Someone is Gay

It's taken a long time, but finally the star of 'Top Gun' has come out as being one of them gays that you've heard so much about, and it must be true for I read it here (careful now the article contains nudity, so by looking at it you risk corrupting your delicate mind with the knowledge that people have nice wobbly bits under their clothing). Isn't that exciting. No really, isn't that EXCITING! Someone's gay! Hooray for news!

They best part about this story is that now Top Gun is now even gayer than it was before. Which is an awful lot. Top Gun is so gay I was surprised not to find deleted scenes of bathroom towel fights in the dvd's special features, only removed because Tom Cruise's alien chums threatened to change the temple locks. Not that this made it any less homo-erotic, the director (Tony Scott, fact fans) can't let five minutes pass without having his stars give each other a nice sweaty cuddle, and I would be surprised if the phrase "you can be my wing-man any time" hasn't been etched above at least one glory-hole in the past 23 years.

Speaking of which, exactly who came up with the idea for glory-holes? Do they drill the hole themselves or is it already there, perfectly penis-sized. Was someone sat on the toilet one day and heard a voice from the neighbouring cubicle saying:
"Oi, mate, stick your willy through here"
"Why?"
"So it can go in my bottom"
"Cool!" [unzips trousers]
It's a very bold move to stick your winkie through a hole on the offchance that the person on the other side will want to do something with it. Assuming you get a good fit it must look like a fat pink slug embarking on a career as a gymnast. Why was there ever debate over gays in the military? I would gladly entrust the security of our country's borders to someone that is brave enough to entrust the safety of the stiff one-eye to a total stranger that may or may not cut it off with a sharpened toilet roll. Picture the interview:
"So, Mr Humphries, we've looked at the results of your entrance tests and I have to say, we're very concerned"
"Why?"
"You have no experience, you have no strength, you have no speed, you have no stamina, and worst of all...you're one of the gays"
"Is that all?"
"I could go on but frankly don't really see the benefit. Can you honestly tell me that you have a single quality the British military would benefit from?"
"I merrily post my penis through walls, unconcerned of the possibility that I may be left with nothing but a tattered flap of blood-soaked skin"
"Blimey. You're in".

Get Your Funny Out

Oh look, Comic Relief is upon us once again, exploding onto our screens in a shower of hilarious wigs and dancing newsreaders. We can look forward to spending ten rib-tickling hours watching Lenny Henry try to remember how television works whilst Fearne Cotton interviews a baked bean wallowing fireman in a Leeds car park and Bono asks us to donate to the U2 fund by performing their latest over-rated wailfest faster than you can say ‘tax-dodger’. Fortunately the good ship Gervais has appeared on the horizon and will be docking in time to prevent the constant starving African interruptions from dragging down the mood too much. So that’s good.

The nationwide rag-week leading up to Red Nose Day never really changes. I saw a man selling the Big Issue in town wearing a red wig and nose. Nice to know that the money from his sales is being spent wisely isn’t it. Not that I buy it of course (the crossword’s shit: ‘to live in a house illegally, 5 letters, S-Q-something-something-something’) but I find it quite difficult to do feel sorry charitable for someone wearing a novelty nose formed into a smile resembling Sian Lloyd’s. They just don’t scream ‘hard times’. In fact, maybe if they did scream at passers by it would help. One inch from their faces so that flecks of corrosive homeless spittle settled on their foreheads as they pretend to be fascinated by their shoes.

Even members of the animal community are being silly for charity. A short legged pony has been larking about fooling people into thinking that he’s sinking into a swamp. It’s a lovely idea, people seeing this ‘sausage pony’ standing in a field, waving its hooves and crying, only to bugger off chuckling to itself once the rescue party appears.

I’m actually a little bit jealous, because if you’re a pony out on the town, seductively neying “they call me… the sausage” must make enticing people to your boudoir that little bit easier.

Of course thinking about it, they are horses.

(BBC: 'Sausage Pony Prompts 999 Calls')

Spend a little, live not-a-lot

Have you seen the current Aldi advert? Chubby-chasing Phil Vickery shouts incredulously at us as he's so amazed by how cheap the food is.

"I don't know how they do it!!"

Shit ingredients Phil, that's how.