MY PRIVATE'S DETECTIVE - Part 1

The windows were dirty. He liked the windows dirty. It helped him make sex jokes. If a pretty lady walked in he would say, " You like my dirty windows?" She wouldn't understand, but it was worth a try. Private detectives were endowed with humour the way Keira Knightely was generally endowed. Not much there. Not the way the woman walking into his office was endowed.

In a red strapless number with high heels that put the sex in sex appeal, she said, "Hmmm, your windows are dirty..."

His heart skipped a beat.

"I have a case for you to solve," she said.

"Oh I'll solve your case alright," he said, taking a suggestive step towards her.

She took a suggestive step back.

They did this little dance for awhile till they had done a full round of the room. Then after realising they weren't getting anywhere with this they got down to business.

"You know Lois?" she asked.

"Lois and me go way back. "

"How far back?"

"Real far back. When Nsync were all straight. That far back."

"Good so you know Lois," she said, wasting time, money, and electricity.

"In fact," he said, giving his i'm-about-to-make-a-sex-joke-sneer, "I've been down Lois' lane, if you know what I mean."

"Lois is a guy," she said.

He would sneer no more.

She could turn him on and off like that small red button on one of those cheap Chinese toys.

And he LIKED it.

"Lets get back on the case," she said.

"I'd like to get on yo...Oh. I already said that," he stuttered. She liked him like this. On his knees, metaphorically, that is.

"Anyway Lois stole something from me."

"And what exactly did Lois steal?," he asked picturing a mud wrestling match between these two girls, before realising Lois was a guy.

"She stole a pair of antique pantyhose, worn by Queen Something the five hundredth and Something. In the Invasion of No-Undy. It was a commando mission"

"Aah," he concluded, pretending to understand, but picturing something completely different.

"I need you to find it and place it back in the Underwear and Banyaan Hall of Fame," she cried, desperate for his help.

AND SO BEGAN...

"MY PRIVATE'S DETECTIVE"

ALL PUNS INTENDED

BLOODY STEREOTYPES MEN

It sucks being a stereotype. It really does. And in India every community has its own stereotype.

The Marvadis say EmmCee Donald; Tamilians live solely on a diet of sambhar and idli; people from the North-East eat dogs; the roads in UP and Bihar are red in colour (from all the paan); all Parsis are at least half-crack; you could find more oil on a Mallu's head than in Saudi Arabia.

The list is endless. I could go on. And I will.

The Anglo-Indians think they are direct descendants of King Edward the who cares; Bengalis have eaten all the fish in the Hooghly; Bengalis all know either one form of classical music or dance or do something intellectual; Punjabi=lassi; all Biharis cars are painted yellow and black and are called "rickshaws"in Mumbai.

But possibly the worst community to be affected by stereotypia (© The Incredible Sulk) are the Goans. You shake your head in disbelief and you scream "WTF!" but the mental image you are forming in your head is one of a short unshaved man, in shorts with one of the those "palm tree" t-shirts, and a bottle of alcoholic nature, the consumption of which would lead him to lie down on a beach and go off to sleep. And to you I say, tsk-tsk (no, ignorant fool, it is not a fly that gives you sleeping sickness; that's tse-tse! This is a me shaking my head in disbelief at you woeful ignorance)

The Goans have for many decades been the victim of stereotypia (© The Incredible Sulk). It is now time for me to dispel those myths and come to the aid of those alcoho-I mean Goans.

Firstly, don't associate Goans with beer and rum. This is wrong. You associate them with cashew feni! Any Goan worth his alcoholic content, drinks cashew feni. Now I don't mean that Goans only drink cashew feni. But in the words of the Wise Goan, "A Goan who doesn't drink cashew feni is like a gentle breeze without a face to breeze upon. Like a fart that goes unheard and unsmel-". We're going to stop the Wise Goan right there for I think you get the big picture.

Another common myth is a Goan's favourite food. When you think Goan, you think pork vindaloo (so named because after a good plateful, the only place you're headed next is a bathroom; vindaloo originated from ancient Portuguese word indaloo which meant "to relieve oneself"). A Goan's favourite food is sorpatel. The very mention of the name is enough to send Goans into a feeding frenzy that would put piranhas to shame. Those little heavenly pieces of piggy soaked in a red spicy-sweet gravy that (if by now you're mouth isn't watering, your taste buds have been shot to hell, or you're one of those vegetarian thingies) that heavenly pieces of piggy soak in. The Wise Goan, whose front is now messed up by him slobbering over a plate of sorpatel, says with his mouth full, "Mmf jdsh reybsh dssdks." We understand oh Wise one. We understand.

Those of you who don't understand, well....get yourself a plate of sorpatel and you will.

Also it is entirely untrue that Goans don't "suit up," and roam around Goa in a sad imitation of California-surfer-boy-bermudas. As is the myth that we wear shirts that have palm trees and the setting sun on them. It's usually the rising sun. And seeing as half of Goa is involved in the hospitality industry and the other half work on cruise ships, this is a silly assumption.

You reel under the weight of these revelations, and you catch at things nearby to steady yourself, which is why The Incredible Sulk (who loves talking about himself in the third person) shall spare you any more stunning myth-busting awesomeness for now. To all those of you afflicted with stereotypia (© The Incredible Sulk), be very wary. The time has arrived for stereotypes to burst out of their shells. For the stereotyped to cast away their burden, and other dramatic stuff like that.

I leave you with words from the Wise Goan," Nothing like anything. Impossible is nothing."

While this might not make much sense now, it will when the Wise Goan signs a multi-million dollar deal to endorse a new entrant in the mobile phone market and a another multi-million dollar deal with a sportswear manufacturer.

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER AT BOTTOM OF PAGE

The Incredible Sulk is an extremely secular person and loves fluffy kittens and walks on the beach and the above stereotypes were provided for humour and not to offend any communities' sensibilities. So don't kill me or anything.

MY MISTAKES YOU SHOULD LEARN FROM

# 4: PIRANHA 3D!

THE INCREDIBLE SULK's MOVIE REVIEW: SKYLINE

This is not your run-of-the-mill "alien invasion" movie. This IS however, you're run-of-the-mill "Aliens-wanna-kill-us-THEY'RE SUCKING MY BRAINS" movie. The Incredible Sulk recommends you carry one of those brown paper bags you puke in on turbulent flights. Oh yeah, this is that kind of movie.

The movie stars one hot chick, one guy who looks like that guy from LA Ink with his irritating pointy goatee, the black guy from Scrubs, and one hot chick you just know is gonna die.

Skyline is set in Los Angeles. I mean the directors couldn't possibly set it in New York coz Godzilla, King Kong, and those zombies from I Am Legend haven't left yet. Also that tsunami stuff that happened in 2012 (the movie, not the year) hasn't dried up yet.

One of the unique things about this movie is that you never learn the lead character's names throughout the movie. There is no arty-farty reason for this. It is not beacuse the filmmaker "wants you to have an emotional disconnect," or coz he wants you to "view the movie dispassionately, as though immersed in a world without right or wrong," or anything else grey-matter stimulating.

You don't learn the characters names coz they really don't get to complete their sentences.

For example:

"OMG, watch out behind you Lau_______and *FLOOMP* she gets her brains sucked out.

Another example:

"Be careful Ke________and *FLOOMP* she gets her brains sucked out.

Last example:

"You know I love you Ja_____and *FLOOMP* they ain't no sex scene in the movie

So you see, dear reader, while it may not exactly be a grey-matter stimulating reason, you, in fact get to see a lot of grey matter.

L'arrivée d'un train en gare de La Ciotat (translated from French into English as The Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat Station) is an 1895 French short black-and-white silent documentary film directed and produced by Auguste and Louis Lumière. This 50-second silent film shows the entry of a train pulled by a steam locomotive into a train station in the French coastal town of La Ciotat. It has one of the distinct honours of being one of the first moving pictures ever screened. It now also has the distinction of having more of a plot than Skyline.

Skyline is directed by the Brothers Strause. They sound cool, but they are actually pot-bellied and bald middle-aged men. But the Incredible Sulk is not judging. For the Incredible Sulk has a receding hairline and when he looks down he sees the makings of a beer belly, that grows at a slightly slower rate than the Incredible Sulk's pregnant neighbour. Worrying signs indeed.

But back to the Brothers Strause. The Brothers Strause are most famous in Hollywood for their visual effects, both brothers being expert visual effects guy things. With classics such as Alien vs Predator movies, 300, X-Men, Constantine and classucks suck as Titanic to their credit, the Brothers Strause are masters of special effects. Their ultimate achievement, according to the Incredible Sulk, would be if they find a special effect to help Keanu Reeves act.

And by act we don't mean, The Matrix, which required one emotion from Keanu Reeves - don't laugh.

Skyline is what happens when you give special effects guys like the Brothers Strause, a WHOLE movie to direct. Brilliantly realistic aliens, who have nothing to do. No "ET wanna go home" scenes here. ET just land on earth and kill.

If it were upto the Incredible Sulk, the Incredible Sulk would drag his imaginary girlfriend for this movie (which proves she's imaginary, coz no self-respecting girl, nor the most loyal, loving girlfriend would set foot inside a cinema that showed this movie). However, you should wait for it to come out on DV...err...okay, it's not coming out on DVD, so wait for it to come on TV..err...okay, no channel is willing to show this. Well, that's your bad luck.

As for the Incredible Sulk:
"Two tickets please"
"Yes for me and my girlfriend"
"What do you mean what girlfriend??!!??........

THE PRESIDENT IS COMING, CAME, WENT, BROUGHT HIS PLANES AND BLOCKED THE LANES

Barack "that fucking IT country" Obama came to Mumbai. So they spruced up the city. Takes me back to the days when I used to shove all my toys into the box and pretend the room was clean.

Obama bought lots of planes. 1 for him and his family, 1 for his not-so-Secret-Service-i-can-see-them-what's-the-big-Secret. And another 18 to carry the ego the American President is supposed to have when he visits other countries. Those psychoanalyst chicks who like to point out what a small peepee I/every second guy has just because we like "big" cars; they're going to have a field day.

Someone should remind him that apart from Bangalore, not many people in India wanna kill the President of the White, Red and Blue. So there's really no need to bring 3000 millitary personnel. Plus if we REALLY wanted to kill you we'd give you some chilly chicken from Patel's Roadside Chinese Food. The Air Force Commode One would never be the same again.

While in Mumbai, President Obama made a few speeches. Some of them took 15 minutes. Some of them took a bit longer. Below I've been kind enough to transcribe one of them.

"Good afternoon. I've come to this wonderful country and Mumbai in particular to get back at you brown bastards for stealing all our jobs. That's right. Hell yeah! Gimme a Hell Yeah! Here's a contract for 10 second-hand US millitary planes. Now, 5000 Americans will take 5 years to build those planes and you're gonna pay them. Okay? Good. Now I'm off to Malaysia. Where the f**k am I gonna park all these damn planes when I get there. I've got small states in the US that are bigger than Malaysia. Oooooo. More jobs. Namaste India. Don't know what that means."

This is not really what he said. It is my interpretation. Sue me. Actually don't.

A news channel did an expose on Obama's hair and how it changed from black

("Don't say that word, he's the first AFRICAN-AMERICAN US President")

("I was talking about his hair")

(DON'T SAY THAT WORD")

("I WAS TALKING ABOUT HIS HAIR...")

("THEN SAY HIS HAIR IS AFRICAN-AMERICAN")

("WHAT IF AN AFRICAN-AMERICAN HAS BLONDE HAIR?")

("When's the last time you saw an African-American with blonde hair?")

to a salt-and-pepper colour. Well at least our media hasn't dumbed down to the extent where we'd do a piece on "Why is the latest US President so tanned? What? He's not...OH! AMERICA HAS ELECTED IT'S FIRST EVER AFRICAN-AMERIC..." You get where this is going.

By the time this post comes out the US President will have left our muddy shores on an Asia tour more successful than Boyzone's. He wisely avoided Bangalore. And Patel's Roadside Chinese Food.

MY MISTAKES YOU SHOULD LEARN FROM

#3 Do not touch the poles at the entrance of the train compartments on the Western Railway and then eat dahi puri and lick your fingers and then remember you touched the pole at the entrance of the train compartment on the Western Railway.

My experience with the Central Railway and Harbour Line are limited. Thank God.

THE BATTLEGROUND

I've seen the men that emerge from the battleground. The bleary-eyed, beleaguered men. They haven't bathed for days, unshaved, but not unscathed, they emerge from the battleground called Love. Men that wake up in the middle of the night traumatized by the ferocity of the battle. Men who touch their necks gingerly, reminiscing hickies they received in battle.

I saw a man once whose entire neck was choc-a-bloc with blue and purple patches. The scars of battle.

Mosquito bites, he told his mother.

Bullshit, said his mother.

Son, we weren't born yesterday, said his father.

He has a girlfrie*SMACK*, said his brother.

The battleground is strewn with burnt love letters and broken hearts and Little Hearts and flowers in dustbins and smiling-couple polaroids that are torn in two and sometimes look like someone tried burning them. It's a grim war.

Men with six packs less than those hairless wonders from 300 "This is Sparta," forced into battle. Many a young man, in the prime of life forced into war.

This post is for them. Those courageous men, who braved the battle and got burnt. Some of them twice bitten and twice shy. How many men can say they've come out of that alive. This post is for you.

This is NOT for those men who were hurt at The Battleground of One Night Stands I Don't Think She's Coming Back For More. That battleground is 2 blocks down the road, take a left at I'mgonnagetlaid, a right at WooHoo, then walk 100 yards north of a primate dressed in a purple velvet suit called The Pimp Chimp, and stop where Sex marks the spot.

THE INCREDIBLE SULK'S RECOMMENDATIONS

I don't know how to make a pictue in blogspot bigger. So if you can't read this click on the picture or follow this link.

http://www.laptoplit.com/p/workshops.html

MODERN SAYINGS THAT YOU SHOULD SAY - Part 3

Change is inevitable...

Yeah, otherwise you'd be wearing the same chaddis day after day after day, and that's not exactly healthy.

Old habits die hard...

and so does BRUCE WILLIS!

Nothing ventured, nothing gained...

And when he ate the Chinese delicacy his stomach pained.

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth...

Dude. Don't look ANY horse in the mouth.

Beware Greeks bearing gifts...

And an old man climbing down your chimney in the middle of the night with a fake beard, a red suit on the 25th of December. Coz...ummm...kids, I don't know how to break this to ya but...

Born with silver spoon in you're mouth...

Your father was a silver plate.

Or your mum has a thing for cutlery.

Seperate the sheeps from the goats...

Or you'll get wool in your mutton kadai.

An elephant never forgets...

And neither does your mum.

One man's meat is another man's poison...

Or in other words...

Don't be a vegan in Hyderabad. Or Goa.

THE NEW SPECIES

Biologists recently travelled to the Land of India, or as Obama likes to call it, "That Fucking IT Country." In their travels they found a number of new species. One, that I would like to bring to all 4 of my reader's attentions is the one they called, Riksha Driver, scientific name Rikshadriverscankissmyass.

Biologists say they were pleasantly surprised at the find, and reckoned that this new species had not yet fully evolved like human beings had, yet possessed a unique language of their own that was not unlike the spoken languages of human beings. They also discovered that different regions contained different types of Riksha Driver. For exampe the type found in Mumbai, seemed to follow a rather loose law that biologists called the Meter. This law seemed to govern them, yet worked for each individual's profit. Biologists called this phenomenon, Rigged Friggin Meter. The Mumbai Riksha Driver seemed also to sprout Fare Cards, that seemed to have a random set of figures, not unlike our number system. Although they were mostly fearless, the Mumbai Riksha Drivers would show signs of fear towards two things. They called it the ArtyOh! and the Pandu. Biologists are unsure of what this is. Although they did once see a pot bellied man running around with a stick once, and the Mumbai Riksha Drivers fled at this sight. The biologists also saw that the Mumbai, like many other types of Riksha Driver liked to leave what biologists called a Red Trail. The Ricksha Drivers would, at intervals mark their trail with a red liquid. But their is no unique scent. Hence their habitat is choc-a-bloc with Red Trails. And its sometimes hard to tell whether someone's been killed as the red liquid is a lighter version of blood.

Further south they found a more untamed Riksha Driver. This Riksha Driver shouted random numbers at them whenever the biologists got close. On learning the Southern Riksha Drivers metric system they found it to be not very orderly. In human terms their number system started at 40 and went on to 100 and subsequently 150, 170, 250 and so on...

Biologists reported that by the time they had finished their expedition they did not have any money left. More on this story as it develops.

MY MISTAKES YOU SHOULD LEARN FROM

#2 When a girl tells you she has crabs, it doesn't mean she has a quirky taste in pets.

DISCLAIMER: The "My" part is not true always.

MY MISTAKES YOU SHOULD LEARN FROM

#1 Never wear noise-cancelling headphones and attempt to pass gas quietly in an AC bus.

MODERN SAYINGS THAT YOU SHOULD SAY - Part 2

It's never too late...

Unless you were supposed to be there at 1 a.m. and its now 11 p.m.

The way to a man's heart is through his stomach...

If you go a little lower it wouldn't hurt either.

Time is money...

Someone owes me 22 years worth of money.

Every Jack has his Jill.

I got a better one. If your Uncle Jack helped you off an elephant, would you help your Uncle Jack off an elephant?

- The Guru

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Wait. Doesn't he have a chick called Jill?

Honesty is the best policy...

An insurance policy wouldn't be that bad either. When someone dents your car, you don't ask them "Did you dent my car?" You ask them for their details for the whole insurance thigamajig.

Into every life some rain must fall...

This saying will touch a raw nerve in Cherrapunji, where into every life, a shitload of rain falls.

It never rains but it pours...

AAAAND WE'RE BACK IN CHERRAPUNJI.....

It takes a thief to catch a thief...

But it takes a REALLY SEXY redhead detective and a bestselling murder novel author to catch a murderer...

Love makes the world go round.

Nope. It's actually the sun's gravity. Shouldn't have bunked that physics class...

Always look before you leap...

And they'll call you cheap.

All you need is love...

And a trust fund.

For want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was lost; and for want of a horse the man was lost.

Three words. BUY A CAR.

MODERN SAYINGS THAT YOU SHOULD SAY - Part 1

When life hands you lemons...
Throw them at people you really hate.

People who live in glass houses...
Should hire professional window cleaners.

Diamonds are forever...
And so are beer bellies.

A wolf in sheep's clothing...
We call them transvestites these days.

Strike while the iron is hot...
And you'll burn you hand.

United we stand, divided we fall...
Unless we're playing tennis.

The pen is mightier than the sword...
The idiot who said this is walking with a sword sticking out of his backside.

Don't count you're chickens before they're hatched...
What you can count is the number of omelettes you can make.

Don't be a dog in a manger...
Unless your name is Rover...And you live in a manger.

Too many cooks spoil the broth...
But the good news is, we can have MASTERCHEF AUSTRALIA SEASON 2

First things first...
AND second things second. Yup. That's right. I passed 2nd standard maths.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder...
But sometimes you break up.

No news is good news...
Except if you're working for a news channel. In that case, I have news for you buddy. Quit.

An army marches on it's stomach...
An army of snakes maybe...

Boys will be boys..
We can change that these days you know...

Clothes maketh the man..
Have you ever trie talking to one of the mannequins at Marks & Spencer's?

Never judge a book by it's cover...
However feel free to judge it by it's MRP which unfortunately is ON the cover.

It's no use crying over spilt milk...
Buy tetra packs...

Keep your chin up...
As opposed to in you ass?

Never put off for tomorrow, what you can do today...

Unless you have to do it tomorrow.

THE INCREDIBLE SULK's MOVIE REVIEW: SALT

Does anyone notice that after Salt takes off her panties to cover the security camera in the beginning, she doesn't put on another pair of knickers. Which means she does pretty much everything COMMANDO! Kept me hooked for the rest of the movie.

THE INCREDIBLE SULK's RATING: 5 buntas

Rating key
5 buntas- OMG! ANGELINA JOLIE DOES THE MOVIE COMMANDO
4 buntas- Did not make out with my girlfriend during the movie
3 buntas- You paid how much for the movie ticket??!!??
2 buntas- There's an extent to how much I can laugh at farting
1 bunta - Stand straight! Otherwise Steven Segal can't kill you
0 buntas- You're the director? There are some guys outside. They said something about wanting you to check out the gun props....

AN ODE TO MY PILLOW

Oh pillow, my pillow,

You are my love, so true

You would never leave me

No matter what I do.

You tolerate me,

On nights when I come home late

You won't get jealous

If I go out on a date

You were with me

Through those adolescent years

You still loved me, even when,

I pretended you were Britney Spears

Oh pillow, my pillow

You are so soft

The next line has something to do,

With Lara Croft

You listened to all

My woes and worries

About women and life

And spicy curries.

You held my head,

Through all the exams and tests

You gave me a place

A place for my head to rest

Through break-ups and pimple breakouts

You were there for me

Sorry about spilling

All that hot tea.

Oh pillow my pillow

You provided solace

With you I listened to Yanni

Live at the Acropolis

With you I learnt,

That I was never alone

With you I could talk

For hours on the phone

Your pillowcase

In hues of pink

I still see your face

Of you, I often think

The day you left me

You left me shattered

Your stuffing lying around

Your pillowcase tattered

You said my brother did it

I didn't believe

You sighed a sigh

And took your leave

Till today I regret

Letting you go

In one day I went

From friend to foe.

Pillow left a long time ago. I hope wherever she is, she has found a good home, and a good man. And that whoever that man is, he gives her head.

Rakhi Se Swayamwar Tak

Raksha Bandhan. That time of the year when the inboxes of the agony aunts of the world are filled to the brim with messages from pre and post pubescent males who are confused about receiving rakhis from girls and women they "let's leave this blank". Its either, “does this mean we’re brother and sister now?” or “Should I not ask her out now?” or the clichéd, “OMG! My life is over!” Yes, the agony aunts have it tough, this time of the year.

Now, while this is an easy getaway for girls who want to get “that-pesky-boy-who’s-in-love-with-me-and-I-like-but-not-like-that” off their back, it DOES leave the male part of the equation slightly screwed up. Because here was this girl, who he was thinking dirty thoughts about and now by a simple “putting-on-the-wrist-action,” that girl has suggested that she and he have a “familiarity,” a word the originated from the ancient Latin word ‘famlianos’ that means “blood is thicker than water, so make sure you wash it away when you’re cutting that pig up.”

In the words of the baby pacifier shops of the world, “Come to me fools for I while provide thee with succour (or sucker),” I say to you rakhi bondaged males, the same thing. For the sake of being repetitive I won’t repeat myself. There are few means to deter the woman you love, placing a rakhi on your wrist, and short of cutting your hands off, I honestly can’t think of anything. So I seek the refuge of the sciences. Namely biology. Foolish males who slept during these classes and now weep, let me bring the light to thine eyes by shining a powerful torch into it and asking you make “aaaaa.” This is to see whether you are stupid. For unless you have the same mother and/or the same father, that woman of your dreams is not your sister. So go ahead and grow a pair men! Grow two pairs if need be! (If you grow three, even if you manage to get the girl who wanted to be your “sister,” I don’t see your relationship having a happy ending; and I see a nickname that has something to do with the Brady Bunch) And tell that girl how you feel!!

DISCLAIMER: The Incredible Sulk cannot and will not be held accountable for slapped faces and broken noses and that feeling you get when the girl says, “BUT I TIED A RAKHI FOR YOU!”

Tata Taramani

I have a full suitcase
and a breakfast with no toast
there is still no place
for what I want the most.

I'd put it all in my trolley
if it didn't weigh so much
the memories, photos, the idlis
even Giri's grey crutch.

When will we meet next
Or share a glass of beer
Will you call or will you text
I want to rhyme "beer" with "near" and "dear"

I won't say bye
Coz that just sucks
I will instead just sigh
And miss the bubble top trucks

THE INCREDIBLE SULK's "IT'S NEVER TOO LATE" MOVIE REVIEW: THE BODYGUARD

Whitney Houston's (acting) (and on second thought, singing) fan club was, thankfully, a short-lived one.

Moe

This is a story

Told long ago

Of courage and glory

And a man named Moe

Moe was a man

So tall and big

He could lift steel cans

And ate like a pig

Yet Moe was kind

And gentle as snow

No kinder would you find

No kinder would you know

He wouldn’t hurt a fly

Or a cricket or beetle

In the matter of grey matter

He had very little

And then one day

Moe fell in love

Although many thought him gay

He was as straight as a horny dove.

Moe loved this girl

With a love deep and true

On Moe the girl would hurl

When he gave her plastic flowers of blue.

Yet Moe did not give up

He pursued her and her heart

But when he gave her a gift once

He let pass a fart.

The girl wrinkled her nose

And screamed, “Yuck Moe,”

Moe offered her a rose

To help the frightful scent go.

The girl loved Moe not,

But Moe would still persist

And the next day he bought

A silver bracelet for her wrist.

People felt bad for Moe

For all the money he spent

They thought the girl a hoe

Bad vibes the girl was sent.

The girl went for a walk one day

In a meadow so green and gay

Yet in the meadow an evil troll lay

Fie fi fo fum would the clichéd troll say.

The troll jumped up and said

“Hello fair maiden and foolish girl,

I will take you to my bed,

And then my lungi will unfurl.”

The girl screamed and yelled

The troll said, “Shut up lady,”

But the girl still yelled

For she did not want a half troll baby.

As chance would have it

Moe was passing by

He saw his love was in for it

And a few choice abuses he let fly.

He flew at the troll,

The troll flew at him

Heads did roll,

The fight was grim.

In a bid to save trees

I’ve kept the fight short

I’ve helped nature

And not lost the plot.

Moe beat the troll

With his hammer and thongs

Moe squeezed the troll’s mole

While singing war songs.

The troll gave in

For he couldn’t match Moe,

Wearing Moe’s thongs,

He held his head low.

Moe swept the fair maiden,

Into his hairy arms,

With maiden he was laden,

Till they reached his fish farm.

Once safe, he set her down,

“Thanks Moe,” she said

Under his breath Moe muttered

“Thank me in bed?”

His face once brown,

With a kiss turned red.

They then fell in love

They married the next day

And Moe the horny dove

Proved he wasn’t gay.

And so the tale goes,

In a year there were soon little Moes

And so everyone was loved and happy

Except when the little ones made crappy in their nappy.

The Sacred Bond

There’s a secret and sacred bond that is formed between two men who emerge from side-by-side bathroom cubicles at the same time. Like in Harry Potter, where one of those shiny strands emanates from their wands and joins two people together in an everlasting curse thingy, so is this bond formed.

You see it’s not every day that two men emerge from bathroom cubicles at the same time. Most of the time either you emerge or he’ll emerge first and neither of you will know who the other one is. Or who it was who let off that “10 second continuous stinker” (which is quite a feat btw). However, when you’ll come out of the cubicle at the same time...that changes things a bit.

You see, now you KNOW who let off that stinker. For 10 seconds. Continuously.

And so a secret bond is formed. Like most secret and sacred bonds among men it’s formed because both men know that they’ve just done something dirty. So you wash your hands quietly. An uneasy silence prevails. He (or you) doesn’t know whether he (you) should be proud of that 10 second stinker. Or if it’s some sort of record. You mumble something quietly about the weather.

Slowly the uneasiness wears off. He laughs and says something about eating chole bature last night. You smile, knowing the powerful effects of channa, on otherwise harmless gas.

And slowly but surely, that bond is formed. But you still never eat his wife’s chole bature.