Coming soon to Capital of Custard - the Chuckle Bros, Jason and the Argonauts and Clint!!!!

By Jove Missus, it’s finally coming together. Hurrah!

After many months of bitter wrangling, sordid accusations and blame culture, with one fiasco and collapse after another, as well as some of the most appalling behaviour and abusive language I have ever witnessed, Mrs Chucklebutty’s flat pack bedroom suite is now almost complete.

Just the dressing table to go.

But never again! I can tell you….

"What? What???"

"I’m doing it now, woman!!"

"I am."

"No, I am not on the 'f-ing blog.'"

"I am just checking the website to see why we still have all these screws. "

"Good!"

"Go to the bingo, I’ll have it finished by the time……"

She’s gone….I can still hear her swearing in the street - oh ha ha!

She caught her head a whack on the hanging basket again! Serves her right.

Bloody self assembly. That’s one for trades description. I thought it was like one of those pop-up tents but we tipped it all out and nothing happened. Months I waited!

Why anyone wants to do this when you could get a perfectly good bedroom set from somewhere like Quiggins.

Alright, so these days the founder has come out on Youtube as BNP rather than MFI but you still need somewhere to hang your vests.

Good to know that in Capital of Custard year that the founder of Liverpool’s Iconic Emporium for the young Bohemian, where you could buy your joss sticks and Che Guava posters, is flying the flag.

I’m just not sure if it’s the right flag or one made popular in the 1930’s.

I wonder though how many of their customers would have survived the concentration camps set up by those from whom Mr Quiggins promoted party friends originally found their political inspiration?

Yes, you could get tattoos done at Quiggins as well I believe, but I don’t think they were compulsory or that they murdered the customers afterwards.

I can remember the good old days of Aunt Twacky’s Bazaar and of course 69A but now Quiggins makes me think of Zyklon B.

Ahh, the BNP they tell us they were never like that and have changed.

I think it’s called Hitlercause denial.

Maybe their old friend Dr David Irving could write a book about it now he’s out of prison.

What a shame.

Something once fondly celebrated is now tarnished and poisoned.

A funny old election wasn’t it?

And in the same week, Mrs Chucklebutty reveals to me that the much loved actor and war hero, James Stewart, was secretly a big player in the commie witch-hunts and a lot of other right wing political nastiness.

Oh, I can’t risk having any more heroes.

I am going to dismantle my shrines to Anita Harris and Jimmy Clitheroe before something comes out about them as well.

Speaking of the Clitheroe Kid, and back to normal business, Sheriff Bradlow has appointed a new Deputy, Cluckleberry Flo!

The crazy dancin’ gal that took over the Boot Ranch from Calamity Kemp for a while and turned it into the paradise it is today.

Yeeeha!

Seems she came at a cost though, the town just wasn’t big enough for two schoolteachers and she saw to it that one lame mule was more or less put out to pasture and destined to be an old grey mayor.

Another change on the reservation was the chopping down of the big thick ugly Totem pole on Elder Ridge.

Nobody seems to have noticed that it’s gone but a lot of folks are saying it still casts a dark shadow.

But ladies and gentlemen I am pleased to see that Capital of Custard events are really picking up now.

Roly Joe Riley has done an excellent piece promoting the sex god that is Philharmonic Conductor Vasilly Pertbottom.
I understand that his next performance will be the soundtrack from the film “The Full Monty” with him stripping naked at the end whilst the choir sing “You can keep your baton.”

Much better than Faure’s Requiem or Bachs Ass in B Minor, as Joe joked.

Now something I am looking forward to is the Klimt Exhibition.

I love all those Spaghetti Westerns and Dirty Harry.

I always used to say to Mrs Chucklebutty, “come on punk, make my tea.”

Mind you, she’d laugh and then belt me with a Fistfull of Scallops followed by A Few Scallops More, when I said “how about a sandwich then”?

Oh hang on, no it’s not Klimt Eastwood at all.

What a disappointment.

It’s some fellow who paints bread I think, something here about a Vienna.

William Morris will be there, the chap who used to do Animal Magic and Hammy Hamster and some Scottish chap in a mackintosh who’s brought some of his furniture.

I can’t see this bringing in the crowds!

Am I going mad or something?

It says here that one of Klimts most famous works will be on display, a reconstruction of Beethoven’s Fridge!!

A master piece of 20th century art that combines painting sculpture architecture….well now I know it’s nonsense Beethoven was dead by the early 1800s.

It says here, a prime example of the concept pioneered by Richard Wagner of the total work of art “GESAMTKUNSTWERK”

Hmm!

Now I am pretty sure that was the motto over the entrance to the old dole office in Leece Street. Well maybe that was an Arts and Crafts building.

Actually it was more likely a scouser with a felt tip pen.

Ladies and gentlemen, I almost forgot, there is also of course the comedy festival with clowns and comedians taking centre stage between now and 2010 at least.

Unless one or two comedians drop out in which case it may be renamed the Tears of Relief Festival.

But let’s give the Lib Dems a break for now.

Hopefully, the biggest laugh will come in a couple of months with Comedian Lee Hurst in 'Postman Prat meets Fireman Scam' appearing at The Royal Crown Court.

The Chuckle Brothers themselves should anytime soon be together again for one last time in Jason and The Lager Nits.

The conspiracy to rid us of the Legendary Orange Fleece.

Don’t forget Jamie Oliver will be here as well for the start of the Tall Chips race.

Seems things are really looking up again.

Oh no sorry, that’s the budget deficit for the Custard Company.

Tatty Bye Everybody, Tatty Bye

THE END OF THE BLOGGINING: THE BLOATED VENDETTA WHALE, HMS LISTING BADLY, AND THE POUNDS CAST AWAY.....

By Jove, Mrs Chucklebutty is furious.
I had promised her that today I would be announcing my retirement and we would move to our villa in Spain, next door to the Harbottles, but looks like hacienda that…for now!
I have to apologise that in my Election Special I issued the Mayday call, that we were abandoned at sea and surrounded by Sharks and Jellyfish.
My warning was not sufficient. I was unaware that the treacherous waters of the Mersey also contained a hidden menace.
Yes at the last minute just when the many vulnerable and forgotten people thought the lifeboat had reached them and had begun to cheer their imminent salvation from the stagnant slurry that has contaminated our blessed waters for almost 10 years, a great blubber whale broke the surface of foaming slime and swallowed the hopes of thousands in one sickening and orchestrated gulp.
The Bloated Vendetta Whale, clearly attracted by a pool of plankton and the nearby sinking ship, Listing Bradley, was harpooned and dragged on board by the discredited Captain, only to have its carcass rammed into the rotten bulkhead (as the Captain is known by many of his crew) to keep the wreck afloat for a little longer.
Although whaling is internationally frowned upon (where was Greenpeace?) this sad and pathetic creature was used by the ship of lost souls to keep their hopelessly lost vessel upright.
Whilst the callous crew briefly pat its head and feed its ego, it will soon be left below the water line to slowly rot.
Sadly that is the truth of whaling in today’s waters, where just enough flesh is taken from the dim witted creature to cover an area the size of one seat and the rest of the blubber - and even the meat head - is left to decompose or will eventually be thrown back to the into the water where it may be devoured by those who placed it there.
So how long before the next rescue ship?
Captain Bradlow's crew are already plotting mutiny. Fletcher Clein (have I ever mentioned it’s German for Diddy? Yes, I may have) has already announced that the Captain has to be thrown overboard before the entire crew perishes.
Who knows what new direction Admiral Stilton would have taken had the so-called Flagshit of the Glib Dum Navy sunk without trace.
Maybe a mutiny will go some way towards swabbing the putrid decks or more likely, it may delay ridding us of what has become a poison where the antidote is still being developed and in need of further tests.
But Shipmates, we will all drown if we do not continue to battle against the waves.
All that the Captain has really achieved in harpooning the whale is, as they say in nautical terms, “15 tons on a dead mans chest, yo ho ho and a battered glib dum.”
Now before any anonymous soul comments about insensitivity - such as that made about Mr Gleeson and tells me: “when you compared Lardia Stewpid to a bloated whale, where you aware of the fact that she had actually lost the ability to get her fat arse to a constituency meeting, select committee or ward surgery? If so it was insensitive, insulting and below the standards……” etc, etc, etc.
Well, yes missus, I was fully aware that there was a Kentucky Fried Chicken shop and a Sayers and a Chippy between Stupid's home and the nearest meeting room.
And of course I openly admit that both Mrs Chucklebutty and I are no strangers to pastry and on this occasion I have gone for the easy target of Orca Steward being a little on the portly side.
But then I am following the example of her new found, short-term friends, who also like to go for the easy targets, such as those people who are being thrown out of their day care centres to finance incompetence and pay-off idiots and failures!
“Steady on Chucklebutty, you are starting to sound like the Tony’s!”
I know, I know - but nothing wrong with that! And frankly this has got my gander up, and I am worried she will eat it.
This is not the end and not even the blogginning of the end.
But it is the end of the blogginning.
We must fight them on the benches! (As soon as they announce the winning entry.)
Blog, Sweat and eventual Cheers!
Iron the curtains….sorry that’s a note from Mrs Chucklebutty.
Finally, for those of you who are still unaware of the finale results for the Glib Dums, I print them below.

Lib Dem Results Liverpool

The total pounds cast away are as follows

JOHNSTON, Kevin
FAILED CHIEF OPERATIONS OFFICER, LIVERPOOL CULTURE COMPANY - £50,000 Forgotten Party (No change)
HENSHAW, Sir Diddy
FAILED CHIEF EXECUTIVE, LIVERPOOL CITY COUNCIL AND LIVERPOOL CULTURE COMPANY - £360,000 By Jove Party (Personal Gain)
ARCHER, Robyn
FAILED CREATIVE DIRECTOR, LIVERPOOL CULTURE COMPANY - £375,000 Skippy the Cash Kangaroo (Held)
GREEN,Chris
FAILED CHIEF OPERATIONS OFFICER, LIVERPOOL CULTURE COMPANY - £50,000 No Street Party (Ran)
HARBOTTLE, Jason
FAILED CHIEF EXECUTIVE, LIVERPOOL CULTURE COMPANY - £250,000 Huge leaving party (Not invited)
DICKINSON, Lorna
FAILED CONSULTANT £45,000 A Stunned Fish called Squander party (wet)

As returning officer for the above constituency of Grotty Cash…(where’s my additional £24k?) I declare that from the total cash trashed, the loser is, the people of Liverpool!

Tatty Abide With Me Everybody, Tatty Bye