SAUSAGE Life 338

Bird Guano’s
SAUSAGE LIFE
The column which thinks the right stick is worth a million poles

READER: How was your Christmas?

MYSELF: All I can say is thank Christ it’s all over.

READER: Must you drag Christ into it?

MYSELF: Sorry, that was inappropriate.

PANTO REVIEW
Mother Goosed! at The Upper Dicker Theatre of Dreams.

This season’s ambitious Upper Dicker Players’ production of Mother Goosed! re-imagines Shakespeare’s King Lear as a Carry On film set in war-torn England during an unspecified dystopian future. All of panto veteran Lance Boyle’s 35 years’ experience showed in his hilarious portrayal of Flopsy-Wopsy, the impotent ARP bomb shelter supervisor. Always the pro, he managed to sneak in some utterly filthy jokes, much to the delight of the drunken parents. The smutty innuendo flew clear over the heads of the children in the audience, most of whom were stampeding up and down the aisles, high on fruit-flavoured vapes and Red Bull.
Undisputed star of the show was Love Island and Strictly contestant Consuela Antichrist as the eponymous Goose. To her credit, she demonstrated a bombastic enthusiasm which managed to eclipse any sign of technique. Unfortunately, her ill-fitting costume leaked feathers throughout her performance and despite much gusto, fell well short of the required Goosyness.
What saved the day were the sparkling production numbers composed by Cuthbert Milqueflote, which sizzled with stylish aplomb; the standout for me being the grand finale Has Anyone Seen My Penis? With a lusty libretto written especially for the show by Russell Brand and smuggled out of prison in a gluten-free cake.
Mother Goosed! runs until February 28th.

NEW MANAGER “I WILL CURE WARRIORS’ WOES”
The newly appointed boss of Hastings & St. Leonards Warriors FC, Ronaldo Sluice aka The Great Mento, who also happens to be a gifted psychic and accomplished ventriloquist, is looking forward to levitating the sagging fortunes of the soccer club now languishing at the bottom of the Nuclear Waste Disposal Solutions League.
“I see great things ahead,” he told us without moving his lips, “particularly involving a potentate from the far east with pots of money whose name begins with a letter of the alphabet.”
Sluice’s controversial methods include conversing with the dead using a Ouija board and conducting training sessions with Douglas his ventriloquist dummy.
“Douglas helps me get my tactics across to the playing staff, some of whom are, frankly, a bit thick. Battle-scarred midfield enforcer Nobby Balaclava for instance, still has to have his boots labelled left and right, and reserve goalkeeper Finnigan Swake often forgets to put on his shorts when coaching the ladies team”.
Formerly assistant manager of Herstmonceux Cannibals FC, Sluice replaces disgraced Italian supremo Sergio ‘The Horse’ Peccadillo, whose controversial departure coincided with accusations of inappropriate behaviour with team physio Sabrina Devine and allegations that il capo showered her with a succession of suggestive gifts, including a PVC apron illustrated with scenes from The Kama Sutra and a set of saucy casserole dishes.

PUBLIC HEALTH: NEW LOCKDOWN AVERTED
Doctors have warned of a serious epidemic striking the South East, where clusters of Munchhausen’s Syndrome by Proxy have broken out over a wide area of East Sussex.
In Cockmarling, after a man with his leg in plaster boarded a bus, a polite student who stood up to offer him a seat was immediately overcome with intense pain, fell over, and was thrown off by the driver for being drunk. A similar incident occurred in Upper Dicker, when Ron Anchovy, a local disk jockey who is partially sighted, chastised a group of tourists on an exchange visit from Hartlepool who were blocking the pavement, mistaking them for Venezuelan narco-terrorists. Within seconds they were all struck blind and staggered into the road, causing a 30-tonne French juggernaut laden with goose paté to swerve into the path of a coach party of Swedish theatregoers who had just attended the Wealdon Amateur Dramatic Society’s performance of Noel Coward’s burlesque farce, A Scotch Egg in My Bra.
There were no serious injuries apart from one paramedic who sprained an ankle after he slipped on a patch of spilled fois gras whilst attending to the concussed truck driver. One coach passenger, a lady fish processer from Målmo who had become trapped under a pile of accordions, had to be cut free by firemen.
A senior NHS spokesman added, “There is no cause for alarm. The epidemic has peaked and should have petered out by the end of the month. Until then, my advice is to avoid standing next to anyone with an infirmity, wear a mask, use braces rather than a belt, wash the back of your neck and always make sure chicken is cooked thoroughly by getting a friend to try it first.”

WENDY WRITES
Unqualified advice for the huddled masses

Dear Wendy,
my husband Donald suffers from chronic wind, which quite frankly is ruining our social life. During a recent foursome of bridge, I was mortified with embarrassment by the chorus of parps issuing from the rear of Donald’s trouser area, which at times resembled a brass band attending a pet shop fire. He is a very fussy eater who will only consume Heinz baked beans directly from the tin, making dining out a challenging chore. Should I attempt to change his diet? Or could something else be the culprit viz a viz the flatulence problem?
Coco de Moule (Mrs), Upper Dicker

Dear Mrs de Moule,

Although I sympathise entirely with your problem, it appears to have reached the stage where a diet change may be too dangerous to attempt. In my opinion, the cause of your partner’s petomania is most likely the food additive phenohybrilogeniheliophyll, a byproduct of the linoleum manufacturing process which is used by Heinz to prevent their flatulent, sugary concoction from tasting like goat smegma. My advice is to attach Hastings inventor Professor Gordon Thinktank’s ingenious miniature device The Extractopump to the seat of Donald’s trousers, making sure to position the outlet at the farthest end of the garden.

DICTIONARY CORNER
Claptrap (n) mechanical device for capturing STDs
Poppycock (n) a Dandy or Poppinjay whose braces are over-flamboyant
Sewage (n) the result of too much sewing

Sausage Life!

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Photo credit: Alice’s Dad (circa 2000)

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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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