Friday, 14 November 2008

Ask not for whom the Jingle Bells toll, Custard comes to the boil for Bradlow & Dickie Mint - Hurst makes it a hat trick. They think it's all over....

By Jove Missus. I’m not a number – I’m a free man! As Patrick McGoogle, used to say in The Pensioner.
Yes, I am home again. I’ve been away “at sea” for a few weeks, aboard the HMP Walton, and what a rough passage I had! All those men locked up together by Jove! But enough of that, I’ll save it for the autobiography. I must ask Pete Price who wrote his for him. Mind you there was one cell crammed with 17 women, all named Sue Denham for some reason. I had to put up with them wolf-whistling at me in the shower block, then laughing and calling me a Diddyman, well the water was freezing cold.

So yes Missus, I was released last week to a crowd of waiting reporters (Stinky Ink Bartlett and Larry Knees) Here I am at the news conference speaking to CNN (Crosby News Now)

Like all my appearances, it lasted nearly 12 hours but that included 9 songs. Anyway Missus, I will shortly be publishing my prison memoirs, not that I can remember much. It’s hard to think straight in there, maybe I have blocked my prison hell out of my mind or maybe it was all that crack cocaine, skunk, heroin and alcohol. Some nights I couldn’t find my face to drink the cocoa! But what a very progressive idea to have all that available. Certainly keeps the lads quiet.

I see my good lady did her best to keep up the blog in my absence. I must apologise for her course language. As you know ladies and gentlemen, I’m direct but never blue.

Mr Clack is suing us by the way.

But Mrs C. has redeemed herself with her very own artwork for Capital Of Custard. Here she is in a picture marking the alleged outcome of the investigation into our good friends Wally Bradlow and Dickie Mint, The Storyteller. The picture is titled:
“The Ironing Boards for England Delivers the verdict”

All right so she got a bit mixed up with the Standards Board and the Ironing Board, it often happens - probably why it's taken so long for any announcement - but since so many people will be creased with laughter, it still works.

Anyway, it’s art! It doesn’t have to mean anything.

Better than cutting a donkey in half and shoving it in a fish tank!

It seems it has been a bad week for some of our friends in low places, no wonder they were both looking so down in the mouth at the recent HTV awards. Poor Wally seems to have realised that the game is up and said, “This showbiz life is not for me” Quite right, not unless it’s free tickets for a Las Vegas show on the council tax.

“I am just a simple fireman,” he said. Well we knew that, although I thought you had to be quite bright to be a fire fighter these days. It is a shame though, a young lad like that with Dickie Mint as his role model, it was only ever going to end in tears.

Dickie has now of course gone completely barmy and goes to bed every night in his Lord Mayor pyjamas. He is regularly parading up and down Castle Street with a pair of scissors looking for ribbons to cut and every morning tormenting the local shops asking if he can officially open them.

He’s even made his own chain of office out of Dairy Lea Cheese Triangles. Do we really want this loon meeting all the important visitors who come to Liverpool on official engagements? It was bad enough when we had Clark Kent for mayor with his scary fixed grin frightening the horses.

Poor Wally! If only he had listened to me from the beginning, when I used to sit him on my knee and try to warn him about the naughty boys who would get him into trouble, but all he wanted was for me to sing horsey-horsey and bounce him up and down so instead he ended up being dragged into the gutter by a greasy-head master.
A modern day Hamlet Prince of Primark.

I’ll bet Jasper Harbottle, our former Director of the Custard Company, after seeing what he has done to Wally and Dickie, is probably now shedding a few tears over this, as he rolls about on his hacienda laughing hysterically.

Perhaps Harbottle will return for the closing Custard & Karaoke night with his very own version of the Laughing Policeman.

I know a jolly Fireman; he’s known on Mathew Street,
in charge of brewery piss-ups, a task he can’t complete.
With his friend the Storeyteller, they tried to bring me down
But now I’ve got the bastards I’m the happiest man in town

Whooooooo-ha ha ha hah hah haha ha ha hah ha ha haahhhhh

Laughing Policeman

So if all the predictions are right, will there be a power struggle in the Glib Dums, with an outbreak of Flu before Christmas or will it be; simply having a wonderful Christmas Clein? Heaven forbid, the return of the man with the tache and an eye for the cash Tricky Dickie. Does it herald the end altogether for the glib dums?

But hang on, there are people on the patch, they think it’s all over – it is now.
Yes Hurst makes it four, the hero of the hour, no longer on the bench, but up before it. Well ladies and gentlemen, it’s been talked about so often since that glorious day, that controversial third leaflet, did it actually go through the letterbox and if it had been disallowed, would it have affected the final result?

Should the referee have shown him the yellow card or given him a pink one hidden underneath?

In reality, bringing on Nobby Stewart in the final moments of injury time really decided the final result. Apparently, she was asked if she minded having a sub role and said it was okay so long as she could have the twelve inch one and some pies from Sayers as well.
The first time the Jules Rimet trophy had been filled with Oxtail Soup

But now it looks like our good friend Steve Herpes could be in real trouble. The weather has turned quite chilly and I’ve heard that he’s lost his hat somewhere.

He needs to be careful with that head of hair. I must admit he struck me as odd the last time I saw him, walking around with only half a pair of sunglasses on.

Perhaps it is something to do with colour blindness. But if these broken sunglasses mentioned in court provide conclusive evidence, he could face being Ray Banned for years.

Now according to what they say in the Oldham news sheets, allegedly he can’t tell the difference between Line Dancing and Lap dancing. Well according to my good friend Mr Clack, who is something of an expert on this subject, this is the simplest way to tell the difference;

If the lady has tassels on her shirt and you have a Stetson, it’s Line dancing.
If the lady has tassels on her nipples and you have a hard-on it’s Lap

Good heavens Clack! Now don't blame me for that rather crude and explicit explanation.

I know it's a long time since I had a Stetson, not since that weekend break in Viagra Falls.

Maybe Mr Herpes got them both confused with Fireman's Pole Dancing. Look, he's got a front row seat as well !

She looks familiar - is that taken in Croxteth?

Anyway, I'll have no more talk of such sleazy subjects. This is a family blog!

Lap dancing indeed. I don't know why some people are so obsessed with breasts.

Titty bye Everybody…..

I mean; Tatty Bye Everybody Tatty bye

Be nice to each other.

Oh I almost forgot, I came across the rather delightful little song from Allan Smethurst, The Singing Postman. "You can't keep living in the past boy" A lesson for Liverpool?