Bangkok Lady Boys, Cheap Sausage Rolls and Pay-offs, as Mrs Chucklebutty speaks out and takes on Dr Tim Leuni -Tune and Ringo Out-of-Tune.

That's me, at our Engagement, taken a few years ago now mind, but better than that picture he always puts up of me renewing our wedding vows.

Hello, Mrs Chucklebutty here, stepping into his breeches. So, I’ve finally got me hands on the keys to his shed. This is where he spends half the night writing this rubbish. Ooh it stinks in here. He’s asked me to do a few entries until he’s released from the nick. I’ve just read the last piece, after Mr Clack showed me how to turn this thing on. Had a quick look at his last searches to give us a clue what he wanted to write about and found something advertising The Bangkok Lady boys Show, no wonder it’s called Liverpool Confidential, wait ‘til I get me hands on him!

What are they on about here? Trying to make out he’s some kind of dissident. None payment of fines, that’s why he was arrested!

'

Telly licence, three counts of drunk and disorderly and fighting over some reduced vests in Ethel Austin’s. To cap it all, he was caught having a piddle in one of those council kiosks that nobody uses - well apart from him. Said he thought it was one of those super-loos. Well somebody is taking the p*** installing them on the street. Anyway, he got the Custard Company to put a spin on his arrest. The usual cover-up.

The truth is, they are going to pay him off, but as there’s no money left, since Hasitall grabbed the last £500,000, he’s decided to take the Sayers 08 Sponsorship Sausage Rolls. He had a big fight over that as well, said he wanted so many a week, not 960,000 all in one go or he’d never shift them - they’d go off.

Well it’s too late now; they delivered them today while he’s still banged up. Can’t get in the bleedin’ house for them! We are doing our best to get rid of them, Mr Clack had six for his tea and as soon as it got dark we threw about twenty thousand over the wall into Mrs Hewitt’s garden. She must have heard us when a few hit the window and she came out screaming for the police, so we ran in. She’s still shouting through our letterbox now.

Anyway, sod whatever he was going to write, it’s about time this Blog had the feminine touch. And you can take that smirk off your face Mr Clack.

Right so what’s been happening? Oh yes, there was the Echo exclusive, “Merseyside woman gives birth to 1.6million pound triplets” I’ll bet that made her eyes water. The Echo had a picture of them. Greedy looking little buggers. Not the most attractive babies I’ve seen, a slimy one, a dopey one and a fat little diddy one. Seems they were such fat little sods, it has taken nearly three years to weigh them up. Isn’t this the same woman who had a daughter a few years ago who tipped the scales at about 380,000 pounds? Who pays for this IMF fertiliser programme?

It must have hurt though. Our Sebastian was only 9 pounds when I had him and I screamed so loud all the windows shattered along Oxford Street. Mind you it didn’t help that soft lad handed me the nozzle off the Goblin Hoover, instead of the gas and air. Me tongue was trapped down the tube for over half an hour. The pillock! Then he switched it on reverse and covered the baby in dust and fag ends.

Of course that wouldn’t happen now, these days you can’t smoke during labour or even in the maternity ward. Bloody Nanny state. I’ll bet Cherry Booth was all right for a few woodbines when she had her last one.

I heard she’s on 60 a day. Can fit them all in at once. She’s a right one her, fancy havin’ it off in the next room to the Queen - the dirty gets - Arise Sir Tony eh? Ooh, it knocks me sick to think about it. Didn’t somebody say that Phillip was watching through the eyes of one of the portraits?


I’ve lost me thread now.

Sorry I just had to punch Mr Clack in the head. I told him to pack it in, he was getting a bit frisky - pressing his skinny leg against me while I’m typing - thinks he’s in with a chance while soft lad is inside. Oh stop blubbering man! Hold your head back it’ll soon stop bleeding, it’s not pouring. Don’t drip it on the cat, if Ken tastes blood he’ll have yer, he’s feral.

What else? Well that Bingo Starr was in the papers again, moaning on his website telling fans to stop writing to him. The bleedin’ idiot.

Nobody is writing to ya love, it’s your P.A. sending them, she’s worried about you going back on the booze and pills if you find out nobody is interested.

She’s worried that she’d be out of a job. What a tosser. And I say that with love and peas. I used to like him as well, but now I hear he’s just like one of these Pop Primate Donners or an Opera Diver whatever you call them, has to be pampered and preened all the time.

I heard that while he was at the train station in South Liverpool, he had somebody rush up to trim his bush for him. Oooh, imagine, as Lennon would have said. A right little Octopus’s Garden that must be, I’ll bet it smells like it as well, shrivelled old tentacles and a blue meanie. I’m saying this with love and peace you know?

Mr Clack says to turn it in, and that I’m disgusting. He’s a fine one to talk, him, with his collection of rusty old chastity belts. I’ve seen him, prancing about to “Hey Nonny No” on the gramophone wearing one with that bodice and wig. He forgot to pull the curtains properly one night; half the street was out watching.

All the school kids were singing it outside his shop for weeks. Oh all right yes, I’ll delete this bit.

Liverpool Direct is up for another award for customer contricks. The CCA, cash and carry awards, I think. Create an industry of call centres everybody hates and set up a body with hundreds of members so all the Directors can come to the freebie dinners and give yourself loads of annual awards.

Have you seen how much that lot cost us? And that’s just what we know about. About five times the budget deficit! For that money, every house in Liverpool could have a council officer sitting next to you on the couch for three hours a day. They could sell all the buildings then, oh they already have. That’d be great for the pensioners; they could do a bit of tidying up and make the tea as well. There you go Mr Stilton, you can bin those robbers off, once and for all. Send Dr Mucky Penny to a crack house in Croxteth.

I tried to get into the Cathedral the other night to see that little Boffin, Dr Tim Leunie.

They always call them Boffins in the paper when they don’t like what they’re saying or inventing something that stops your veg drying up or your plums shrivelling, you know, like where they put your strawberries on a radiator or something to keep them fresh for longer. You know the bloke I mean, the one who said we should all leave Liverpool and get a job with Burger King in Hackney, if we wanted to live as well as those in the south.

Dr Tim Leunig

Anyway I got there a bit late and they wouldn’t open the doors for me so I started kicking hell out of them. I was shouting through the letterbox calling them all the effing b’s going and to open the friggin doors or I’ll put the windows through. I did in the end.

Bloody cheek, trying to keep me out of the debate, I am not having some little sod giving us a bad name. Ay, it’s my city too ya know, I shouted, gerrout here now yer little squirt! Then this Nun came out and said it was at the other Cathedral.

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She wanted me name and address to pay for the damage to the window and door. I told her my name was Olivia Cromwell, but she got all shirty and tried to grab me, so I turned her wimple backwards, spun her round and did a runner down Hope Street.

I was too late to see our learned muffin by the time I got there. I probably didn’t miss much. Is he the same Dr Timothy Learrig who was around in the 60s, the one who said “Turn-On, Tune-In, Drop-Off” or is that the slogan for CitytalkFM?

Thing is, when you read what he said, he’s not too far off the mark. Even the Echo is pissing off to Oldham. I didn’t know that Oldham was in the south. And how come they are going south, if what I heard is right, that they are letting all the printer’s jobs go west?


Ay! I’ll tell you where I went the other night, the new Oldham Arena in the docks.

I couldn’t believe my luck. I got tickets to see Alma Coogan, you know “Dreamboat” oh she was one of my favourites. I loved her as Alma Partridge in The Partridge Family.

What a disappointment though, I had me bobby socks on and everything and she didn’t do any of her hits, just stood there and told smutty jokes all night.

I hope the gig in Birkenhead is better next week. They’ve got Frank Ifield on; he’s an MP now you know. I expect that’s why he’s not done many records for a while. Give me half an hour with him and I’d have him yodelling again.

Here's Frank demonstrating the perils of having the bath water too hot.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqORTeW01m0

There are a few former stars that have become MPs. Glenda Jackson; she was wonderful as Mr Hudson in Upstairs Downstairs. The Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith, she's another one, wasn’t she Holly in Red Dwarf, after Norman Lamont left?

And of course the Tory leader David Camembert, he used to be Tuppy Glossop in Jeeves and Wooster or was he Barmy Fungi Phipps.

Oh it’s six o’clock, nearly visiting time. I don’t know if Mr Clack is coming to the prison, they had a bit of a fall out. Old Clacky being a locksmith and key cutter was explaining quietly to Yaff how flimsy the locks were in the prison and he could open them all in less than a minute with a couple of bent wires.

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Old Professor Birdbrain of Alcatraz, was all geared up for the great escape. The next thing he knows, is there’s Clack changing all the locks for the Governor. He’d gone and got himself the contract.

It is depressing in there and he’s starting to look gaunt. Although that may be because of his 28st cellmate Muriel, who keeps pinching his dinner and sitting on Yaffle's head for a laugh while he eats it. Mureil made Yaf shave his legs and his back for him as well. I don’t know what that was about. Oh that reminds me, Bangkok Lady boys. I could have those tickets.

He’ll probably be out next week; he’s had Sir Rexy on the case. Rex has applied for a writ of Harry H. Corpus, well we think he has. There is a rumour going round that he has been offered a stint to take over the Custard Blog as guest writer for a week.

Now that could be a problem, he could let Jasper Harbottle on, apparently he thinks he’s great. Mind you that was in comparison to old Pricerite.

Speaking of which, I better go and do me hair, what’s left of it, I’ve got the lovely Peter Price coming round later for a Cherry B and Sherbet Lemon supper. I wonder if he still has that fur coat?

I’ve hardly mentioned Capital of Custard. Oh who cares, it’s nearly all finished now apart from the karaoke in January. Then again, they say it’s not over until the bag lady sings, so maybe Redmond will give us a number on the closing night. He could do that Fred Astaire one, “Let’s call the whole thing off” But they are still pretending that they haven’t.

How does it go? You say a cock-up and I say a cock-up, you say a pay-off and I say a pay-off.

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The Legacy Waltz.

Right now what? Do you press send or what? Mr Clack, you’ll have to do this bit.

Yes I’ve deleted the stuff about your Chastity Belt fetish….alright, hobby, collection - whatever.

Sink or Swim with Pay-offs and Pastry as we get up to our necks in Custard

By Jove Missus, how very un-tattifilarious I am!

Yes, like the rest of the Custard company staff, I have been told that I am no longer required to provide my illustrious guide after December 31st.

I have tried to explain that this is a guide to Liverpool and that although the by-line is Capital of Custard 2008, that there may be a legacy role for me in 2009.

The only role for you, they said, is a sausage roll.

Well I suppose they have to find something to do with the 2 million provided by Sayers sponsorship in kind. I bet it wasn’t half a million-sausage rolls that they gave to Mr Hasitall. Mind you, they could have tricked him with that; he couldn’t have eaten them with the gagging clause! Why do they never ask my advice first?

What a cheek though, trying to make me redundant, after all I have done to promote this year!

Anyway dear readers, I offer my apologies to you both for my recent absence. I have been locked in negotiations with Mr Stilton and Bradlow to negotiate a proper pay-off. £30 quid and a 2-minute DVD of the highlights was their last offer. “Hasitall has cleaned us out,” they said.

They claim they are skint and there is nothing left for the closing ceremony.

Well I found three bob down the sofa in Stilton’s office when they nipped outside for a Peroni to discuss my future. So I’m having that, by Jove yes!

Now “Honorary” Professor Rednose is said to have pulled the plug on the closing semolina event, although he may still be able to knock together a Sinbad and Jimmy Corkscrew Karaoke session outside Yates’s. He is of course closely connected to the stars of numerous cancelled shows, as well as being Patron of the Frodsham wind ensemble, so I hear. Yes there appeared to be a definite whiff of them during his recent speech.

I’ve told them to just leave the closing ceremony to me and the Sir Diddy’s men, we can cabal something together. I have a spectacular event all ready to go. Very simple and very cheap.

I will place a large inflatable Lambanana in all of the major city buildings, The Town Hall, St Georges Hall, The Municipal Buildings and both Cathedrals. Then we shall fill the buildings with custard. As the devices are inflated the custard will ooze from the windows and fill the streets of Liverpool for the people to engage in a custard festival, like the one they do with tomatoes in Preston or wherever it is, (somewhere foreign).

The metropolitan cathedral will be the finale - no offence to the C 0f E, as this is dictated by the architecture, not the Pope, even if he does love a bit on his rhubarb - custard will burst like a volcano from the wig-wam funnel roof in a great yellow cascade, running down Brownlow Hill to form a giant lake in the town centre. Souvenir spoons will be available from the car boot of my good friend Mr Harbottle, so everybody can dig-in.

Yes I will invite Mr Harbottle back and with a bit of luck he can hand over the envelope to Wally and Dickie Mint with the outcome of the standards board investigation.

The Lambananas will then burst through each roof and rise above the city. Now, here is the clever bit, at the stroke of midnight, the they will explode releasing clouds of nitrous oxide onto the crowds below (laughing gas to you missus, I have tons of it given to me by Tarbuck) and as it begins to take effect, a photographer from the Oldham Chronic will take a picture of all the smiling and laughing faces, heralding the event a huge success.

As they all become unconscious, the 08 ambassadors secret mission will be put into action as they lift every wallet, purse and any jewellery - that isn’t out of the catalogue - from the sleeping crowd. This will be used to plug the deficit! An inspired plan, I am sure you will agree.

I am just waiting for Sir Rex Hesperus to cast a legal eye over it, just in case the gas is too strong and injuries result. It wouldn’t be so bad if everybody carried a Clack Donor Card but we don’t want to end up with severe clack injury and thousands in hospital on a ventittilator.

Speaking of inspired plans, missus, I have been clearing out my drawers recently and discovered a copy of an early suggestion for a 2008 event, posted directly to the Custard company from Hollywood no less!

Inspired by the Capital of Custard award Mel Brookside the well known director of Blazing Squabbles, came up with yet another vehicle for The Producers especially for 2008, but it has just gathered dust in the 08 place
Reading it again this week, I am not sure somebody didn’t lift a few ideas from it without giving him credit. Here is part of it.

Synopsis “The Produseless”
Nervous accountant Leo Blowsitall enters the office of Max Biallystorey to go through the accounts after another financial disaster costing the Municipal Theatre millions. Leo suddenly realises that you could actually make more money out of a sure fire flop than you could from a success and earn yourself huge pay-offs. So the stage is set to create a Capital of Culture fiasco. http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=3ERAV57bqaU

The first thing they need is the worst event programme ever produced.
In a downtrodden Sydney apartment, they find Rubin Archsnits, with her cabaret extravaganza “ Springtime For Stilton” a musical play about the life and times of

Der Cuerhverhauptman Adull Hilton. The script is a complete stinker and they buy it off of her for £340k.

Just to make sure it will flop, they also need the worst director they can find, so they go backstage at the Chorley rep to meet Jessie Harbolero, who enters wearing a bright orange Flamenco dress. Harbolero, agrees to take the job on condition he can sell the T-shirts and ice cream during the interval and spend 3 days a week rehearsing in Spain.

They interview for a leading man to open the show and are delighted to find that one time tank engine commander Bongo Starr is available and desperate to plug his new album, “Liverpool Hate” He can’t sing, he can’t play anything, he can’t wait to get out of Liverpool; They have found their man!

As the opening night arrives and the curtain goes up, they watch as the assembled audience gasp in horror at what they see as the chorus line begins the opening number .

Springtime for Hilton and Liverpool
Winter for you, you poor sap

Financially we’re off the rails
We’re spending with no audit trails

Springtime for jobs if you’re southerners
You wont have to take the rap

Springtime for Hilton and Liverpooooooooool
Where failure’s rewarded by being awarded
Huge pay-offs for being so crap.

Springtime for Hilton and - Don’t be stoopid be a smarty come and join our lib-dum party

Winter for you, you poor - Forced out Jason, stitched up Forde, whoops here comes the Standards Board. Etc.

Delighted by their failure, they retreat to the bar to start working out how big a pay-off each can get. In the meantime the curtain opens for act two and some Lambananas parade onto the stage, followed by a giant spider.

The audience begin to smile and identify with them. Max and the custard company had of course initially taken no interest in the Lambananas and had even talked about writing out the spider due to costs.

The audience pour into the bar, they want to save the Lambananas, they love them, they want to keep the spider, ok most of the rest is crap but there have been some good bits, and in spite of the general incompetence, millions spent and wasted or unaccounted for and the huge deficit, that is the real legacy, this has actually been quite successful. Imagine what it could have been like with competent leaders?

Our heroes shrink in horror.

“We got the wrong programme to start with, the wrong director the wrong leading man…where did we go right?”

“No way out - No way out!”

Cut to our heroes in prison singing “ Prisoners of custard, we all got busted”
Curtain Falls.

Hmmm. Perhaps they were right not to use it. Too far fetched. As we know, they did all get their pay-offs. Well apart from the people who will just get redundancy notices, the ones on the front line of the Custard Company who did the real work, that saved us from total disaster. Oh no sorry, I forgot, it was all thanks to the Custard Supreme, Professor Rednose. I do apologise. My word, a slip like that could cause a scouse divorce - fingers crossed.

But ladies and gentlemen what of the legacy, what can we do to keep the momentum going in 2009?

Well one thing right on our doorstep is the potential for a major new tourist attraction, far better than Williamson’s Tunnels. It appears that there are miles and miles of unexplored apartments right in the heart of the city.

They haven’t been touched or opened up since the day they were constructed by eccentric developers who wanted offer gainful employment to thousands of Cockneys, Geordies, Mancunians and Poles. If we can just persuade the liquidators to open them up to the public I am sure many thousands would come to marvel at how and why they were built.

I used to have a penthouse you know. Unfortunately, the cleaner found it under the bed and showed it to the missus. I only kept it for the article on the Austin Healey gearbox and what to do if your big end keeps going.

Well whatever happens, if they don’t want me after December, I may take up the offer from Editor of the Oldham Echo Mr Alistair Zeta MacShag. He wants me to liven–up the obituaries column and give it a scouse flavour.

I have already suggested re-naming it the Brown-bread Section and Birthday Memoriam to be called, “Well at least I don’t have to buy a pressie”

But between you and me, I am in discussions with Sir Rex, Joe Roley, Laurence of Westphalia, Tom “who did that?” Dowling and Dave Printface, amongst others, to establish a rival evening newspaper that is truly loyal to the people of the city, written and printed in Liverpool, that will creates jobs in the city rather than redundancies for the sake of the Unholy Trinity's profits.

We already have the new title - The Liverpool Echo Cabal - which has a familiar ring to it. Anyway we are looking for a Head of Finance, a Cultural Editor and a Communications Director to complete the winning team.

We have also secured the publishing rights to the popular cartoon strip
“Our Wally” Although it may only be until the end of 2008, after which Andy Capps missus, Flo, may be the new cartoon feature.

How much to Oldham Catherine?


Tatty bye everybody, Tatty bye.

CEX Spies and Idiot tapes. Comic turns at the Phone-Tappers and Shunters. Give order please!

By Jove, Missus, I have only just found out that the latest series of my all time favourite television programme, Fantasy Island, is actually made right here in Grotty Cash!

I have just been down to see the set and meet the cast. It is completely stunning how they manage it.

The format has changed a little but it’s still the same incredible stories of a bunch of gormless folk and conniving tricksters who travel there wasting an absolute fortune, just to live out their personal fantasies of wealth and power.

What I love about the series is the mixture of intrigue, heartbreak and comedy.
Apparently though, this series has gone way over budget, at least 64 million. Twice that if you count the episode about the people whose fantasy it was to have equal pay and that’s nowhere near finished. They really should ditch the Executive Producer and the directors and get somebody else in before the show is axed.

I met up and had dinner with the stars. (Ha, ha Pete Price!! One-Nil to Chucklebutty, and I asked them about you and they said, “never heard of him”) They took me around the magnificent Town Hall set and told me about the current episodes being filmed.

If you have missed it this is basically the plot so far, Brad Pratt, plays the part of a simple fireman, Wally Bradlow. He has a heart-warming fantasy, that people will just take him seriously, so he is put in charge of a Lambanana Republic and it all just crumbles around him. Poor Wally, every time he opens his mouth, he puts his foot in it and what’s more, he has no money to run the country and no idea where it has all gone.

The problem is of course that Wally is surrounded by intrigue and incompetence and quickly joins in the spin to hide his own inadequacy. Although a very sad story, comic relief is provided by veteran music hall star Frank Randle, as toothless Mike Stormey, the former leader and founder of the new republic. Pictured here reassuring Wally.

Stormey had to jump before being chased out of office for trying to rob a poor pensioner and kick him out of his job in previous hilarious episodes. That was a favourite of mine, it starred Gerald Campion as Sir Diddy, a greedy little jumped up pen pusher. But Stormey was no match for Diddy who wiped the floor with him clearing off with huge bags of loot. "Yaroooo!"

Despite Stormey being disgraced, his little protégé Wally just hadn’t the heart or the guts to get rid of Stormey and keeps giving him jobs, so the joke is kept going as he continually keeps popping up to embarrass everyone with his madcap antics as he tries to scheme his way out of trouble in the same old way, getting caught out each time.

This means poor hapless Wally has to deal with the legacy of Diddy’s departure and the gang of unscrupulous little corporals that Diddy left behind who all hate Stormey. Wally had hoped that the appointment of a new Chief Pen-pusher Hilton J Stilton, pictured right on the day he first saw the accounts and played by the silent screen star Harold Lloyd, would sort things out for him as a safe pair of hands. But then they realised the safe was empty, in fact Stilton emptied some of it himself with his new salary and bonuses and a string of pay-offs. So with yet more mad-cap schemes, even more money pours down the grid as they completely lose control.

All the ensuing calamities, cock-ups and attempted cover-ups continue to be leaked to the resistance movement, the TP47 brigade as they are known and a coup is feared.

So Harold Lloyd as Stilton, spends all his time hanging off a ledger whilst trying to cover-up Stormey’s schemes, Wally’s incompetence and all of the waste and allegations of corruption.

In a hair raising sequence as Stilton hangs by a thread after being caught trying to listen-in to a telephone call involving the leader of the opposition party, the outraged Joe Scandafone, played by James Robertson-Justice,all hell breaks loose!

Astonished to find Stilton hanging from a ledge outside his office window with an ear trumpet, Joe demands to know what is going on and seeks answers through The Feeling of Infiltration Act. To his horror, he discovers that Stilton has been monitoring calls, eavesdropping and rifling through everybody’s drawers.

What’s worse is that to spy on everybody and find the mole, he’s been using the services and technology of the evil Dr Dive InMeshowerhoney, to do it. Donald Pleasance gives his usual wonderfully creepy performance as the Doctor, who is the Head of Listen-in Direct, the company siphoning off all the state gold reserves.

But Stilton is no longer the innocent people thought he was. He was supposed to sort out the evil doctors empire but soon realised that if he did, the whole house of cards (all jokers) would come crashing down. So when Joe finds out he’s been under secret surveillance, Stilton quickly points the finger at his chief check-out girl who can never get her till to balance and that he wants to get rid of anyway.

Poor Phyllis Hearsall, is the less than innocent cashier, played by Joyce Grenfell.

In a stormy meeting, at the town hall, Joe tells everyone that it’s all a cover-up and a secret report had already shown who had been leaking all the state secrets to the resistance movement. Joe shows everybody a list of the number of times he has phoned for a Pizza, as recorded by Hearsall and demands the suspension of the series until the writers can up with a more believable script.

The last episode ended with Wally, Stormey, Stilton and Hearsall in the bar of the Phone-Tappers and Shunters Social Club with them all walking towards camera saying “what do we do next, what do we do next?”

Well I don’t know what they will do next either missus. I just hope they don’t axe the whole show. It’s like I Claudius meets Michael Bentine’s Potty Time.

Anyway you should all look out for it. Deidre Bartley in the Wrexham Post is one of the few TV critics that have done write-ups on the show. The Hecko seems too interested in Purple Ronnie’s obsession with men’s bicycle clips and Colleens hemlines to say much about it.

Every now and then, if it gets just too talked about to ignore, the Hecko will give a watered down review by Nick Columngone. But anyway, have a look at the fan site on the internet if you want to know more. It’s called The Vile Dispicablog or Liverpool-Bus-shelter, something like that. I can’t wait to see what happens next.

Next week Mrs Chucklebutty will be reviewing the re-make of comedy courtroom drama: Perry Makin. Starring Ross Kemp.

Tatty bye Everybody TattyBye.

Viva Las Freebies and a World Class programme of non-events (2008)

By Jove Missus, I am still here!

For those of you wondering how this blog is connected with the programme for Capital of Custard 2008, I intend to utilise today’s entry by updating you all with some of the less publicised events that are happening or being cancelled throughout the year.

But first ladies and gentlemen, once again I have to put the record straight about some scurrilous accusations levelled against my former diddy helper Wee Wally Bradlow.

I refer of course to the recent Viva Las Freebies headline.

Yes it is true, that to celebrate our joint Birthdays, Wally and Mrs Bradlow accompanied Lady Diddy and me to a Bingo weekend at the Las Vegas Housey-Housey Hall in Blackpool.

It was whilst there that Wally saw the advert for “Fireman Sam Live on Stage.”

Now as Cbeebies was due to be one of the first major events at the new Echo Margarine Aroma, it seemed right that Wally should see the show to give technical advice, - should Elvis Criddlington try to put out any electrical fires with a water extinguisher.

(They are not really trained fire-fighters, Wally was keen to point out)

And if the show was to come to Liverpool, he wanted to make sure there were no last minute health and safety concerns that would normally have been ignored by Jasper Harbottle in his capacity of making sure the iron was set right to put the logos on souvenir T-shirts.

With this in mind Wally contacted the Custard Company and asked them to pay for the tickets as he had spent his last three quid on a fortuneteller.

(That was a complete waste of money. She said, “I see no future but a message is coming through, do you know any one called Stan? I have a message for him about his father. Somehow it is linked to your fate. The message is… Stan, Dad’s bored…”)

Anyway I digress, missus, I can tell you right now that Wally did not in fact go to the show as Lady Diddy insisted that we should instead go and see The Krankies as Frank Ifield and Bernie Clifton were in it.

Wally sobbed all the way through it until Bernie Clifton came on and then he had his wonderful idea to engage Bernie to ride his Ostrich (modified to look like a Liver Bird) around Liverpool all summer, showing visiting dignitaries the major attractions of the city.

Director of Financial Mismanagement, Mr Hasitall has already confirmed that, on the charges of :

1) Misusing tax payers money

2) Abusing his position

3) Bullying Custard Company staff.

That he is innocent on all five counts. Er…four counts…er…six.

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So missus, back to the programme for 2008 with the sub-title “Liverpool. You Aint Seen Nothing…”

Here are some of the less publicised events from the Redmond Think Tank of the Custard Company and those that got through anyway.

March 1st 'St Diddy’s Day Celebrations'
A special day in honour of the former Chuckle Executive who secured Capital of Custard for the city. The unveiling of a statue made from Church Street pavement bubble gum to be placed at the entrance to the Fourth Grace Will Alsop’s Cloud, no the Eden Project style Aquarium, no the terminus of the Tram System…..to be placed on Storeyteller’s grave.
March 6th Royally Court Theatre “Misleading Cases”
A stage production of the vintage TV comedy starring Alistair Simm and Roy Dotrice. “Call Mr Chris Herpes. So tell me again Mr Herpes, you say you were not posting the offensive items through the letterboxes but were in fact removing them, and that is your defence? Yes I recall a similar defence in the case of the Stanley Park flasher. He was not exposing his gentlemen part to the ladies bowling club but indeed putting it away”

April 1st “Rings of Confidence”
CCTV across the city will capture the bewildered faces of ordinary Liverpool people as thousands of volunteers ring their doorbells and run away. The pictures will be published in a special collection to available from December

31st April 'April Showers'
Misadventure Place opens it’s doors to the public to display the famous Tart Deco shower room. Official Grand Opening by Debbie Harry.

May 10th. 'Unveiling of the Redmond bench'
The chosen design by artist Damian Hurst Called “Brookside end of part one” will feature Our Lord sliced in half and preserved forever as a shrine at which the people of Liverpool may rest and worship at the white buttocks of the Saviour. “Cheek to cheek”

May 14th 'The Tall Chips Race'
2,008 obese youngsters will race against the clock up the stairs of the Radio City Tower to win free chips for a year! Mmmmm!

June 1st 'Brew Ha Ha!'
A cuppa tea with the lovable funny man and broadcaster Pete Price. If you or any members of your family have been affected by listening to the Pete Price Show a helpline is available through Liverpool Direct 0151 233 2008

June 5th Empire Theatre “Waldo Bradlovski” The Memory Man.
A truly amazing show. This man displays astounding feats of memory lapse. Audiences are invited to choose any telephone directory from anywhere in the world and pick a page number, within seconds the amazing Bradlovski will respond with “what page, what telephone directory, I’ve never even been to the Empire”

June 15th 'The Boris Johnson Lecture'
An opportunity for The Custard Company and cabinet members to lecture and advise Boris and to help him improve his skills in the field of professional buffoonery.

June 16th 'The Pump House COC tales for two'
An evening of tall stories and short drinks from the master himself Dickey Mint OBE 7.30 till midnight or until he falls over.

June 21st ImpUnity Theatre 'A Performance Related Play' based on the television quiz “Who wants to be a Millionaire”
A bunch of despotic carpetbaggers take control of the town and fail to answer questions in order to win huge cash prizes.

July 1st 'Viva Espania!'
Flamenco and Ice Cream is the order of the day as Harbottle Associates bring the Magic of Spain to Liverpool from the back of a car boot.

July 12th Orange Day Parade
The people show their gratitude to Jasper Harbottle for agreeing to take an additional £230,000 of their money and for his grand legacy of £20Million of debt. They carry him shoulder high to the Pier Head to a rousing reception at the foot of the Three Graces and then toss him into the Mersey.(Chorley Not?)

July 18th 'Storeylamebanana'
As the little yellow nana pops up all over the city, it’s your chance to cover the this much loved slippery, yellow little fleecer in whatever you think most appropriate.

July 21st Croxteth Country Park The return of “One Man and His Dog”
Sir Diddy and his Rotweiler, Doc, savage the sheep at the Children’s Farm and force the public to buy lamb chops at treble the normal cost.

July 28th The Mole of Edge Hill Exhibition.
“Williamson’s Flannels” a collection of face cloths used by Arthur Williamson, known throughout 18th century Liverpool for the unsightly mole on his cheek. As the mole grew larger and tougher this fascinating exhibition shows the wear and tear on his flannels creating a pattern of increasingly large holes that Williamson eventually had mounted onto canvas to frame painted miniatures of local parish councillors. “A load of old flannel” is free to the public.

July 30th 'Ringo Starves'.
The much-loved Beatle and son of Liverpool returns to his former home in the Dingle and will be bricked up alive. The show is expected to last several days. On his demise, a plaque will be erected outside saying “Ringo Starr, Liverpool born and Brown Bread, from the people of Liverpool. We were this close to letting you out.”

August 1st 'The Summer Pops'
Under the direction of Clear McCogloose, she has arranged for 3 crates of Dandelion and Burdock, 200 cans of Irn Bru, 40 bottles of Tizer and a can of lilt to be handed out for free at Aintree Racecourse.

August 2nd 'The Skint Exhibition'
Tate Liverpool an extraordinary lack of gold and riches is the hallmark of this exhibition where the art is in the hanging out to dry and framing rather than the actual picture.

August 2nd 'Oh shit, we forgot Matthew Street'!
Details to be announced.

Currently no further events are guaranteed to take place apart from Bonfire Night and Christmas. It should be noted however that the Custard Company has organised the Christmas Celebrations for the City.

Dec 25th A Giant Chocolate Egg will form the centre-piece for the Bonnet Parade as we join together to celebrate the birth of the infant Easter Bunny. A Carrot Service will be held at St Georges Hall at midnight.

Tatty bye Everybody

Tatty bye!

DIDDY THE KID GIVES RED-EYED JOE SOME ADVICE ABOUT KLONDIKE PHIL, DOC MCILHOLIDAY AND UNDERTAKER STILTON

(In a departure from my usual whimsy and tattyfilariousness, due to recent events, we appear to have reached a critical point following the inevitable national humiliation brought upon us by the assembled collective of the silly consul, whereby total national discomknockeration has now undone all of my previous hard work in rebuilding the reputation of this great cashcow.....er city! As a result, I fear no jocular comment from me, in addition to those surrounding the plight of “Sheriff” Wally Bradlow and Muck Storey OBE (Oh Bollocks, End-game) could stretch the chuckle muscle any further without serious risk of clack injury. I therefore offer some sober analysis and advice in the popular and current idiom)

By Jehosophat Ma’am, it’s me, Diddy The Kid!

I been readin’ the Dirty Washingtown Post, and that there Stinky Ink Bartlett, says there’s over 60 million dollars a missin’ from the community chest, and by all accounts (or those they’ll let anyone see) the Sheriff was last seen a headin’ for the Mexican border.

Looks like Doc McIllholiday needs to git some law ‘n order back into Grotty Cash Gulch.

Seems things was goin’ just fine ‘n dandy till them critters from the Audy Murphy Commission came in, and like the critters they are, they started a crittercisin’.

Says you aint nothing but a one horse town! That’s what I call fightin’ talk! Who cares about havin’ only one horse, when you got a Cabinet full a mules!

Now I know that the town Undertaker, the richest stiff fixer in the West, Hilton J Stilton, says “Hows a come if we got three horses for shootin’ and three horses for all the new saloons, we end up with just one fer the town? Huh, huh, huh? It jus’ don’t seem fair!” Well listen up and I’ll tell ya boy! Cos Bowleg Bradley and that crazy School Teacher aint even got the guts to ask a jackrabbit where it hid all the carrots.

Your Bank Manager, Klondike Phil, thinks you gotta keep the bank empty so it don’t get robbed and then when the Sheriff tries to look in the vault, Klondike jus’ kicks dirt in his face an says “There, ya see what ya done we aint got nothing cos a you!!”

Then the Sheriff runs over to the school house a blubberin’ and a wimperin’, and the best he and the School Teacher can do is start a scheming and conniving like two old spinsters hankerin’ for attention. Yep, spinsters aint got no balls either!

And now you all got yerselves into a whole heap a shinola for actin’ like a riverboat load of Merseysippi gamblers. Just fillin’ your saddlebags fast and as often as you can!

Now, Mr Undertaker, you listenin’, Stilton? If you aint one of the Jackrabbits, you sure been sittin with ‘em long enough to know huntin’ season shoulda started a long time ago!

So let me warn ya pardner, you better trim any sign of a fluffy tale an pull your hat down over those ears, cos right now you’re looking like Rabbit Stew from where I’m sittin’ (In a lovely penthouse apartment in Manchester actually missus, you bought it for me too! Ha ha, By Jove! Right, back into character….)

You boys been on a big fat winnin’ streak so long you got gold fever!! Didn’t you learn anything from me? You gotta know when it’s time to fill your boots and move on! You got your stash safe, you don’t milk a cow til it’s dry or it gits sore. And when that happens, you need an udder plan (Boom boom! By Jove!)

You boys jus didn’t know when t’ quit did ya? You been spending money like there’s no tomorrow, mainly on yourselves, gamblin' on not getting found out!

One more spin of the wheel, one more spin, hit me, hit me!

Yup! well it looks like this could be high noon.

So this is my advice and it's hard fer me to give it cos this is some of my old posse I’m talkin’ about!

First you got a get rid of the Twelve Fingered Bank Manager, Klondike Phil. Why that varmint can’t even count!

His idea of looking after your money is to hand it all out to any old Pink medicine man that asks for it and pay off all the no good the hustlers who ride into town, (like…....me, Yeeeeeehaaaaaaaaa! By Jove yes!)

He allowed a private railroad to be built runnin’ from the Town Hall to Vulture Place carrying all your money to Doc McIllholiday and his gang, even though everybody knows that the Doc’s gang are a bunch of graspin shower singin’ tricksters hoodwinkin’ every nickel outa ya!

And then when you ask Klondike where it’s all gone, he starts a preachin’ and actin like he aint never seen a dime of it, and has the gall to remind you that he can step in and take over the town to put it right! (That’s my boy!)

Well, let me tell you straight, there’s a mighty high chance that the Sheriff is gonna get ambushed by his own deputies. And if I were you Sheriff, I would stay away from the Saloon Bar run by that flirty dancin’ girl Chin-chiller Flo, cos believe me the Klu Cas Klan aint to be messed with.

And if we’re talkin’ about bein’ hungry for power, then Fat Belly Dick, the Marbrow Man has got one mighty appetite. You heard the sayin’ "so hungry I could eat a horse?" Well if Fat Belly Dick rides in you’ll be a no horse town!

And don’t forget Calamity Kemp, the man who put the Cowboy into Boote! He’s the guy that let the Boote Ranch Estate turn into a Ghost Town, you gotta make sure that the hauntin’ don’t never stop! Pretty sure the folks he left behind have reserved a special plot for him, if he ever gets the brass neck to show up again.

Now what about the guy who already has the Stetson and ranch coat, Clein? Hmmm I kinda like the name, German for Diddy, ya know? But the guy is another maverick like Calamity Kemp, liable to shoot before he knows what he’s aimin’ at.

An you can forget Tumbleweed or Antrobush whatever his name is, I never liked him, why that no good rattlesnake once said that I tried to blackmail and threaten the school teacher! Me? As gentle a heart and a soul as you could hope ta meet. No….. “A SOUL” I said!

Well, whatever those losers do to try and avoid a lynching, come springtime for Stilton, there may be, just maybe, another gang ready to ride in and take over.

Red Eye Joe and his gang are on the outskirts of town.

Now if Red Eye aint gonna be turned into Cotton Eye, by the Evil Corral, then he is gonna need to come in shootin from the hip and run the crooks and deadwood outa town. Cos if he don’t, he is gonna be another patsy like the sheriff.

If you wanna take this town and keep it, you gotta see off my old boys once and for all and that aint gonna be easy! Cos remember, I trained them and they still come to daddy diddy for advice!

Are you a match for Doc? Cos if you aint and you don’t sort out his gang, you may as well get measured for your casket right now. (See if the Undertaker has his tape out behind your back)

First they is gonna wine and dine ya, offer to polish your shoes, tell ya how pleased they are to have a new sheriff, let you into a few little secrets til you is hooked and so reliant on them you’ll need them to tell ya what day it is and which end to wipe! Yup! That’s my boys!

So Joe, we’ll know soon I guess, if you are up to a showdown or if we will be able to make you lie down and just tickle your belly like an old hound dog.

It’ll be up to you and your gang, you probably won’t be able to do it alone, and may need to call in the federal marshals and the Pinkerton Agency to open up everything, and I mean everything if you want to win back the trust of the towns folk.

For a while, that’s gonna hurt, real bad and there may be a lotta shootin and blood runnin’ down the steps of city hall. But as a great man said recently, (Mr George W. Thrush): “ Fool me once shame on you, fool me ya fool, ya fooled me again and then…...don’t laugh at me cos I’m a....….Mr Grimsdale!!!!)

In other words if you leave a mongoose to look after the hen house, don’t be surprised if you find no eggs for breakfast, your ass gets plucked and you end up covered in chicken shit!

Tatty Bye Pardners, tatty bye!

By Jove, I must remember to take me spurs off in the bath!

P-DIDDY AND HIS BAND 'GRAB THAT', WITH PHIL SPECTREDIRECTOR AND THE FORMER MEMBERS OF CULTURE CLUB - NO 1 FOR FINANCIAL MISMANAGEMENT...!!!!

By Jove Missus, great news!

As many of you will know, I have been trying to cash in on the popularity of Old Boy Bands and promote them on my Radio Station, Bighead FM.

Then I got a marvellous idea while fondly looking at some old emails sent by Rory Storey, and how they helped me get on in the world.

I would put my own Boy Band together.

I thought let’s do it P-Diddy!

But it will need some skilled financial mis-management.

So, with that in mind, I looked to the man that has not only been at the forefront of helping to promote “My Boy” Bands but who has also presided over the Number 1 Financial Mismanagement in the country, Phil Spectredirector.

I thought, Hasitall!

He was one of my closest Diddymen at Cabal Records - and if anyone can help me pull together a rich pool of talentless pop idles it’s him!

A wonderful man, modest to the point of incredulity, never takes any of the credit for getting to the Number 1 spot.

Well, I didn’t have to wait long and within just a few months - for only £230k - we have managed to get Jason Orange (aka Jasper Harbottle) to join the ranks of my very own Boy Band, GRAB THAT!

And even better, thanks to the Spectre and Phil/Colin's collaboration, the money has all been donated by my loyal former subjects - the good people of Liverpool from their very own pockets, or at least it will be when they get their Serf Tax demand.

I can’t thank the kind hearted people of Liverpool enough for their financial support, without which we wouldn’t have our top line up, the talentless trio, joining me to bring music and laughter to the nationwide and other accounts.

So a big thank you for all the money you have given to get the boys together - Jason 230k, Chris 50k, Kevin 50K - and my thanks as well for all the help from Warren 50cents.

You may have noticed that all the band are former members of Culture Club.

But that means we are ready to re-release some of those great hits like “cowwa, cowwa, cowwa, cowwa council comedians, they come and go, they come and go, they come and go, oh”

And the biggest news is that now we have Harbottle, we are hoping to go on our European tour soon, starting in Spain, the Costa Bradlow and culminating in joining Macca himself at Anfield, who rumour has it, will be joined by Blondie, to watch Sir Pole McSlidey.

I think there is a Star Trek convention on at the same time - somebody told me that dozens of tickets have got Enterprise already written all over them. (INTERESTING, EDS)

Now I know what you are thinking, GRAB THAT! was never the same without Robyn Millions - the Aussie Osborne of Tasmanian puppet ballet cabaret.

But dear fans let me remind you, her initially promising hit “Let Me Entertain You” was only in the charts for a couple of weeks before she disappeared from the pop scene without a trace of £375,000.

But Robyn, if you’re reading this, “We want it back, we want it back for good”

Now of course the big thing these days is the elusive X Factor and if Einstein a Go Go was right and x = CEX squared (or cornered) then it is pretty certain that by May - or a lot sooner - we could be joined by the X leader of Style-less Council!

No names, no fire drill.

But remember with the X Factor, it’s the public who can decide in the end.

But a word of warning missus, don’t fall for those phone-in scams, vote in person, don’t dial any of those dodgy 233 numbers, those call centres are ripping you off for millions!

Ha, ha I should know!

All the results get Doctored!

So if you want to see us performing, we are hoping to get a gig at the Royal Court.

Sorry, I know many of you would prefer the Crown Court, but that’s Showbiz!

And we are prepared, as ever, to take what we can get.

And by Jove, we’ve got a lot!

And to think - really it’s all yours!

Ha ha, that’s why Liverpool will always hold a special place in my wallet.

The generosity of scousers is legendary.

In fact, it’s unbelievable!

People laugh when I tell them, but its true ladies and gentlemen!

God bless the good people of Liverpool for their generosity and humour.

Thanks to them we are already laughing all the way to the bank before we’ve even released our first single!

Maybe we can get a gig at the next Mathew Street Festival too?

Yes, don’t see why not, just one step farther is all we need!

Anyway, say nothing for now, Sirenz is golden!

Don’t forget when you do come to see us, bring the kids, there’s ice cream in the interval, all the way from Spain.

By Jove yes!

Capital of Culture 2008 will be remembered as the event that launched GRAB THAT!

Tatty Bye Everybody Tatty Bye

Not ‘Arf Pop Pickers.