Don't Ask Deidre...Ask Bill!

Life as a provincial journalist isn't all exciting interviews, scoops and front page headlines, as my acquaintance Ian Green will no doubt attest. The pressures of reduced staffing often mean that even a seasoned hack is called upon to undertake duties that might otherwise seem beneath them.

That's how I found myself pulled, at the last moment, to cover for the Birkenhead Beagle's resident agony aunt, Deidre Moffat. For over thirty years, Deidre was a mainstay of the Beagle, always ready to offer advice and 'a shoulder to cry on' to the teenage mothers of Bidston, the recovering alcoholics of Prenton and the confused homosexual bank managers of Oxton.

When, after a particularly heavy night on the Guinness, she failed to show up at the office, the then Editor, Benny Anderton, asked me to 'ghost' her column, I can't pretend I was entirely delighted. When he reminded me that I hadn't turned in my Court Report that week, however, I was shamed into stepping into Deidre's (famously size 8) shoes.

Never again. As I leafed through the pathetic pile of correspondence that had arrived in the woman's in-tray that week, I said a silent prayer of thanks to the Almighty that I had hitherto been spared such insights into the emotional traumas of the Wirral's residents.

As a professional, I nevertheless tried to muster a little enthusiasm for the task in hand, but there are only so many times you can write 'Pull yourself together, woman!' and 'Get a life, you sad individual!' before your concentration wanes.

It's a brave man who accuses Bill Blunt of a lack of empathy. I'll stand shoulder to shoulder with the unrequited lover, the man who has just discovered his wife in bed with his sister, the dipsomaniac who has lost his job as a forklift truck driver after one too many mornings on the Woodpecker. But not when they're the same person.

At least Benny Anderton never asked me to cover for Deidre again, and I'd wager that the management at the Beagle felt the £3,000 they subsequently spent on residential treatment for the Wirral's favourite agony aunt was possibly the best investment they ever made.

Not In Front Of The Children

Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, a posting over at Sugar Queen Dreams made me think. How could I find out if my blog was suitable reading for people of all ages?

As usual, it was young Jasper Blunt who came to the rescue. "Pa," he said, "you need to take the Cinema Test, which rates your blog content just as if it were a movie."

Well, having put my 'URL' to the test, it seems that Bill Blunt is not deemed suitable for children,at least not without some guidance from their parents...



This, apparently, because I mentioned the words 'death' and 'stab'.

My regular reader (and I know who you are) will doubtless be surprised, as you will be aware that this is not a place that encourages people to take knives to their enemies. And the thought that I must offer guidance to my children (who are all now in their late 30's or early 40's), before they dip into their father's writings, is not one that sits easily with me.

I must admit, I am careful with my language. I try to stay true to the maxim of my old colleague from the Birkenhead Beagle, Johnny Mercer, who famously said: 'There's no need for profanity when you can dazzle them with inanity'.

It's a brave man who calls Bill Blunt a prude, however. There are times and places when euphemism isn't enough, where only a carefully-chosen swear word will fit the bill. I won't easily sacrifice my PG rating, however, now that I've got it.

On the subject of profanity, however, I am aware that some readers have a more relaxed attitude than Bill does to the use of bad language. Such readers may enjoy this pastiche of the popular children's animation, Postman Pat, re-worked for an adult audience, which attempts to re-locate the beloved postie to a suburb in Middlesbrough.

But, please, don't press that 'Play' button unless you're prepared for more than a few shocking words...

8 Things About Me (Part 2)

I have been giving some thought to how I might best elaborate on the 8 Things You Didn't Know About Bill Blunt - particularly since some readers suspected I was hiding something.

I'll return to this theme in due course, perhaps starting with how I came so close to being banned from the USA. I don't wish to give too much away, but let's just say that an historic plaque was involved in the story, somewhere along the line...

I've returned to this theme because you may recall that I only fingered four blogs of the 8 I was required to find to continue what Justin tells me is a meme. I've now identified the other four, so here goes:

Anyone who can get a much-coveted 'R'-rating for their blog is deserving of another look. My Pal Tommy Hamburger made the faux-pas of imagining that the blog was authored by a man! After getting over his acute embarrassment, he sent me the link to Fracas' blog, and I have dipped into her pages regularly since then.
I know she saves up her tags for rainy days (and, for all I know, she may well already have revealed 8 things about herself, but she seems the kind of complex individual who would have 8 more up her sleeve, somewhere). If she lives in Doncaster, we may well read of these sooner rather than later...

Next up, a blog which would get my vote for a Thinking Blogger Award, if anyone ever had the courtesy to allow me to choose candidates for one (again). Vahe Balabanian is an Armenian living in Canada. His Hyelog blog is a window on a country we know little about in the West where, apparently, the top 10% of the population controls 40% of the wealth (making it, paradoxically, perhaps more equal than the UK, where we were always told the top 7% owned 84%). I can't be sure whether he's one of life's natural taggers, but he lists among his favourite books War & Peace by Tolstoy, and has an interest in genetics. It would be fascinating to learn more about the person behind the blog.

My next nomination comes with some trepidation. Unica and Fiona wield an enormous power behind their blog, and manage to hold down day jobs, too! They give up a deal of their time to freely assessing blogs. My trepidation arises because I note that my own humble offering is listed for a berating in the near future. I, for one, would like to know what makes these girls tick, and am hoping that their 8 'things' will give me more of an insight into their characters.

Finally, wouldn't you like to know 8 things about Kevin and Sylvie Dixie that you didn't know? Kevin and Sylvie are key parts of the team who make up Fuel My Blog, which has it's own Blog. In a remarkably short time, FMB has become a 'one-stop-shop' where you can be guaranteed to find a range of blogs that have been categorised to let you dip easily into them. It's no mean achievement, and we must doff our caps to Kevin et al for their work over the last few months. Those 8 things will be pretty interesting, I'm sure!

A reminder of the Tag Rules, for the 4 blogs listed above...

One: Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves. Two: People who are tagged need to write their own blog entry about their eight things and post these rules. Three: at the end of your entry, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names/pseudonyms/blogs. Four: Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Bill's First Big Up

Old Wally Green used to say 'Give a wide berth to any journalist who doesn't offer round their Players'. He little knew it, but his sage advice was to stand me in good stead in my subsequent career.

In those days, everybody smoked, of course. We hadn't quite reached the stage of countries like France and Spain, where it seemed to be almost compulsory, but we did our best. Helped along by seductive advertising, we may have been low in the league of European smoking addicts, but we held our own. As plucky British smokers, we always felt our brands were more distinctively superior to those of our neighbours over the Channel. Our Park Lane, our Mayfair and our Embassy led us to believe we wandered the exclusive parts of London every time we lit up.

Wally's wise words meant that it became easy to spot the tight-wad, the colleague who slyly pulled out a cigarette without giving a thought to handing them around. They, inevitably, were the ones who held onto their stories for dear life, never sharing a word of them for fear of losing a scoop.

Well, times have changed. I like to think that we've all become a little more generous now. With just two days left before the UK government implements its ban on smoking in public places, I was struck by a posting made by Sugar Queen, whose blog I stumbled on thanks to Fuel My Blog, which can always be relied upon to uncover a hidden gem.

It's a powerful piece, written from the heart, and I urge you to read it and share it with others.
It's inspired me to join my pal Tommy Hamburger, who has already publicly avowed that he intends to quit the evil weed.

And, it's earned Sugar Queen's Dream Bill Blunt's 1st Big Up! Should she wish to display the widget on her site, all she has to do is contact me, and I'll send her the necessary, courtesy of my son, Jasper, who knows a thing or two about that kind of thing.

For the sake of humanity, your help is needed!

Those who have followed the news of the mounting chaos and misery in South Yorkshire, as relentless rain has brought in its train flooding of almost epic proportions, will doubtless wish to consider how they can help the unfortunate victims.

My pal on the Doncaster Free Press, Reggie Mackeson, recently e-mailed me with an up-date on the current situation - which is bleak.

Here's what he had to say:

FLOODS HIT BENTLEY

A major flood hit on Monday evening, with the main damage occuring in Bentley & Tollbar, England.

The town's 35,000 racing pigeons were pressed into action, swiftly taking news of the disaster as far afield as Hull and Keighley, as victims were seen wandering around the streets, aimlessly muttering "chuffinnorah".

Some estimates put the damage caused as high as £45, with several priceless collections of mementos from the Balearic Isles and the Spanish Costa's damaged beyond repair. Three areas of historic burnt out cars were destroyed as the waters rose.

Many locals were woken well before their Giro arrived. The local radio station Trax reported that hundreds of residents were confused and bewildered,still trying to come to terms with the fact that something interesting had happened in Bentley & Tollbar. One such resident, 15 year old mother of 3, Tracy Sharon of Daw Lane was quoted as follows: "It was such a shock! My little Chardonnay-Madonna came running into my bedroom crying. The twins, Tyler-Morgan and Megan-Storm slept through it all. I was still shaking when I was watching Jeremy Kyle the next morning". Locals seemed determined not to be bowed, however, as looting, muggings and car crime carried on much as normal.

So far, the British Red Cross has managed to ship 4000 crates of Sunny Delight to the area to relieve the suffering of stricken locals, while rescue workers searching through the rubble have found large quantities of personal belongings, including benefit books, jewellery from Elizabeth Duke at Argos, and bone china from Pound-stretcher.

Can You Help?

Please respond generously to our appeal for food and clothing for the victims of this disaster.

Clothing is needed most of all, especially:
· Fila or Burberry baseball caps
· Kappa tracksuit tops (his or hers)
· Shell suits (female)
· White sports socks
· Rockfort boots or any other product sold in Primark

Culturally sensitive food parcels are harder to put together, but your efforts can make a real difference.

Microwave meals, tinned baked beans, ice-cream and cans of Colt 45 or Special Brew are ideal.

Please do not give anything that requires peeling.

Remember!

Just 22p buys a biro for filling in compensation claims

£2 buys chips, crisps and a blue fizzy drink for a family of 9

£5 will pay for a packet of B&H and a lighter to calm a child's nerves

Urgently required: Tinned whippet food. Bones for Jack Russell Terriers

Please do not send tents for shelter, as such luxurious accommodation may lead residents to believe they have been forcibly relocated to Doncaster.

There will be those who consider that, in an era of compassion fatigue, this is just 'another disaster'. For the people of Bentley and Tollbar, however, the situation is dire.

If it wasn't for the natural propensity of Yorkshire fowk to be able to laugh at themselves and their misfortune (honed under subsequent Conservative Governments since the 1930's), I am sure that the situation would be intolerable.

A New Day Dawns

It's not often that we awake, in the UK, to a new Prime Minister running our country. In the last 25 years, it's happened only 3 times, after all (and that's including today!). So, the occasion should give us pause to reflect, perhaps, on what the future might hold under Gordon Brown.

There are those who would dismiss Bill Blunt as someone who skips lightly across the pond of life, and ducks the hard political issues. Not so. I'm as much at ease discussing the future prospects for the nation as I am the Eurovision Song Contest. Anyone who takes even a cursory glance at the list of topics covered by my blog will see that I cast my net widely.

And so, what of this Brownian future?

Expect a big announcement on something major, soon. Just as he stunned the world by handing over responsibility for setting interest rates to the Bank of England on his first day as Chancellor, so he'll want to stamp his mark on the history books with some dramatic change. It's Gordon's way. He's a man of substance to Blair's style. He's a thinker with a rigorous, intellectual mind, where Blair was an instinctive popularist. I doubt he'll be so easily pulled into the role of lapdog to the American President in quite the way that Blair was.

For what it's worth (and I have never held a brief for the man) I think he will be good for Britain.

When Life (in all it's dismal glory) Fails to Imitate Art...

One of my favourite cinema adverts dates from a good few years ago, and promoted that 'interesting' alcoholic confection, Southern Comfort. Whenever I saw the ad, it always prompted a yearning for me to be up there, on the screen, as a part of it. You may well remember it, yourself…

It’s late, on a balmy summer’s evening in New Orleans. A young couple are walking the streets, arm-in-arm, when a sudden cloudburst of almost Biblical proportions threatens to drown them. Fortunately, the neon lights of a jazz club beckon, and they are able to seek refuge, with all the others escaping the rain, in the warm bosom of the basement bar.

For an hour or two, everyone has the kind of spontaneous good time that we all dream of, dancing and cavorting the night away in a display of hedonism fuelled, we are invited to believe, by copious amounts of Southern Comfort. When the resident MC informs the crowd “It’s OK folks – the storms over!” it’s the cue for a collective groan, as everyone realises they’ll have to return to normality.

It’s always stuck in my mind that I’d love to experience that kind of wonderful, spur-of-the moment freedom, finding shelter from the storm in the warm embrace of a buzzing jazz club.

Well, the best I could manage when the heavens opened late on a chilly, Tuesday night (in a city which discretion prevents me from mentioning), was to dash into the doorway of the Liverpool branch of Kentucky Fried Chicken, where a sodden busker was gamely bashing out the hideously inappropriate Undertones classic, Here Comes The Summer, which young Justin played to death when it came out in 1979. I was able, at least, to reflect for a moment on the wide gulf that sometimes exists between imagination and reality. And watch the water, as it dripped from the end of my nose.

Staying True to Your Self

What a man has for his breakfast is his own affair. I know some of my friends who swear by the full cooked English, piling their plates with sausages, rashers of bacon, eggs, hash browns, griddled mushrooms and the rest. That's their business, and they're welcome to it.

For those of that ilk, Wetherspoon’s Full English Breakfast is something I can heartily recommend. When I have tried it, I have rarely emerged dissatisfied (although one or two establishments that it would be churlish for me to name have occasionally served the bacon just a little on the tepid side).

In my later years, I’ve found myself drifting towards eating cereal for my first meal of the day. What can beat a bowl of crunchy Bran Flakes, whether that be the Kellog variety or the reasonable and tasty own-brand alternative available at Aldi?

It’s also the case that I tend to stick to just one particular cereal each day. Not for me the constant swapping between Weetabix, Cornflakes and Shredded Wheat. I can go months and years eating the same variety, without getting bored, before I decide it’s time to switch to a new one.

Reflecting on this in the company of a delightful young lady who was attending a conference I was speaking at earlier this week, I characterised myself as a ‘cereal monogamist’. For some reason, that seemed to be her cue to terminate the conversation and leave the bar, so I never did get to find out her views on the subject. Perhaps I should have waited to discuss it over breakfast, the next day?

Rocket Fuel

Those who have followed Bill Blunt's emergence in the blogosphere will know that I'm not much one for plaudits.

I've plied my trade as a professional hack for too long to be worried about what the so-called 'experts' think. Not for me the razzle-dazzle of awards ceremonies, with their attendant free nosh, drink and floozies. I'd much prefer a pint down my local, anytime.

However, now and again, it seems, the outside world takes note of Bill's musings. Jasper tells me that I've just made 'Blog of the Day' at that wonderful website, Fuel My Blog, where you're always (in the words of the song) 'Just one click away from reading a great blog'.

I can't pretend I'm not flattered, of course. FMB, as it is affectionately termed by those who love it dearly, has recently had a bit of a relaunch, and I use it extensively to discover what new delights may be emerging in the world of blogs.

It's a pleasure, therefore, to be noticed (again). Forgive me if I pour myself a slightly larger than usual tumbler of whisky tonight, then.

Sorting Out The Wheat From The Chaff

I think it may have been Johnny Mathis who once said 'There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood leads on to fortune'.

As a leading columnist of my generation, the mantle of sorting out the wheat from the chaff is not one that I wear lightly. I am profoundly aware of my responsibilities as a commentator, and know that my words are eagerly devoured by readers as far afield as Daventry and Kettering.

I'm conscious, too, that in the crowded world of the blogosphere, readers need a quick and snappy way of assessing whether something's worth their time, or whether they should simply pass by, perhaps with a gracious nod. My quandary has always been how to best guide my readers through the jungle, not just of blogs, but of the wider world at large?

Not for the first time, it fell to young Jasper Blunt to suggest a solution to the dilemma. "Pa," he said, "what you need is a widget or two - and I've got just the thing!"

Far be it for me to cavil at the excess of youth. Bill Blunt will try anything once, and - if he likes it - he may well try it again. It's a philosophy that has steered Mrs Blunt and I through some rocky passages, whether in the bedroom or elsewhere, I can tell you.

Let me introduce to you, therefore the Bill Blunt Bigged Me Up! Widget.

At-a-glance, you'll be able to see that Bill has given his seal of approval to something - whether it be a blog, a website or something more tangible - a service received from a shop, the decor and ambiance of a pub, perhaps.

In a busy world, you'll know that someone - Bill Blunt - has taken time out to assess and pass comment on something that might well be worthy of your attention. It's a service I'm happy to provide freely, without expectation of reward or favour in return.

At the same time, look out for the widget's evil twin, as you travel, and you'll know that Bill has gone on record about some dismal showing, some poorly executed website, or some convoluted piece of fiction that might best be described as derivative drivel, were it not for the author's sensitive portrayal of the work's central character, a provincial journalist.

When you see the Bill Blunt Blasted Me! Widget, it's a signal not to go there, not to buy and not to waste your time. Human nature being what it is, I am sure there will be the odd reader who will ignore my recommendations. That is their business. But the rest of us can get on with our lives, saving time, money and energy by 'not going there'.

I already have one or two ideas for my first Big Up! As for my Blasts, I shall keep my powder dry, for the time being. Let's just say that I shall be watching the development of certain stories with close and extreme interest, and leave it at that, shall we?

Random Things About Bill

Matthew Didier, over at One Old Green Bus, has tagged me. My views on tagging are well rehearsed, so we won't go into it here. Perhaps it's because, as a child, I was always just a tad over-weight, but I always seemed to lose out when it came to games of tag.

Well, Matthew's looking for 8 Random things about me. Regular readers of my column will know that Bill Blunt is an open book, so you may already know some of these tidbits.

• I wasn't really a little over-weight as a child
• I was once almost arrested for stealing a piece of New York's Empire State Building (there's an innocent explanation, honestly)
• I love pesto
• When I was interviewed last by BBC TV News my hair was a little longer and less greyer
• I am hopelessly addicted to Seinfeld and My Name Is Earl
• I was once suspected of stalking Glyn Ford MEP (there's an innocent explanation, honestly)
• I recently came into possession of a huge amount of piano sheet music (there's an innocent explanation, honestly)
• By a hair's breadth, I managed to escape becoming Mayor of Daventry (my proudest achievement to date)
  

The singular pleasure of passing on the baton now falls to me, as I finger 8 other bloggers who must (at pain of death or, the very least, a minor headache, perhaps) similarly list 8 random facts or habits about themselves - as per The Rules, set out at the foot of this posting).


First up, an old friend of mine (and I do mean old) who has recently discovered the joys of blogging. As I already know everything in the known universe about Mystic Veg, I'll be intrigued to learn which 8 facts he filters out for public consumption.




Then, I think I'd like to know more about Larry Hnetka. After discovering his blog recently, I imagine he's the kind of person who would be delighted to be tagged. He's got some interesting things that make him go 'Hmmm' on his blog, so I would encourage you to drop by.




Next up, perhaps Cat would let us in on a few secrets, over at UltraJam? Although her views on long-term welfare recipients couldn't be further from my own, she posts some interesting thoughts on law enforcement (and I trust she takes a lenient view towards UK citizens who came close to being arrested on their last trip to the States).



Non-English blogs can sometimes be hard work, especially if, like me, you are shamefully unversed in foreign languages beyond the 'I'm afraid your beer disagrees with me, where is the gentleman's lavatory?' stage. But I can encourage you to take a look at a very intelligent blogger over at Pensamentos. It's worth the use of the Portugese bit at Google Translator now and again, I can tell you, and I'd be keen to learn more about the author.

I'm wimping out at this point, but will doubtless return with four other candidates in due course. You have been warned!

A reminder of the Rules:

One: Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves. Two: People who are tagged need to write their own blog entry about their eight things and post these rules. Three: at the end of your entry, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names/pseudonyms/blogs. Four: Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Cabin Fever

It's not often that I spend much of my time thinking about airline cabin crews. Unless I'm in a plane that's preparing for take-off, is mid-flight or is coming into land. It's at times like those that it's almost impossible to ignore the unsung heroes and heroines of the sky.

Whether it's the chic sophistication of an Air France air hostess, or the perma-tanned glow of an Easyjet flight attendant, it's too easy to dismiss them as merely glorified tea-ladies (and lads) in the sky.

We take their role as air-borne ambassadors for Revlon, Gallaghers and Rotary watches too lightly if we see them only as people paid to try to flog us expensive stuff in a bid to empty our wallets of the last bits of strange currency lurking there before we arrive back home.

Well, Bill Blunt isn't one of those who underplays their importance, I can tell you. I've seen them in action, re-assuring a nervous Mrs Blunt that the 114 tons of plane, people and luggage making up the Boeing 747 she's flying on really will take off safely, stay in the air and land at the other end without any foreseeable difficulty. And that's quite a skill, I can tell you.

And let's not forget their role in helping make sure that their planes run to schedule. Admittedly, some of them are better at this than others but, on the whole, they do sterling work.

Finally, let us not discount their impact on the night-time economies of city centres the world over. Without the sight of late-night stewards tripping gaily from bar to bar, Manchester, Liverpool and further-flung places would be the poorer for it.

It's a brave man that accuses Bill Blunt of over-gilding his case just to get some award or other. That's never been my style, and never will be. But if I've made you think again about the role of the humble cabin crew member, then I've done my job.

Of friends and family

Since our spell away on holiday I've seen less and less of my good friend, Thomas Hamburger Jnr.

I'm partly to blame for this myself, of course, as my tour of Wetherspoon pubs of England has taken me to some far-flung corners of our sceptered kingdom. In the process, I have become something of an expert on the esteemed chain's beers, food and wi-fi access points. I can almost feel a guide book coming on...

But I finally find a free day or two to catch up with his griping tale, Harry McFry Investigates The Mystery of the Missing Family, which I have watched develop with interest. It's a peculiar piece, and not at all what I would have imagined Tommy coming up with.

From what I was told would be a 'minor walk-on part', I see that my own role has developed so that it might, even, become quite central to solving the mystery. I can't pretend I'm not flattered. All those years working on the Birkenhead Beagle didn't bring a lot of recognition, and the idea of being a key character in one of Tommy Hamburger's books has a certain cachet about it.

I see that some readers have even begun speculating whether a movie might someday be made of the story, and have even gone so far as to suggest possible candidates for the key roles.
Enumerator (which is a grand name for any blogger) thinks my own role should be played by Bill Nighy, whereas 70steen has plumped instead for Jack Nicholson. I must admit, the idea of Nicholson tackling an Oldham accent is a seductive one... and one which, if pulled off successfully, might even be worthy of an award of some kind.

Personally, I'm not sure. Nighy is one of my favourite actors, even when he's had a bad hair day, whereas Nicholson's role in As Good As It Gets reminds me more of Tommy Hamburger Jnr himself than me.

Robert Lindsay as Harry McFry has a definite appeal, I must say - but Alan Rickman has his strengths, too, and Mrs Blunt has always had a soft spot for his suave 'come-to-bed' voice.

Anyway, my daughter Barbara couldn't resist coming up with a possible promo poster for the yet-to-be made film of the yet-to-be-finished and yet-to-find-a-publisher novel, which I include below for your amusement.



My best advice to you at this stage, however, is not to book your table for the awards ceremony just yet...

The Price of Freedom

Sharp-eyed readers will notice that my flirtation with advertising has come to an end.

When I gave my blog a make-over courtesy of those fine people at Old Wisdon, New Lessons, I took the advice of young Jasper Blunt, who promised me that people were making oodles of cash out of something called 'pay per click' advertising.
"Pa," he said, "it's time you got your nose in the trough."

Well, I checked the figures recently, and in two months I appear to have generated the princely sum of 25 cents. I'm not a man who sells his distinctive voice quite as cheap as that, so I decided this morning that the adverts had to go. And good riddance to them. 12p hardly paid for the red ink for the make-over.

Some may accuse me of pique. That's their business. But, for those who might doubt my credentials, here's a clipping from a 1990's vintage Beyond The Boundary - the Oldham Athletic fanzine I was proud to write for. I wasn't seduced then, and I won't be seduced now.

My Word!

Entries to the 3rd Fuel My Blog Caption Competition, which closed at midnight on Tuesday, kept the panel of judges mildly amused for a bit. Bussed in especially for the occasion from Bertha Street Allotment Association, the judging session diverted the panel from the internecine battles taking place locally.

I hope you agree that their selection of winners is a fine one...



HIGHLY COMMENDED - renalfailure

" What do you mean I'm adopted?!".

HIGHLY COMMENDED - renalfailure

"The Strom Thurmond Playhouse presents the most racist version of Guess Who's Coming to Dinner ever performed... starring Joaquim Phoenix in drag."


THIRD PLACE - Mystic Veg

"Dorothy felt ill at ease. George had brought his weird looking children with him again."

SECOND PLACE - Lord of Wealth

"Despite her pleas of innocence, Jack still believed Doris had an afair with Bobo."


FIRST PLACE - Kevin D

"I think he is ready to go stay with Michael Jackson.".

Of course, the judges claimed that ALL of the entries were witty and pithy and kept them chuckling: I think they need to get out more, personally.

Well done everybody, and I look forward to receiving entries for this week's competition.