Category Archives: Royal Household

The Spas of the World

Odd jobs for your phonograph

In his grand tour to seek solace for what he deemed his preternatural itch, Panurge visited the spas of the world . Under the patronage of Pantagruel, his entourage comprised Xenomanes the navigator, Canute the archbishop of Cannes, Broomhilda the matriarch of Brest, Walloon of Bedford Stryversant the countdown of Monty Cristo, Jasper John the planter of seedy evacuations, and the farmer who shall remain nameless whose brother had just died. Not to mention the concubines and dancing girls.

Words of the High One

They all want the same thing Santa, my ironing table

As the official organ of the department in charge of the security of the fatherland, mother fucker, we have been assigned the credentials by good god almighty — bow you head and bless yourself — to root into your fundamentals, just to see if there are any hints of deviation. 

First off we would like to sound out your frequencies. Could you hum along to this recording of the dispatch of the tattooed man by the hairy woman.

Watch what the webcam shows. He was first on the scene and on her like an amoeba. “If you can’t join ’em, lick ’em,” he said, half in jest, but half not. Join ’em with an em dash and an en space. Lick ’em lickety split, first across the post.

As you may be well aware, all the serious critics of our project have disappeared. We make no bones about it, they were but small potatoes. Those who rooted around have also disappeared. Are there any further questions?

He was busted looking at dirty pictures. He chanced upon the girlie magazines in the gutter outside the maternity ward. He who jeopardized his family jewels now seeks a handout. 

The Song of the Wayfarer

By John Donne

GO and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil’s foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy’s stinging,
            And find
            What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.

If thou be’st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
            And swear,
            No where
Lives a woman true and fair.

If thou find’st one, let me know,
Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet do not, I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet,
Though she were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
            Yet she
            Will be
False, ere I come, to two, or three.

Harry Nape

Harry Nape in his role as Sebastian Cabbage, discoverer of the gondola. The Lady of the Peaks consoles him on his loss of copyright.

Harry Nape was born this day in the year of our Lord. He made his fortune in barbers’ shears. His latter years were consumed by his mania to create a robotic barber. His ideas were based on vacuum cleaner technology. Testing on a volunteer sample in Saudia Arabia showed some shortcomings. After consulting the standard texts on phrenology, Nape developed the model that we know today.

Socrates’ nose

Socrates’ nose
Socrates chambers a round while Plato’s old lady loosens her garter,

Socrates was born ugly.  Many sources attest to his awkward physical appearance, and Plato more than once makes reference to it (Theaetetus 143e, Symposium, 215a-c; also Xenophon Symposium 4.19, 5.5-7 and Aristophanes Clouds 362).  Socrates was exophthalmic,  his eyes bulged out of his head and were not straight but focused sideways.  He had a snub nose, which made him resemble a pig, and many sources depict him with a potbelly.

Pope to blame for World Youth Day sewage disaster

Thirty thousand litres of raw sewage flooded the basement of the Domo Furniture Emporium during World Youth Day last July. Seven thousand portable toilets were emptied en masse after the final mass by the Pope. The mass attracted 800,000 pilgrims, and was conducted on land owned by the Department of National Defence. As is usual in military and religious inquiries, the task of assigning blame is complex. But a committee of elders has put the onus on the Pope him-or-her-self, and imposed a fine of a hoghead of holy water. In default, five qubits of upstream unction.

Take your medicine

Take your medicine

Ora Lee, I heard her in the wind. The sewer man and his step daughter were stewing in the tub. Last night I caught them laying sod, in contravention of the bylaws. He was telling her a story that can scarcely be believed.

It seems that 32,000 litres of raw sewage flooded the basement of the Domo Furniture Emporium in Toronto during World Youth Day last July. The flood occurred when 7,000 portable toilets were emptied after the final mass by the Pope.

A spokesman for the Pope declined to comment on whether the Pope’s sermon was in any way responsible for the outcome. “He’s just talking figuratively,” said Cardinal Kissinger of Transylvania.

The mass, which attracted 800,000 pilgrims, was conducted on land owned by the Department of National Defence, so the task of assigning blame was complex. But a committee of elders has put the onus on the Pope, and imposed a fine of a hoghead of holy water and an agreement to put his money, for the time being, where his mouth is.

Green grow the russians, o

I’ll sing you twelve.

Twelve for a dozen cosmonauts
Of whom eleven went to heaven.

Ten for ten Comanches
Nine hung with a noose with thirteen twists.

Eight for April’s foolish
Blessed by the brothers and sisters of fate.

Seven for the six brownshirts
And their high-five symbols at your door.

Four for the bakers of Jesus,
and the quakers of the compass rose.

One, two, three, the rivals.
Do not cross the great water.

Two lily-white boys clothed in green.

DOS bedoyna.

The handyman and the willed woman

They were bred in the pasture of the future. They were buttered up to no end. They took no thought for the morrow for sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

When their story first came to light all was darkness upon the land, and slimy creatures swam in the waters, the sky blue waters.

Pretty soon some of them grew balls. And vise-versa, capiche mon ami? Was this article helpful?