preposterous argument. The war ended more than a hundred years ago. You can’t keep blaming the Germans every time something goes wrong. The world has moved on. Wake up!

And who is that retard with the stick who’s always banging on bins and howling in the shopping precinct? Is he a relation of yours? Why can’t you do something about him? He’s a flaming idiot. So is everyone else in your festering town, come to think of it. What a dog hole.

Yours faithfully,

H.J.Hutton (tax-payer)

* "Berkshire is strategically important," he ranted. "It is the gateway to Wiltshire." What absolute hogwash.


Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Before the Pinochet coup, Chile was the largest producer of cocaine.


Sunday, January 08, 2006
Man drowning kittens in canal charged with polluting canal. Magistrates feel this is insensitive to the memory of the kitties.

Where do you drown your kittens?

Some kittens. However many I drown, there are always more coming along to take their place.


Friday, January 06, 2006
Just strolled over to see what the Instapundit was up to. I don’t know why it should be, but many of his posts can be improved by adding a warning about bees on the end:
JANUARY 03, 2006
JIM GERAGHTY has much more on the Ukrainian / Russian natural gas imbroglio. I agree that this only makes Gerhard Schroeder look worse.

UPDATE: Run for your life! Bees!

posted at 10:51 AM by Glenn Reynolds


Thursday, January 05, 2006
"[Arial Sharon's stroke] is very sad on a human level and totally negative on a political level," Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi said. “Let's hope for a miracle".

Very what on a what level? Let’s hope for a what? If this is sarcasm it’s in very poor taste at a time when poor Arik lies bleeping on a life-support machine, drooling fluids out of his nostrils. Still don’t really get the Italian sense of humour.

Mind you, I thought Bush was joking when he invaded Iraq. “Very amusing,” I thought, “an ironic take on the macho myth.” Then he was all, “We gonna bring democracy to the Middle East, and I’m like, “Good God, I had no idea you were serious.”

Drooling fluids


Wednesday, January 04, 2006
“It has always been a mystery to me why people marry,” said Mr Prendergast. “I can’t see the smallest reason for it. Quite happy, normal people... I don’t think that people would ever fall in love or want to be married if they hadn’t been told about it. It’s like abroad: no one would want to go there if they hadn’t been told about it.”

“I don’t think you can be quite right,” said Paul. “You see, animals fall in love quite a lot, don’t they?”

“Do they?” said Prendergast. “I didn’t know that. But then I had an aunt whose cat used to put its paw up to its mouth when it yawned. It’s wonderful what animals can be taught.” (Evelyn Waugh, Decline and Fall)
The reasons given for matrimony in the Prayer Book are:
1. The procreation of children.
2. A remedy agaynste sinne and to avoide fornication.
3. The mutual societie, helpe, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other.
Is that it? Are those still the reasons, or have they got some new ones? John Prescott, for example, is married; did he really have trouble avoiding fornication, looking like that? Is that what they're claiming?

There's money, of course. My grandfather advised me to marry someone rich. "The woman gets old and wrinkled," he explained, "but the money always stays beautiful." This was one of his favourite aphorisms, along with "There is no such place as Australia" and "Only poofs eat cheese."

Marrying for money, however, is a zero-sum game: the extent to which one party gains the other loses. It cannot therefore justify the institution of marriage unless it can be shown to somehow increase gross domestic product, which obviously it does not.

Tradition is a possible reason, if you value tradition for its own sake. But it would make just as much sense to sacrifice goats or take up Morris Dancing. More sense, in fact, because a goat has no legal claim on your assets.

So why do people still do it? I can think of two good reasons:
1. A sense of irony.
2. It’s a nice day out.
I tossed these ideas about at dinner the other night. "But Harry," someone snivelled, "we're getting married because we love each other." "That's a non-sequitur," I replied, and pushed his foolish head into the trifle.




Sunday, January 01, 2006
Oh Post 1950s economy,
Why is it that you fill me with such bonhomie?
From the Ode To The Fiscal Structure Of Post-1950s Western Society With Reference To The Works of J. K. Galbraith. Read the whole thing. Or don't- it's no skin off my nose.

I once had a fist fight with JK Galbraith. True story. He was in the Red Lion in Tooting mouthing off about the world economy. “Growth is slowing,” he said, “as the housing market cools and consumers rein in their spending.” Terry the Pole overhears, and comes over from the fruit machine. “Don’t be a cunt," he says. "I’m a consumer, and I just bought a new fridge.” Then he headbutts him.

We all piled in on Pole’s side, because he had indeed bought a new fridge.




Krugman's cat

I agree with Abu Hamza- up to a point

The time I punched JK Galbraith

Who was worse: Blair or Hitler?

In Defence of John Prescott

Prescott 2


Jennifer Lopez has been shot!

Nicholas Cage is a tit

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Colombian death squads dump Kate Moss

50 Cent almost too stupid to speak

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Keith Richards' English level

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Why I don't take drugs

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Off with the false whiskers

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Your severed foot would look good on my coffee table

Condi 2008, a love poem

It doesn't seem to make sense

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Christ were those peasants ugly

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President Ahmajinadad


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David Irving

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If you like rock music you must be stupid

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A pogrom of quails

Krugman in Bogota

People now idiots- TV to blame

Goldman Sachs makes billions shorting Goldman Sachs stock


The Amis brothers

Haiku on another wasted year


The illusion of plenty



Killer Fact! (Brazil)

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