Sunday, May 29, 2011

Mr Wolf’s Wicked Guide to Life

Ignatius Wolf

• Bestiality is frowned on by the squeamish. We’ve all experienced how difficult it is to book into a hotel with our pet llama (the South American alpaca not the Tibetan priest variety) and be refused by some overly cautious jobs-worth at the reception desk. Possibly painful and smelly, bestiality is nevertheless very fashionable in certain quarters – for example, the animal kingdom.

• Adultery is perfectly acceptable providing you get caught. Obviously you’re not in it for the sex – a few crumpled $100 notes will get that for you a lot cheaper and almost certainly better. No, you’re in it for the thrill of letting your friends know what a sexual drawcard you are. The best way to have the good news spread quickly is to be “accidently” discovered at 11pm in a city bar by one of your friends, ideally the one with the biggest mouth. Unless, of course, that’s the person you’ve started sleeping with.

• For practical purposes, anal sex is best practised in private. Utilising public places, such as street corners, tends to startle passing taxi drivers. Finding yourself rescuing a surprised and shaken cabbie from his crashed vehicle may take the gloss off your evening out.

• It is important to know the difference between aural sex and oral sex. Aural sex can be sought out in motel rooms with cardboard walls, oral sex is more likely to be found amongst people with a blinkered view of the world.

• Oedipus wasn’t that complex.

• At least with necrophilia, there’s no question of whether or not your partner will still respect you in the morning. If your social skills are underdeveloped, this could be a viable option.

• Being gay doesn’t automatically make you witty. In fact, your gay-ness may not even make you appealing to others with a similar bent. Perhaps you should consider bi-sexuality – it will double your chances of getting a date.

• 95% of Internet content is pornography, the rest is rubbish.



• Money can buy happiness: the rich have been lying to you.

• High maintenance prima donnas get all the attention at work and in life. Quietly focusing on the job won’t get you a pay rise. Employers aren’t interested in results, they want angst. Give it to them. It fills in their day.

• He who dies with the most toys doesn’t win: he just dies.

• We were put on Earth to make the rich happy.



• Scientology is good for your teeth: look at Tom Cruise.

• There is such a thing as bad publicity.

• You’ll never marry a movie star – they just don’t want to meet you.


Public speaking
  • The key to being a good public speaker is misplaced self confidence. 90% of all audience members are silently begging any speaker on any topic to get the hell off the stage. Provided you don't consider the possibility that your audience loathes you, you'll do just fine. Ibsen thought of it as "the saving lie".


• The world loves sports bores.



• Don’t dress your age: mutton dressed as mutton is not an appealing sight

• A full burqa flatters the figure.

• Everyone’s bum looks big in a thong.

• Fashion tip: if you’re going to Hell, wear something cool.


Mental health

• We are all mad to some degree.

• Country & Western music and Leonard Cohen's musings are not appropriate for psychiatrists’ waiting rooms.

• Stay sane: lie to yourself.



• Climate change is just a swimming lesson for polar bears.



• The al-Qaeda Anger Management Course just isn’t working.

• Let Iran have its nuclear bomb: what could possibly go wrong?

• Memo suicide bombers: there's a good reason those 72 virgins awaiting you are still single.

Table manners

• Drinking alcohol doesn’t make you more attractive.

• The world would be a better place without calories.

• Use-by-dates are accurate to within two weeks – either side of the date.


Mr Wolf’s Little Black Book of Helpful Hints:

 Every sinking ship needs a rat to lead the way.

 Your cat really doesn’t like you.

 In an ideal world, English would sound like French.

 The half-life of strontium-90 is 28 years, six years less than airline food.

 The human race is a slow one.

 “Carpe Diem” is actually Latin for “Seize the Donkey”.

 Elton John is heterosexual. Don’t be fooled by his social life.

 No one ever had a creative thought in a supermarket aisle.

 Astrologers can only predict the past.

 A little of Russell Crowe goes a long way.

 Good neighbours are the only real estate criteria.

 There’s nothing less relevant than an ex-politician.

 Travel broadens your mind and your bottom. It must be the pasta.

 Aliens already live amongst us. Be aware.
 Only considerate people are civilized.

 There is life on other planets, but no laughter.

 No-one is interested in your holidays.

 Getting a tattoo will not make you look like Angelina Jolie.

 Don’t consider suicide. The other bastards must go first.

 100,000 years of humankind’s progress ended with the introduction of instant coffee.

 Washing the homeless is a worthy charity.

 An aircraft in flight is an erotic sight.

 Politeness is shocking.

 A heart has nothing to do with love.

 Bestiality is painful and smelly - presumably.

 The egg came first.

 The world is not crying out for another Charlie’s Angels sequel.

 Don’t forgive and don’t forget. It’s more satisfying.

 There’s something rather silly about a penis.

 Cry wolf. The world will never catch on.

 There is no stairway to Heaven.

 A knight in un-shiny armour is more experienced.

 The more money you have, the more options you have.

 A cigarette makes you look cool – for one puff.
 Stale tobacco smoke smells of poverty.

 One swallow does not make a summer, but it can ruin a reputation.

 Pigs can’t fly.

 The Irish can write but not dance.

 The sword is mightier than the pen.

 Politicians can’t think with their pants down.

 Marlon Brando was a smug ham.

 Knowing one way to skin a cat is one way too many.

 Pushing the envelope doesn’t sound that risky.

 You may have to bang more than your head against the glass ceiling to succeed in business.

 The solution to greenhouse gas emissions? Fewer greenhouses.

 We all pay for sex – one way or another.

 Capital punishment solves the repeat offender problem.

 The Lord of The Rings trilogy was two rings too many.

 Career opportunity: a lawyer with kind eyes.

 Global warming is excellent for drying the washing.

 God is not dead: as you’re about to find out.

 Pride & Prejudice taught us one thing: moody rich guys get the chicks.

 Skinny people are a bumpy ride.

 Only happy drunks should be allowed alcohol.

 Paris Hilton is smarter than we are: she’s not reading magazine articles about us.

 Football would be more fun to watch if men played against women.

 Terrorists need a nice, quiet hobby.

 Don’t hate in plurals. Hate in the singular.

 The Beatles became self-important.

 Stir your martini. Only an amateur shakes it.

 Unique business opportunity: smuggle people to the East.

 Citizen Kane was the worst movie ever made.

 Fish tastes great with red wine.

 Elastic-waisted pants make life worth living.

 Celebrity tip: if you meet a TV star, only talk about him or her.

 Chocolate may be your only true friend.

 Any fool can write a rap song: and any fool has.

 Wraparound sunglasses should only be worn while robbing a corner store.

 A toupee should not have a parting.

 Celebrity chefs should butch it up a little.

 Wake Me Up Before You Go Go may be the world’s best pop song.

 If only the truth was out there.

 Have a nice day for all I care.

Copyright © 2011 GREG FLYNN

Saturday, January 22, 2011

The Man Who Said No To Kate Middleton

Perhaps the Hon. Cuthbert Houpton-Houpton wasn’t every girl’s dream, but he did have two things going for him: his surname. The result of an ancestor eloping with a cousin, the double-barrelled name had stood the test of centuries if not the test of marriage vows. When the Houpton-Houptons weren’t banging away at the wildlife on their estate they were doing it to guests and junior staff members, admittedly minus Purdey 12 bores and gorse-proof pants.

Bounders and bolters, the Houpton-Houptons were also aristocratic. Although there was something to be said for being gentry, Cuthbert couldn’t immediately think what it was. That evening, he had other things on his mind. Squaring his shoulders to disguise their sloping nature, he was ready. Before him lay both his future and Kate Middleton. They were not the same.

Resting against a pile of cushions, Kate was studying a copy of her favourite magazine, Toff. Cuthbert couldn’t fault her eager research into how the Upper Class lived. The magazine lay open at a forensically-illustrated story informing readers the Brazilian was old school, and that well-bred young ladies seeking topiary below the belly button were choosing recreations of great British battles done in silhouette. The Defence of Rorke's Drift and the Relief of Mafeking were particularly popular.

Cuthbert gave a small cough. “Midsie, you’re a brick.’

Kate tossed her big hair, knocking an Edwardian lamp off a side table. “Gosh, thank you, Cuthie.”

“So,” continued Cuthbert, letting his shoulders droop slightly, “I know you’ll take it well when I tell that I’ve decided to call off …”

The final words were drowned out by an alarm from Kate’s iPhone. The polyphonic ring tone played: “Here Comes The Bride.”

Kate swung her coltish legs off the divan. “It’ll have to wait, Cuthie, because the Windsors won’t.”

Half an hour later, Kate and Cuthbert stood with rapidly warming Kenyan Riesling in their glasses while the Windsor brothers worked their way around the cocktail party, greeting guests. Prince Harry was kitted out as a Khmer Rouge Death Squad commander.

Tilting her head sideways just enough to sweep four glasses off the tray of a passing butler, Kate studied Harry. “I didn’t know it was fancy dress,” she said.

“It’s not,” said Cuthbert, emptying his glass and grasping for another.

In a far corner, Harry’s brother William broke free from a scrum of young women with prominent teeth and needy eyes.

Waving to Cuthbert, William loped across the room. “Super of you to come, Hopeless Squared.” It was a nickname William had given Cuthbert at prep school and it’d stuck. Cuthbert still hated it.

“Such fun,” responded Cuthbert and swallowed more wine.

William tipped his head forward, gazing at Kate through his eyelashes, an affectation he’d learnt from his mother. Cuthbert loathed that too.

“I say, Hopeless Squared, who’s the totty?’

Cuthbert twisted around to see who William was referring to, then he sighed. “Oh, this is Kate Middleton.”

William whispered in Cuthbert’s ear something which sounded like “Scorchio!” before bending to kiss Kate’s hand.

How easy it would be, thought Cuthbert, to give His Royal Highness a boot in the botty. Instead, he paused. That moment was long enough to hatch a plan.

Dropping Kate’s hand, William straightened. “We’re putting together a rather interesting table for Saturday evening at Madame Dita’s. Care to join us?”

Cuthbert brightened. “Is that the club where you can drink champagne from a burlesque dancer’s navel?”

“Actually, it’s a Bridge Club.”

Kate appeared puzzled. “Suspension, Cantilever or Arch?”

William peered through his eyelashes. “Cards.”

“Such fun,” said Kate.

She was a blank slate, thought Cuthbert. It was a shame he didn’t have the chalk to take advantage of it. A regrettable incident the previous year with a bar of saddle soap, a mare and the regimental nurse had seen him cashiered from the 7th Royal Dragoon Guards. Ever since, he couldn’t face tupping women with horsey legs.

Thumping sounds from under a nearby table distracted the heir (once removed) to the British throne. William rushed off. Beneath the table, Prince Harry was wrestling with what at first glance appeared to be an inverted mop with two balloons tied to it. Cuthbert recognised the skeletal figure of the Hon. Amanda Frogmorton.

Taking Kate by the elbow, Cuthbert led her onto the balcony. A gentleman would be subtle and let her down gently. Cuthbert braced himself. “We’re finished,” he told her. “I’m off.”

Kate shook her head vigorously, entangling her tresses in a climbing rose, trapping her against the thorns.

Cuthbert did something his ancestors would have applauded. Stepping forward, he vaulted over the edge of the balcony and landed on all fours in the garden bed.

Looking up, he saw that His Royal Highness Prince William Arthur Philip Louis of Wales, Royal Knight Companion of the Most Noble Order of the Garter had come to Kate’s rescue.

Dusting off his suit, Cuthbert made his way to the front gates – and freedom.
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Copyright © 2011 GREG FLYNN