RECIPE FOR THE LIVING SOUL

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A master chef’s

Template

For the living soul

In text

As a recipe

Michelin star recipe mind!

Formulated thus

 

Coalesce

A fusion of

Laughter

Love

Hate and

Grief

With a pinch of

Reason

And Discovery

 

In the mixer -

Available from

Any good

Appliance store -

Add

Pre-prepared

Configured

Carbon matter

 

Stir fry for

An instant only

In the pan of

Thoughtfulness

On low heat

 

Garnish with

Fresh leaf

From the

Tree of Life

 

Serve up

On the plate

Of compassion

Voila

 

Enjoy!

 

DEREK THE EARWIG AND HIS TROUBLESOME NOSTRIL HAIRS

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“You OK there Del? You look a bit flustered mate.” 

“Oh it’s these fucking nostril hairs Ant my friend.  Bloody things are seriously affecting my sensory skills I can tell you. I mean I’ve checked about and there seems to be no such thing as an earwig nostril hair trimmer on the market – not even in Poundland! Can you believe it?” 

“Well if it’s buggering you about that much I could I suppose try a few snips of me mandibles. Might just do the trick – you never know.” 

“Not sure about that Anty boy.  Wasn’t it you who accidentally snipped of me Uncle Arthur’s head in similar circumstances a few years back?” 

“Can’t deny it mate but if the truth be told your Uncle Arthur was suffering from the latter stages of Earwigsons at the time. The pity of it was that the poor old bastard had a major spasm of the shakes just as I went for the first, and may I say, quite the longest nostril hair I’ve ever seen about an earwig’s snotter.” 

“Still you did fuck up – accepting of course that it was in no way intentional on your part.” 

“Yeah true enough. Tell you what I’ll stand on that long one – the one that’s poking out further than a butterfly’s knob in spring – and you simply pull back and if I’m not mistaken said filamentous biomaterial that’s growing from the follicles about your dermis should be out in a jiffy.” 

“Go on then I’ll give it go – yeah I’m up for that.” 

“Right I’ve got a good foothold here – pull back as fast and as hard as you can Delboy.” 

SNAP 

“Bollocks, poor old Del’s heads come off. I’ll have to think of something to tell his family. Just like Uncle Arthur again – I hate delivering bad news.” 

FOR WHAT IT MAY BE WORTH I HAVE POSTED A LITTLE EARLIER TODAY ‘HARRY KRISHNA’S FOOTBALL’ ON THE LEAGUE OF MENTAL MEN AT;

http://leagueofmentalmen.wordpress.com/2014/04/23/harry-krishnas-football/

AND FOR MORE COMPELLING DRIVEL OF SIMILAR QUALITY A VISIT TO;

 http://sozsatire.wix.com/soz-satire

 

 

 

‘FLOSS’ – MY ‘COUNTRY DANCING’ PARTNER AT JUNIOR SCHOOL!

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We did country dancing at my school,

When I was very little,

The thing was I hated it,

As to its purpose I was noncommittal

 

Yet because I was so useless,

And plainly didn’t give a toss,

They lumbered me with a big fat girl,

Who went by the name of Floss.

 

Like me poor Floss was blighted,

With an inability to dance,

In truth it was plain for all to see,

That as a couple we could barely prance.

 

Now Floss came from a poor home,

Even poorer than my own,

Her clothes were always second hand,

And of her knickers she would bemoan

 

For being cast offs from some other,

It was inevitably the case,

That with well-worn elastic,

They rarely stayed in place.

 

And thus it was one Christmas,

At the pantomime we performed,

When her elastic finally gave up the ghost,

And of knickers she was no longer adorned.

 

They lay about her ankles,

Upon the parquet floor,

Personally I thought that she would,

Make haste for the exit door.

 

Yet Floss was such a brave girl,

And to a round of great applause,

She simply stepped out of her knackered knickers,

And danced on without her drawers!

 

FOR MORE COMPELLING DRIVEL OF SIMILAR QUALITY A VISIT TO;

 http://sozsatire.wix.com/soz-satire

MAY BE WORTHWHILE FOR THERE YOU WILL DISCOVER THE MUSINGS OF SIR DANIEL ALOYSIUS SOZ 7TH. EARL OF WHITECHAPEL; THE MOST REVERAND GARY ‘RONALDO’ HOADLEY AND HUMBLE ME.

I am also writing lunacy for the Soz Satire collaboration blog;

http://leagueofmentalmen.wordpress.com/

where I can guarantee you abject disappointment.

ON THE DAY MRS CARRUTHERS LOST HER BIKINI BOTTOMS!

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“I say Carruthers awful business about your wife – losing her bikini bottoms in such a dreadful way. What a carry on!”

“Certainly was old chum – certainly was. I mean I told the silly girl ‘red’ was a bad choice for soaking up the sun’s rays whilst sat comfortably in a deck chair engrossed in a Jane Austin in a field in such close proximity to Eric the farmer chappies prize bull.”

“Well from the little I’ve heard from the fellows down at the club it does seem a strange state of affairs what with there being a barbed wire electrically charged fence twixt your missus and said raging bull. How on earth did she come to lose them in such a manner?”

“I blame it on the wasp.”

“Wasp you say – how so?”

“Well there was Deidre ensconced thus with not a care in the world reading away like a good un under a cloudless sky when a wasp – she has a phobia about these wee beasties I can tell you – landed upon the tip of her nose causing her to swish it away with her sunglasses. However in doing so it seems the wasp, now in a state a frenzied anger took it upon himself to render a sting in the central cleavage zone of her very person.”

“Deary me Carruthers how simply gruesome.”

“Oh it gets much, much worse.   You see Deirdre now in a state of abject panic threw her Jane Austin skyward with the intent of escaping the clutches of this fearsome little brute of an insect of the order Hymenoptera and suborder Apocrita that is neither a bee nor an ant. Anyway, the thing is the book landed in the very field where the bull was in residence no less.”

“I’m getting the picture now.”

“What followed was a combination of a foolish decision followed by hasty action. You see so keen was Deidre to retrieve said Austin novel she quite forgot about the bull – I think he is named Cedric or such like. Lithe girl that she is she jumped the fence into the adjoining field and was successful in recovering her read. It was only then that she spotted the rampant, snorting beast heading her way at a rate of knots. Now in a state of blind panic she made a hash of the return leap back toward the sanctuary and safety of our field. Her bikini bottoms snagged in the barbed wire, and then the effects of mild electrocution caused her an unplanned additional leap into the unknown whereon the bikini bottoms were no longer affixed to her very person! Even worse, although she was now secured on the safe side her crucial item of clothing laid atop of a pile of bull shit the other side.”

“God, you are telling me her modesty was no longer intact.”

“Too true my friend and matters got worse when The Aberystwyth Male Voice Choir stopped by for a practice sing song whilst on their way to the Fairfield Halls in Croydon where they were to concert that very evening. And do you know what? All these Welsh ruffians just looked and laughed at poor wretched Deidre, now I might add in a state of some distress. I mean one of them could at least have provided for her a Welsh flag in order that she could cover herself up.”

“Blige – mind you I’ve never much taken to the Welsh. How on earth did she get back to mansion then?”

“With some difficulty I can tell you.  With the aid of a hastily prepared if not ideal pair of knickers made in the rustic style from scavenged gorse she took to the back lane behind the house and eventually made it the 6 miles home entering, when she finally got there via the servants quarters when old Mrs Gubbins our housekeeper made her a comforting cup of Horlicks before putting her to bed to recover from trauma of the event.”

“Well all’s well that ends well I say.”

“Not quite finished yet old chap. You see throughout this whole episode it seems a bestial boy scout was hidden in the long grass armed with his IPhone and he had been snapping away like Billy O taking snaps of Deirdre’s plight throughout. The boy thereafter posted the snaps on the internet thing and they have, I understand gone viral!”

“What you mean just about anyone and everyone has copped a gander at your wife’s rear end online?”

“That’s about the strength of it. I am ever so worried the tabloids will publish and the PM will find out. The Foreign Office has been my life you know yet I feel I should fall on my own sword before he sacks me – the British way and all that. Scandal is scandal after all even if it was unintended in the first instance.”

“Best go down the pub for our snifter rather than club today methinks.”

“Agreed.”

 FOR MORE COMPELLING DRIVEL OF SIMILAR QUALITY A VISIT TO;

 http://sozsatire.wix.com/soz-satire

MAY BE WORTHWHILE FOR THERE YOU WILL DISCOVER THE MUSINGS OF SIR DANIEL ALOYSIUS SOZ 7TH. EARL OF WHITECHAPEL; THE MOST REVERAND GARY ‘RONALDO’ HOADLEY AND HUMBLE ME.   

A Not-So Civil War: Cromwellian Comic Capers by Big Gaz

mikesteeden:

On a day when we’ve been at the zoo with little Max out grandson and have returned home well and truly shagged what better then a post by my colleague in crime, none other than Mr, some say Squire of Hayling Island, Gray ‘Ronaldo’ Hoadley the Enforcer of The League of Mental Men with whom I like to think I;m merely the third musketeer. I shall – an impromptu death aside – return fully refreshed in the AM!

Originally posted on The League Of Mental Men:

 cromwell
“I’m most terribly sorry, I didn’t quite catch that”
The English Civil War
 
The Battle of Naseby June 14 1645.  A decisive punch-up between the Royalists and Cromwell’s New Modern Army
 
 The Royalists prepare for battle.
 
 .

Higgins. Make ready the scout” orders Sir Francis Ruce

“Bit early for dinner Sir”.
“What do you mean Higgins?” Said an irritated Ruce.
“Trout Sir, bit early for Trout”.
“Scout you idiot!”
“Right ho Sir”.

The Royalist scouts went in search of the Parliamentarians. The morning
Fog had not lifted which prevented a clear view from Little Oxenden.

What did you see Higgins?” Asked Sir Francis.
“Nothing Sir the fog was too thick”.
“Why didn’t you go through the fog!”
“Already been Sir”.
“Where?”
“The bog Sir”.
“Do you do this on purpose Higgins?”
“What Sir?”
“Pretend to be deaf”.
“Pardon Sir?”
“Deaf! Man…

View original 393 more words

Satirical Magazine Blamed For Sharp Rise In Sexually Transmitted Diseases

mikesteeden:

Insane – but in a good way. Just avoid contact with the screen of your PC when reading. If you have a ‘touch’ screen use rubber gloves!

Originally posted on The League Of Mental Men:

 SOZ December 2013

Soz Satire Xmas issue, complete with a mysterious rash, pictured infecting millions last night.

The British Medical Association are claiming that the recent alarming rise in sexually transmitted diseases across the country is entirely due to the launch of the bumper April edition of Soz Satire magazine which came out earlier this month.

A spokesperson for the genito-urinary clinic at The Royal London Hospital in Whitechapel, East London, told us.

“We used to be able to take it easy at work until Soz launched their bumper April edition, now we’re going at it like  one-armed paper hangers. I’ve not even had a chance to take the old woman food shopping at Tescos, and it’s all down to those bastards!”

We spoke to a random selection of sufferers last night and we print their testimonials below:

“I’d never had an STD in my life until the new Soz came out…

View original 319 more words

BREAKDOWN

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Upon looking in the mirror,

Just the other day,

I noticed, to my horror,

My ears had blown away

 

I knew it had been windy,

When I did take my walk,

But my problem now is,

I can’t hear people talk

 

Worse still was to be observed,

When I brushed my teeth,

I had retained my upper ones,

But not those underneath

 

Perplexed I now did ponder,

In my private way,

Where my lower set had gone,

I need to have my say

 

I’ve now lost both my ears,

And my lower pegs,

But worse was to afflict me,

When I noticed I’d no legs

 

By Jove, what will become of me?

I cannot hear or walk,

And losing half my gnashers,

Means I can barely talk

 

My rotten luck continued,

My hands fell to the floor,

Then my head, it fell off,

And rolled toward the door

 

Shirley called the doctor,

He said, “At least you’ve got a heart”,

But plainly I can’t hear him,

For I’ve fallen apart!

 

Did you enjoy that?……..No? Well try this mag then. It’s similar in a similar sorta, kinda, sorta, kinda like way but there’s some music in it. Miserable sods!

 http://sozsatire.wix.com/soz-satire

 

BUNNY & ALICE – HARDLY THE PERFECT MATCH!

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Bunny was well and truly fed up. He had been quite explicit with the dating agency when he requested to be matched up with a girl with long furry floppy ears and a twitchy nose. Plainly, in sending him Alice they had stuffed his order. What’s more, when out of idle politeness he had asked Alice if she would like to, ‘see him in his warren sometime’ she had called him a ‘dirty pervert’ no less! In short he was not a happy Bunny.

 

Did you enjoy that?…No? Well try this mag then. It’s similar but there’s some music in it. Miserable sods!

 http://sozsatire.wix.com/soz-satire

Also, my sincere apologies to the photographer here – couldn’t in truth work out who he/she was.

DELICIOUSLY CUCKOO

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Wild, zealous inamorata

 

He found her quite by chance

While journeying

Along a prosaic path

Not of his choosing

 

As is the way

For those adrift

They dawdle

He dawdled

No need to hurry

In the blackness akin

To pre-birth

No journey’s end

Yet in sight

No backward glance

From whence he came

 

Chanced upon her en route

Sat at the roadside

She was counting stars

Giving her favourites

Special names

For no clear-cut reason

Other than it took her fancy

To count and name them thus

 

Even though it was

A thankless task

Someone had to do it

That is what she believed

Anyway

 

It was then he realized

There was after all

A resting place

Before the end of time

 

And now

Once more

He needs to

Indulge himself

Like before

 

She laughs

Finds it funny

And says

‘Why not’

 

She was

Still is

Deliciously cuckoo

CARRUTHERS’ TIME TRAVELLING MACHINE!

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“I say Carruthers jolly good of you to invite me over to your Surrey mansion hideaway for the weekend. Fine place you have here old chap. Acres I’d say.”

“True my friend. The pain has afflicted me thus ever since the stallion Gerald back heeled me in the cobblers in fact.”

“No I meant acres and acres of glorious countryside. Stunning views over the North Downs and all that. Mind you that great big cardboard box on the patio rather blights the Georgian architecture of your magnificent pad somewhat. Can you not get a servant type to remove it from eye line?”

“In point of fact that is not just any old cardboard box. I’ll have you know that it is a time travelling machine left to me in Uncle Albert’s Will no less.”

“By Jove is it – was that Uncle Albert who was very good at sums and things? Made quite a name for himself if I recall correctly.”

“Yes that was he. In fact I am minded to give it a bit of a go. Want to watch. I mean this time travelling malarkey is simple I understand for I can be off travelling back in time; spend a few days wherever and be back here and only a couple of seconds will have elapsed. You won’t really notice I’ve been gone.”

“Fascinating – I should give it a go old bean.”

CARRUTHERS CLIMBS INTO THE TIME TRAVELLING MACHINE

“Gosh I thought that there would be buttons and steering wheels and things yet the inside of the time travelling machine is a smooth as a babies bum. I mean anyone would think that it is just a box. Good thing I know better – what, what. Blige what’s happening here – tad on the scary side if you ask me………………………..Lord help me I am orf into the ether………whatever next?”

THUMP, OUCH………….A NANO SECOND LATER CARRUTHERS FINDS HIMSELF IN THE PENTHOUSE SUITE OF ROOMS IN THE SUMPTUOUS HOTEL NORMANDY – THE YEAR IS 1924

“Can’t think what happened there. Bleddy hell this copy of Le Monde is dated 18th. April 1924 just 9 months prior to my very birth. And I think I am right in saying to myself that mater did once advise me that it was here, in this very penthouse that I was conceived. And I do detect the very sounds of carnal delight from the master bedroom. Must be mater and pater at it I’d say! Yet according to this note upon the drawing room table here pater says he is off to the casino and will not be returning until the early hours. Perhaps the noises emanating from the bedroom are just mater dreaming or such like. Best I take a peek to make sure all is well with the old gal.”

CARRUTHERS CREEPS ACROSS THE CARPET AND EVER SO GENTLY PULLS THE BEDROOM DOOR AJAR ONLY TO FIND!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Good Lord. Whilst I really ought to avert my gaze for I see mater is going hammer and tongs at it with some great big suntanned brute of a Frenchie who I detect is whispering romantic Frenchie things in her ear whilst going about all matters carnal with surprising vigour……………..Oh I see now this is my very conception happening before my very eyes. I have always wondered why I stand 6 foot plus and pater was always a wizened little pasty fellow of just 5 foot. This answers a lot of questions no less – however it does mean I am……….surely I cannot be……..I am a bastard son. This would be the end of me if the Foreign Office ever get wind. I’ll be frog marched orf the premises. Best beat a hasty retreat back to Surrey.”

CARRUTHERS RETURNS TO THE PATIO OF HIS SURREY MANSION WITH A BIT OF A BUMP

“I say Carruthers you’re a bit of a bastard you know.”

“In both senses of the word it seems.”

“Both senses?”

“It matters not and why do you name me thus?”

“Well you buggered orf without leaving me a snorter to sip upon. I have a thirst you could photograph if the truth be told. A stiff one should do the trick.”

“A stiff one you say? Could have been maters very words! Anyway I was able to pick up this fine bottle of Calvados on my time travels. Shall we share it?”

“Bleddy good plan. Was time travelling a sound experience?”

“So, so.”

Did you enjoy that?…No? Well try this mag then. It’s similar but there’s some music in it. Miserable sods!

 http://sozsatire.wix.com/soz-satire