Tag: Eraser of Love

On the Fringe at The Fringe

katabasis, Going Postal

After an absence of six years I finally returned for my annual Edinburgh Fringe holiday. In the past I went religiously every year prior to taking on my doctorate and whilst I missed going for so long I also dreaded it a little as the tedious lefty takeover of comedy has not abated and endless (but oh-so-safe) whining about Tories, Trump, UKIP and Brexit now replaces what was once daring and challenging and very much the bread and butter of British comedy.

I have been a major fan of comedy for many years and even during my PhD penury made the effort to attend a (cheap!) comedy show every week. For me it simply is not the full experience without, quite literally, taking a front row seat, intending to be both picked on by the act(s) and return fire with my own heckling. Over the years I’ve introduced many friends to the experience and they (almost) all say they can’t imagine taking a back seat ever again, especially as honing my (and their) heckling skills has become as much a hobby as enjoying the comedy acts themselves.

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Sky News: ‘Why cant we give these Refugees, shelter from the storm??’

Glenn, The Going Postal Chronicle
Sky News Panel

SkyNews Starting off with a sacchrin sweet Richard curtis Style report on refugees rescued in the Med before Seamlessly mixing in David Cronenberg disturbing images of Refugees from Libya , bobbing about on the high seas Swallowing Petrol. Even Danny Rampling at Shoom Couldn’t have pulled off a mix like that. Most Impressive.

Cut to the Sky news studio for images of an Ashen Faced news panel, A Left of the Dial Female Doctor choking back the tears arms stretched out in staged 1980’s Athena poster pose.

Seizing her moment, She asks the question, charged up on outrage and the Opportunity to have a Pop at the Tory Junta and hopefully a few Paid interviews in the Guardian ….’Why?..’

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Lloyds of London ‘My Word is my Bond’ A Page in the Diary

Eraser of Love, Going Postal

6am: Unleash bowel movement Purging yesterdays Petrol washed translucent flake cocaine, continental lager and sundry sweet meats.

6.10am: Get up.

6.11am: Think about Killing Myself. Shower/power wank  while thinking of the Receptionists Feet , toe rings and Ankle Chain, thus processing remaining toxins down the plug hole.Catharsis Most Foul.Self worth at all time low.

6.45am: violent argument with wife.

7 am: No time for breakfast , off to work!.

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A day In the Life Of The Iron Duke Of North Chingford., Part Three, ‘Old Vi’s Surgical Stockings’

The Iron Duke of North Chingford, Going Postal

I Popped over to Old  Vi’s over the road this morning. Electric facking been cut off. Had to facking hook a cable up in the daft old sow’s kitchen. The Cunt  only had a look on her boat all moosey faced like !!…I  says Vi my gel, Vi I says,  “if you cant do nothing for a neighbour in need we might as well go in live in the jungle Like that Black  bird at number 22”  I says..Facking cannibals ! I says. Dont bear thinking about. FGM I says!!, Whats all that about? .Cutting themselves Vi !. You tell me ! .I dont know. Facking Crying Shame if truth be Fackin told.

“one step up from the pg tips monkey” I says .lovely arse though Vi i says…phwooar!!.could do me a turn that black gel i says to Vi like. Right on my Fackin boat Race. Alien Face Hugger!.  Get the juices flowing right enough. No need for your leccy then Vi!!. No Vienesse Whirls  and Sterilised Tea .Fack that.  Nah,  good woman, that’s what I need. I says to Vi, I says “you want to make yourself a bit more presentable my Gel “. “Fuck this lymphoma” . In one ear out of the other. Know what I mean?.I said to Vi , “you probably haven’t had it since old Wilf  left for Juno beach ” ave ya my gel!.

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A Day In The Life Of The Iron Duke Of Chingford, Part Two ‘Old Vi over the road’

Eraser of Love, Going Postal

Had a fucking skinfull last night on the way home and thought id pop into old vi’s Before going Home and use it as a bargaining tool for the enevitable onslaught of my failings as a hunter gatherer and general Homo sapien when i got thru my own fucking  front door .

After talking about her various tumors and how long she has to live  and how none of her family come to see her and that the “vultures are circling”  for her goods and chattels,  I realised id made a mistake of some note and was bored Fackin  shitless.

To cheer her up i cut her off talking all this morose shit and told her of my theory on dormant alien life in north chingford and  ” it very well may be that they will have some form of antenna which will make a clicking and whirring sound like a locust when sexually  aroused, possibly producing a semen type fluid not found on our periodic tables .”

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A day in the Life of The Iron Duke of North Chingford, Part One.

Going Postal

She was working it like a good ‘un . In Full Kit . Deathshead SS Gestapo hat the fackin Lot.I kid you Not my son. Bit of facking role play like.Art for arts sake and all that caper. Good for the soul so they say. Dont ask me. I aint no head doctor . I just knows what I fackin well likes !!.

Anyway , She was placing cocktail sticks in me bollocks accupunture style to paralyse various nerve centers to stop me from going off to soon into her cocked gestapo hat .Bit like ‘ker plunk’ but with my harry monk replacing the marbles , If that helps you picture the scene with more clarity you dirty cunts.

Going Postal

anyway, there i am, king of the castle, lord of the manor, Cock of the Fackin Walk and about to explode like dry ice and fertiliser in a wogs sock, when fack me !, the fackin door bell goes!. Fack me !! i says to the Missus .Some cunts using up the leccy on That fackin door bell!.Fack that !. Im up in a fackin flash, only turns out to be that dozy old Mare Pat! a lifelong Labour supporter from next door asking me to fix her shopping trolley !!.cunt!.

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Deep space voyage of self-discovery

Eraser of Love, Going Postal

Politically , Its been depressing the last week or so ..Ive been wanking for the last 4 days piecemeal , a deep space voyage of self discovery teetering on the edge and facing the torment of the abyss until i finally exploded like dry ice ,baby bio and 9 inch nails this morning, resulting in a 6 foot long arc of frustration.

Its Been messy Work.. never has such a midden been seen under gods creation since Nancy Spungen injected her femoral artery with a Dirty Brown Hot Fix and bled out on a bean bag , listening to the New York Dolls cover of Sister Morphine in a Bronx Shooting gallery with Sid Vicious lying in his own Black vomit.

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I just Clocked a sparsely bearded Expat Living in the South of France On BBC News 24 telling the BBC HMV Dog curled at his feet , that ‘UKIP’s Voter base is racist and Xenophobic’ . Of course This Arrogant and Grotesque Sweeping stereotype was met with lascivious approval , a look straight off the cover of the Joy of sex manual of the 70’s .

Its the same Ignorant petri dish formulae as myself assuming all Labour Voters Reside in re education camps in Islington High Dojo’s dining on tormented water melon on a bed of awakened Seaweed at White middle class dinner parties. Eulogising the wonderfully vibrant and urban local comprehensive schools which of course they Will never send their children to, as both little Thom and Anushka are sensitive but talented flowering buds that can only be nurtured by £18,000 Yearly school fees and being hermetically sealed away in perpetuity from the Playful Artful dodger Somalian , Bulgarian and Romanian Children that go to the local Comp expressing their cultural needs by pimping out the strawberry blond english girl pupils , once they have finished fucking them in an organic newtons cradle of sexual hymen rupturing. The Common purpose teachers screaming their joy looking on.

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Advice for dealing with ISIS Jihadists

Glenn, North Chingford

To : Owen.Smith.MP@parliament.uk
Date 28/08/16

Re :Advice for dealing with ISIS Jihadists around the Conference Table.

Dear Mr Smith,

In the unlikely event of your attempt for peaceful Negotiation breaking down over the Arranged Basket of Summer fruits, One should never be without his cat skin dueling gloves dipped in shattered resin and his trusty grandfather Pendulum Clock weight, dropped down the leg of ones 72 button fly buck skin pantaloons .

Steel fish hooks sewn into your smoking Jacket by your Jermyn Street tailor , are worth their weight in gold when in peaceful constructive talks with Bestial Religious Maniacs.

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