What A Load Of Bollocks

By way of what is quite possibly the single most mind-numbingly tedious document it has ever been my displeasure to peruse, some London based Market Research Organization reports that public confidence in our Government's ability to successfully execute the Olympic ideal in 2012 is somewhat less than total....

The BBC distil and report on elements of the document under the banner headline

Public 'fearing Olympics failure'.

"Nearly nine out of 10 Britons do not think the government is capable of managing the 2012 Olympics"

Only 9 out of 10? And does it really take 48 pages of meaningless figures and faff to suggest that the 2012 Games are destined to be nothing but an utter fucking shambles? (How much did Opinium charge for this horse-shit? And - more pertinently - who paid for it?)

Mark Hodson, head of research at Opinium, is quoted by the BBC as saying:

"Nearly a third of Brits still think that the Games will not provide any long-term benefits to the UK".

Hodson's statement implies that some two-thirds or more of Briton's do believe that there will be some long term benefit. Just who the fuck are these people?

Predictably, a Government 'Droid Department for Culture, Media and Sport spokesman is also quoted in the BBC report, saying:

"We have in place the experience and expertise... to deliver a fantastic Games and long term legacy that will benefit millions of people for decades to come."

Correction: this government have the experience and expertise to lie and cheat, line their own pockets, bully the populace and.... that is about it. And as far as that legacy and those benefits as espoused by the 'Droid go, I rather suspect that the Government has already started as it means to go on...

Bastards, one and all.

To All Of The Moaning Bastards Out There

The ones who have been e-mailing me, whining because I haven't been blogging of late.

You know who you are. More pertinently, so do I.

Anyway, here is a post - just for you.


A European Court of Justice (ha!) ruling has determined that the UK Treasury should refund something in the order of £3,500,000 to Marks and Spencer because said Treasury have for some years wrongly defined a teacake as a biscuit. Or it might be the other way round.





Either way, the judgment is that the VAT collected since 1994 on the sale of these difficult to identify biscuits teacakes - revenue which was then forfeited by Marks and Spencer to the UK Treasury - is to be refunded.

Or is it?

A Revenue and Customs spokesperson said:

"This is a very complex judgment on which it would be premature to make any comment until the House of Lords has handed down its judgment,"


Wriggling bastards. My own accounts are disorganized complex but that doesn't stop the VAT Nazis from poking their noses in whenever it suits them.

And the point is?

Well, you might think that this posting is intellectually lite. Or trite. Shite, even. At least though, it has cost you, the British tax-payer nothing.

Question arises to me: how much do we - the tax-paying victims - pay through those taxes to fund the existence of cunts who contribute nothing more to our way of life than deciding that the sale of a Gingerbread Man with chocolate coating will attract VAT unless the chocolate used "amounts to no more than a couple of dots for the eyes"?

Utterly useless, sponging bell-ends with non-jobs.

Anyway, there's your post. Now fuck off and leave me alone. I'm off to have a good scratch now, and may post something with a little more meaning later. Or not.

Sabbatical Over....

Elmer's back!

Did you miss me, all three hundred of you?

Thought I had abandoned you?

Nah.


I sustained an injury was all, and was damned if I was going to involve myself in constructing lengthy (or even shorty) prose with only one good hand, when there were much better things to be doing with it.

Anyway, thankfully, the plaster is now off, and I hope now to be able to dust off the cereberum and find something worthwhile to write about.

There goes my weekend!

Meanwhile, rumours abound elsewhere of dirty deeds, subterfuge, and a spy in our (or is it his?) midst.

We live in interesting times...

Most Senselessly Risky Link Competition

Q1. Is this the single-most ill-advised link, ever?

Q2. Who has taken the most senseless risk - me, for posting the link, or you, for clicking on it?


Answers, by e-mail please, to: elmerqgooseburgerATgooglemail.com by 10th January 2008.

Any answers submitted after that date should be sent on a postcard to:

Prisoner no: 6213889705 Gooseburger
Boiler-Suite
Death Row
Orange County
Guantanamo Bay

and marked, "I told you so".

The Parable Of Dave The Hen

Dave came home from the pub late one Friday evening stinking drunk (as he often did), and crept into bed beside his wife who was already asleep.

Giving her a kiss on the cheek, he then fell asleep.

When he awoke, he found a strange man standing at the end of his bed wearing a long flowing, white robe.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Dave, "and what are you doing in my bedroom?"

The mysterious man answered: "This isn't your bedroom and I'm St Peter."

Dave was stunned: "You mean I'm dead!?!! That can't be! I have so much to live for, I haven't said goodbye to my family. . . you've got to send me back straight away."

St Peter replied "Yes, you can be reincarnated, but there is a catch. We can only send you back as a dog or a hen."

Dave was devastated, but knowing there was a farm not far from his house, he asked to be sent back as a hen.

A flash of light later, and Dave found himself covered in feathers and clucking around, pecking at the ground. "This ain't so bad" he thought, until he felt this strange feeling welling up inside him.

The farmyard rooster strolled over and said "So you're the new hen, how are you enjoying your first day here?"

"It's not so bad", replies Dave. "But I have this strange feeling inside, like I'm about to explode?"

"You're ovulating", explained the rooster. "Don't tell me you've never laid an egg before?"

"Never!" replies Dave.

"Well just relax, and let it happen", advised the rooster.

So he did, and a few uncomfortable seconds later, an egg pops out from under his tail. Dave felt an immense feeling of relief sweep over him, and his emotions got the better of him as he experienced motherhood for the first time.

When Dave laid his second egg, the feeling of happiness was overwhelming and he knew that being reincarnated as a hen was the best thing that had happened to him.... ever!!!

The joy kept coming, and as he was just about to lay his third egg he felt an enormous smack on the back of his head and heard his wife shouting...

"Dave, wake up you drunken bastard, you've shit the bed...."

Cunt Of The Month

While this page would normally at this time feature a "Cunt Of The Week" post, the breathtaking arrogance and stupidity of one very special man has forced a rethink here at Gooseburger Towers, and some new accolade is required.

Yes, Tony Parsons, alleged journalist and failed novelist has outcunted all of the competition to such a dizzying degree, that there is no realistic chance of him being overhauled any time soon, hence his being crowned EQG's Cunt Of The Month.

In fewer than three-hundred words, Parsons exhibits the most appalling ignorance and xenephobia toward Britain's oldest allies: he attacks the integrity and professionalism of the Portuguese Ambassador, the Portuguese Police and the Portuguese Media, and he even takes to task the Portuguese Public, referring to them as "leering bumpkins".

His finishing touch is to advise the Portuguese Ambassador to Britain, Senor Antonio Santana Carlos thus:

"if you can't say something constructive.... then you just keep your stupid, sardine-munching mouth shut."

Three Four things immediately occur:

1) Shut up, Parsons, you utter cunt.
2) You got something against fish, Parsons? Might explain why your ex-wife prefers women you putrid little sausage-jockey.
3) The Press Complaints Commission will be interested in Parson's views on the Portuguese; he has blatantly contravened sections 12(i) and (ii) of the PCC's Code of Practise; please feel free to vent your feelings about this article and register a formal complaint.
4) I am so ultra-pissed at this cunt, I can feel a whole new blog coming on....

Madeleine McCann - Trick or Treat Trick?

The Phil McCann Way To Fitness

Kate McCann, having complained of an unsympathetic press due to her slim, boyish physique, goes on the Auntie Phil diet, with dramatic results....

Quiz Of The Week

Something of an oddity I stumbled upon, somewhere on the net.

Does the girl turn clockwise, or anti-clockwise?

Apparently, there is no correct answer, as such.... 'though I am beginning to think this is a "hoax" optical illusion.... unless you know better?

Richard Branson - A World Beating Mong

Tycoon, magnate, mogul, nabob and peoples' hero Richard Branson, is quoted thus in today's Daily Telegraph online:

"....people generally accept around the world that the Portuguese police and press overstepped their mark."

His comments relate to the stance taken by the Portuguese Police in conferring arguido status upon those other two globe-trotters, paragons of virtue, child abandonment professionals to the Queen, and International Ambassadors for Neglected Children Everywhere,* Kate and Gerry McCann.

Take a note, Mr Branson; the legal process of a national state - any national state - is the concern of the state in question, and is none of your fucking business.

Your concern for the McCann parents' "dilemma" is as transparent and as false as your cuddly nice-guy image. You are a ruthless, self-serving businessman, who probably thinks altruism was a U.S. President.

This is either the worst business judgement you have made (and there have been a few - including that little episode in 1971 when you defrauded HM Customs) - or the establishment big boys really have got to you.

Either way, please do the world a favour. Next time you decide to act the hero and leap off of a tall building, please be kind enough to dispense with the harness first?


*Except Portugal, apparently.

How A SlenderTone Vibrating Belt Changed My Life

More inspired lunacy from the archives of the comic genius that is Harry Hutton;


"I recently bought a SlenderTone System Abs Belt.

Three months ago, I was a fat cunt. Now I'm a fat cunt with a vibrating belt..."

Speedcat Hollydale - The World's Second Nicest Blogger

Speedcat Hollydale - whether you love him, or hate him (and personally, I hate him*) - has set a new world record in the blogosphere, by simultaneously awarding "Blogging That Hits The Mark" status to no less than 1094 fellow bloggers.

Naturally, EQG is proud to be a recipient of this illustrious award, and wishes to convey his gratitude to Speedcat.

Moreover, I would like to thank Speedy for something else of great importance; reminding me that no matter how nutty I think I might be going, there is, out there, someone even crazier than myself.

"Thanks, Speedcat.

*And only joking".

You got to love a man like that.

The Funniest Joke In The World - Redux

Back in the summer, I posted here what I consider to be the funniest joke in the world.

At the time, I tweaked the HTML settings so that the post font appeared so tiny as to be unreadable.

The only practical way to read it was to copy and paste the text into an editor, and expand the font to taste; I did this to protect the sensibilities of ladies, children, David Duff, and anyone else who might have an axe to grind.

Following a comment from dumkopf** that he was unable to copy and paste the text successfully, and refusing now to defer to all those precious types likely to complain, I reproduce below the world's funniest joke, but this time so that no one reading this page should miss it.

**Actually, the comment from dumkopf is a figleaf. The real reason behind my reposting this is that Beenzzz likes a man who talks / writes dirty. Allegedly.


With thanks to Peter Cook:


There are two guys talking. The first one says:

“You know, the day I met you, I thought you were a cunt. And every time we’ve met since I thought you were a cunt. And it can’t just be me, because everyone who’s ever met you thinks you are a cunt, and probably everyone who will ever meet you will think you’re a cunt. In fact, you’ve got to be the second-biggest cunt in the world.”

The second guy thinks about this for a while.

“So... the day you met me you thought I was a cunt?”
“Yep.”
“And every day since you’ve thought I was a . . .”
“Right.”
“And everyone I’ve ever met thinks I’m a . . .”
“You got it.”
“And everyone I will ever meet will think I’m a . . .”
“Uh-huh.”
“So how comes”, he says, triumphantly, “I’m only the second biggest cunt in the world?”

The first guy looks at him with total contempt. "Because you’re a cunt”, he says.

EQG's "Exasperatingly Difficult To Solve Odd One Out Quiz"™

Updated!

In a change of format, this Friday's "Cunt of the Week" competition has been replaced by Elmer Quigley Gooseburger's "Exasperatingly Difficult To Solve, Odd One Out Quiz"™.

All you have to do to win is to correctly determine from the list of suspects adversaries shown, who you believe is the odd one out, and why!

The options are:

Dr Crippen (H H); Mr Christ (Jesus H); Mr Branson (R); Dr Dolittle (J); Felinus Pinkus; Dr Shipman (H); Dr McCann (G); Mr "What's up Doc?" Bunny (B); Dr Bellamy (D); Dr McCann (K); Mr Bushell (G); Dr Mengele (J); Dr Spock (B) and Mr Hitler (A).

Answers on a postcard to:


Clarence Mitchell
Freemasons Arms
Bohemian Grove
Rothermere


Alternatively, you can dial 0906 GOOSEBURGER* where you can leave your answer following a brief 20 minute recording detailing the rules.

Finally, you can post your answers in the comments box below.


The first correct winner drawn from all entries will win a second-hand Renault Megane**, complete with bugging devices, and featuring its very own novelty nodding Cadaver Dog!

Good luck! The correct answer, and the name of the winner will be posted Saturday 6th October.

* Calls charged at £94.00 per minute, no refunds.
** Of course, it might be a jeep.Or a Micra...whatever.



Update: The answer to Elmer Quigley Gooseburger's "Exasperatingly Difficult To Solve, Odd One Out Quiz"™ is published below.

You sure are going to kick yourselves!


The answer is: Dr McCann (G) - all of the others have a moustache. Sorry, no prizes awarded this time...

Christmas And The Case Against Care In The Community

Christmas comes but once a year.

To us normal folk - and yes, Duff, that does include me - Christmas is one of those things forced upon us by the marketing spivs in suits, and which typically might have an annual shelf-life of 12 hours to 12 days.

But not for this pair of cheerful simpletons from South Wales, oh no.

As early as 4th September, newly-weds Craig and Kelly Kitchener, who live in Rhondda, had wrapped each other's presents, decorated a tree, and plonked a nine foot tall inflatable Satan Santa outside of their home.

They are quoted by the BBC as saying:

"We just wanted to get into the Christmas spirit. We are like big kids but we both love Christmas".

Mrs Kitchener goes on to say:

"All I'm hoping for is snow for Christmas day now and it will be perfect", while her husband added: "If I had a choice I wouldn't bring them (the decorations) down".


It's enough to make a grown man cry. These chumps not only have the vote (and it's because so many chumps of their ilk do have the vote that we have the shysters in Governement that we do), but they are also most likely elegible for jury service.


Such is one of the less harmful, but most noisome legacies of Care in the Community.

Where Irony Meets Morony

And now to Wales, where the BBC report that a gang of twelve disgruntled schoolboys have been excluded for setting a school blazer on fire.

Excuse me, but exclusion do I hear? Clearly a little effective correction is in order.

Instead of being excluded, this dirty-dozen should not only be made to write "I must not set school blazers on fire" a thousand times each, they should also have bunsen burners - set on a red flame - applied to their testicles.

Then they should be jumped upon by the entire teaching staff.

Finally, they should be forced to attend a series of extended lectures on rights and civil liberties by that crushing bore, David Duff.

That would sort them out.

Little bastards.

EQG's "Scottish Cultural Awareness Theme"™ (S.C.A.T.) Page

By way of a tribute to the Flying Rodent I am giving over an entire page of this blog to celebrate all the great things to have come out of Scotland.

Er....





Hmmm....





Will this do?


Coming next week: Golden memories of watersports in Wales.

Prince Harry Dead? Dead Drunk, More Likely...

More non-news from the BBC, who report today that some non-entity, trying to make a name for himself as an "artist", intends to exhibit a sculpture of a "Dead Prince Harry" at the Trafalgar Hotel in central London.

"Artist" Daniel Edwards said:

"Prince Harry's spirit must have died the day they told him he couldn't serve. That's what this memorial is about."


What a bunch of crap.


This insult to our fine young King-in-waiting has nothing to do with Prince Harry's spirit "dying" when he learned that he would not be sent into a warzone; it is simply self-serving publicity on the part of some jumped up Damien Hirst / Tracey Emin wannabee.

In any event, young Harry's spirit did anything but die at the news that he would not be going to Iraq; below is a photograph of the young pup with his older brother on learning the news....



















Update: The Postman has a far more in-depth, and interesting take on this....

Leicester Mercury And The Suppression Of Free Speech

Peering into The Mirror this afternoon (as one does) and I see a number of comments alleging that The Whining Midget™ and Skeletor's™ local rag, the Leicester Mercury are up to their old tricks of burning the books, 21st Century style; deleting any comment they deem "negative" to the McCanns.

So of course I thought I would give it a whirl, just to see what gives: (click on image to expand and note the time 15:14)

















I then went to boil an egg - runny side up - but sneaked back and refreshed the web page, oh, no more than two minutes later, and saw this:


















Goose no more!

Further proof, if any were needed, that The Mercury remains a mere dead-tree provincial fish-wrapper; a cankerous pile on the anus that is the Daily Mail and General Trust Group, and with an editorial policy which would have made Goebbels proud.

Enough to make me call the editor of the Mercury, Nick Carter, a c**t, except I have made a promise of no more swearing on the blog....

Cunt Of The Week

This might be the very topic that the phrase "spoilt for choice" was made for.

This is a new feature to the blog, but one which will appear very, very regularly. Weekly, even.

While Blair achieved only one thing - the taking of cuntiness to new heights - his resignation - and consequent absence from TV, radio, newspapers etc - regrettably, disqualify him from this week's competition.

Please be assured, however, that if he does manage to do anything of note now he is out of office, and we are again treated to his obnoxious grin, or his simpering, "fuck you" tones on the telly or radio, he will be the cuntidate of choice.

Until then, this week's cuntenders are:

1) The Police Chief (s?) defending the indefensible;
2) The fucking cowardly and inept PCSOs defended by the above cunt(s)
3) Gerry Fucking McCann
4) Clarence "the cunt" Mitchell
5) Richard Branson


Regrettably, neither David Duff nor Iain Dale are eligible for entry into The Cunt Of The Week competition; Duff, because he is not a cunt (he is, in fact, a nice guy) - and Dale, who is also not a cunt (but only because he is a prick).


And this week's winner is.....

Yes, in the face of strong competition - entrants including one or more British "Police" Community Support Officers who declined to jump into a pond to save a drowning child, because, wait for it, they were not "properly trained" ....the winner is....."


It' s a three-way tie!

Gerry McCann, Clarence Mitchell and Richard Branson are ALL cunts of the week (and every fucking week).

Cunts.

Next week: Cunts of the week; mixed doubles: can Kate and Gerry pull through?