SAUSAGE Life 316

Bird Guano’s
SAUSAGE LIFE
The column which cuts of its nose to spite its face and then complains that it can’t smell the coffee

MYSELF: What the hell has gone wrong with television? It’s all junk food and gambling ads. John Logie Baird would be spinning in his enormous, hugely impractical grave.

READER: But aren’t you glad Strictly is back?

MYSELF: If you mean Strictly Come See Me in My Dressing Room After The Show Because This is Not a Gun in My Pocket, no, I am not. If I had wanted to watch badly co-ordinated narcissists dry humping in drag queen cast offs, I would have watched The Superbowl.

READER: Is there anything you like?

MYSELF: I’m quite fond of asparagus.

SUPERBOWL NEWS
Hikers in Dogganookee Forest, a popular beauty spot in Wyoming’s Yellowstone National Park, have recently reported sightings of a Short-Tempered Eagle Owl. Pictures of the grouchy bird of prey, long thought to be extinct in the US, have astounded a team of ornithologists from Harvard University who described the female owl as “Superb”.
The bird was later shot by police marksmen, who mistook it for Larry “The Fridge” Kadinski, ex-quarterback for the Las Vegas Tarantulas, who was on the run after a botched armed robbery in Laurel Canyon.

DESERT ISLAND DICKS
According to my showbiz spies, Robinson Caruso, the new musical by Andrew Lloyd-Webber with lyrics by Russell Brand, has been cast and is in pre-production pending the relaxation of EU pantomime horse regulations.
Where Daniel Defoe’s novel examined the nature of civilization, religious faith and power, this radical interpretation (featuring Sir Cliff Richard as Caruso the shipwrecked opera singer and Gordon Ramsay as the foul-mouthed galley chef Dan Friday), asks us to throw away our preconceptions and sing.
As the sole survivor of plague-stricken cruise ship HMS Karaoke, Caruso manages to swim ashore on a nearby, seemingly uninhabited desert island. He thinks he is all alone until, during an exploration of the island he hears angry cursing. It is Dan Friday, who, whilst barbecuing some flying fish on the beach has been surrounded by menacing cannibals. Attracted by the delicious aroma they have landed their outriggers on the beach and are surrounding the furious chef brandishing poison tipped spears and unpacking dinner plates and cutlery.
After scaring them off with his blunderbuss, Caruso bonds with his new companion and teaches him to read music so that he can accompany his plaintive sea shanties on the crude cello he has fashioned from a dead turtle.
The show’s principle theme song Thank God It’s Friday – easily one of the catchiest tunes the Demon Barbarian of Shaftsbury Avenue has ever ‘borrowed’ – will be rush-released as a single. The song’s video, directed by Michael Bay was performed, at lyricist Russell Brand’s insistence, by the scantily-clad female cast of his bottom-scraping 2007 film St.Trinian’s.
Thank God it’s Friday’s epic arrangement includes a 40 piece colliery brass band, a male stripper and a chorus which repeats the word ‘paradigm’ 132 times.

SMUDGE
Last week saw the grand opening of Smudge, Upper Dicker’s new state-of-the-art tattoo parlour. With American co-owner blind tattooist Smudge Murphy and Fur Cough guitarist Tit Bingo as special guests, the event was attended by hundreds of fanatical ink-worshippers, many of whom took up Murphy’s special offer of a free tattoo.
However, according to one disappointed fan, unemployed car thief Dale Wittgenstein: “It was a scam. I wanted Garden of Earthly Delights by Heronymous Bosch tattooed on my penis, but I was told that it would require 48 hours’ notice and a donation to The Prado Museum in Madrid”, he claimed, “so instead I had a tiny shamrock similar to the one that appears in the froth on top of a pint of Guinness tattooed on the back of my knee, which to be honest was a bit of a let-down”.

ORAL HISTORIES
First in a brand new Sausage Life educational series, beginning with:
1. TAYLES OF OLDE HASETINGS
by Olde Duffer, aka retired fisherman Thomas “Stinky” ThompFisch

What it was like in the good old days
Why It seems like only yesterday I was a plucky young whippersnapper in short breeches combing the shingle beach for washed up booty from the many pirate galleons that was wrecked on the treacherous shark infested reefs of Old Hastington as it was then known. Ahar.
It’s nigh on almost twenty years since the last public execution in the Town Square. There was no TV in them days and I still treasure fond memories of Saturday Morning Beheadings, where you could enjoy a good beheading with your pint in every pub in Town of a Saturday morning (with the exception of The Sheep & Welshman in Whoremonger Street, where hanging, drawing and quartering was still a popular attraction), along with a wide variety of salty bar snacks. Hangin’ drawin’ and quarterin’s too good for ‘em I say!

I’m told young folk today think that sex was invented in the Sixties!
WELL LET ME CORRECT THAT MYTH.
Sex was invented in 1927 by physicist Carlton Fanshaw, who’s peerless research into yeast bi-products led him to make a saucy discovery as he was cycling home from his laboratory late one night. He called his discovery Wowee and intended to market it as a way of generating steam in Chinese laundries. However, as luck would have it, inquisitive students discovered another use for what we now know as sex.

Making our own Entertainment
Back then, venturing into the Town of a Saturday night was a rite of passage for all lusty teenage lads who longed to sample its many disreputable attractions. Thai Ladyboy Wrestling drew huge crowds to the popular Old Harbour Arena (It’s a Lidl now!) and just around the corner you could watch Cuttlefish Fighting or Puppy Juggling at The Buggered Cabin Boy, the favoured haunt of merchant seamen on shore leave.
If that didn’t tickle your fancy, down at The Stuck Pig in the red light district, Siamese Twins Wah and Woo ran Wisheee Washee’s Mah Jong Parlour, where for a penny you could get a jug of porter, a pipe of opium and a dozen oysters and still have enough left to chance your arm with Delerious Dora the Siren of Rock a Nore.

Endless fun
During the war, staggering home in pea-soup fog after a good night out, we would often hail a hansom cab, tie up the driver, blindfold him, then feed cocaine to his horse. Those were the days!
Cheers!
Old Duffer

Sausage Life!

ATTENZIONE!

‘Watching Paint Die’ EP by Girl Bites Dog is out now and available wherever you rip off your music.

Made entirely without the assistance of AI, each listen is guaranteed to eliminate hair loss, cure gluten intolerance and stop your cat from pissing in next door’s garden.

Photo credit: Alice’s Dad (circa 2000)

Click image to connect. Alice’s Crazy Moon is an offbeat monthly podcast hosted by Alice Platt (BBC, Soho Radio) with the help of roaming reporter Bird Guano a.k.a Colin Gibson (Comic Strip Presents, Sausage Life). Each episode will centre around a different topic chosen by YOU the listener! The show is eclectic mix of music, facts about the artists and songs and a number of surrealistic and bizarre phone-ins and commercials from Bird Guano. Not forgetting everyones favourite poet, Big Pillow!

NB: IF YOU DO NOT HAVE A PAID SUBSCRIPTION TO SPOTIFY, THE SONGS WILL BE OF RESTRICTED LENGTH

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JACK POUND: JESUS WANTS ME FOR A SUN READER aka PASS THE INSTANT YOGA

CHEMTRAILS ON MY MIND
MORT J SPOONBENDER

On September 11th 1958, José Popacatapetl, a retired tree psychologist who’s father was head gardener for the CIA during the cold war, was hitchiking through the Alberqueque desert when he was picked up by a black sedan driven by J Edgar Hoover’s ex-boyfriend André Pfaff head of FBI underhand operations and extra-terrestrial banking who once worked as a quantum mechanic for the KGB under the direct orders of the zombie reincarnation of Josef Stalin whose mummified corpse was kept in a secret underhand bunker in the basement of the Vatican.

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