Monday, 22 April 2013

Puritan Cosmopolitan

Editors Note:

It's the year of our lord 1651, and there is a lot that the modern sophisticated ladies of today need to know.  Puritanism is the new thing, and since Mr Cromwell taught us about sins of the flesh, we need to look our best while not enflaming the sexual lust of our menfolk.  It's tough to stay bang on trend, but fear not, as we have a pull out supplement on the latest wimples for you on page 25.

It may be hard to keep your hands off of him, but ladies, refrain from pouncing on Mr Oliver Cromwell.

Also, make sure those ankles are covered.  Bare ankles are not only sinful, but positively medieval darling.  As such, our cover story this month is an expose on exposing yourself like that in public.  We speak to one woman on the way to the gallows to discover how her life has been irreparably ruined since she failed to wear the appropriate length of skirt.  The slut!

Black is the new black, but what shade is right for you?  Our style editor, Sister Octavia is here to tell you just how black you can go before you cannot go back.  Turn to page 63 for our black colour chart.

As times change, eating in is becoming the new not eating at all.  England has a vast supply of turnips for all occasions, and you can be part of this culinary revolution by reading our turnip recipes on page 74.  There's roast turnip with a side of turnip, turnip jeux on bread, and our fabulous turnip surprise!  We also tell you how to prepare the turnip so that it looks a lot less like genitalia, thus getting you arrested for owning sexualised vegetables.

Bulbous and delicious

Being 17th century gals, we all like a good cocktail party with our girlfriends now and again. From page 100 we recommend some excellent cocktails using only gin that will make you the talk of the town!

May the lord bless these pages and may he forever watch over you in the bathroom.

~ The editor


Page 5:  101 Sex Tips!  How to cool things down in the bedroom and refrain from sexual activity in the name of Puritanism.

Page 16:  Scurvy Dos And Don'ts.

Page 39:  Health And Beauty.  What animals can you smear on your face to appear acceptable in public?

Page 43:  Powdered Wigs, they're not for the likes of you!

Page 59:  Hunks In Socks.  See the latest gentry in nothing but their knee-high socks, short silky trousers, petticoats, and frilly sleeves!

Page 67:  Leeches - How many is too much?

Page 78:  Fragrances.  Badger piss or otter semen?

Page 85:  Witchcraft And You.  How to avoid accusations and burning. 17 sensational tips!

Friday, 19 April 2013

Film Easter Eggs

The anniversary of Christ rising from the dead from his chocolatey egg-shaped cocoon is behind us.  However, the movie industry strives forward to include Easter Eggs in nearly all of it's feature films.

For those who don't know, we're not talking about traditional chocolate eggs here.  What would be the point in that?  You'd need one of Wonka's televisions to be able to taste it.  Instead, the term Easter Egg refers to a hidden reference in a film intentionally put there by the creators as a little extra bonus.  You could say that it's more like finding an extra Christmas present round the back of the tree.  These bonuses probably would be called Christmas presents if it wasn't for the Coca Cola company owning the rights to the festive season, so Easter Eggs it is until Cadbury's get their sugar-coated paws on that holiday too.  Then we'll have to call them Hanukah Dreidels.

As I have a large affection for film, I have dedicated my life to cataloguing these Easter Eggs.  You'll thank me one day when this knowledge becomes part of the National Curriculum.  Anyway, allow me to list a few examples that you may not be aware of:

Some Easter Eggs of something called "Pocket Men"

Terminator 2 - Danny De Vito appears as Arnie's twin cyborg brother, and can be seen briefly crying behind John Connor during Schwarzenegger's firey death scene.  He is crying his little robot eyes out, literally, as they dangle out of his sockets and clack together like a Newton's Cradle.

The Hobbit - The dwarves Oin and Gloin have several split second scenes where, instead of the usual bear pelt shirts they are associated with wearing, they can clearly be seen wearing "I'm With Stupid" t-shirts.

The Dark Knight Rises - When Anne Hathaway straddles the Bat-Cycle, if you freeze frame and zoom in at exactly the correct point, you can see a small tear in the crotch of her catsuit.  It is rumoured that by zooming in enough, you can see a portal to the future and witness the end of civilisation as we know it, but this has not been confirmed.

Bridesmaids - When one of the Bridesmaids runs in front of a car, one of the posters in the shop window is actually a flyer for the planned sequel Bridesbutlers.  Unfortunately, this sequel has since been discontinued because Chris O' Dowd thought that a butler's uniform was disrespectful to his heritage.

Mary Poppins - During one of the animated sequences, the film is replaced by a 2 frame shot of a woman's bare ankles.  Although this is impossible to pick up during regular viewing, this subliminal shot would have caused many cinema patrons to have spontaneous heart attacks over this gratuitous exposure to naked flesh, if it had been discovered sooner.

Mars Attacks - As is usual with Tim Burton films, Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter can be seen making out in the background as the alien's land and incinerate everyone.

Skyfall - If you listen to Adele's theme song backwards, you might actually mistake it for a good song.

"Skafawwwwwwww when ya crumbawwwwww"

The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus - Several bronze statues of Dustin Hoffman can be seen throughout the film, suggesting that it is a direct sequel to Mr Magorium's Wonder Emporium.

The Twlight Saga - Overhead shots in all five Twilight movies (yes, there's five of them) reveal mysterious alien crash sites all around the foggy town in which the story takes place.  This alien conspiracy, as confirmed by the writer Stephanie Meyer, suggests that Twilight takes place on a future Earth after civilisation has been destroyed by the marauding death fleets of an extra-terrestrial empire.  As civilisation has built itself back up and the invasion long since forgotten, many of Earth's inhabitants now have super powers after exposure to alien death rays, namely the abilities of Vampires and Werewolves, and they're also very good in bed.  Twilight is actually the story of alien mutations and life after the apocalypse, rather than the Mormon parable of abstinence and teenage angst that we've all grown to revile.

Pulp Fiction - In a split second shot, you can see that the glowing object in the case is actually a mint condition Spiderman comic that Quentin Tarantino has owned since being a boy.

I have many more of these, but I don't want to ruin the hunt for you guys.  If you know of any Easter Eggs, please put them in the comments box for us all to savour.

Monday, 15 April 2013

A Date With Mystic Mike

The night is hot and heavy.  Balmy, if you will.  My astral projected form slides through the taffeta curtain with a sexual eeriness that cannot be ignored.  My mind's eye and my jap's eye are focussed upon the same goal.

You see my shimmering ethereal silhouette and smile.  When you said goodnight at the door and didn't invite me in for coffee, you knew that wasn't the last you'd see of Mystic Mike.  It was all a test, to see if I am as powerful as the five-star reviews on said I was.  I intend to prove them all correct, and to further my campaign for an elusive sixth star rating.  Our night together will strive towards these goals.

Summoning my spirit animal, I straddle the headboard like a goose, honking the sweet sounds of love.  You are surprised by this.  You hadn't realised that this evening would involve such primal passion.  My soothing avian calls lull you into a soft sense of sexual tranquillity.  Tonight is not all about fertilising eggs.  Although I may migrate to Canada by the evening's end, you will not feel cheated or used.  My mind inception techniques will make sure of that.

Spirit animal, or embarrassing picture to be seen looking at during work hours?

Calling upon the spirit of your dead grandmother, I immediately know what pleases you.  Your ancestors are all around us, shouting out sex tips, willing me on, pushing me to strive for penetrative perfection.  As you hold me close, I whisper that your departed brother doesn't blame you for the motorcycle accident.  This piece of mind soon translates to wanting a piece of my pert ass.

Moments later, my astral projection begins to fade.  Before disappointment can set in or before you doubt my powers, I use telekinesis to throw stones at your bedroom window.  Using the power of the mind, I float up to the window and tap on it gently.  Your bewilderment freezes you to the spot as I pull open said window, scoop you up, and carry you outside.

Although my mind is more powerful than a James Blunt ballad, my atrophied arms have grown weak.  I cannot remember the last time I had to lift something with my hands.  You slip from my grasps and plummet towards a spiked phalanx of garden gnomes, porcelain hats pointing upwards like an ancient Aztec temple trap.  But you are not afraid.  Mystic Mike stops your descend with but a flick of the wrist.  Palm outstretched, I pull you back towards me with nothing but my mind.

Another flick of the wrist and we are both naked.  Your neighbours begin screaming as they see my pimpled rump float past their kitchen window.  Their family meal may be ruined, but their complaints will fade away into the backdrop of our ecstatic screams.

See the moon there?  That's what I'll do to your boobies

We may not be touching, but my tantric caress feels electric as it slides across you.  I call this move the Fondle Of Tesla.  I arch my fingers as I cast psychic electricity all over you, causing your hair to stand on end like a flummoxed Troll doll.  I create a magnetic field which causes your tongue piercing to ping off and fly into a nearby bird's nest, killing the occupants instantly.  We pay this no heed.  After all, their deaths will by karmatically replaced by the new life we will forge tonight.

Before we go any further, the prongs of a taser strike my exposed buttocks, sending me into spasm.  As we collapse on the floor, we find that we are surrounded by the local law enforcement.  It seems that our trans-dimensional love affair has caused some upset with the neighbours.  Using the power of suggestion, I ask you to wait for me when I get out of prison.  We both know that won't be for a long time.

Friday, 5 April 2013

Time Traveling Sodomy

Some of you may have noticed that Muppets For Justice has been inundated with spam.  I wasn’t going to write about it since spam is something that affects all of us.  Even the fly-ridden orphans working on Delhi’s rubbish dumps have seen a Nigerian Millionaire scam email. 

My daily routine involves getting to work, plonking myself down at my desk, then promptly checking Blogger to see how many spam comments I have to delete before starting any work.  As I most scrolling through the horribly generic spiel of 100 different spam commenters, one of them stood out.  Here it is, unaltered in its full insane glory: 

My newest time travelin' mission is to persuade the masses to engage in consensual sodomy, prostitution, and, after a number of spots can be only $200. Simple enough the growing trend is partly due to intelligent people having less children than the obtuse. Usman, 26, of Pittsburgh allegedly robbed a woman for $60 -- and then we were behind the stage.

It then included a link to a Fleshlight, which I have removed so as not to help the spammer and because I’m sure you are all more than capable of finding your own Fleshlights.  However, I was delighted to receive correspondence from a time travelling sexual industrialist. 

Most people only travel through time to alert themselves to future dangers, to save loved ones, or conceive themselves in confusing time paradoxes.  However, a man who travels through time solely for consensual sodomy and prostitution sounds like a winner in my book.  I think this is very definition of using your powers for the greater good.  I’m sure there are many historical figures who would have benefited from the erotic enlightenment that a time travelling sex-monger would provide.  Perhaps Catherine The Great wouldn’t have resorted to horses if someone had bought her a Rampant Rabbit.  Maybe Hitler’s eugenics program wouldn’t have got a tad out of hand if he realised the sexual potential of other creeds through a pop-up Karma Sutra.  What I’m saying is, sexually satisfied people are happy people, a fact which might alter the course of history.

Think about it.  How could you have a 100 year war when all the combatants have had Viagra crunched up into their water supply?  It would make charging an enemy flank a little uncomfortable.

The time machine I'm working on.  Project Sex Sleigh.

Perhaps this thought has struck me more since I’ve recently started watching Heroes.  Yes, I know I’m so out of date it hurts, however one of the main characters from the show can travel back and forward through time.  He tries to impress a girl using his powers and, although she thinks he is a creepy magician at first, eventually she falls for him.  I believe that Hiro is a pioneer, however, I intend to refine his technique further.  I would go back to prehistoric times and get my swag on.  I’d wear my best suit and take with me some razors, lube, aphrodisiacs and several bottles of tequila.  Once I indoctrinated the people using these items I would create an erotic revolution, turning Homo Sapiens into Homo Erectus.  Unfortunately, I’ve yet to develop this super power, so I’ll put this plan on the backburner for now.

When time travel becomes a viable future technology, I vow to use this advancement to go back in time and make love to the all-time classic beauties of history.  I will recruit Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, Joan of Arc and Lindsay Lohan into my harem.  Please bear in mind that I only do this for the benefit of mankind.  My sexual sacrifice will ensure a peaceful and prosperous world for you all, so you should support my endeavours and help me build my time machine.  I need your donations!  Quick, before my shower runs out of cold water!

Monday, 1 April 2013

Larry Trotter And The Weight Of Expectation

As Larry entered the great hall of Snogwarts, the fireball scar on his forehead began to burn intensely.  He rubbed the scar to try and sooth the pain, then sought out his friends at the breakfast table.

“What’s wrong Larry?” enquired Jon Jizzley, looking at his friend with grave concern.

“It’ll be his scar again” piped up Helena Stranger, the class know-it-all.  “Larry’s scar always plays up when there’s danger afoot”.

A sudden thump on the bench next to them threw their current discourse off course, and almost threw the young 11 years olds into the air with its intensity.  A giant of a man had plonked himself down on the bench and started helping himself to the morning porridge, getting more of it in his scraggly grey beard than in his mouth.

“Did I hear something about danger?” said the man, formally known to the children as Sadgit.

Larry felt uncomfortable.  Although Sadgit was one of his most trusted friends, he was still an adult and a member of staff at Snogwarts.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to speak openly in front of Sadgit in case he reported him to the headmaster, Bumblebore.

“Always up to mischief, just like your father!” proclaimed Sadgit with a certain amount of enthusiasm.

“Why do you always say that?” asked Larry.

“Say what?”

“That I do things like my father.  I never even knew my parents.  Every time you mention them it just rubs that fact in even more”.  Larry looked down at his breakfast, trying to fight back tears and the memories of his deceased parents.  Jon patted Larry on the back in comfort.

To aid your understanding of the story, here's a picture Ron Weasley.

“Well Larry, it’s just that everything you say and do is exactly like your mother and father.” ventured Sadgit “They were great people.  They always wanted you to be a lizard, Larry.”

“A lizard?”

“Wait, that’s not right.  LINE!?”

A stagehand popped his head from behind the soundstage.  “It’s ‘wizard’”

“Of course!  You’re a wizard, Larry!”

“I know!  I’m in a fucking school for magic you great oaf!”

“That’s exactly what your mother used to say.”  Beamed Sadgit.

“Just shut up”

“That’s exactly what your father used to say.”

Larry went silent for a moment as he tried to conjure up a phrase or sentence that his parents would surely never have uttered before.

“I put fish fingers up my arse!”

Sadgit looked stunned for a moment.  “Wow, it’s just like your dad is sitting here.  It’s uncanny!”

The next few minutes passed in silence as Sadgit wolfed down more than his fair share of porridge, then stood up and went to feed his collection of rabid gerbils.  Although Sadgit had a kind heart, he was incredibly annoying and Larry was glad to see the back of him for now.

The three friends continued their breakfast, gulping down spoonfuls of hideously bland bilge and discussing homework details that are so banal, I’m not even going to include them in the narrative.  This whole paragraph is just a set up to move time along slightly until we reach the next plot point.  Sorry to waste your time.

Just then, a swirling vortex appeared in the Snogwarts dining hall.  Pupils began screaming, especially Diego Malfoy, the foreign exchange student, who squealed like a pig strapped to a wrecking ball that was busy demolishing a razor blade factory.  Out of the churning blue portal popped a being so evil that his name cannot be uttered upon these pages, but I’m going to anyway because I’m so cool and rebellious.  His name was Moldyfoot.  The dark wizard, the evil one, he-who-cannot-be-identified-for-copyright-purposes.  He had returned, and he was bent on destroying Snogwarts and Larry once and for all.


“What is the meaning of this?”  Boomed Bumblebore from across the room, rising from his seat in righteous indignation.

“I have returned” replied Moldyfoot, in case anyone missed his dramatic entrance “You and your precious friends shall die!”

Bumblebore wasn’t the kind of 700 year old man to be messed with.  Without further provocation, he grabbed a parrot from a nearby perch, set it alight as though it was a Molotov cocktail, then hurled it at Moldyfoot.  It struck a direct hit, exploding in a shower of fire and feathers that would make PETA shit their pants.

“Mwahahaha!  Your cheap tricks cannot harm me!”

As the smoke cleared, Moldyfoot reappeared utterly unharmed by the parrot’s sacrifice.  With a flick of the wrist, the dark lord shot out a big red bolt of magical energy straight at Bumblebore, killing him immediately.  He then threw a snake at Professor Snake, who was ironically devoured instantly.

The other teachers and pupils were already gathering behind Larry.  He was the most powerful wizard in the school.  Everyone knew it because his parents were also powerful wizards.  They begged Larry to save them from the evil one.  It was his destiny, to enact revenge for his parents and save the entire magical realm in this instant.  As Moldyfoot turned to confront Larry, the weight of the world was upon his shoulders.  People were depending on him.  Larry raised his wand in preparation.

“Actually, screw this!  I’m done” declared Larry, dropping his wand to the floor.

“But Larry, I killed your parents!  Don’t you want to battle me?”

“Not particularly.  I’m so tired of being compared to my parents that I’m actually glad you killed them”

Moldyfoot smiled.  “That sounds just like something your father would say…”

Within two seconds, Moldyfoot laid dead on the ground.  The smoking barrel of Larry’s 12 gauge plumes with delight and a sense of relief.  The weight had been lifted.  This story, in no way, condones the use of guns in schools.

The End (thank God!)