Frankie & Lou ring in da Noo

— Say, Frankie, Happy Noo Year!

— Same ta you, Lou. Nice ta see ya.

— Swell party, eh?

— Sure, swell, swell. Say, Lou, can we, eh….

— ’Smatter Frankie?

— You know, Lou… you and eh…. me….

— Oh Jeez, Frankie! Not here…. people are starin’ already. And take your hands offa me, so help me!

— Let ‘em stare, Lou. Should old acquaintance be forgot, or what?

— For cryin’ out loud, Frankie: it’s only 1932! Gays is not socially acceptable yet. Got it?

— What you sayin’, Lou? You’re gay?

— Eh, no, no…. I meant, eh…

— You thought I was…. oh Jeez…. Look, I gotta, eh….I’ll just… Happy Noo Year, Lou.


Just sayin’

I feel depressed when I see babies,

freshly squeezed from the uterine tract,

bald heads and smelling of vomit.

So many years and tears ahead:

pain, derision,

grief, division,

not to mention


Unfortunate pink little sods!

So here’s a suggestion:

Every large metropolitan area

will have its own ornate

‘drowning pool’.

They’ll fear nothing,

feel nothing,

know nothing.

Eternity for free,

bliss-by-the-back-door type deal!

Plus, it would be a poke in the eye for a callous God.

Give it some thought, and please sign the petition.

As advertised

Hello all!

We’re having a truly memorable experience!

Arrived Wednesday to complimentary cocktails – our passport to luxury living!

Unpacked and showered in the award-winning bathroom with LCD TV. Then we took a leisurely stroll to peruse the hotel’s diverse dining  facilities, embracing the mouth-watering flavours of East and West.

Hotel is in the heart of the city centre, just five minutes from a myriad of modern amenities.

Jim and the boys are luxuriating in the 25m indoor swimming pool, and I’m here now with Rhona in the Zydeco Bar (Mezzanine level). We’re both enjoying uninterrupted views across the vibrant cityscape.

Back on Friday pm. Don’t forget to feed Tyson.


The Ballad of Busty Beecham

Busty Beecham

Liked to teach ‘em

With a whipcord in her hand.

Her punters knew

That Busty knew

Just how to take a stand.

She’d drop her drawers

To wild applause,

And dance the night away,

But cuss or spit —

Well, that was it! —

Old Busty wouldn’t play.

You could screw her blind,

She didn’t mind —

She liked it best that way.

But call her ‘Ma’am’

And don’t say ‘Damn’,

Or Busty walked away.

Busty expired —

Still loved, still desired —

Her drawers around her knees.

Now God alone

Can make her moan,

But only if He says ‘please’.


Went round the She’ff’s Office  ’bout a week ago. Plum-near broke ma toe on a contraption they got down there, some kinda noo de-vice.

— What in tha goddam hell is that, She’ff? I said.

— Called a table, he said, real uppity. ‘You might wanna wear shoes next time you come here’, he said, big grin on his face, like the hog that got the chitlins.

Damn! I hate it when folk talk to me like that, like I was bilge in a bucket. So maybe I ain’t smart, but I ain’t dumb neither.

Got so riled up I f’got to pay bail for grandma.

Too much ado

The Balsam of Peru —

A resinous kind of goo,

Found among the Kickapoo —

Like the aloo

Of the Hindoo,

Is produced by the cuckoo

And the cockatoo.

It was used as shampoo

By the Zulu,

Who carried it by caribou

Or bamboo canoe

With much hullabaloo

And ballyhoo

And the loud halloo

Of the didgeridoo

And kazoo

From Kalamazoo

To Xanadu.

This is now taboo,

So the sticky glue

Is used to woo

The shmoo

To its Waterloo

On the verdant banks

Of the Amazoo.

— It’s true!

Source: Yahoo!