Issue 69 - February 10 2003

A few folk have been asking when are we going to be able to go and experience The good Bastards Bar and Grill? The short answer; no date has been set for that momentous occasion.

The original group behind the Venture had a meeting last week and various things were moved forward. We have a magnificent plan that has been put together by Ernest and Young.

The Good Bastards Bar and Grill is planned for Christchurch. It is going to be an experience that transcends the drinking and dining and entertainment experience that is currently being experienced by Good Bastards.

Our objective is to refine the first one as a pilot model and then duplicate around Australia and New Zealand and possibly further a field.

Each one is estimated to require an investment in the vicinity of One Million Dollars. The company will have nil borrowings and it is planned to take it through to a public listing.

The capital will be raised from Good Bastards who are friends of the original group and Professional Investors.

There have been a number of interested investors that have come forward from The Most Recent Order Of Good Bastards. They have be qualified under the NZ security commission guidelines. There is a process that can be applied to this. Those interested in finding out if they qualify should email gbbg@goodbastards.com

Greg’s heading off on a Holiday and has delivered up a toon to mark the occasion.

Thank you Greg for your many Toons that you have delivered up each week to enhance our main story. Our readers and members will miss them.

Blooy Leo, it should be Bloody Sweeney. That bastard reckons I have no class. I have more class in my little toe than he has in his entire past present and future.

So to prove a point, I have outlined my rules of Class.

Bloody Leo’s Rules Of Class

1.Never take a beer to a job interview.
2. Always identify people in your yard before shooting at them.
3.It's considered tacky to take a chilly bin/esky to church.
4. If you have to vacuum the bed it's time to change sheets. (That ones Katies.)
5. Even if you're CERTAIN that you are included in the will .... it is still considered tacky
to drive a big trailer to the funeral.

DINING OUT
1. When decanting wine, make sure that you tilt the paper cup and pour slowly so
as not to "bruise" the fruit of the vine.
2. If drinking directly from the bottle, always hold it with your fingers covering the label.

ENTERTAINING IN YOUR HOME
1. A centrepiece for the table should NEVER be prepared by a taxidermist.
2. Do NOT allow the dog to eat at the table... no matter how good his manners are.

PERSONAL HYGIENE
1. While ears need to be cleaned regularly, this is a job that should done in private using one's OWN truck keys.
2. Proper use of toiletries can forestall bathing for several days. However if you live alone, deodorant is a waste of money.
3. Dirt and grease under the fingernails is a social no-no, as it tends to detract from a woman's jewellery and alter the taste of finger foods.

DATING (OUTSIDE THE FAMILY)
1. Always offer to bait your date's hook, especially on the first date.
2. Be aggressive. Let her know you're interested: "I've been wantin' to go out with you since I read that stuff on the bathroom wall two years ago...."
3. Establish with her parents what time she is expected back. Some will say 10:00 PM; others might say "Monday". If the latter is the answer it is the man's responsibility to get her to school on time.

THEATRE ETIQUETTE
1. Crying babies should be taken to the lobby and picked up as soon as the movie has ended.
2. Refrain from talking to characters on the screen. Tests have proven they cannot hear you.

WEDDINGS
1. Livestock, usually, is a poor choice for a wedding gift.
2. Kissing the bride for more than five seconds may get you shot.
3. For the groom, at least, rent a tux. A leisure suit with a cummerbund and a clean bowling shirt can create a tacky appearance.
4. Though uncomfortable, say "yes" to socks and shoes for this special occasion.

DRIVING ETIQUETTE
1. Dim your headlights for approaching vehicles; even if the gun is loaded, and the deer is in sight.
2. When approaching a four-way stop, the vehicle with the largest tires ALWAYS has the right of way.
3. Never tow another car using panty hose and duct tape.
4. When sending your wife down the road with a gas can, it is impolite to ask her
to bring back beer too.
5. Do NOT lay rubber while travelling in a funeral procession.

Now what is bloody Relative?

There is nothing more relative in this world than ACTION. After you have talked the talk, you must, you absolutely must walk the walk or all the talk has been smoke up a ghosts arse.

Either lead, follow or get the hell out of the way because the smallest deed is always far better than the best intention.

Its painfully obvious that God, who ever he/she/it maybe is willing to help those who are willing to work. You see it was the power behind the universe, whether it be God, Allah, Buddha or a God with a big G
that is yet to be discovered.

We all miss every single shot that we are afraid to take. There are always two types of doers, those that do it, and those that criticise it after it was done and wonder why it wasn’t done their way.

Those that say the mountain can’t be moved are also among the group that refuse to move the first pebble. They are still talking about what they didn’t do yesterday.

We could go on here for dam near ever and possibly a bit longer, and there are a million ways I could end this. I chose this one. If you live in the valley, don’t annoy those that live on the hill. :-)

Steve Flynn’s Irish Archives
An Irishman named O'Malley went to his doctor after a long illness.

The doctor after a lengthy examination, sighed and looked O'Malley in the eye and said, "I've some bad news for you. You have cancer, and it can't be cured. You'd best put your affairs in order."

O'Malley was shocked and saddened. But, being a solid character, he managed to compose himself and walk from the doctor's office into the waiting room, where his son had been waiting.

"Well, son, we Irish celebrate when things are good, and we celebrate when things don't go well. In this case, things aren't so well. I have cancer. Lets head to the pub and have a few pints."

After 3 or 4 pints, or more, the two were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs and some more beers. They were eventually approached by some of O'Malley's old friends, who were curious as to what the two were celebrating.

O'Malley told them that the Irish celebrate the good as well as the bad. He went on to tell his friends that they were drinking to his impending end.

He told his friends, "I have been diagnosed with AIDS."

The friends gave O'Malley their condolences, and they had a couple of more beers.

After the friends left, O'Malley's son leaned over and whispered his confusion. "Dad, I thought you told me that you were dying of cancer, and you just told your friends that you were dying of AIDS!"

O'Malley said, "I don't want any of them sleeping with your Mother after I am gone."

You gotta love the Irish

Jim Malboeuf reports in from the USA about the year 1902
This ought to boggle your mind, I know it did mine! The year is 1902 ...one hundred years ago ... what a difference a century makes! Here are some of the USAA. statistics for 1902:

The average life expectancy in the USA was 47 years.

Only 14 Percent of the homes in the USA had a bathtub.

Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.

A three-minute call from Denver to New York City cost eleven dollars.

There were only 8,000 cars in the USA, and only 144 miles of paved roads.

The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.

Alabama, Mississippi, Iowa, and Tennessee were each more heavily populated than California. With a mere 1.4 million residents, California was only the 21st- most populous state in the Union.

The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower.

The average wage in the USA was 22 cents an hour.

The average USA worker made between $200 and $400 per year.

A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year, a dentist $2,500 per year, a veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.

More than 95 percent of all births in the USA took place at home.

Ninety percent of all USA physicians had no college education. Instead, they attended medical schools, many of which were condemned in the press and by the government as "substandard."

Sugar cost four cents a pound. Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen. Coffee cost fifteen cents a pound.

Most women only washed their hair once a month, and used borax or egg yolks for shampoo.

Canada passed a law prohibiting poor people from entering the country for any reason.

The five leading causes of death in the USA were:
1. Pneumonia and influenza
2. Tuberculosis
3. Diarrhoea
4. Heart disease
5. Stroke

The American flag had 45 stars. Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Hawaii, and Alaska hadn't been admitted to the Union yet.

The population of Las Vegas, Nevada, was 30.

Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and iced tea hadn't been invented.

There was no Mother’s Day or Father's Day.

One in ten USA adults couldn’t read or write. Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated high school.

Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at corner drugstores. According to one pharmacist, "Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and the bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health."

18 percent of households in the USA had at least one full-time servant or domestic.

There were only about 230 reported murders in the entire USA

.... And I stole this from someone else without typing it myself, and sent it to a dozen people in a matter of seconds!

Just think what it will be like in another 100 years. ...It boggles the mind...

Good onya Jim, time we caught you down on that undisclosed South Westland River enjoying a drop or two of the ole Good Bastards and spinning a yarn or two after a bit of smoked sea running trout and a venison steak or White Bait South Westland as the main course. Stuff America, it’s rooted over there.

Bloody Golf
A man, while playing on the front nine of a complicated golf course, became confused as to where he was on the course. Looking around, he saw a lady playing ahead of him. He walked up to her, explained his confusion and asked her if she knew what hole he was playing. She replied, "I'm on the 7th hole, and you are a hole behind me, so you must be on the 6th hole."

He thanked her and went back to his golf. On the back nine the same thing happened; and he approached her again with the same request. She said, "I'm on the 14th hole, you are a hole behind me, so you must be on the 13th hole." Once again he thanked her and returned to his play.

He finished his round and went to the clubhouse where he saw the same lady sitting at the end of the bar. He asked the bartender if he knew the lady. The bartender said that she was a sales lady, simgle and played the course often.

He approached her and said, "Let me buy you a drink in appreciation for your help. I understand that you are in the sales profession. I'm in sales, also. What do you sell?"

She replied, "If I tell you, you'll laugh."

"No, I won't."

"Well, if you must know," she answered, "I work for Tampax."

With that, he laughed so hard he almost lost his breath.

She said, "See I knew you would laugh."

"That's not what I'm laughing at," he replied. "I'm a salesman for Hemorrhoidal Cream, so I'm still a hole behind you!"

While we’re on the subject of Golf… Steve Flynn has some Info
This is a slice of golf history I thought you might enjoy. I never knew why there were 18 holes before this. Why do full-length golf courses have 18 holes, and not 20, or 10 or an even dozen?

How many of you golfers know the answer to this one?

During a discussion among the club's membership board at St. Andrews in 1858, one of the members pointed out that it takes exactly 18 shots to polish off a fifth of Scotch. By limiting himself to only one shot of Scotch per hole, the Scot figured a round of golf was finished when the Scotch ran out.

Now you know.

Bloody Taxi Driver
A guy thought his wife was cheating on him. So he waited for her to leave that night and jumped in a cab to follow her. By following her he found out she was working in a whorehouse.

The guy says to the cabbie, "Wanna make a $100?" The cabbie says, "Sure, what do I have to do?".

The guy replied that all the cabbie has to do was go inside the whorehouse and grab his wife and put her in the back of the cab and take them home. So the cabbie goes in.

A couple of minutes later the whore house gets kicked open, and the cabbie is dragging this woman out who is kicking, biting, punching, and fighting all the way to the cab.

The cabbie opens the door to the cab, throws the girl inside, and tells the man, "Here hold her!!"

The man looks down at the girl and says to the cabbie, "THIS AIN'T MY WIFE".
The cabbie replied, "I KNOW, IT'S MINE; I'M GOING BACK IN FOR YOURS!!".

Why Women are Cranky...
We start to "bud" in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to find anything that comes in contact with those tender, blooming buds hurts so bad it brings us to tears. Enter the almighty, uncomfortable training bra contraption the boys in school will snap until we have calluses on our backs.

Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). Along with those budding boobs, we now bloat, we cramp, we get the hormone crankies, have to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn't even know we had.

Our next little rite of passage (premarital or not) is having sex for the first time which is about as much fun as having a ramrod push your uterus through your nostrils (IF he did it right and didn't end up with his little cart before his horse), leaving us to wonder what all the fuss was about.

Then it's off to Motherhood where we learn to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so we don't spend the entire day leaning over Brother John.

Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learn to live with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards night and day making us wonder if we're having Rosemary's Baby. Our once flat bellies now look like we swallowed a watermelon whole and we pee our pants every time we sneeze.

When the big moment arrives, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions will invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and we'll waddle with our big cartoon feet moaning in pain all the way to the ER. Then it's huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, "Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hear-me-roar. Calm down and push. Just one more (or 10 ) good pushes," warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the bastard (and hubby) square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10lb. bowling ball through a keyhole.

After that, it's time to raise those angels only to find that when all that "cute" wears off, the beautiful little darlings morph into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-sucking little poop machines.

The teen years. Need I say more? The kids are almost grown now and we women hit our voracious sexual prime in our mid-30's to early 40's while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday (which just happens to be the reason all that early hot man sex got you pregnant in the first place).

Now we hit the grand finale: "The Menopause," the Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take the HRT and chance cancer in those now seasoned "buds" or the aforementioned Nether Regions, or, sweat like a hog in July, wash your sheets and pillowcases daily and bite the head off anything that moves. Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men when men get off so easy INCLUDING the icing on life's cake: Being able to pee in the woods without soaking their socks...

Now I love being a woman but "Womanhood" would make the Great Ghandi a tad
crabby.

Women are the "weaker sex."? Yeah right. Bite me.

Good Bitches Next Life
In my next life I'm going to be a bear. If you're a bear, you get to hibernate. You do nothing but sleep for six months. I could deal with that.
Before you hibernate, you're supposed to eat yourself stupid. I could deal with that too.
If you're a bear, you birth your children (who are the size of walnuts) while you're sleeping and wake to partially grown, cute cuddly cubs. I could definitely deal with that.
If you're a mama bear, everyone knows you mean business. You swat anyone who bothers your cubs. If your cubs get out of line, you swat them too. I could deal with that.
If you're a bear, your mate EXPECTS you to wake up growling. He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat. ---YEP -- Gonna be a bear!

This week we honour Peter O’Connor from Hornby in Christchurch. Peter has been one of our key contributors over the last twelve months and Peter has sent many of the yarns, cartoons and photos in that we enjoy each week.
Peter has lead an active role in civic duties having been actively involved in Jaycees working his way up the ranks to District Governor for the Canterbury West Coast region. Then when he hit the magic age of wisdom, he joined the Wigram Lions.
He started life in the work force as an apprentice and after a while got the shits with that and mate said join the railways.
Twenty two years later he is still there driving one of those whopping big 85 tonne Forklifts. This big sucker stacks 40 foot containers five high.
Peter use to be a Speights man, and then he discovered Good Bastards Dark and the chemically brewed Speights has lost another customer and we have gained a loyal client.
Good on you Peter. Heres to you and your partner Rose. May the path ahead be a great one.
Cheers.

Well the four Wheel Muster was a rip roaring success and Good Bastards already wanting to know when it is on next year so they can participate. All things being equal that I receive the Photos in time, we will have a posting next week and A full report on it all.
Stay tuned!!

Its time some bastard said something about Charity. Most bastards sooner or later are moaning bastards, except me that is. Everyone has a god given gift and mine is not to be a moaning bastard.

No matter how much charity you dish out some bastard will moan. Except ya dog of course, my old man told me that a dog won’t howl if you throw meat balls at him.

However Charity should never be confused with those “Do Gooder” bastards.

Those absolutely useless bastard running riot around the place dobbing good bastards in for just being alive. Castration is far to too good for these mongrels. Some of the bastards are women as well, not sure what will do them! Probably herd them up, stick them in a herringbone shed and milk the bastards.

You gotta a bit careful who you dish your charity out too, most folk you help eventually crap on you from a great height.

I reckon this account of the fact that they are bludging scrounging no hoping bastards in the first place. Still that’s not the case with everyone.

Some ego headed bastards give so every other bastard will think they are good bastards, which often is the not the case.

These bastards should realise you can’t buy a ticket to heaven. When it comes to real charity these bastards stop at nothing.

The guts of being charitable is to do it anonymously, if you can’t do that its not really charity.

Spot ya down the boozer where we’ll chuck the change into the Salvos basket.

Toodal loo

Sticken it up the toffee nosed bastard
The following letter is from the family's solicitor is addressed to a member of the British aristocracy who has been spending much of the summer in his residence in the south of France leaving his wife in the United Kingdom to look after the ancestral home.

Dear Sir Royston,

I hope you are having a good time on your holiday. I say this with sincerity because I am afraid that I have some bad news for you, although there is good news too.

First the bad news. I am sorry to tell you that your favourite dog, Honey, is dead. The vet says that she died instantly and could have felt no pain. She was kicked in the head by your horse, Sherbet, though I'm sure that no blame can be attached to Sherbet, frightened as he was by the fire in the barn.

I'm afraid that Sherbet was in the barn along with your other horses when it burnt to the ground. The fire brigade had been called within a short time of the barn catching fire and would normally have been able to put the fire out. Had it had not been for the fact that the tender crashed into your Bentley in the lane.

Your wife had taken it out for a spin with your brother. As it was, both the tender and your Bentley were written off. No blame can be attached to your wife for the accident I'm sure.

The Bentley was stationary at the time and your wife was in the back seat of the car. She managed to escape death only due to the fact that your brother was lying on top of her at the time of the collision.

The doctors say that given time she will regain her sight but that she will never walk again. She has also lost her memory and cannot even remember you. Your brother, unfortunately, was killed.

I should explain how the barn came to be on fire in the first place.

You see a spark from the house blew over and set the roof alight. The fire started in the main hall of the house where, as you know, your Mattisse and your Picasso once hung. I say `once' because they are not there now.

Fortunately neither of these paintings were damaged in the conflagration as they were stolen beforehand by the burglar who started the fire.

Although all of this may seem to you very serious it is not in fact the bad news that I wrote of. Your wife and brother had been visiting your Insurance agent in prison where he is serving a three year sentence for fraud. I'm afraid that none of your insurance policies are valid.

As I said, there is some good news. The heat from the fire warmed your greenhouse and brought your flowers on.

The Vatican have been grabbing headlines around he world by denouncing the growth of New Age religions and how evil they are.

At the same time a boss cocky cardinal is resigning in Ireland due to his poor handling of sex abuse cases there.

That is where the Catholic Church for all its power and mite is at its weakest. It is crumbling worldwide like a white ant infested edifice along with its credibility. Surely with all that has been happening, the powers that be can’t be thinking that God is giving them the ok for there massive cover ups and conspiracy. Or are these powers that be simply intent on accelerating the church’s demise as the solution to the problem. There are those that subscribe to that.

How can the hierarchy of the church even think of denouncing another religion or in this case many un-named religions, when they have a continual history of covering up and protecting the paedophiles in their ranks.

In the book Good Bastards, the Larrikins Guide to Success, I outed a known yet unconvicted paedophile priest by the name of Doc Harrison in Hokitika. While I escaped his lecherous depraved mauling, other young men were not so lucky.

The point of this: No one in the church, the so called Catholic elite of the town, wanted to believe me or any of the dozens of other young men who experienced the debauched and treacherous tentacles of this decadent depraved animal.

These pillars of society, who, if they did believe us, just hoped the whole thing would just go away, accused us. Hell I even caved in to pressure not to publish and name Doc Harrison directly in the book.

Since the publication of the book there has been a continual flow of men who confidentially thanked me for outing the criminal bastard. Had I known just how wide spread and destructive his perversions had been, I would have been far more mercenary in an attack on him and also those that chose to support his actions by ignoring the pleas. Pity help any other bastard that I hear about laundering in inaction of any similar past or future similar situation.

A total pox on those in the Catholic Church, at what ever level who choose to indulge on selective blindness. It is permeating still.

What I have now learned is the Catholic Parishes worldwide are full of such gutless hierarchy who by their lack of protest to the contrary, support paedophilia by priests.

They are no better than the paedophiles themselves. The church is their mantle of respectability. Pigs arse, they are just scum.

One can only conclude, that such people go along to confession and confess their sins and are forgiven for not standing up and taking a public stand about the paedophile priest. Weak gutless bastards that need more than a paedophile priest rammed up their arses.

Who hears the confession? The paedophile priest! That’s what happened in Hokitika. Of course they wouldn’t confess that sin to the priest. It was covered by the phrase, “For these and all my sins that I cannot now remember, please grant me forgiveness.”

Where is the movement called Catholics against Paedophile Priests? Those that do feel strongly enough about these issues choose not to protest, they prefer to walk away from the church and sadly watch its demise. It is not Christian to attack the church on any matter. Tell that to the victims. The rapid demise of the Catholic Church is the price the Vatican is now paying for their endorsement of paedophile priests over the last fifty years.

I read the Vatican’s press release about Paedophile priests recently, what a weak pathetic non-statement. What an absolute joke that was to any victim of their rabid dogs out preying on young boys and in some cases young girls.

Sure, not all priest are paedophiles, but I am yet to learn of one who has the guts to come out and lead a campaign of outing these vermin from their church and lead a concerted attack on those that permeate the continued cover-ups and conspiracies.

This starts with the Pope and works its self right through the organisation of “ALL” those in control. It seems that the local parish “good bloke” priest are also roped into the conspiracy and cover up by their forced silence.

Perhaps, bloody big perhaps, but it is possible, the writer and the millions like him on a worldwide basis who have gladly walked away from the catholic church, might just consider that it is worth a modicum of respect if some serious public confessions were forthcoming from the hierarchy of the church followed up with the outing and naming of the large and long list of paedophile priests.

No use in saying you don’t know Mr Bishop, Mr Cardinal, Mr Pope, I know a number of the names of Paedophile priests and so do you.

“Paedophilegate, the great catholic cover up” What a great name for a book.

This weeks winner of the corrugated Iron Competition is Tony Rose From slightly West of Sydney

You will need 2 sheets + 1 brick + 1 BBQ + snags + 6 pieces of string + 24 Bottles of Reschs Dinner Ale (substitute your brew if we can get it in Aus).
Open beer, drink beer. Place brick on end of BBQ, place sheet on top of BBQ, if you silly bastards can picture this then sheet 1 should have a slope on it.
Sheet 2. Turn both ends up and place at lower end of first sheet. Lay the string in the grooves and start BBQ. Open beer, drink beer, open another etc.
Place snags in grooves on first sheet and cook, open another beer. Cook to you likening, open another beer, serve sausages, open another beer.
By now the fat from the sausages in the grooves of sheet 1 should fill the grooves of sheet 2. Open another beer, wait for fat to harden, could take 6 beers to wait.
You should now be pissed but have had a BBQ and have 6 recycled candles that give a BBQ smell when lit. Great eh?

For us versatile Good Bastards its all dead easy, but some of you yippy, yappy, yuppie Good Bastards might find it to be a real challenge. To make it easy you don’t have to actually make anything, just come up with the idea and we will see who is the most creative and versatile. All you have to do is fill in the fields and we will judge you from that.

Week one, announced on the third of February, the price is your choice of any one of the three Good Bastards Books.

Week two, announced on the tenth of February, the price is your choice of any one of the three Good Bastards Books.

Week three, announced on the seventeenth of February, the price is your choice of any one of the three Good Bastards Books.

Week four: On the 24th of February we announce the grand winner who will receive Four six packs of Good Bastards Beer, your choice of Good bastards Dark or Good Bastards Larger, or a mix of both, delivered to your door by www.shopnaked.co.nz where you can have delivered to your door all the grog you want simply by ordering it off the internet.

Enter only one idea or up to three on the one form.

Gidday you Good Bastards...

Hollywood Lessons on how life really is:
1. It does not matter if you are heavily outnumbered in a fight involving martial arts: your enemies will wait patiently to attack you one by one, dancing around in a threatening manner until you have knocked out their predecessors.
2. Honest and hard-working policemen are traditionally gunned down three days before their retirement.
3. All beds have special L-shaped sheets that reach the armpit level of a woman, but only the waist level of the man lying beside her.
4. At least one of a pair of identical twins is born evil.
5. Most laptop computers are powerful enough to override the communications system of any invading alien society.
6. All grocery bags contain at least one stick of French bread.
7. Rather than wasting bullets, megalomaniacs prefer to kill their arch enemies using complicated machinery involving fuses, pulley systems, deadly gasses, lasers, and man-eating sharks, which will allow their captives at least a half-hour to escape.
8. You're very likely to survive any battle in any war unless you make the mistake of showing someone a picture of your sweetheart back home.
9. A man will show no pain while taking the most ferocious beating, but will wince when a woman tries to clean his wounds.
10. If a large pane of glass is visible, someone will be thrown through it before long.
11. If staying in a haunted house, women should investigate any strange noises in their most revealing underwear.
12. Even when driving down a perfectly straight road, it is necessary to turn the steering wheel vigorously from left to right every few moments.
13. All bombs are fitted with electronic timing devices with large red readouts so you know exactly when they're going to go off, but luckily you'll always blindly choose to cut the right wire.
14. A detective can only solve a case once he has been suspended from duty.
15. Police departments give their officers personality tests to make sure they are deliberately assigned a partner who is their total opposite.

What's the hardest thing about having AIDs?
Leaving your friend's behind.

Two Italian virgins get married and go on their honeymoon. However, they have no idea what there supposed to do once they get to their hotel room. The newlyweds decide to call his mother and get some advice on what to do.
The mother says that they should sit on the bed together and snuggle with each other and things should start to happen from there. The newlyweds start to do this but nothing else happens.
He calls his mother back to find out what to do next. She says they should take their clothes off, get under the covers in bed, and nature should takes its course. The bride and groom take his mother's advice but still nothing.
He calls his mother a third time. Getting frustrated with the situation she says: "Listen, just take the biggest thing you have and stick it in her hairiest thing!" and hangs up on him.
A few minutes later he reluctantly calls his mother back: "Well, I have my nose in her armpit. What do I do next?"

They had been having a few beers at the bar together recounting old times when the call of nature caused them to line up at the same time, still deep in conversation. But Fred could hardly ignore the fact that Chas was very well endowed.
"I say, that's a remarkable dong you have there old boy," Fred was prompted to remark.
"Wasn't always that way," replied Chas. "Medical science can do wonders with transplants these days," he said. "I got this done in Harley St, England. Cost a thousand quid, but as you can see, well worth every penny."
Fred was envious. In fact, he packed his bag that night and drove to Harley St, first thing.
It was a good six months later before he ran into his old friend once again and Fred could hardly wait to tell him that he had taken his advice and was well pleased with the result.
"But Chas, I will tell you something else," said Fred. "You were diddled. I got mine for £500, not a thousand."
Chas could hardly believe it. Same address in Harley St, same doctor. Complaining that he had been ripped off, he asked Fred if he could have a look.
Once more they lined up at the porcelain and when Chas took a peek over the partition the worried frown which had creased his face disappeared. "No wonder," he laughed. "That's my old one!"

What's stiff and excites women?
Elvis Presley.

Viva Las Vegas...

Nick

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Monday February 10th 2003 ISSUE #69
*Dedicated to fixing up political correctness.*
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Things you should check out on the site Before you bugger off home...

Things you should check out on the site
Before you bugger off home...