Showing posts with label Frank Doran. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Frank Doran. Show all posts

Wednesday, 26 March 2008

'It's all relative, naturally', says Chucklebutty - The Night of the Penknives, De-selection, Darwen's theory and Status Quo Vadis

By Jove, Missus!

It is with ill-disguised rage (a plastic nose and false moustache) that I address the people of Grotty Cash today.

I should have known by previous experience to expect this, but the recent turn of events has taken even my breath away.

(Which should save me a few bob on extra strong mints).

Yes Missus, The Night of the Penknives has started!

Now we all knew this would happen, but here’s the twist.

It’s Wee Wally Bradlow, that is holding the knife, (well he has to have a grown-up with him or a Teacher) while the gutless Diddymen of the Glib-Dums bring their knitting into the Chuckle Chamber and mutter under their wheezing last breaths before May.

Yes Missus, I am talking about DE-SELECTION!!!!!
Now I warn you ladies and gentlemen, this is not the usual rambling of Sir Diddy, when he hacks into my Blog to peddle his tales of woe, poverty, discomknockeration and having to survive on a pension.
No this is the full Academic thrust, calm down missus, of my Professorship.
I will be dealing with scholarly and philofaxical issues.

So with that warning, before I continue to explain my personal rage at what has taken place, allow me to enlighten those of you who may be unfamiliar with the “Selection” theories of Charles Drake, contained in his major work on Evolution, “Hello My Darlings” or The Survival of the Fattest Cat.

Now, I always say don’t bother with the book when you can see the movie.
So as you may recall from the film “I’ve Inherited Wind” when Samantha’s husband Darren, from “Bewitched” gave up advertising and got a job as a school teacher, he had to go to court to fight the church and the establishment over the right to teach children about the “Natural Selection” of Councillors.

The “Monkey Trial”, as it became known.

The establishment argued that “Creation” must be taught in our schools and it is against Sod’s Law to say we end up with Monkeys in our council chambers.

They presented their arguments based on religious teachings and the Book of Genesis from the Gospel of Rick Walkman.
Now Darwin, that’s Charles, and not to be confused with Darren, in the film, although his mother-in-law sometimes called him Darwin in bewitched, where was I?

Yes, Darwin presented his case quoting from the Book of Genitals, often dismissed as bollocks, by the church, whereby it is believed that only through a process of natural selection may Humankind be trusted to hold political office, otherwise you just get Monkeys.
This angered the establishment, to have their political representatives compared to Apes and they pointed to an example of a local councillor who was also remarkably, although highly unlikely, a direct descendent of Darwin, none other than Councillor Frank Darwin of the Dickensian Fields ward.

Are we to believe, they challenged, that this fine councillor standing here before you is an accident of nature? Can you compare this good man, to a Monkey?

Now this would have been a strong argument, had Frank not been swinging on a tyre at the time, after somebody had dumped 2,000 of them in his constituency.

But let us focus on the main theological arguments.

Briefly, the Establishment or Creationist view teaches that Sod is the divine selector, he created the first man, who was called Dick, and Sod placed him alone in Sir Anthony Eden’s Garden, where he could eat Liberal helpings of what ever he liked, apart from Ramsey Macdonald’s forbidden fruit MacFlurry.

Now Dick, or “Clueless” as he is referred to in ancient Greek Kebab texts, (he was after all the first of his kind and had little knowledge of the new world or calorie controlled diets), started eating everything in sight, apart from the vegetables.

So the Creationists believe that a Barbecued Rib was taken from the side of Dick’s plate and that this was used to create a Turnip, or as it was later to be known, a Bernie Turnip.






















We all know it today as a fairly tasteless vegetable with an odd perfume and usually half-baked. Now she started to pinch all the burgers off of his plate and they began fighting over the Pizzas. Yes, Missus, Pizzas are as old as that, BC (big crust) not just AD (Anno Domino’s).
Now the Turnip, they argue, was enticed over to the yellow arches of the MacDonald tree that formed a large “M” in the garden, by an oily haired serpent that smelled of Peroni.

The Serpent asked the Turnip if she would like some MacFlurry and if she wanted fries with it. She of course scoffed the lot and felt great shame when she later stood on the bathroom scales. When Dick saw that there was none of the MacFlurry left for him he tried to vote her out of Edens’garden but being only two of them, they could not get a majority and so to resolve this dilemma they began to begat. When they had begatted enough, and since there was no risk of disease at that time they were able to have safe seats, they formed the first council through which they could make decisions about who gets all the free dinners.

But in doing so, they lost their innocence and any chance of developing original thought and so became destined to remain glib and dumb.

The first Glib-Dum council.
(Note: It is interesting that from their later begattings they formed a Brewery and a Pop group, Cain and Abe. Cains is still around purveying fine ales but the other is now lost without record, apart from a brief appearance in the film epic 'Status Quo Vadis' and a support role in the Name of the Father).

Charlie Darwin challenged this simplistic literal view of the creation and the selection of councillors and it has of course been challenged by many scholars with strange hair, including, Sir Melvin Blogg, of the Southbank Show who, on this very subject, did a 26 week series on Men and Motors.

Sir Melvyn examined new translations of ancient texts carried out by Professor Stanley Unwin, of Invercockieleekie University(regular readers will be familiar with his work)

According to Professor Unwin, said Blogg “the words used in the Gospelloes have hold severmole different meanings as our linguode has developmost over a periole of two thrimsold years or more”.

The quote is taken from Unwins' Cereal work “ Darwin’s Theoromes on the developmode of Silly Consoles and the Teacherings of the Gospelloes.” Chapto 2 The Deaf Sea Scrawls.

For example, Professor Unwin points out that Peroni, is an early Aramaic word for Story and that the word Serpent is a corruption of Servant, so, “one who serves a story” A Story Teller. The fact that Peroni is now also the name of a beer that is a bit “pissy”, Unwin jokes rather crudely, means that the whole account is that of a supposed servant and storyteller who today would be seen as somebody who is “taking the piss”.

Therefore, nothing relating to the Glib-Dums is to be believed or taken literally.
So there you have it ladies and gentlemen.

The finest scholars and academics and even Sir Melvyn Wig agree that the Glib-Dums must allow natural selection to produce our elected representatives and not base it on a fat-filled diet of nose-bagging and underhand plotting by serpents.

The recent work by Professor Unwin, who incidentally used to be on the same pub quiz team with me, whilst at Cambridge (the pub not the University) but that is beside the point as we never won anything and he was a total liability, anyway his work is beyond dispute by those who can understand it.

So it is for this reason that I began with ill-disguised rage.

Can you remember that far back?

I shall explain.
Against all the proven laws of natural selection, I, Professor Chucklebutty, have been de-selected through the conniving and plotting of Wee Hamish Bradlow and Dickey Mint the Storeyteller.

Thwarting my chance of becoming the Elected Mayor for the City of Grotty Cash.

After receiving 80% of the vote crushing the latest rival Phyll the Lord Redlips and smashing the original sole candidate, Mr Foghorn Leggarty with his outspoken “An Elected Mayor, I say Mayor, for Grotty Cash” campaign.

80% missus!

How many of them got that share of the vote?
Alright it was only 29 actual votes, but that is democracy.

And why ladies and gentlemen have Bradlow and Dickey Mint allowed this penknife to be brought out? Is it because people dared to ask?

I got Beatrice Franksfornothing to ask a few awkward questions about finance and then young Kenny Forthright to ask, Wally who it was that booked Mr Plinka-Plonka as the sole outdoor event for the disastrous Matt Munro Street Festival last year and how much did it cost?

Both were shown the usual local Glib Dum tolerance of anybody who attempts to question them, and swiftly deselected with a size ten boot up the clucass.

Two unmistakeable giggles could be heard coming from the room next door.

By Jove, somebody pass me a dictionary to look up the words liberal and democrat again….I better check socialism while I am there, as that may have been modified ever so slightly in the last few years.

But that’s the old style politics.

As a former Jam butty miner I am of course a Neo Preservative so as far as I am concerned it’s all a load of ballots.

And my question, I hear you ask?

What caused the wrath of my former little friend Wally Bradlow to plunge the de-selection knife into the old Professor?

Well I simply asked, why was a poor vulnerable pensioner like Sir Diddy forced to retire on a measly £395,000 pay-off when there was still tens of millions waiting to be squandered and poured down the pan.

Some of that could have been poured in my direction!

They threw me down the steps of the Chuckle Chamber.

How dare they!?

I shall now consider whether to stand as an Independent.

In which case, I shall bring back flogging.

That’s if they haven’t flogged everything by the time I step into my converted motorised Lambanana Mayoral Limousine.
Tatty Bye Everybody Tatty Bye!

Thursday, 31 January 2008

THAT ORIGINAL TERRY POLISH, THE 47 POLISHERS, FOHORN LEGGATTY, FATTY MARBROW AND A COMEBACK FOR JEFFREY ARCHER????????

By Jove!

Some comments from a fan and the Notorious Blare on this so called Blog!
Thank you gentlemen or ladies as the case may be.

I fear though, I can take no credit...although I will take cash....for the appearance of this blog.

My humble role is merely a scribe with quill, ink and carrier pidgeon, offering guidance and insight to the good people of Mirthyside, whilst putting the record straight on my charity work, which as you know begins at home.

I had to challenge the wicked accusations of bedivilment and discomknockeration levelled against me and my former Diddymen, by the original Terry Polish, who began this blog followed by 47 others claiming to have the same name.

They can't fool me, that's why they use that picture of Dirk Douglas. It's the old "No, I'm Snagglepuss!" line.
When all 47 of them suddenly disappeared, suffering from suckertash, Terry's Polishers with their more colourful use of language (mainly blue missus, although they have toned it down, no pun unintended) resurrected this damn thing again.

Now they have provided me with this specific tab, not in support of my wisdom and advice but, I fear, to mock me and make it appear as if my articles and contributions are a joke.

Look at the photographs they use!

Me hair all over the place like Cherie Booth!

Either that or they put up some picture of a constipated hamster that somebody has put a pair of specs on.

Never mind the Standards Board, I am going to the RSPCA!

No mention in the profile of my first class honours degree in speed sausage knotting or that I am a qualified balloonist, yes I can make a poodle in six seconds!

But nevertheless I will continue to fight them and make sure the good people of this fine metrollopus are able to see the other side of the coin, while they still have any coins left.

Oh too late!

I thank you for your support in advance of any decision I may make to stand for Elected Mayor. However, Foghorn Leggarty would no doubt launch a smear campaign which could tarnish the fine reputation I have built up for the city and risk further damage to my legacy.

Now living in Mirth of Tydfill over a disused mineshaft where I keep me valuables, I am probably no longer eligible to stand.

However if the money is right or if there is any left, I could be tempted!

If you want a Mayor for Liverpool, then there are really only two candidates that the public would go for.

The loved and much missed, Fatty Marbrow with his old sidekick Frank Pirrelli dump Dorman as his Mayoress.

A potential Dream Ticket there, depends what you eat before bed. In Marbrow's case everything!

Failing that for Mayor and Mayoress, Peacemaker and now Mersey ferry captain, Jolly Marsden and Sonia.

Both fine, decent, honest and genuine down to earth people......I suppose that rules them out then?

Hang on I have Jeffrey Archer's number here somewhere...I'll get back to you.

Tatty bye Everybody Tattybye