Wednesday, 9 May 2012


On Heracleitus 

Oh, sure,
maybe not the same river twice, 
but how often do we step into
the same shit more than twice?

DICK - Now then me old bog lovers, we have to confess we don't know what the big word means, in fact we've been trying to say it for a month and our tongues have gone all twisted and odd shaped but Tom has this notion (I'm sure there's ointment for that) that we need to be cleverer.  He reckons that if we post it and anyone asks we just say; “well, you know, it's all Greek to me”, and smile like a professor eating a wasp we'll get away with anything.

Tuesday, 3 April 2012



A lovely young girl named Regina
Had trained her agile vagina
To suck up her piss,
No urine to miss
Then shoot it straight out behind her.

Bob's got a bio somewhere.  You look for it.  I've got sock's to count and Dick's too drunk to know what day it is.  Actually what day is it?
I know!  It's sock day Hoorah!

Friday, 10 February 2012


Mankie’s Guide To Making Buried Treasure by Dick and Tom 

Are you sitting all comfy.  I’m well snug right in front of the fire.  Soft cushion for my head.  Purrrrfect.  So you’re probably not as toastie warm and sleepy cosy as me, but are you ready? 

Then I’ll begin.

The humans I live with presently call me Mankie, which is OK, although my name is actually Meeprurgg, my real cat name that is, and if it could be translated, it can’t no matter what some dumb humans think, but if it could be translated the nearest human meaning would be: Cat That Likes To Shit In Holes.

These humans are fine, just a minute I think I’ve a bit of fur out of place … lick lick … that feels better.  Is there a mirror about?  I simply must look my best for storytelling.

Now to be honest I’m starting to get a bit bored and a little bit tired.  I feel a nap coming on.  I can feel it in my whiskers, so I’ll tell you all about the family and where we live another day, maybe, but I will tell you about our treasure hunt in the garden.  Julie and Johnny, the two smaller ones, wanted to play a game they was calling: finding buried treasure.  They had little spades and pretend little maps.  I thought this was one of their games I could really help them out with as usually they’re not too keen on me playing with them or make me wear human clothes that confuses the nap of my fur.

I thought I could bury a poo for them to find.  Then it occurred to me that I do that most days and they don’t go looking for it, but you never know with these dumb critters, and I could do with a poo anyway.  No, I cleverly, cat cleverly, thought, if I was to make it special in some way then they would treasure it.  Just hold it there I need to give my ear a quick wash.  Is that good or what?

Then I remembered that when they sit in the big room and watch the square thing with the moving pictures they stuff poo looking stuff into their mouths which they unwrap from shiny paper.  So with forward thinking whiskers a cunning plan was coming together.

I climbed into the bin and found some of this shiny paper.  I smoothed the paper (with claws retracted), dug a hole, carefully laid the paper down in the hole, took a massive dump then rolled it up in the shiny paper.  Instant treasure.  Covered the hole.

I don’t know if Julie and Johnny ever found the treasure.  I got bored.  Went and had some food, sardine and mackerel meaty chunks in gravy.  Had a bit of a wash.  Then took a nap.

Well, anyway, that’s how to make buried treasure.  In case you ever need to know.

I’m bored with this now.

You do what ever you want.  I’m having a full on sleep.

Friday, 13 January 2012


The son of Agatha Lee
Sat down on the toilet to pee.
Out shot a turd.
The child said, "My word.
A toy boat made just for me."

Mr Bob's got a bio below and we can't be bovvered to bio Mr. Bob again so scroll down or up or close yer eyes and make a wish for Mr. Bob's bio to appear.  Say it once.  Say it twice.  Say it three times and Mr. Bob's bio will be there.  Lovely Mr. Mr.Bob.  Good old Bob.