The idea was an extremely promising one with all the usual winning ingredients: Z-list celebrities, a predictable format and a telephone vote. Each week famous celibate celebs would be taken to some temptingly erotic location and titillated until they gave in – last one standing (or unencumbered by furry handcuffs) was the winner. However, the first episode was screened from Amsterdam and the temptation proved too much for every celibate on the program before filming proper had started – they ended up with 4 minutes and 32 seconds which was suitable for broadcast even after the watershed. The series was finally killed when they realised the ten celebrities who had taken part were the industry’s entire supply of celibates (and that three of them had lied to get on the program).
Archive for the ‘People’ Category
These fall broadly into three sub-categories:
- Comedy – lurch about swinging wildly and can’t hit a thing and can amuse you for hours but if you’re a good friend make sure they don’t hurt themselves.
- Professional – can hit really hard and are what Tasers were invented for. aka “twats” or “psycopaths”.
- Literal – they are called “punchy drunks” because they drink all the damn punch… you might want to Scotchgard your carpet.
A terrible condition which afflicts anyone whose job involves repeating a breezy greeting or repetitive and insincere offer of assistance to people they really don’t give a crap about. This results in the creation of a whole host of new fictionary words like:
- Jawonanysawses?
- Jalykadrink?
- Pastrywivat?
- Enthintweet?
- Pliskallmibakon<incomprehensibly babbled phone number>by.
- Wojjalyke?
- Kannagajennything?
- Crispynutsothersnaks?
- Galarge?
And the eponymous kanelpyu… diagnosis is relatively straightforward as the questioner is distorting your reply in a similar way so anything vaguely resembling an expected answer will result in the delivery of the correct item. For instance when asked Crispynutsothersnaks? If the reply ”A packet of penis please.” results in a packet of peanuts rather than a call to the police… they are definitely suffering from kanelpyu.
Izabluddy clown innit? Bowtize fulla booozze... leeme aloooone...
Ok, you’ve got me, I put this in because of the 7 dwarves thing and can’t think of a gag…
Grumpy drunks… they’re grumpy, don’t invite them to parties…
The end result of eating paté which has passed it’s sell by date.
Prone to laughing at absolutely nothing until their eyes look just as red as Blubby Drunks.
Very cute when they fall asleep, mildly annoying when they snore, yucky when they dribble in your crotch.
Depending on your mood and their attractiveness they can be great fun or a total liability.
If attractiveness is the deciding factor – have more punch!
If your mood is the deciding facor and you are any of the other Drunkenness (vb.(tr)) types – apart from Punchy Drunks – drink more punch!
Highly likely to become Sleepy Drunks with the rapidity of a battery operated toy.
The act of Cucumber Trumpeting involves hollowing out the fruit and, by adding the appropriate holes, playing it like a trumpet. Honestly this sounds more like a flute or penny whistle to me, but I just have to go with the reasearch and trumpeting appears, at present, to be the popular term for this activity.
PS This may be some sort of sexual euphemism I’ve failed to understand.
Blubby Drunks careen around your party all evening crying and talking in that strange way where all the words run together until abruptly swinging into one of the other drunk types when they aren’t getting enough attention. Don’t let them near the punch – unless it’s our very own Bovril Punch – because they’ll cry and snot into it and fruit punches taste really crap with salt in them.
If you can give someone a false sense of security – can you give them a genuine sense of insecurity?
Wimborne (a.k.a Wimborne Pants): Originating near the Dorset/Somerset border this is a completely non-contact, defensive art practiced principally in public houses.
Scenario: Having accidentally jostled a fellow customer you are confronted with a very irate “Oy mate! Did you spill my pint?“
Escape Phase 1: You turn 10 degrees towards the assailant, widen your eyes, opens your mouth as wide as possible and shout the word “Wimborne” without closing your mouth.
Escape Phase 2: The assailant usually retreats rapidly at this juncture but if they don’t you can follow up with a quick tilt of the head, rolling your eyes upwards, mouth still wide, and then utter the words “Wimborne pants”, again without closing your mouth. Done loudly and firmly this will end the encounter.
Advanced: practitioners have perfected a plaintive version where the pants-phase is done with a lowered voice and a pathetic slightly questioning tone. Done correctly this should result in the assailant buying the you a pint.
Resting between bouts...
Well you have to don’t you – their just so damned versatile… scrambled, boiled, omeletted.
It's in here somewhere...
An Orangutang is an strongly flavoured orange sweet which has been in your pocket without the wrapper for a minimum of one month (the duration of a UK Summer) picking up all the fluff.
This results in a fluffy orange object which can still be absurdly appealing after a night of heavy drinking.
Dog Gin & Tonic That’s a finger bowl because of the starter you ordered you idiot…
- 5 litres of boiling water
- 1 Jar of Bovril
- 1 litre of cheap Vodka
PS If anyone out there is insane enough to actually make this thing, can you let me know if it’s any good?
A wine punch popular in Spain and Portugal.
When made for local people it contains:
- red wine,
- chopped or sliced fruit (often orange, apple, and/or peach; occasionally kiwi or banana),
- a sweetener such as honey or orange juice,
- a small amount of added brandy, triple sec, or other spirits.
- carbonated water
When made for irritating British tourists the red wine, orange juice and carbonated water is replaced by urine which saves money and has the advantage of making the punch get more and more alcoholic as it is recycled during the evening.
That unmistakable all year round ruddiness of the raging alcoholic.
The perfect term for those moments when you meet someone so idiotic that halfwit just won’t do and quarterwit seems too harsh…
That mysterious dirt you find stuck to the inside of your glasses even though you haven’t touched them.
For rules of play and other versions click Bullshit Bingo: The Rules.
- I don’t think people are interested in…<thing people are very interested>
- I think people are tired of… <something the politician is tired of>
- We need to draw a line under this <because it makes me look bad>.
- Taking the tough decisions. Ignoring the electorate and doing things they don’t like.
- We’re consulting with those affected at every stage <but we’re going to screw them anyway>.
- There’s much left to do. Please vote for us, pretty please.
- Wait for the results of the review/enquiry. We’re postponing it and hoping you’ll forge about it.
- We’re listening. LALALALALALA! I’VE GOT MY FINGERS IN MY EARS!
- I can’t discuss individual cases… We really f****d that one up!
- I don’t accept that… Yes you’re absolutely right!
- Hard working families. Old Labour Voters.
- Doing things that make a real difference to ordinary people. Bribing the voters just prior to an election.
- Boom and bust. The economic cycle.
- Raft of Measures. A tower of ill thought out legislation which undermines personal freedom or fails to achieve its objective.
- Work is already underway. Crap I wish we’d thought of that!
- You make a co-payment and we contribute towards it. We give some of your tax back to you and you pay the rest out of taxed income.
- The electorate are sending us a message. We just got butt f*****d in a by-election.
- London is the greatest city in the world… It’s crime ridden shit hole with poor quality of life a high cost of living and over priced housing but we have to give Trump a good run for banging on about New York.
- You may think that but I couldn’t possibly comment. Yes.
- Proportionate, open and transparent. Er… bollocks!
A special magnifying device used to enhance the male ego when using the toilet.
Bailey’s floating on lager – usually garnished with a fresh cigarrette butt.
A well known Scotts pragmatist.
Round Robin – an item of spam updating you on the minutiae of other peoples lives you’d rather not know.
Here’s mine from last Christmas…
It’s been a marvellous year. Following the publication of my third novel “Jerry Gerbil’s Adventures in Combat Accountancy” (sequel to “Jerry Gerbil’s ‘I Myself’ – Misadventures with Reflexive Pronouns”) we received a substantial advance on a four book deal and sold the film rights for my first book “Stretch Limo – Sean the Chauffeur’s Guide to Advanced Stain Removal”.
This has allowed us to go ahead with Sue’s titanium leg replacements – she’s gone for the option of a Swiss Army Knife in the left leg and a 4 litre hip flask (technically more like a thigh flask as there’s more room there) with built in IV. We are leaving the “Cyberboobs” until next year – I’m pushing for GPS in the left one and a 12v jump starter in the right one but I think Sue has designs on an outboard motor.
We’ve sold the Ferrari because the ashtrays are full and changed the marble in the Sunseeker – wrong shade of pink.
All cats are healthy. Cappy’s hang gliding career was cut short after the accident (glider was only rated for 400 kilos) but he’s jet-skiing instead now. Inky has taken up oil painting and Bungy has perfected his novelty physics act with the Van der Graaf generator. Pip is in semi-retirement.
