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Situation: An evening in; a guest with an inexhaustible repertoire of light comedy songs.
Attitude: Charitable.
Solution: Rise smartly in your place; draw attention strikingly to the face, the horrible face at the window. Once orders have been given for an exhaustive search to be made of the grounds by armed men, the entertainment can easily be manoeuvred towards charades. |
| etiquette archive |
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Sir:
You're scum. You're vile. You're meritless barbaric misfires that inspire such revulsion and shuddering, crawling loathing that no one can even find you pitiable, instead understanding on some primal back-brain level that you need to be extinguished as quickly as possible. Your twisted philic minds disgust and burn. You're pointless, invisible, maggotty, impure, stinking, mud-slobbering joyless stick figures, and the corrupting brutal sleet comes out of your bulging filming eyes like the lamp of a lighthouse, and it comes out of your stump-riddled maws like the spilling foaming fire of a bursting toxic canker. I hope your spores never root in the human biology of this planet. I hope you die soon, childless, weeping and alone. :-) |
Lionel Vench
Attleborough |
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| letters from the editor archive |
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Bill to Dissipate the Influence of the Criming-Criminal introduced by the Rt Hon Rthon Foabes (Whig), Member for Tidewell.
i. That ALL CRIME is committed by the chimney classes; thefore THE CHIMNEY ITSELF IS A CRIMINAL.
ii. To remove and destroy ALL CHIMNEYS from across Britain, replacing them as structural newelposts with the PAUPER'S YOUTH, thus ensuring gainful employment for the laggardly.
(Second reading.) |
| the bill before the house archive |
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The BRITON'S SCIENCE has shewn that The Weekly, the magazine which strives to maintain Britain's standards, has topped* one million readers since 1871.
"I feel humbled by my part in wasting so much of the lives of so many people," said MR MILLINGTON of this mathematically inevitable achievement.
MR NASH added: "I'm cold. Please drape a cloth over my knobbly ditch."
* Though not, of course, in the sense of assassination. The Weekly has had cause to assassinate no more than its quota of readers. |
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Sup from the issue broth with the random ladle. New issue every time, subject to blind unfavouring chance. |
| feature archive |
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| This chap's purchased an OFFICIAL THE WEEKLY T-SHAPED SHIRT and now he's working off his shame at indulging in such wasteful extravagance. You too may display similar penitence, and perhaps press hot coins guiltily into the hands of a stooped clerk for a copy of MR MILLINGTON's improving books Things About Which My Girlfriend And I Have Argued, A Certain Chemistry, Love and Other Near-Death Experiences and Instructions For Living Someone Else's Life, by patronising the The Weekly Corner Shop corner shop. Items despatched under plain wrapper, school-boys will be chased from the premises with a broom. |
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Position: Cartographer.
Responsibilities: Empire! The very word thrills the soul of even the lowliest pauper whose soul is destined to burn in the fires of hell for all eternity. Yet there is much we know not of the farthest flings of Her Gracious Majesty's dominions, and it is in this vacuum of knowledge that a shrewd and ambitious cartographer may yet stamp his mark. A cartographer of hardy constitution, iron nerve and sharpened pencil can contribute much to our understanding of such exotic and ill-explored regions as Scot-land and the Northern Poor-towns. These last frontiers of human endurance must be conquered by the courageous cartographer, irrespective of disease, hardship and weirdly ritualled anthropophagous natives so that one day our bright-eyed, cow-licked school-children may learn as much about these distant climes as they understand of Darkest Africa and the Canadian Wastes.
Remuneration: A piffling stipend of £13 is provided to furnish the initial expeditionary force, but it is understood that the cartographer lives off the land mapped. You are entitled to a generous percentage of any gold and precious ores discovered in the name of Britain, and the opportunity cannot fail to excite of meeting and cataloguing mysterious new peoples; and of the gentleman-cartographer improving their rude shapes with the BRITON'S GENES or the lady-cartographer establishing a fine and profitable seraglio against her retirement.
Risk assessment: Little is riskier than the post of cartographer when much of the world is as wild as the caving-tenements of Bolton or the Border-lands of Wales; but the wise cartographer goes well-armed with machete and Webley (and, indeed, there is much sport to be had in this manner when work is ceased for the day); and is content that all cartographers are immortalised in the name of at least one town, usually the one around which ultimately they are strewn.
Prospects: Scientist; soup; Cartographer of the Cities of Mars when that expedition is launched in the next eight months or so. |
| better yourself archive |
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| Remain UP-TO-DATE and KEENLY ABREAST with a subscription to BRITAIN'S ADVOCATE OF QUALITIES. You will receive notification by e-mail of forthcoming issues of the magazine which inspires Britons everywhere to forge ahead to a better newness. Alternatively, sub down from the list in weary satiety. |
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