Friday spot the ball competition

(click to enlarge)

Hooray it's Friday, much the same as any other day of course but hooray nonetheless. To celebrate the beginning of the weekend we here at the blog have 24 cans of Kestrel Lager to give away in this week's spot the ball competition.

Print your entry out and send to the usual address. All entries soiled by obvious jizz splodges will be considered invalid. The age old "I spilt some yoghurt on it" excuse won't fly with me thank you please.

Gurken sind nicht Sex-Spielzeug

I'm glad cucumbers are getting some bad press at the moment. It's about time vegetables were given a hard time. It's always meat that's blamed for health scares. Apparently this e.Coli business in Germany has effected more female cucumber consumers than male. Up to a third more in fact. I wonder why this might be?

I use the word consumer as there's obviously more than one to enjoy a cucumber. And of course, while no one's saying so in as many words in the news media, the reason German woman are more at risk of this current outbreak, is because they shove them up their hairy German muschis.

A German woman impaling herself on a cucumber in this way and doesn't wash her hands afterwards is always going to feel a bit queasy in the following days. And there's a lesson in this for us all. Don't abuse nature in this way. If vegetables and fruits were meant to be used in this way they'd be self-lubricating. And also if they were meant to be eaten they'd taste like meat.

Leave vegetables to the rabbits people, you'll feel better for it. You've got teeth, use them. Meat for the win!

Oh do naff orf

I've just now been hearing from a man in the garage that David Cameroon wants to put a stop to these judges granting injunctions and super injunctions to the rich celebrity types to prevent the media from sharing their sordid sexual perversions with their dwindling readerships.

Dave reckons these judges should naff off if they think they can create this secrecy law just to protect the rich and famous. It's our elected Parliament according to Dave that makes the laws, not judges.

Of course, he's conveniently forgetting here that it's no such thing. Our Parliament exists simply to receive EU laws and impose them on us without so much as a whimper from Dave.

He's as concerned with other bodies other than Parliament making laws as a well known golfer is about injuring his penis while enjoying his sordid fetishes in the bespoke dungeon of some foreign dominatrix.

And you can quote me.

Tits tits tits

I've known Victoria Coren for years. When I say I've 'known' her, what I mean by that is I don't know her at all, I've just seen her on telly a lot these past ten years or so and read her book. But I've known many women like her in the real life I had before I became a recluse and only went outside when I needed a sandwich.

She's a fairly bog standard ugly duckling sort of story. An absolutely wretched looking package as a student who became a sort slutty swan later in life. Women who make this transformation often develop an insatiable lust for cock and a sexual appetite that rivals the one they once had for cake and chocolate.

As a student she'll have only be a last option. Like the spotty weedy kid who desperately wants to play football but always got picked last, Victoria Coren would have been the fat girl in the corner of the pub with a perfectly fuckable pouch under her gut, but who was only ever approached at chucking out time by blokes who had no joy with the nice looking girls.

Now though she enjoys an unfettered celebration of all things cock. Yet there is still the same vulnerability within her that would reduce the student Vicky to tears if she returned home on a Friday night without her breasts soaked in the ejaculated spunk of five or six members of the Bullingdon Club.

This I think can be the only reason she has been prattling on about Michael Winner all week. It's simply a thinly veiled opportunity to get people talking about her tits now that she's proud of them.

Someone who wasn't desperate for people to see them as attractive cockophiles wouldn't have even responded to the first Winner tweet.

Victoria however has made people who don't even know what Twitter is, aware that her tits are being openly discussed there. People who will now google pictures of her to look at her tits.

Job done Vicky, although at what price? For the first time ever Michael Winner has some how claimed the moral high ground.

Sally Bercow trying too hard say Psychologists

Every man in Great Britain rolled his eyes and tutted this evening as Sally Bercow once again confused playful flirting with being a slag. The 6ft 8, 52 year old media whore failed to raise so much as an eye brow let alone a cock with her bed sheet photo-shoot in Thursday's Evening Standard.

Black cab driver Daniel Walker told me, "Sorry Sal, you've got three kids love, underneath that bed sheet we all know your twat is sagging like a Wizard's sleeve."

Husband and House of Commons speaker John Bercow (4ft 10) is said to be furious no one really fancies his wife no matter how accessible she makes herself to men in the area.


A source inside the Commons emailed into me revealing Bercow is utterly dumbfounded that most blokes would actually rather have a crack at Betty Boothroyd who is 81 instead of his wife! Psychologists say she is simply trying too hard.

Professor of Sex Leroy DelRodney from London University College explained, "It's all about the chase with the hos. That's the thing that gets a n***er hot. We want what we can't have. It's no fun when a bitch falls over with her legs in the air, you know what I'm saying."

Former Commons speaker Betty Boothroyd was unavailable for comment tonight, which just made the country want her more.

Some tits

Keys to success

Richard Keys and Andy Gray were over heard yesterday during Wolves' game with Liverpool slating a female linesman for being a woman.

Assuming their microphones were turned off (or not really caring either way), they were heard expressing their disbelief that a female should be entrusted with the responsibility of flagging incorrectly for off-sides in a Premier League game.

Richard Keys who is very hairy, commented, ‘Somebody better get down there and explain offside to her.’ Andy Gray who is really fat now and Scottish responded through gritted teeth, 'Can you believe that? A female linesman, women don't know the offside rule!'

'Of course they don't' agreed Keysie, 'I guarantee you they'll be a big one today and Dalglish will got potty. This isn't the first time is it, didn't we have one before?'

While Andy Gray seethed quietly in his chair, Keysie continued, 'The game's gone mad. Did you hear charming Karen Brady this morning complaining about sexism? Do me a favour love.'

The pair who together weigh the same as a horse continued their seethe for some moments but conceded that despite Brady talking 'utter feminist shite' they both still would and agreed she probably 'bangs like a shit-house door in a gale.'

Richard Keys was asked to comment about his diatribe by the Daily Mail but denied any memory of making such comments. When he was informed there was a recording of his observations, he said 'well you don't need me to comment then do you.'

This is the second time he's been caught making inappropriate comments off camera: If you recall a few years ago he was over heard making disparaging remarks about a football ground in the Faroe Islands.

Of course while Richard Keys is undoubtedly an unpleasant man, we here at the blog have to endorse these comments fully and welcome further such impromptu outbursts during Sky's coverage of football as they liven up what have now become quite tedious broadcasts.

Wildlife at one

Is there a collective noun for a group of air hostesses? Until I find out and for the purposes of this blog entry I'll be using the word clunge.

So this afternoon at the Subway sammich place would you believe it a clunge of air hostess' arrive on the scene followed by a dude who I assume was a pilot judging by his uniform and self-satisfied countenance. He stood off from the main clunge like a stalking leopard eying up a herd of vulnerable gazelle.

Now I am of course the champion of the individual and the last person to pigeon hole anyone, but I think we can agree that nothing says "choking for it" and "strumpet" like the uniform of an air hostess. Indeed these ladies could not have looked any dirtier and randier in their outfits if they had all been sporting sandwich boards with "FUCK ME" scrawled on both sides in their own menstrual blood.

I don't mind telling you, Richie soon lost interest in his sammich and Richie loves his sammiches. Sadly my oxygen levels began to plummet so I had to leave, but as I wheezed home it did make me wonder, given the almost requisite dirtiness required at entry level for this position (ooo-er), why their male colleagues are all such a fleet of Berties?

This must be why the Pilots all look so happy and why the auto-pilot of passenger airlines are switched on for 90% of the flight as the Captain needs as much time as possible to enjoy the disproportionate amount of miscellaneous sex available on any given long haul flight.

An airline pilot in hogs heaven in amongst his prey, while a
whoopsie on the far right looks on disinterested, yesterday

Montgomerie a dirty old bastard?

Montie in Prague earlier in the year?

So it looks like Colin Montgomerie's world is about to implode as well as his colon and not just as a consequence of a sound defeat by the US of States in the Ryder Cup. From various gossiping type sources on the internets it seems he's a kinky old duffer and is investing thousands of monies in lawyers to keep pictures of himself dressed in various S&M get ups out of the tabloids (or specifically the News of the World). Stuff that makes the gimp suit in Pulp Fiction look like formal evening wear.

If the rumours are to be believed he actually has a sparrow loose in his arse as we speak, which was inserted by Lady Xtreme in a brothel dungeon in Prague some four months ago, but which Montie has been unable to evacuate.

Montie denied these pictures existed in an interview in the Mercas in August and insisted the only birdies he wanted to discuss are the golfing sort as he fidgeted uneasily on his chair and a muffled tweeting noise was heard. Interesting exchange however with one of the golfing journo's:

"Q.: Monty, I don't know if you're aware, your old friend, Feherty went on a nationally syndicated radio show yesterday and talked about the existence of a super injunction in the U.K. that would bar some potentially embarrassing personal photos, wonder if you want to confirm, comment, deny the existence of those and how it might affect your captaincy at all.

CM: Yeah, obviously I listened to that radio show and I know a lot of you are having a lot of fun right now at my expense.

Let me clear this up, though, that I can categorically say that there's no injunction against the News of the World. I'm really not going to discuss this any -- any further. All I can say is categorically there is no injunction against the News of the World regarding anything.

I apologize for this, that you have to bring this up, but at the same time, no further -- no further comments from myself on that matter."

Notice, the reporter doesn't actually mention the News of the World by name. Just that there's a super injunction taken out. It's only Montie who mentions that paper specifically. Clearly then it's all true. Dirty bugger.

The legal bills will cripple him financially, yet ultimately there's very little he can do to stop these snaps from appearing in the News of the World eventually so these legal wranglings make no sense to me.

The fact is he just looks like someone that has some appalling sexual fetishes anyway, so any evidence confirming it is no biggie really. Just a case of..meh, thought so.

Aside from this though, if he's prepared to wear some of the sickening daywear Ryder Cup teams are expected to sport, what's the beef with the world seeing you in a leather vacuum suit attached to an unidentified cellmate by rubber testicles hand-cuffs in a bespoke sexual dungeon in someone's basement?

We all have our unique sexual eccentricities. I myself am turned on by [female] newsreaders and sometimes by really really fat women if I've had a lot to drink and not much to eat, but I'd much rather be pictured licking custard of an obese newsreader than snapped waiting to tee off in a beige tank top with salmon undershirt and greenish piss smelling tweed slacks and you can quote me.

Cooling your Jets

This is young Inés Sainz, the Mexican reporter for Azteca TV who "took exception" this week at a New York Jets practice to some comments made to her by a few of the players. This picture was taken at the very practice in question.

Now call me chauvinistic, call me cynical, but if you have an ass like that and you wear jeans that are so tight they look like they were sprayed on and strut about in the locker room of an American football team where 50 enormous naked men pumped full of testosterone are within licking distance, then the very least you can expect from them is lurid comments. This after all is the very same reporter who last year took out a tape measure and asked wide receiver Steve Breaston of the Arizona Cardinals if she could measure his biceps. I think it was biceps.

Quite frankly I don't envy the task of whoever is in control of keeping the players cool when there are strumpets like Ms Sainz strutting about the place like the very definition of 'cock tease."

And anyway, I think it's fair to say Mexican TV is not perhaps the most progressive of environments in terms of sexual equality. Mexican TV weather girls for example are essentially soft-core porn stars. I have a feeling Ms Sainz is a seasoned pro when it comes to dealing with chauvinism. She's no shrinking violet - a google image search of her name is testament to this, so I think her sensibilities are robust enough to cope with this sort of thing.

Perhaps she's a Giants fan and just making mischief, but if she was genuinely offended I find this astonishing. Good luck to her if she ever shows up at the Pigeon's game dressed like that with Neal in one of his moods.