Coming to you from the back veranda overlooking the now clear sparkling pool. Trouble is its too bloody cold to use the bastard.

Thought for the day: "100 people with a 100 dreams but only one will make it happen. The rest just wish, hope and wait. The result of chook run training."

English Language to be
REPLACED
Viable alternative found.

The dismantling of political correctness continues.

English as a language is buggered. Political Correctness has seen to that. This is no news whatsoever to those who are in the know which just happens to most of us in this quadrant below the equator.

This crappy hard to understand utterance called bloody English was apparently invented by the English which is quite amazing really because most of them don’t know it either.

From here on in the spoken word will be known as Good Bastards Lingo.

This will come as no surprise to all Good Bastards as they have been speaking it since they had their arses whacked when they popped into the world from the womb without a view.

We all had to endure a period of intense shame when folk who should have known better tried to get us to spoke along the lines of the Queen and another bunch of no hopers called snobby bastards.

This period of time is referred to as school, which if you replaced the l with a k and put the s at the back you have the lingo chooks. Which was and still the main aim of this lost period of time in all our lives.

It would appear that the main aim of this mob was and still is to get us all to run around like chooks in a caged environment all clucking and being part of the same egg laying process as their life long objective for all of us called conformity.

Fortunately a number of us escaped from this down fall and have gone out into the world and simply become Good Bastards.

This chook run training is an interesting phenomenon inasmuch that no one in its hierarchy wants to claim responsibility for its results.

Such things as 95% of the population having to rely on government assistance upon reaching retirement.

Gross unemployment in one of the richest places on the planet.

Unacceptable crime rates, falling living standards, increasing poverty lines and a host of other social ills.

In anyone’s language the chook run training system has failed and failed miserably.

The really good news is that Good Bastards is doing something about it.

We are developing the Good Bastards Political Manifesto, which will shortly be seeking submissions from all Good Bastards to determine just what this earth shattering document should contain.

In the meantime lets start the process with a lesson in Good Bastards Lingo. The point of this is not to teach you anything as you already know this stuff and know it well. In fact you have known it for years.

You never learnt it when you went through the chook run training, well certainly not from within the confines of the chook run corral itself called THE School.

Its about a word we all use every day. And that word is SHIT.

Shit may just be the most powerful word in Good Bastards Lingo.

You can be shit faced, shit out of luck, or have shit for brains.

With a little effort, you can get your shit together, find a place for your shit or decide to shit or get off the pot.

Some even smoke shit, while others
buy shit,
sell shit,
lose shit,
find shit,
forget shit, and tell others to eat shit and die.

Some people know their shit while others can't tell the difference between shit and shineola.

There are lucky shits, dumb shits, crazy shits, and sweet shits.

There is bullshit, chicken shit and horseshit and none them came out of their respective names sakes arses.

You can throw shit,
sling shit,
catch shit,
or duck when shit hits the fan.

You can give a shit or serve shit on a shingle.

You can find yourself in deep shit or be happier than a pig in shit.

Some days are colder than shit,
some days are hotter than shit,
and some days are just plain shitty.

Some music sounds like shit,
things can look like shit, and there are times when you feel like shit.

You can have too much shit,
the right shit,
the wrong shit or a lot of weird shit.

You can carry shit, have a mountain of shit, or find yourself up shit creek without a paddle.

Sometimes everything you touch turns to shit, and other times you swim in a lake of shit and come out smelling like a rose.

When you stop to consider all the facts, it's the basic building block of creation.

And remember, once you know your shit, you don't need to know anything else!

You could even tell others about this if you give a shit...

So if there are any chook run masters out there take this and shove it up your shitty arse you politically correct bastards and see if I give a shit.

Here endth today’s lesson in Good Bastards Lingo as we march strongly on in the war against political correctness.
 

What's Relative?
Effort that’s what. A sharp axe and a strong arm will fall the tallest tree.

Having said that it should also be noted that what you put in is in direct proportion to what you get out.

So if your not getting what you want in life, your understanding of that statement is entirely relevant.

Just go to the beginning and start then go to the middle and keep going until you reach the end. Not really that difficult once you know this stuff. But then I’m the smartest bastard there is, so it is the sort of stuff you would expect to hear from me.

To put it in a nutshell; much effort, much prosperity.

Steve Flynn’s Irish Archives
Paddy and Mick worked together and both were laid off, so they went to the
unemployment office. When asked his occupation, Paddy answered, "Panty Stitcher. I sew the elastic onto ladies cotton panties and thongs."
The clerk looked up panty stitcher. Finding it classified as unskilled labour, she gave him £45 a week unemployment benefit.

Next, Mick was asked his occupation. "Diesel Fitter" he replied.
Since Diesel Fitter was a skilled job, the clerk gave Mick £90 a week.
When Paddy found out, he was furious. He stormed back into the office to find out why his friend and co-worker was collecting double his benefit.

The clerk explained "Panty stitchers are unskilled and Diesel Fitters are skilled labour."

"What skill?" yelled Paddy. "I sew the elastic on the panties and the
thongs. All that lazy bastard Mick does is put them over his head and says: "Yep, Diesel Fitter."

A few comments from a concerned Good Bastard
It was not that long ago that it meant something to be a New Zealander. It meant that we bloody well stood up for right against wrong, and when we were called to stand with the forces of freedom, we took our place, and we bloody well stood, and we were counted!

And now, as the biggest despot on the face of the planet is about to be called to account for his crimes, what do we do? Stand on the sidelines and whine and moan about how bad war is, and how many Iraqis are about to be killed. We don't remember that freedom has it's price to pay.

To those who are concerned that a few thousand Iraqis will die in this war, remember, Saddam Hussien and the Ba'ath Party have already killed hundreds of thousands of Iraqi's in a reign of terror. I never saw Keith Locke protesting about THAT! (Two faced unprincipled communist wanker!)

And why is Australia so keen to get in to the war, look north my observant people. If you had Indonesia sitting above you, you would make damn sure that you were best buddies with the biggest kid on the block! Makes sense, doesn't it. Only problem there is that in order to maintain a buffer zone between us and Indonesia, our Aussie mates are putting their asses on the line, and we are freeloading! Again!!! Please remember mates, not all kiwis are gutless.

Lets take our place in the world again, stand up and fight with those who would do their part to make the world safer!


 

Helens Message for George W
At a press conference today, Helen Clark announced that she's was going back on the Campaign Trail to further send a message to George Bush

"To prepare myself," she said, "I have shaved off all my pubic hair. From now until the war, I shall sit on the chair with the former Vice President, and may occasionally flash my legs apart without wearing any panties. This will send a strong message to America."

"What is that message?" gasped astonished reporters at the news of this rather startling announcement.

To which Helen replied, "Read my lips, no more Bush."

The Un
The U.N. is a place where governments opposed to free speech demand to be heard!

The Good Bastards Rugby Club

Diary the 22nd 23rd and 24th of August for the Good Bastards Rugby World Cup in Christchurch. Bit more of an announcement on this coming up soon so stay tunned.

Join the Good Bastards Rugby Club. Click here.

There is a new study out about women and how they feel about their arse.
I thought the results were pretty interesting. 85% of women think their arse is too big... 10% of women think their arse is too little... The other 5% say That they don't care- they love him and would have married him anyway.

Let My Mother Do It....
Inspection Teams....
Have you noticed anything fishy about the inspection teams who have arrived in Iraq? They're all men! How in the name of the United Nations does anyone expect men to find Saddam's stash? We all know that men have a blind spot when it comes to finding things. For crying' out loud! Men can't find the dirty clothes basket.

Men can't find the bowl of jelly until it falls out of the cupboard and splatters on the floor.... and these are the people we have sent into Iraq to search for hidden weapons of mass destruction?

I keep wondering why groups of mothers weren't sent in. Mothers can sniff out secrets quicker than a drug dog can find a gram of dope. Mothers can find gin bottles that dads have stashed in the attic beneath the rafters. They can sniff out a diary two rooms and one floor away. They can tell when the lid of a cookie jar has been disturbed and notice when a quarter inch slice has been shaved off a chocolate cake. A mother can smell alcohol on your breath before you get your key in the front door and can smell cigarette smoke from a block away.

By examining laundry, a mother knows more about their kids than Sherlock Holmes. And if a mother wants an answer to question, she can read an offender's eyes quicker than a homicide detective.

So... considering the value a mother could bring to an inspection team, why are we sending a bunch of old men who will rely on electronic equipment to scout out hidden threats?

My mother would walk in with a wooden soup spoon in one hand, grab Saddam by the ear, give it a good twist and snap, "Young man, do you have any weapons of mass destruction?" And God help him if he tried to lie to her.

She'd march him down the street to some secret bunker and shove his nose into a nuclear bomb and say, "Uh, huh, and what do you call this, mister?" Whap! Thump! Whap! Whap! Whap! And she'd lay some stripes across his bare arse with that soup spoon, then march him home in front of the whole of Baghdad.

He'd not only come clean and apologize for lying about it, he'd cut every lawn in Baghdad for free for the whole summer.
Inspectors ... You want the job done? Call my mother

The Veteran
A protest raged on a courthouse lawn, round a makeshift stage they charged on. Fifteen hundred or more they say, had come to burn the flag that day.

A boy held up the folded flag, cursed it and called it a dirty rag.
A man pushed through the angry crowd with an old gun shouldered proud.
His uniform jacket was old and tight, he had polished each button, shiny and
bright.
He crossed the stage with military grace until he and the boy stood face to face. Then the old man broke the silence.

"Freedom of speech, is worth dying for,
good men are gone, they live no more.
All so you can stand on this courthouse lawn,
and ramble on from dusk to dawn.
But before the flag gets burned today,
this old veteran is going to have his say.
My father died on a foreign shore,
in a war they said would end all wars.
Tommy and I weren't even full grown,
before we fought in a war of our own.
Tommy died on Iwo Jima's beach,
in the shadow of a hill he couldn't reach.
Where five good men raised this flag so high,
that the whole world could see it fly.
I got this bum leg that I still drag,
fighting for this same old flag.
There's but one shot in this old gun,
so now it's time to decide which one.
Which one of you will follow our lead,
to stand and die for what you believe?"

The boy who had called it a dirty rag, handed the veteran the folded flag.
The crowd got quiet as they walked away, to talk about what they heard that day.
So the battle for the flag this day was won, by a loyal veteran with a single gun, who for one last time, had to show to some, that these colours will never, never run.

It is the veteran, not the preacher, who has given us freedom of religion.
It is the veteran, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the veteran, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech. It is the veteran, not the campus organizer, who has given us freedom to assemble.

It is the veteran, not the lawyer, who has given us the right to a fair trial.
It is the veteran, not the politician, who has given us the right to vote.
It is the veteran, who salutes the flag, who serves under the flag, whose coffin is draped by the flag.

A Bit Of A Worry
There was a couple married for quite some time and they had a boy some 5-6 years old. As usually happens in most of the marriages the relationship between the couple was turning sour. So finally it reached such a stage that they thought it was better for them to be divorced than carry on such a relationship.

So they consulted a lawyer. But the big question was who would have the kid. In the hearing in the court it was decided that this choice should be left on the kid. So the judge asked "son, would you like to stay with your mummy ?"

Kid said NO mummy beats me.

So the judge asked "so then, would you like to stay with your Dad then?"

Kid said ABSOLUTELY NOT, Dad beats me.

Now the judge was in a dilemma and was not able to decide what to do...after pondering for some time he asked the child with whom he would like to live.

The child said he would like to live with the New Zealand cricket team.

The judged was surprised and asked why, and the child answered Because they never beat anybody....
 

Peter Campion (Ernie Dingos Brother)
Pete has sent in these claiming they were things that were from a list of complaints received by various companies around the world.

However His tall black pine mate Barry Wilson has advised me that that is all bullshit. In fact these are things that actually happened in Peters own house
1. I want some repairs done to my barbeque as it has backfired and burnt my knob off.
2. I wish to complain that my father hurt his ankle very badly when he put his foot in the hole in his back passage. (Peters Son)
3. And their 18-year-old son is continually banging his balls against my fence.
4. I wish to report that the tiles are missing from the outside toilet roof. I think it was that bad wind the other night that blew them off.
5. I am writing on behalf of my sink, which is coming away from the wall.
6. Will you please send someone to mend the garden path, my wife tripped and fell on it yesterday and now she is pregnant?
7. I request permission to remove my drawers in the kitchen. 50% of the walls are damp, 50% have crumbling plaster and the rest are plain filthy.
8. The toilet is blocked and we cannot bath the children until it is cleared.
9. Will you please send a man to look at my water? It is a funny colour and not fit to drink.
10. Our lavatory seat is broken in half and is now in three pieces.
11. I want to complain about the bloke across the road, every morning at 6:00am his cock wakes me up and its now getting too much for me.
12. The man next door has a large erection in the garden, which is unsightly and dangerous.
13. Our kitchen floor is damp. We have two small children and would like a third so please send someone round to do something about it.
14. I am a single woman living in a downstairs flat and would you please do something about the noise made by the man I have on top of me every night. (Peters Wife)
15. Please send a man with the right tool to finish the job and satisfy my wife.
16. I have had the town clerk down on the floor six times but I still have had no satisfaction.
17. My bush is really overgrown round the front and my back passage has fungus in it. (Really Pete!!)
18. He's got this huge tool that vibrates the whole house and I just can't take it any more. (Pete’s Wife)

Little Paddy
Little Paddys exasperated mother because her son was always getting into mischief, finally asked him, "How do you expect to get into Heaven?"
The boy thought it over and said, "Well, I'll run in and out and in and out and keep slamming the door until God says, 'For Heaven's sake, Little Paddy, come in or stay out!'"

The other day he was doing his math homework. He said to himself out loud, Two plus five, that son of a bitch is seven. Three plus six, that son of a bitch is nine...."
His mother heard what he was saying and gasped, "What are you doing?"
Little Paddy answered, "I'm doing my math homework, Mum."
And this is how your teacher taught you to do it?" the mother asked.
“Yes," he answered.
Infuriated, the mother asked the teacher the next day, "What are you teaching my son in math?"
The teacher replied, "Right now, we are learning addition."
The mother asked, "And are you teaching them to say two plus two, that son of a bitch is four?"
After the teacher stopped laughing, she answered, "What I taught them was, two plus two, THE SUM OF WHICH, is four."

Gidday you GBs and welcome back Paddy.

A man was found murdered in his home over the weekend. Detectives at the scene found the man face down in his bathtub. The tub had been filled with milk, and the deceased had a banana protruding from his buttocks. Police suspect a cereal killer

A kick from Kickakoon (the outback) moves to Sydney and the indoor plumbing amazes him. He's so intrigued by the way the toilets work that he goes to the Sewage Disposal Plant to check it out. One of the inspectors shows him to the conveyor belt that carries all the bowel movements.
As the piles of shit parade by them, the inspector says, "You can tell by inspection who the assorted faeces belong to. See that one? I'm sure it's the turd of a Greek. See the humus, and the tomato seeds?"
"And this next one is obviously the turd of a Chinaman or a Jap... see the fish eyes and the rice in it?"
"And this next one is surely from a queer."
The hick asks, "How can you tell it was from a queer?"
The inspector answers, "Well see: It's dented on one end!"

An industrious turkey farmer was always experimenting with breeding to perfect a better turkey. His family was fond of the drum stick for dinner and there were never enough legs for everyone. After many frustrating attempts, the farmer was relating the results of his efforts to his friends at the general store. "Well, I finally did it! I bred a turkey that has 6 legs!"
They all asked the farmer how it tasted.
"Don't know" said the farmer. "Never could catch the son of a bitch!!!"

Harold is 82 and having some prostate problems. After examining him, the doctor gives him a specimen jar and says "Take this home with you, and try to produce a semen specimen. Stop by tomorrow and drop it off so I can run a few tests."
Harold takes the jar and heads home. The next day Harold comes in and asks to speak with the doctor. When he is taken into the office, the doctor asks how he made out.
"Not good, Doc." Says Harold. "I went home and tried to do what you said. I tried with my right hand 'til it was cramped from the arthritis. no luck. I tried with my left hand, until I had blisters... no luck. I asked my wife to help me out, so she tried with her left hand and with her right hand.... no luck. She even tried with her mouth. She tried with her teeth in, and she tried with
her teeth out.... no luck. Then we called Edna, next door, to see if she could help...."
"Good Grief man!" exclaimed the doctor, "You asked your neighbour to help you?"
"Yep." says Harold; "None of us could get the lid off that fucking jar."

A nurse says to a girl in the maternity ward, "Would you like your husband to be present at the birth?"
he says, "I'm afraid I don't have a husband, or a boyfriend. I'm unattached...I'll be having my baby on my own."
After the birth, the nurse says to the girl, "You have a healthy bouncing baby, but the baby is black."
The girl says, "I was down on my luck, so I took a job in a porno movie where the lead man was black."
The nurse says, "The baby also has blonde hair."
The girl says, "There was a Swedish guy in the movie, too."
The nurse says, "The baby also has slanted eyes."
The girl says, "There was a Chinaman in the movie, too."
Then the nurse hands the baby to the girl. The girl spanks it, and it cries out.
The girl says, "That's a relief. I was afraid the little bastard was gonna bark."

Old buggers this week...

Nick
ntrott@xtra.co.nz


 

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Last word from Paddy
Seventy to One Hundred Billion dollars Bush bill to pay for the war.

And tens of millions of people are starving, programs searching for a cure to cancer and aids could sure do with a chunk of that. But no, that’s not important.

The issue; 3000 people lost their lives in an act against the USA for their supporting Israel’s constant harassment of the virtually defenceless Palestine.

While that was a massive tragedy is it justification to risk the increase in recriminations around the world such as the Bali Bombing?

Well over three thousand people a day worldwide die from lung cancer and heart disease. Why don’t they bomb the cigarette factories if they want to save lives?

Another thing that bothers me: This action of war without the UN’s approval, surely that must make Bush and Blair and Howard war criminal!

You and I have to live within the rules regardless of how right or wrong we think they may be and if we don’t we are in deep shit. Bastards locked me up once for not paying parking tickets.

It seems George W doesn’t have to abide by those same principles.

I’m sure the W stands for “Wanker”.

Now that the war is underway and it looks like a walk in the park, some folk are saying “Well maybe its all right”

Tell that to the kin of the poor buggars getting slaughtered in their own helicopters.

It would be nice to think the 350 000 conscripts and the 100 000 plus guards will all surrender. Maybe they will, lets hope so. That’s 200 000 more than is in the coalition forces. Fexing lot of people to be fighting.

What will this despots last stand be!!!!!! No doubt his war is yet to begin, that is if he is still alive. He will be planning on going out in a show of shit sparks and flames and taking as many with him as he can. Lets hope I’m dead wrong on that.

Downunder, Australia in particular we are prime targets for recriminatory action.

Why didn’t they just shut down Iraq. Block off all the roads and air space and set up food stations and safe havens just outside the boarders for the innocent people of Iraq to enable them to escape with dignity.

Why not offer a billion to anyone who can knock him off? Might have a go meself with a few Good Bastards for that sort of money.

Hollywoods pretty good with make up, why not parachute a thousand Saddam look-alikes into the country and confuse the frig out of everyone.

Would the real Saddam please stand up.

I’m not out there in the streets protesting, as I think they are pissing into the wind. I don’t think they are wrong with their assertions though.

 

 

This weeks wacky site is
One for Bloody Leo. He would like us all to think he is a smart bastard and on some things he is. Like which horses to back that are going to loose, or which snow freeze ice cream machines will give you the shits if you eat their ice creams and stuff like that. Well here is his test.
http://www.dur.ac.uk/t.m.jackson/intelligentietest.htm
 

Many Thanks Every week we receive jokes, stories, photos, cartoons and items of interest from all over the world. Many of these we receive several times, some we have already used and others for whatever reasons we don’t use. We receive far more than we can use which gives us a continuous access of what we think is good material. If you have sent in material and it wasn’t used or someone else was credited, we thank you for your contribution. All material is displayed herein in good faith on the basis that it is allowed to be used in forums such as this. If any material is used that should not have been. Please advise immediately and it will be withdrawn and an apology given. Many Thanks! Paddy Sweeney

 

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

The Good Bastards world Cup; Find out about our Rugby Club

The Good Bastards Hall of Fame:  Check out some real Great Good Bastards

Good Bastards Hall of Fame Nominations:  Nominate who you think should be

The Good Bastards Archives: Heaps of past news and great gags

The Good Bastards Gold Nugget: Write a Good bastard Story and win the Nugget

Good Bastards Stories:  Read stories written by other Good Bastards

The Good Bastards Competitions:  You could win stuff, give it a go.

Good Bastards, the book: Read the first chapter

 

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Last Update: 01/04/2003

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