The Squealer Magazine October

SQUEALER

MAGAZINE

THE

ISSUE 2 / OCTOBER 2013

KOH SAMUI’S DEFINITIVE TOILET READ

MRS BROWN’S BOYS THAT’S NICE

HONG KONG

FROGS SCROTUM ONCE A DAY

NON REALITY TV

THE NEXT BIGTHING

BEER

PROVENTO MAKE THE BRAIN FASTER AND MORE EFFICIENT

INSIDE 06

LETTERS

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CLASSIC SEASIDE SAUCINESS

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HONG KONG

20

TRAVEL

29

VINTAGE COMEDY

34

MRS BROWN’S BOYS

41

HEALTHY HAPPENINGS

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JUST THOUGHTS REALLY

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DATES FOR YOUR DIARY

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THE DAILY SPOON

12 20

Where’s Uncle Bob?

Oooh Er, Missus!

Frog’s Scrotum Once A Day

Slip Over To Samui

Another Gander At Old Comedy

What The Feck!

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I Have Some Extremely Distressing News

Please Be Upstanding

Don’t Miss A Moment

Non Reality TV – The Next Big Thing

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SQUEALER magazine

Editor Lorraine Clark Design and Web ets.io

Advertising advertising@squealermagazine.com Newsdesk newsdesk@squealermagazine.com

editors drivel So there I was the other day, in a taxi, passing the time of day by trying to imagine what chairs would look like if our knees bent the other way, when a dirty great storm cloud belly flopped onto the roof of the car.

Nothing wildly unusual there you might say, storm clouds do that round here, but it wasn’t the cloud that caught my eye, it was something else altogether.

Just as the first drops of rain started to explode onto the windscreen, I noticed a smartly dressed man leaning dangerously into the road, frantically trying to flag us down. I figured he was either horribly late for a meeting or a very worried hydrophobic. He obviously couldn’t see me and as we trundled towards him, his excitement increased and both his arms began to flap. Some people-‘no tails’ mainly – would have seen the lack of a blue light on the taxi’s roof as a sign it was occupied, but he was obviously from around these parts. He crept further into the road and for a moment I thought he was going to launch himself into a spread eagle dive for the bonnet.

Then at last he spotted me. His arms went limp, his head slumped into his shoulders and his heels reluctantly reintroduced themselves to the pavement.

It was quite sad really. A bit like watching the Ancient Mariner’s albatross falling wounded from the sky…I would imagine.

Then ‘the thing’ happened.

As we pootled past, he stared into the cab. Not at the driver but at me. Our eyes only met for a moment, but it was long enough for a jet stream of emotion to pass between us. His withering look was one that I’m sure you’ve seen before. The one that screams, “That was my cab you git! How dare you be in there already?”

In the every same instant I realized that I was responding to his ‘look’ by adopting one of my own. I didn’t have to see it: I could feel it. It was one of those faintly smug expressions that says, “Well lookee there. A man about to get wet. It’s lovely and dry in here you know.”

Questions and Contact: Email: info@squealermagazine.com Web: www.squealermagazine.com

Yet both our ‘looks’ were done with nothing more than our eyes and a couple of eyebrow-hitching muscles. Straight from the Roger Moore school of method acting. I have already perfected variations on the basic stare, the royal wave, the almost imperceptible ‘hard luck’ tilt of the head or the cheeky last-minute wink. All very childish I know, but for once I await the monsoon season with a certain sense of relish.

Lorraine Clark editor

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SQUEALER MAGAZINE / ISSUE 2

LETTERS

Dear Squealer,

WHERE’S UNCLE BOB?

Dear Squealer Magazine,

Last we heard he was on holiday in Spain,

I am constantly disappointed by the lack of decent recipes in today’s media, so here is one which should appeal to your readers….

Tequila Cookies Ingredients: 1 cup of dark brown sugar 1 cup (2 sticks) butter 1 cup of granulated sugar 4 large eggs 2 cups of dried fruit, such as dried cranberries or raisins 1 tsp baking soda, 1 tsp salt, 1 tsp fresh lemon juice 1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans 2 cups all-purpose flour 1 bottle Jose Cuervo Tequila (silver or gold, as desired) Mixing Instructions: - Sample the Cuervo to check quality.

- Take a large bowl, check the Cuervo again, to be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.

-Turn on the electric mixer...Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.

-Add one teaspoon of sugar...Beat again.

- At this point it’s best to make sure the Cuervo is still OK, try another cup .... just in case.

- Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit, - Pick the frigging fruit off floor... Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers just pry it loose with a drewscriver.

- Sample the Cuervo to check for tonsisticity.

-Next, sift two cups of salt, or something.

- Check the Jose Cuervo.

-Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.

-Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don’t forget to beat off the turner.

-Finally, throw the bowl out the window, -FINISH the Cose Juervo and make sure to put the stove in the dishwasher.

Enjoy!

Lydia Lush 6

since then nothing...

Regards, Angelo

Dear Squealer,

VERY RUDE POLE DANCING PICTURE I know that you won’t be able to print this picture because it is so rude, but I thought that you would like a copy anyway. She’s certainly the first blonde pole dancer I have ever seen here.

Regards Steve Walker Under the ‘artistic interpretation’ banner we’ve decided to take a risk here Simon and print your picture.

Please see page 19, but for those that are easily offended, please don’t say that you haven’t been warned.

FUNNIES

CLASSROOM TERRORIST

At Heathrow Airport an individual, later discovered to be a public school teacher, was arrested trying to board a flight. He was in possession of a compass, a protractor and a geographical calculator.

Authorities believe he is a member of the notorious Al-Gebra movement.

He is charged with carrying weapons of math instruction.

BEING OLD

A reporter asked a 104 year-old woman, “What is the best thing about being that old?”

She replied, “No peer pressure.”

BEAR IN A BAR

A bear walks into a bar in Billings, Montana and sits down. He bangs on the bar with his paw and demands a beer. The bartender approaches and says, “We don’t serve beer to bears in bars in Billings.”

The bear, becoming angry, demands again that he be served a beer.

The bartender tells him again, more forcefully, “We don’t serve beer to belligerent bears in bars in Billings.”

The bear, very angry now, says, “If you don’t serve me a beer, I’m going to eat that lady sitting at the end of the bar.”

The bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve beer to a belligerent, bully bears in bars, in Billings.” The bear goes to the end of the bar, and as promised, eats the woman. He comes back to his seat and again demands a beer.

The bartender states, “Sorry, we don’t serve beer to belligerent, bully bears in bars in Billings that are on drugs.” The bear says, “I’m not on drugs.” The bartender says,” You are now. That was a barbitchyouate.”

A REAL COWBOY

An old cowboy sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. As he sat sipping his drink, a young woman sat down next to him. She turned to the cowboy and asked, “Are you a real cowboy?’

He replied, “Well, I’ve spent my whole life breaking colts, working cows, going to rodeos, fixing fences, pulling calves, bailing hay, doctoring calves, cleaning my barn, fixing flats, working on tractors, and feeding my dogs, so I guess I am a cowboy.”

She said, “I am a lesbian. I spend my whole day thinking about women. As soon as I get up in the morning, I think about women. When I shower, I think about women. When I watch TV, I think about women. I even think about women when I eat. It seems that everything makes me think of women.”

The two sat sipping in silence.

A little while later, a man sat down on the other side of the old cowboy and asked “Are you a real cowboy?’

He replied, “I always thought I was, but I just found out I’m a lesbian.”

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STUFF

What are the three fastest means of communication?

1) Television 2) Telephone 3) Telawoman How do you know when a woman is about to say something smart?

When she starts a sentence with ‘A man once told me...’

How do you fix a woman’s watch? You don’t. There is a clock on the oven.

Why do men pass gas more than women?

Because women can’t shut up long enough to build up the required pressure.

Why do women rub their eyes when they wake up?

Because they don’t have balls to scratch.

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Why do women fake orgasms ?

Because they think men care.

If your dog is barking at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, who do you let in first?

The dog, of course. He’ll shut up once you let him in.

What’s worse than a Male Chauvinist Pig? A woman who won’t do what she’s told I married a Miss Right.

I just didn’t know her first name was Always.

Why do men die before their wives?

They want to.

Women will never be equal to men.. until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy.

DON’T STRAIN YOURSELF

SQUEALER MAGAZINE / ISSUE 2

TOMFOOLERY

I just came across this exercise suggested for seniors to build muscle strength in the arms and shoulders. It seems easy, so I thought I would pass it on to my friends.

The article suggested doing it three days a week. Begin by standing on a comfortable surface where you have plenty of room each side. With a 5-lb potato sack in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute, then relax.

Each day, you will find that you can hold this position for just a little longer.

After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb potato sacks, then 50-lb potato sacks and eventually try to get to where you lift a 100-lb potato sack in each hand and hold your arms straight out for more than one full minute.

After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each of the sacks: but be careful.

BEER LOGIC

A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo, and when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first.

This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole herd keeps improving by the regular culling of the weakest members.

In much the same way, the human brain can operate only as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, we all know, kills of brain cells…but naturally it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first.

In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker cells, constantly making the brain a faster and more efficient machine.

OUT ON THE TOWN

Bit of black tarmac walks into a pub in London and orders a pint.

He’s just starting his drink when a bit of red tarmac walks in.

“Oi, mate!” says the black tarmac, “I’m a piece of black tarmac me, so that makes me a road. What are you?” “I’m a bus lane,” says the bit of red tarmac. “Well nice to meet you,” says the road, “Come and join me for a pint.”

After a few beers the road says, “Ere, do you fancy going to that ne club in town?” And the bus lane says “No way mate, I am a lightweight. I always end up getting my head kicked in.” So the road ays, “Don’t worry about it, I am a bit of a hard case, nobody’s going to touch you whilst I am around.” So thje bus lane says, “Fair enough, as long as you’ll look after me.”

After a few more beers in the club, three really long strips of green tarmac walk in. As soon as he sees them, the road dives under the table; the strips of green tarmac take one look at the bus lane and immediately start kicking him, punching him and generally having a laugh. After a while they walk out. The bus lane pulls his battered body over to the table, wipes off a bit of blood, turns to the road and says “I thought you were going to look after me!”

“I was, honest,” says the road, “But these long strips of green tarmac are complete cycle paths!”

SLOW HAND

Some tortoises were playing poker and ran out of beer, so they sent some of their group to the off-licence. After waiting two days, they became impatient. “Tommy really is getting slow,” one complained. To which a little voice from the other side of the door replied, “Well if you are going to start talking about me, I won’t go at all.”

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CLASSIC SEASIDE SAUCINESS

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CHECK OUT THE SQUEALER CAPTION COMPETITION ON PAGE 33!

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INSTANT HUMOR STARK CHOICES You are in the middle of a violent storm. There is chaos all around you caused by a hurricane with severe flooding. This is a flood of biblical proportions. You are a photojournalist working for a major newspaper, and you’re caught in the middle of this epic disaster. The situation is clearly hopeless.

You’re trying to shoot career making photos. There are houses and people swirling around you, some disappearing under the water. Nature is unleashing all of its destructive fury. Suddenly you see a man floundering in the water. He is fighting for his life, trying not to be taken down with the debris. You move closer….somehow the man looks familiar. You suddenly realize who it is. IT’s the Portuguese footballer Christiano Ronaldo! At the same time you notice that the raging waters are about to pull him under.

You have two options: you can save Ronaldo’s life or you can shoot a dramatic Pulitzer Prize winning photo, documenting the death of one of the world’s most gifted sportsmen. So here’s the question: would you a) select a high contrast colour film, or b) go with the classic simplicity of black and white?

BREAKING THE HABIT A nun, badly needing to use the restroom, walked into a local bar. The place was hopping with music and loud conversation and every once and a while the lights would turn off. Each time the lights went out, the place would erupt into cheers. However, when the revelers saw the nun, the room went dead silent. She walked up to the bartender and asked, may I use the restroom?” The bartender replied “OK, but I should warn you there is a man in there wearing only a fig leaf.”

“Well in that case I’ll just look the other way,” said the nun, so, the bartender showed her the rest room.

After a few minutes she came back out and the whole place stopped just long enough to give the nun a loud round of applause. She went to the bartender and said, “Sir, I don’t understand! Why did they applaud me just because I went to the rest room?”

“Well now you are one of us,” said the bartender “Would you like a drink?”

“But I still don’t understand,” said the puzzled nun.

“You see,’ laughed the barman, “every time the fig leaf on the statue is lifted up, the lights go out. Now how about that drink?”

YOU’RE NEXT When I was younger I hated going to weddings. It seemed that all my aunts and the grandmotherly types used to come up to me, poke me in the ribs and cackle, “You’re next.” Mind you they stopped doing that after I started doing the same thing to them at funerals.

THE DREAM JOB A man walks into the local welfare office, marches straight up to the counter and says, “Hi…you know, I just HATE drawing welfare. I’d really rather have a job.”

The social worker behind the counter says, “Your timing is excellent. We have just got a job opening from a very wealthy old man who wants a chauffeur and a bodyguard for his nymphomaniac daughter. You’ll have to drive around in his Mercedes, but he’ll supply all of your clothes. Because of the long hours, meals will be provided. You’ll be expected to escort her on her overseas holiday trips. You will have to satisfy her sexual urges. You’ll have a two bedroom apartment above the garage and the starting salary is $200,000 a year.”

The man is elated. “You’re kidding me!” he says.

The social worker replies, “Yeah, well…you started it.”

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Frog’s Scrotum Once a Day

HONG KONG

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In Hong Kong good health suddenly seemed so dull. The traditional medicine shops that thronged the side streets were irresistible palaces of the weird and the wonderful, full of exotic cures and fabulous ingredients. I longed for a witch’s brew of rare tubers and animal spare parts, for soporific seaweed, relaxing dried bugs and revitalizing compounds of deer’s antlers. I rang a doctor and made an appointment straight away.

corner were pharmacies crammed with quixotic concoctions. There were lotions with inexhaustible properties. Apply for two or three days to the infected area, declared one box, for the relief of colds, flu, diarrhea, inflammation, seasickness, gout, hangover, and ‘discomfort caused by forest smog and epidemics’. There were crocodile bile pills for the relief of asthma and gastrointestinal pills - called Trumpet Brand - for the relief of wind.

The surgery was in an alley off Wing Lok Street where the shops spilled onto the pavements selling family shrines, sharks’ fins and woks as big as shields. Outside the door, I paused to practice looking ill. I had yet to decide on my complaint so I went for an all-purpose slouch and a slight wheeze. The guide giggled, and we climbed the stairs, happily undercover in the world of traditional Chinese medicine. ”To the casual observer Hong Kong seems to be populated with hypochondriacs. It is somehow reassuring to find its citizens still harboring traditional anxieties: indigestion, flatulence and excessive sputum. At every

One of my favorites was San Le Jiang, an anti-fatigue tablet which, between preventing cancer and

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TRAVEL SQUEALER on outside walls to ward off bad luck and where elderly jaywalkers enliven the rush-hour by standing so close to the passing cars that they crush the evil spirits at their heels.

senility, also kept the user ‘regular and quick-witted’.

Sex was a continual anxiety. ‘Great Lover Spray’ and ‘Random Sexual Lotion’ vied for space with ‘Strong Penis Pills’ whose ingredients included extracts of snake, seal and deer’s willy. Not to be taken, the instructions warned, if you are feverish or pregnant. But these were only the chemists, a bowdlerised version of the traditional medicine shops with their crates of deer’s marrow and bins of bird’s nests.

Behind their counters tiers of unmarked drawers held the secrets of Chinese medicine from dried hornets to chrysanthemum flowers.

Ancient clerks shuffled back and forth behind the counters weighing out mysterious substances. They were models of their own practice, quick-witted octogenarians neither senile nor irregular. With diets of ginseng they seemed to have joined the Immortals. Hong Kong may be the epitome of the modern metropolis, an Asian Manhattan, but beneath its westernized exterior there beats a traditional Chinese heart.

It is a town where people burn bank notes drawn on the Bank of Hell to appease the ‘hungry ghosts’ of the dead, where octagonal mirrors are placed

At the colony’s most spectacular skyscraper, the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, plans had to be hastily revised when consultant geomancers, practitioners of the ancient principles of feng-shui, revealed that the angle of the escalators would bring misfortune. Most visitors marvel at the efficiency of the underground Mass Transit System but few realise that it is speeded on its way by Taoist priests whose invocations successfully appeased the jealous earth spirits.

But nowhere are traditional Chinese concerns more evident than in medical practice. Over lunch in revolving restaurants urban sophisticates show each other their tongues and discuss their inner meridians. Account executives stuck in traffic jams ring their doctors from their car phones to order another course of weasel liver. To westerners it may appear like exotic quackery, but it is well to remember that acupuncture, aromatherapy and homeopathy all former ‘quack’ treatments are now widely accepted as a respectable part of complementary

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TRAVEL SQUEALER medicine. Bear’s gall may yet replace the obligatory course of antibiotics.

At the doctor’s office I found the waiting room and the consulting room were one and the same. A row of glum patients sat on divans of lacquered wood like medical students on job experience while the doctor conducted his examinations a few feet away.

Hanging in the windows beyond his desk were bamboo birdcages through whose bars a criminal fraternity of myna birds eyed me suspiciously. During the consultations the mynas gabbled in Cantonese. Life in a doctor’s surgery had robbed them of every shred of sympathy and they kept up a chorus of cruel mockery. The more glum the patients, the more the birds laughed, shrieked, and shook their feathers. The patients had mysterious complaints.

The first woman declared that she was too wet and the doctor prescribed rose petals. The next was too hot and got buffalo horn. A third was a stooped old lady in silk pyjamas. She seemed promising territory. Nearly deaf, she shouted her complaint across the desk: HAEMORRHOIDS. The doctor gave her honeysuckle flowers. I was unclear what she was meant to do with them.

I was desperate for the big stuff, the really weird stuff. I didn’t want honeysuckle flowers. I wanted frog scrotum, dried sea-horse, seal’s penis. As I sat

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on the bench with the guide, a young woman in a red miniskirt and a faint aroma of Chanel, I realised there was only one way to guarantee such prescriptions: a confession of sexual inadequacy. Chinese medicine reserves its best for the bedchamber. In front of the young woman, the other patients and the ghastly mocking birds, I would have to claim that I was impotent.

When the doctor called me forward, the guide came too, as if we were a newly married couple. He was a slight, bespectacled man who had a way of cocking his head like the myna birds. He gathered my hands in his long fingers, laid them across a little red cushion and felt my pulses. There were three in each wrist, governing different aspects of the body: lungs, digestion, kidneys and so on. He tapped and probed them with long investigative fingers. He was not simply feeling their rate, he explained, but also their strength, their rhythms, and their pattern.

He made my pulses sound like symphonies, some revelation of the soul.

“Slippery pulses,” he sighed, “not good.” Then he popped the question. “Any problems?” The other patients leaned imperceptibly forward. The myna birds paused in their stream of invective. The guide crossed her legs, a whisper of nylon. My nerve failed me. “Malaise,” I said. “I’m sorry?” said the doctor.

SQUEALER MAGAZINE / ISSUE 2

TRAVEL SQUEALER “Malaise. You know, general... malaise. I feel run down.” He nodded knowingly. ”I can feel it,” he said.

“It is all in the pulses. Your digestive tract is in difficulty. Also your lower back hurts.” He took up a brush and in long graceful characters painted my prescription on a sheet of rice paper. Outside in the street the guide translated: cuttlefish bones. It wasn’t exactly toad secretion but I felt I had done reasonably well in the exotica stakes.

We hurried off to the medicine shop. By the time we got there, my digestive tract was suffering from the powers of suggestion. I had acquired the stomachache. One of the oldest and the grandest of Chinese medicine shops is Eu Yan Sang, which has been trading in Queen’s Road Central since 1926. Behind the counters ancient gentlemen were bent over stone mortars grinding and packaging the skin of cicadas. One old man was chopping deer’s antlers with an antiquated guillotine. He was a lovely old man and when the guide complimented him on his complexion he looked up and said, “Bird spittle.”

Above him jars lined the shelves like a candy store.

Instead of liquorice twists and Smarties, one got dried turtles and pigeon ovaries. The most expensive ingredients were laid out reverently on little cushions beneath the glass counters. A veritable herd of stags’ penises, euphemistically known as deer’s tail, filled a satinlined display case. I gazed longingly at them: this is what impotence would have got me. Then I noticed the price tag, $450 a tael, a Chinese measurement, less than an ounce and a half, normally used for gold. The highest prices however were not for genitalia but for ginseng.

The very rarest, a wild species from the mountains of Manchuria, lay like diamonds in velvet boxes. You could take home a piece the size of a cigarette for $20,000.

In wall cases the whole cornucopia of the Chinese herbalist was on display. There were terrapin shells for renal dysfunction and lung nourishment, ground gecko for asthma, burganus snake for rheumatism, seal’s testicles to replenish vital essences, monkey’s gall stones for ulcers, bear’s gall bladder for trauma, bird’s nests for facial nutrition, dried hornets to cure children of fear of the dark, pearl powder for poor eyesight, centipedes for convulsions and excessive wind and sea horses for

low cholesterol levels. When the ingredients were boiled into a ‘medicinal tea’ patients were usually advised to throw in pork or chicken bones to make the thing palatable.

Suppliers for the Chinese medicine trade range from ginseng farmers in America to deer ranchers in Germany and New Zealand. In China itself however the conditions of animals, notably bears, reared for medical purposes are appalling. Wild stocks too are vulnerable. In Mongolia the demands of Chinese medicine are responsible for the poaching of dwindling numbers of deer and bear. An old man was carefully weighing my cuttlefish bones on a finger scale. Having begun the day in fine fettle I now couldn’t wait to get back to my hotel and start taking the bones. My doctor seemed more like a soothsayer. I wondered when my lower back would begin playing up. As he handed me my bones the clerk leaned across the counter. ”About your back,” he said. “Snake bile. Mix it with a little cognac.

Works wonders.”

First Blonde Pole Dancer

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Samui Holiday

Back in the 1970s the word ‘Samui’ was known only to a few of the most adventurous backpackers eager to explore this little known and tricky to reach island. Then, a basic thatched bungalow with generator power and running water was considered luxury. Nowadays, 5-star resorts, that rival any world-class destination, occupy the prime beachfront and clifftop locations bringing the jetsetter crowd to this now well-known and easily accessible island in the Gulf of Thailand.

Samui is Thailand’s third largest island, yet mea sures just 21 kilometres at its widest point and 25 at its longest. A ring-road runs around the island for approximately 50 kilometres and links the many beaches and bays, so hiring a car or scooter is recommended, as it’s the best way to explore. Don’t be afraid to venture down an unmarked palm-lined track – this is how you come across some of Samui’s best kept secret beaches.

And it’s beaches after all that bring visitors to a tropical island, and those visitors will not be disappointed with Samui’s selection of bays and coves - from long stretches of white sand, to small coves, protected by giant boulders.

Samui’s eastern and northern shores are the

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most populated, and Chaweng is the busiest beach, with hardly a gap along the beachfront between restaurants, resorts and bars. At night, the beach takes off her sundress and glams up with her evening dress, completes with diamond earrings – metaphorically speaking that is. As the sun sets, sun-loungers are replaced with tables set out at the water’s edge. The aroma of sunscreen is replaced by the mouth-watering smells wafting from the open seafood barbecues on the beach. Sunglasses come off, first to view the brilliant sunsets, and later to gaze at the moon over the bay, or the fairy lights and lanterns lighting up the beach and palm trees.

As developed as Samui has become in some areas, what’s good to know is that the island observes a quaint building regulation – no building may be higher than the closest coconut palm. Now while these palms can get quite tall, this is still a far cry from the skyscrapers that line Phuket’s (Thailand’s biggest island) shore, and most resorts are still of the villa or bungalow style. If you’re looking for a slower pace, head west and south and get a feel of what Samui must have been like a few decades ago.

Another beach worth visiting is Choeng Mon at the north-eastern tip of the island. Frequented by expats, this is an ideal family beach, with just enough vendors to be convenient when you’re looking for a snack or drink, but not enough to bother you. South of Chaweng, before Samui’s second largest beach of Lamai, are two small coves, namely Crystal Bay and Coral Cove.

Samui has more to offer visitors and residents than just glorious beaches. Golf enthusiasts will delight in the views on offer from the challenging Santiburi Golf Club, high up in the hills above Maenam. There’re other golfing options available on the island too, including mini golf, and believe it or not, football golf.

There’s a fair selection of adrenalin sports, both on land and in water too.

accommodation-wise. From tiny beach bungalows, with not more than a hammock swinging between two trees, to luxury establishments offering the best of everything as well as all types of rooms in between, you’ll find it on Samui. There’s traditional to contemporary, family-friendly to hip and happening and allinclusive resorts to self-catering establishments too.

One of the best parts of travelling is trying new food.

Whether it’s Thai food you’re after or international cuisine, Samui’s chefs can prepare it for you. Be sure to try a walking street market during your stay too.

Fancy a night out on the town? Well the busier areas such as Chaweng and Lamai are home to a vast selection of night clubs, bars and cabaret shows. But you don’t have to wait until evening to party, with venues such as Nikki Beach on the west coast, and Beach Republic on the east coast, hosting DJs from lunchtime as guests mingle, dine and laze by the beachfront pools.

There’s plenty to see too during your stay, from viewpoints to temples and religious sites and butterfly gardens to Muay Thai boxing matches. There’s so much to see and do, that’s it’s best to make a list of your favourites so you don’t miss out.

Shopaholics won’t be disappointed with the retail therapy on offer. From bargaining at market stands to buying local designer-wear or original souvenirs made on Samui , you’ll find just what you’re looking for. Samui may not have big shopping malls (yet), but that doesn’t mean shopping can’t be fun and rewarding as you wander along the shopping strips set back from the beaches. Of course, you can have a suit tailor-made too in just a day or two. Who would have thought?

Whether you’re planning an action-packed holiday, or

Prefer something a little less energetic? Well Samui has become known as a spa, detox and pampering hub of Southeast Asia.

Whether you’re after a full detox program or just a day of ‘me time’, you’ll find a vast array of spas to choose from. You can’t go wrong with a 300 baht massage on the beach too. a time to unwind with the family, you can find all the Whether you’re a backpacker, a flashpacker or a 5-star- information you require at www.samuiholiday.com. It all-the-way kind of traveller, again, Samui will please will even tell you how to get here …

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Fabulous Things Tea Room and Bakery Wedding, Birthday, Anniversary.

Or I just need a cake now!

Cakes for all occasions.

Luxury Picnics.

Helium Balloons Cards Daily selection of cakes, sandwiches and other delicious home cooked lunches.

Facebook.com/FabulousThingsSamui

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THE ULTIMATE GUIDE TO SMART ASS QUIPPERY B is for ‘Bath – time’

“I like to fill my tub up with water, and then turn the shower on and act like I’m in a submarine that’s been hit.” (Steven Wright)

…and for ‘Brothers’…

“Older brothers invented terrorism. “Louie, see that swamp? There’s a monster in it.” So for years I walked all the way around it. Until I got older, a little wiser – and a little brother.” (Louie Anderson)

…and for ‘The Beatles’…

“Ringo Starr the best drummer in the world? He wasn’t even the best drummer in the Beatles.” (John Lennon)

…and for ‘Beauty’…

“The problem with beauty is that it’s like being born rich and getting progressively poorer.’ (Joan Collins) “I’m the only woman who can walk in Central Park at night and reduce the crime rate” (Phyllis Diller)

…and for ‘Beer’…

“What shall we drink to?

“About four in the morning.” (Sammy Davis Jr and Dean Martin)

…and for ‘Birds’…

“I swan about the place, I duck flying objects, I goose a lady friend. What is it about aquatic birds that lend themselves to the doing words?” (Harry Hill) “Before birds get sucked into jet engines, do they ever think, “Is that Rod Stewart in first class?” (Eddie Izzard)

…and for ‘Books’…

“I have a bit of a problem with reading. I read slowly and get my words jumbled up. I had some tests done and apparently it’s not dyslexia – I’m just thick. At least now I have a name for it.” (Jack Dee)

…and for ‘Battle of the Sexes’

“When women are depressed, they eat or go shopping. When men are depressed, they invade another country.” (Elayne Boosler)

…and for ‘Body’…

“A lot of people are into body piercing. They end up looking like they’ve been mugged by a staple gun.”

(Robin Williams)

...and for ‘Brain’…

“In high school, I was voted the person most likely to be a mental patient, hillbilly, or chimpanzee.” (Homer Simpson) “Had his brain been constructed of silk, he would have been hard put to find sufficient material to make a canary a pair of cami-knickers.”

(P.G. Wodehouse)

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HAVE WE GOT NEWS FOR YOU

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VINTAGE COMEDY PART 2

A BRIEF HISTORY OF FILM COMEDY (PARTII) - 1930-1970 When Frenchman, Auguste Baron invented sound-synchronized cinema, he had no idea that it would take all of 28 years to catch on. But when it did, a new era of cinema emerged. While the bright stars of silent film, such as Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton faded into the background, theatrical acts such as the Marx Brothers shone on screen and embraced the new era like an old friend.

1930’S: Comedy films in the 30’s, understandably, thrived. America was suffering from a great depression and cinema had become the most favoured means of escapism, with audiences flocking to see heart-warming films about show girls made good, with fabulous songs and elaborate sets - the 1930’s Gold Diggers series of films typified the genre, depicting glamour and extravagance.

In a class of their own, The Marx Brothers made a smooth transition from theatre to film, despite their style of comedy that often made a mockery of the upper classes. Their first film, The Cocoanuts (1929), although not their best work, set the foundation for their later work, such as Monkey Business, Horse Feathers and Duck Soup that were all made between ’31 and ’33.

From 1933, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dominated the comedy music genre, dancing their way through a 16-year successful partnership, with films such as The Gay Divorcee (’34), while Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney were also popular stars of the genre as was Gene Kelly in the 40s.

Over in Britain, Variety Club acts soon emerged on screen just as they had done in the States. By 1937, former music hall singer Gracie Fields, a down-to-earth,

working class, Lancashire girl, had become the highest paid film star in Britain with films such as Sally in Our Alley (’31) and Sing As We Go (’34).

George Formby was another popular entertainer during the wartime. The buck-toothed banjo ukulele player and slapstick actor starred in films such as Let George Do It (’30) and No Limit (’36). He and Fields were both invited to entertain the troops in Europe and North Africa during WWII. The 30s also heralded the arrival of “screwball” comedy introducing the world to the likes of Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn and Clark Gable, linking slapstick comedy of the silent era with fast paced dialogue, most often in the context of a “battle of the sexes” – the most well known of the genre being Howard Hawkes’ Bringing Up Baby (’38).

1940’s: During the 40s and through wartime, the studios continued to search for a comedy duo or team that could take over the legacy of Laurel and Hardy. Abbott and Costello proved very popular right through to the mid 50s, churning out two feature films a year. The Three Stooges also made it big with 200 shorts between 1934 and ’58 although their slapstick style was enjoyed mainly by a younger audience. Bob Hope and Bing

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SQUEALER MAGAZINE / ISSUE 2 Crosby, already a big comedy duo in the cinema, began their series of six Road to…movies with Road To Singapore in 1940.

World War II was increasingly reflected in the cinema and became a global concern once America had entered the battle. Patriotic dramas sprang up in Britain and American cinema released Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator (1940) in which Chaplin not only played a buffoonish Hitleresque dictator but also a lookalike victim of his politics.

1950’s: They were followed by the pairing of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis in the 50’s who made a neat transition from radio to film.

The pairing of Crooner and Goofball, just like Crosby and Hope was, again, hugely successful, spawning the films Sailor Beware (’51) and The Caddy (’53).

In Britain George Formby was followed by Norman Wisdom, a comic in a similar vein, whose signature flat cap and optimistic demeanour made him Britain’s biggest star in the early 50s.

An audience is never wrong. An individual member of it may be an imbecile, but a thousand imbeciles in the dark – that is critical genius. (Billy Wilder) Every girl, at some point in her life (and a few boys too), has gone to a costume party dressed as a St Trinian’s school girl. The first of the St Trinians movies dates back to 1954 with The Belles of St Trinians, set in a rowdy girls boarding school with Alistair Sim (yes a man) dragged up to play the headmistress.

Drag comedies were big in the 40s and 50s, the most memorable and probably the best drag performances of the era being Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis in Some Like It Hot starring alongside Marilyn Monroe in1959.

Back in England Peter Sellers, already a star on radio and famous for his many characters in The Goon Show, was taking British cinema by storm, starring in various Ealing comedies, such as The Ladykillers (’55), that often featured an ensemble cast of great British actors such as Alex Guinness, Alistair Sim, Margaret Rutherford, Sidney James and Stanley Holloway. The films were not only defined by the actors but also

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SQUEALER MAGAZINE / ISSUE 2 producers changed their approach to film, now considering it a form of high art and picking out writers and actors that had learned the Method approach to acting.

These moody, broody stars such as Marlon Brando and James Dean brought angst to their parts while directors focused on depicting gritty reality.

In 1959 a new comedy duo emerged from Hollywood in the form of Doris Day and Rock Hudson - marketed as a ladies man, despite being homosexual. They made a number of “bedroom comedies” together starting with Pillow Talk in ’59, and eventually became Hollywood’s leading comedy duo.

1960’s: The 60s brought with it the now classic Breakfast At Tiffany’s starring Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard while British cinema continued to churn out the Carry On films that made Barbara Windsor, Sid James and Kenneth Williams into big British stars.

But it was The Beatles who shook up screen by the directors, such as Charles Crichton was later dragged out of retirement by John Cleese who insisted he work on A Fish Called Wanda with him. The end of the Ealing era came in 1956 when the studios were sold to BBC TV. It’s now 27 years since Peter Sellers shuffled off this mortal coil, yet he is still one of the most celebrated screen comedians. His role opposite Sophia Loren in The Millionaires (’60) was his most popular role of that era and he used his talent for voices to play the part of an Indian doctor. But it was his later role in The Pink Panther that really defined his career. Playing the incompetent (and very un-PC) Inspector Clouseau with “my little yellow friend” – unfortunate sidekick, Kato – Sellers supported David Niven in the main role and stole the show with his comedy moustache and silly French accent, creating his most popular character so far. Sellers went on to play Clouseau five more times.

To counteract the advent of television in the 50’s, Hollywood

comedy and went some way towards defining youth cinema with their film A Hard Days Night (’64). Indeed, it was subsequent films such as The Graduate and Easy Rider that the 60s youth gravitated towards, that helped to define them and to define the decade. The youth wanted something that spoke to them and told them their point of view was relevant and it was in these films that cinema achieved just that. By the end of the decade though, comedy was finding its feet again. Paul Newman and Robert Redford injected humour into the Western with Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (’69) while over in the UK Richard Attenborough’s Oh What A Lovely War! (’69) dished up pacifism with cynicism.

In general it was politics that dominated cinema in the 60s whether it was political tension in In The Heat Of The Night (’67) or political ambivalence in Easy Rider. These films set the stage for the 70s, where major changes in accepted morals and values defined cinema, and found a group of directors all trying to get to grips with a society that had lost its way. Part III a Brief History of Film Comedy (in the next issue), explores the 70s and the way that cinema reflected the changing times.

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GROUCHO MARX (JULIUS HENRY) 1890 – 1977 Best known for playing characters who were wisecracking sharpies that always sported a cigar, a moustache made of dark greasepaint and walked with half a crouch.

Was told by studio executive Walter Wanger to lose the greasepaint moustache as it was an “obvious fake”. (Source: Joseph Adamson III in his book Groucho, Harpo, Chico and sometimes Zeppo (1973).

Died three days after Elvis Presley. Unfortunately, due to the furore over the former’s death, the media paid little attention to the passing of this comic genius.

When talking about Margaret Dumont, the actress who frequently played the dowager who acted as a punching bag for Groucho’s verbal insults, he claimed the secret to their chemistry is that she never understood what he was saying.

Had fifth brother, Gummo Marx, who performed with the other brothers in vaudeville. He left the act before the brothers started to make movies.

He suffered from insomnia, which he claimed was due to a financial loss in the stock market. When he suffered from insomnia, he used to call people up in the middle of the night and insult them.

The FBI had a file on him after he made some jokes about communism.

Shortly after his death, his children found a gag letter written

by Groucho that stated that he wanted to be buried on top of Marilyn Munroe.

A famous gag toy was modelled after his face – the dark black glasses with a big orange nose and moustache “disguise” toy.

There are at least two versions of how Julius Henry Marx got his more famous nickname. One is that it came from his general disposition. The other, that, during the Marx Brothers’ early days in vaudeville, he was the keeper of the act’s famous “grouch bag” or money purse. Grouch, himself, said on one occasion: “My own name, I never did understand.”

There is a famous club in London called the Groucho. It is frequented by actors & celebrities. It got its name from the quote from Groucho that he would not join any club for which he was allowed to be a member.

GROUCHOISMS: “Remember, men, we’re fighting for this woman’s honour; which is probably more than she ever did.” - Duck Soup (1933) “Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend.

Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.”

“The man who wants a happy marriage should learn to keep his mouth shut and his checkbook open.”

“A moose is an animal with horns on the front of his head and a hunting lodge wall on the back of it.”

“Marriage is a wonderful institution. But who wants to live in an institution?”

“You’re only as young as the woman you feel.”

‘I could dance with you until the cows come home. On second thought, I’d rather dance with the cows until you come home.”

“I could sit in your lap all day if you don’t stand up.”

“I drink to make other people interesting.”

“I watched a cricket match for three hours waiting for it to start.”

“I am all for women’s rights – and their lefts too.”

“I’ve had a wonderful evening – but this wasn’t it.”

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CAPTION COMPETITION SQUEALER MAGAZINE / ISSUE 2

Your Captions

Caption Competition Go Here!

To know them is to love them….our favourite lads from ‘The Larder’ Winner gets a nice bottle of plonk

Our November 2013 Cover Picture – Please mail your entries to contact@squealermagazine.com

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SPOTLIGHT

Spotlight Mrs. Brown

MRS BROWN’S BOYS

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SQUEALER MAGAZINE / ISSUE 2 Anges Brown is undoubtedly Irelands proudest mother, who fits very snugly into the category of ‘foul-mouthed matriarch‘s’ and is a woman who loves nothing more than to interfere with the lives of her children and her friends, as anybody who has enjoyed Mrs. Brown’s Boys would well know.

This British-Irish award winning sitcom was created by Brendan O’Carroll and is based on O’Carroll’s sage plays about Agnes Browne. The sitcom, that has enjoyed twenty one episodes over three series, continues the stories of Anges, whose surname has been shortened to ‘Brown’ for the TV adaptation.

Meet the Brown Family – and some of O’Carroll’s close friends and family.

Agnes Brown aka Brendan O’Carroll, is a very loud and noisy woman who, after the death of her husband Redser, does her best to look out for her family. Agnes is also very nosy and finds it very hard to stay out of other people’s lives. She works on a fruit and vegetable stall on Dublin Market and loves nothing more than to make a fool out of her best friend and neighbor Winnie and her father in law. After taking elocution lessons Agnes developed her catch phrase “that’s nice” which she uses as an alternative to “fuck off”.

is always put off her suitors by the things her mother has to say about them.

Rory Brown, played by Rory Cowan is Agnes’s second son and is homosexual, a fact he tried to keep from her in fear that she would feel shame, when Agnes eventually found out she informed him that she knew of his illness. Rory went on to marry Dino Doyle, played by Gary Hollywood. Together they manage a hair salon although Dino is also a chef.

Dermot Brown, played by Paddy Houlihan, is Anges’s youngest son, who is often seen in giant costumes and got into trouble for burgling with his friend Buster Brady. Off screen Paddy Houlihan is the best friend of O’Carroll’s son Danny.

Maria Brown, married to Dermot, is played by Fiona O’Carroll, who is O’Carroll’s real life daughter. Agnes’s daughter in law Maria is a nurse from a wealthy family and a little on the quiet side. She has triplets with Dermot who they have named after the Beatles John, George and Ringo.

Trevor Brown is played by Martin Deany, O’Carroll’s son in law married to his daughter Fiona. Trevor is another one of Agnes’s son’s but does not appear in the first series.

Sharon McGoodan is played by Fiona Gibney, O’Carrolls sister in law Sharon is the daughter of Winnie and Jacko.

Buster Brady is played by O’Carroll’s son Danny. He is a trouble maker always looking to make a fast buck, he is Dermot’s best friend by not approved of by Agnes, although he was the best man at Dermot and Marias wedding.

Hilary Nicholson is played by Susie Blake and is Maria’s mother, and very wary of Agnes. Hilary did not approve of Maria getting marrying in to the Brown Family.

Awards Agnes’s best friend Winnie McGoogan is played by his real life sister Eilish O’Carroll and is Agnes’s next door neighbou. She is a quiet lady who, when in Foley’s Bar or at the kitchen table with Agnes, is often made a fool out of. Winnie is married to Jacko McGoogan, an unseen, but accident prone, character.

Grandad Brown played by Dermot O’Neil is Agnes’s fatherin-law. His constant whining and complaining annoys Agnes, who gets he own back by making a fool of him.

Mark Brown, played by Pat ‘Pepsi’ Sheilds, is Agnes’s eldest son.

Mark lives with his wife Betty and his son Bono. For many years Agnes took the blame for the fact that Mark never learnt to read or write at school, until Cathy, Agnes’s daughter, pointed out that he never missed a day of his eight years of schooling it must have been the teachers fault and not hers.

Agnes’s daughter in law and Mark’s wife Betty is played by Amanda Woods who, off screen is the wife of O’Carroll’s son Danny. Betty is a strong minded woman who is not afraid to put Agnes in her place. Son Bono, played by Jamie O’Carroll, often stays over at Agnes’s house.

Cathy Brown, Agnes’s fourth child and her only daughter and is played by Jennifer Gibney who is O’Carroll’s real-life wife.

Cathy a lonely, middle aged woman, is always on the lookout for a man, despite never divorcing a man she married in a London registry office who used to beat her, a fact that was let slip in series one. Despite her desire for male company Agnes

Mrs Browns Boys was nominated for a BAFTA award at the British Academy Television Awards in February 2012. It won an IFTA for Best Entertainment Prgoramme at the 2012 BAFTA Television Awards. Mrs. Brown’s Boys won the award for bet situation comedy and Brendan O’Carroll was nominated for the BAFTA for best male performance in a Comedy Programme but lost to Darren Boyd for his role in the Sky 1 series Spy. In September 2012 the show won best comedy at the TV Choice awards. In January 2013 Mrs. Brown’s Boys won the National Television awards for Best Situation Comedy.

More than one million copies of the first series of Mrs Browns Boys were sold on DVD in Ireland and the UK between October 2011 and February 2012 and the first serious of Mrs. Browns Boys has been available on iTunes since 31st October 2011.

There are reports that there is an estimated 3.6 billion pound deal in place with Universal Studios to start a production of a film version of the series. A spokesperson, on behalf of O’Carroll said it will have a distinctly Dublin flavor to it.

O’Carroll has also confirmed that a game show starring Mrs. Brown is in development with a production company.

Views and viewers

Despite a large audience, Mrs. Browns Boys received poor reviews in the press and from critics who hated it from the very start. Bernice Harrison, TV reviewer for the Irish Times said “The whole thing is entirely predicated on the viewers finding a mad dressed as a foul-mouthed elderly woman intrinsically funny, if you do you are away in a hack and the viewing figures

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SQUEALER MAGAZINE / ISSUE 2 and had done a runner with not just the cash but all of the fixtures and fittings to boot. Brendan was so furious he felt like killing the guy and just three months later, when he learned that his former friend was at his mother’s house, went off to confront hm. However when he arrived Kevin did not show up and eventually Brendan saw common sense and returned home to his wife and three children.

With no idea where Kevin was when he cleared the pub Brendan had no choice but to close the pub along with 96,000 pounds worth of debt. Brendan said he later thanked God he did not find Kevin, who had left the pub when he discovered he had contracted aids and went off to Australia for one last hurrah. are astronomical, but if you don’t and you think that died out with Les Dawson and Dick Emery, then it is a long half-hour.

However, Mrs. Browns Boys was a success from the get go in terms of viewers that topped 753,500 in January 2011. The 2011 Christmas episode was the most watched TV show in Ireland over the holiday season with a 48.6% audience share.

The show topped the ratings again the following year with ‘The Virgin Mammy’ gaining an average of 972,000 viewers and a 47% share.

In the UK it won 16.4% of the viewers when it opened to its Monday night slot and was well received by viewers. Despite the negative press by the third episode 2.9 views had tuned in to see what was going on in the world of Mrs. Brown.

Brendan O’Carroll

Brendan O’Carroll was born in Finglas West in Dublin’s inner city in 1955. His mother Maureen was a Labour MP and his father George was a carpenter. Brendan is the youngest of ten children who alongside him endured an impoverished upbringing.

O’Carroll left school when he was just twelve and took many jobs such as a milkman, a pirate radio DJ, a painter and decorator and later a disco manager and before joining the comedy circuit he had his own bar and cabaret lounge. His comedy career started out with small gigs and alter had his own version of Bind Date The turning point in his career came in February 1993 when Gay Byrne introduced him to the Late Show, Irelands longest running chat show. The next thirty minute interview propelled him to fame.

His first video live at Tivoli went straight to No. 1 knocking U2 off the top spot and he made five other videos that also held the number 1 spot. This incredible man has made over one thousand stand-up appearances across the UK and Ireland as well as the USA and he has written five novels, two screenplays, seven plays all of which he had directed and started it and there is no sign of it stopping.

Mrs. Brown’s Boys first appeared on Irish radio station RTE 2fm in 1992,and then, from the mid 1990s onwards, in a series of books written by Brendan O’Carroll, The Mammy, The Chisellers, The Granny and The Young Wan. The Mammy was adapted into a film in 1999 called Agnes Brown; Anjelica Houston played the title character. O’Carroll went on to write a series of stories adapted from the books in which he plays Mrs. Brown.

However before his fame and success there were darker days.

In 1989 he returned from a holiday to find that his business partner Kevin had cleared out the pub they owned together

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When Kevin was later found hanged and the finger of suspicion was pointed in Brendan’s direction and he was still arrested in connection with Kevin’s death but enquiries did not last long and it was very soon established that his death was in fact suicide.

By then at rock bottom, Brendan says it was only at that point was he motivated to turn his life around. “I often ¬reflect on it,” he says. “One thing I think about is that I have no idea what it’s like to be dying of Aids, to be totally afraid. “And even to be gay. Being gay can be a very lonely life. And then I have to think, ‘What does it take to hang yourself? How much desperation must you feel?’ But you can’t let it affect your faith in human nature. “If you carry grudges, they weigh you down. And anyway, it’s one of those ironic twists. If he hadn’t fecked off to Australia with the money, I might still be running a pub.”

Brendan’s incredible past is revealed in his book The Real Mrs. Brown: The Authorized Biography of Brendan O’Carroll which takes its readers through his rags to riches story.

Best moments

Best moments Mrs. Brown and the Condom Series two episode 1 -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqIEZCRjR_A

Mrs. Brown and the Swingers Series three episode 6 -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MVz-yHkDmGU

Best bits and bloopers Series 1 & 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpiuzvNzgWs

Official site

http://www.mrsbrownsboys.com

SQUEALER MAGAZINE / ISSUE 2

FURTHER FUNNIES Full Of… To my friends who enjoy a glass of wine... and those who don’t. As Benjamin Franklin said: In wine there is wisdom, in beer there is freedom, in water there is bacteria.

In a number of carefully controlled trials, scientists have demonstrated that if we drink 1 litre of water each day, at the end of the year we would have absorbed more than 1 kilo of Escherichia coli, (E. coli) – bacteria found in faeces.

In other words, we are consuming 1 kilo of poop.

However, we do NOT run that risk when drinking wine & beer (or tequila, rum, whiskey or other liquor) because alcohol has to go through a purification process of boiling, filtering and/or fermenting.

Remember: Water = Poop, Wine = Health.

Therefore, it’s better to drink wine and talk stupid, than to drink water and be full of… poop!

Pain in the Ass Job When you have an ‘I Hate My Job’ day, try this: On your way home from work, stop at your pharmacy and go to the thermometer section and purchase a rectal thermometer made by Johnson & Johnson Be very sure you get this brand. When you get home, lock your doors, draw the curtains and disconnect the phone so you will not be disturbed.

Change into very comfortable clothing and

sit in your favorite chair.

Open the package and remove the thermometer.

Now, carefully place it on a table or a surface so that it will not become chipped or broken.

Now the fun part begins.

Take out the literature from the box and read it carefully.

You will notice that in small print there is a statement: ‘Every Rectal Thermometer made by Johnson & Johnson is personally tested and then sanitized’.

Female Boss Three girls all worked in the same office with the same female boss,each day,they noticed the boss left work early.

One day the girls decided when the boss left, they would leave right behind her.

After all, she never called back to work,so how would she know they went home early?.

The brunette was thrilled to be home early, she did a little gardening,spent time with her son and went to bed early.

The redhead was elated to beable to get in a quick workout at the spa before meeting a dinner date.

The blonde was happy to get home early and surprise her husband but, when she got to the bedroom, she heard a muffled noise from inside.

Slowly and quietly,she creacked open the door and was mortified to see her husband in bed with her lady boss.

Gently,she closed the door and crept out of her house.

The next day,at the coffee break,the brunette and the redhead planned to leave early again they asked the blonde if she was going to go with them?.

“NO Way,” the blonde exclaimed. “I almost got caught yesterday”

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TRAVEL YARN

A blast from the past – Travelling in style from Singapore to Malaysia

A STEAMIN’ AND A ROLLIN’ Now here’s something you might not know. The train track in Singapore, the one that runs from Tanjong Pagar, up through Bukit Timah, past the race course at Kranji and then northwards towards the causeway, well it isn’t in Singapore at all actually. Sounds weird I agree, but if the shadowy figure in the pub I did my research with is to be believed, the entire length of the line and the ten meters of land either side of it actually belongs to Malaysia. Which means of course that if you were to sneak into the grounds of one of the many smart Singaporean houses that back onto it, and then boot a football across the track into one of the gardens on either side, you could quite legitimately boast to your mates that you once kicked a ball so hard, it flew clean over Malaysia.

A phone call to the record pedants at Guinness perhaps? Probably not. But somebody should definitely tell them about the coffee they sell in the buffet car on the 8.10 express to Kuala Lumpur. More caffeine per unit of liquid than a Turkish market trader’s first gob of the day. Which is good actually because as an experienced train traveler, I know how hard it can be sometimes on a long journey unless you can quickly get your body to twitch in time with the rolling rhythm of the train. After just two cups of the stuff I was like a perfectly resonant bass tuning fork.

But I do have a confession to make. I love trains. Not quite in a lurking-on-the-platform-with-a-thermos-flask-in-my-satchel-anda-notebook-in-my-hand sort of way, but not far off. I was brought up on Casey Jones and all those Westerns where everyone used to hang around on that little platform at the back of the train, smoking fat cigars and checking the time on their expensive gold pocket watches. I get quite excited by the thought of chugging inexorably across vast tracts of unfamiliar land, dividing my time between gazing out of the windows at the gradually changing scenery and counting down the minutes to my next fix of caffeine. And yet, despite having lived in Singapore for nearly five years (one of which I spent commuting to KL on a weekly

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basis) this was the first time I had made the journey by train. Or even considered doing so. Not that it’s a particularly well-publicized mode of transport here. Probably because running a railway on an island the size of Singapore is a bit like owning a tiger in a condo.

And before you get all nervous, I have no intention of going into all that political stuff about how, perhaps, Singapore wants to move the station up to Woodlands so they can develop that valuable little strip of land sitting under the tracks. Or the way some cynics might suggest that this is never going to happen because Malaysia really rather enjoys having a long skinny finger rammed so far down it’s neighbour’s throat that proverbially speaking it can tickle its bowels anytime it wants to. No way.

I’m far too shallow for that sort of talk. I intend to concentrate almost entirely on sticky buns and coffee.

You see, despite a pathetic mid-life cave-in that saw me splashing out on a swanky $68 seat in first class instead of roughing it with the Lonely Planet gang in the half price second class compartment, I actually ended up spending almost the entire journey snugly ensconced in the buffet car. Old habits die hard perhaps. In my youth I was a regular victim of vicious overcrowding on English inter-cities and quickly learnt how to sprint for one of the highly prized buffet seats, unashamedly elbowing little old ladies an small children out of my way in my desperation to stake a claim to the solace of uninterrupted supplies of overpriced McEwan’s Export and soggy pork pies. And whilst my comfortable seat by the window on the early morning express to KL obviously came without the pork pies, I’m glad to report that in overall comparison it won the battle of the buffets with consummate ease.

Fact is, I had it virtually to myself. All day. The young Malay caffeine dealers soon became accustomed to my face and once they realized that I obviously intended to spend the entire journey at one of their tables, even bunged me a couple of free buns. Sticky ones with curried chicken in them.

They did well from my custom and we chatted intermittently about English football and the general state of the game. We even discovered that we had all been in the same stadium together the previous year to watch the Malaysian national team on the wrong end of an eightgoal drubbing from Manchester United. For which my condolences were rewarded with raucous laughter. Like most young Malaysian they were committed Reds and had, I suspected, been barely troubled by the issue of divided loyalties.

And as for the rest of the journey, well, I saw a whoop of monkeys ambling around in some trees near Bukit Panjang (I haven’t been in Asia nearly long enough not to be amused by the sight of real live monkeys flashing their bottoms at a passing train); I was gently herded with all my fellow passengers through some very shiny corridors at the impressive new immigration facility at Woodlands; I made a hazardous but valiant dash across the tracks at Rembau station to grab a fresh roti (there are only so many sticky buns a man can eat in a single eight hour shift); I stared blankly out the window for over an hour without a single person enquiring as to how my village was managing without its idiot; I read fourteen chapters of Stephen Fry’s latest book and I even wrote a letter to my mum.

All in all, a highly enjoyable day. And even allowing for my serious caffeine overdose, by the time I arrived in KL I felt as sprightly as a shaved ferret disappearing up a mechanic’s trouser leg. More than ready to attack the city’s sights. I have to be fair though, when it comes to flying I’m a bit of a baby’s-blouse-scaredy-cat-wuss, so I’m probably completely the wrong person to be making comparisons between rail and air travel. But if you fancy a change and you’ve got the time, I’d definitely recommend you give the train a go. Think of it as a cheap relaxation spa or maybe even as a mobile office. Whatever excuse you need really.

Even if you’re not a semi-sad train-spotter like me, I bet you can think of far worse ways of spending a day. Kick back, relax, clear your brain of all meaningful thought, put a ‘Do not disturb’ sign around your neck and stare blankly out the window all day with your mouth open. It might not be the most ‘executive’ thing you’ve ever done, but at least it’ll give the monkeys at Bukit Panjang someone new to moon at.

Sadly now the only stop in Singapore is at Woodlands, as the line between Tanjong Pagar and the Woodlands checkpoint was closed on 1 July 2011, Following closure, Singapore has less than a kilometre of main railway line, from Woodlands to Johor Bahru across the Straits of Johor…so not such a silly idea to try it out Joe Swain.

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REWRITING HISTORY Judy, a professional genealogical researcher, discovered that Hilary Clinton’s great – great uncle, Remus Rodham, a fellow lacking in character, was hanged for horse stealing and train robbery in Montana in 1889. The only known photograph of Remus shows him standing in the gallows. On the back of the picture is this inscription: “Remus Rodham; horse thief, sent to Montana Territorial Prison 1885, escaped 1887, robbed the Montana Flyer six times caught by Pinkerton detectives, convicted and hanged in 1889.

Judy e – mailed Hilary Clinto for comments, Hilary’s staff of professional image adjusters cropped Remus’s picture, scanned it, enlarged and edited it with image processing software so that all that’s seen is a head shot.

The accompanying biographical sketch is as follows: “Remus Rodham was a Famous Cowboy in the Montana Territory. His business empire grew to include acquisition of valuable equestrian assets and intimate dealings with the Montana railroad. Beginning in 1883, he devoted several years of his life to sevice at a government facility, finally taking leave to resume his dealings with the railroad. I 1887, he was a key player in a vital investigation run by the renowned Pinkerton Detective Agency.

In 1889, Remus passed away during an important civic function held in his honour, when the platform on which he was standing collapsed.”

And THAT is how it’s done folks!

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HEALTHY HAPPENINGS

I HAVE SOME EXTREMELY DISTRESSING NEWS...

If this were ancient Rome you would be sharpening your sword and preparing to thrust it to the hilt into my perspiring midriff.

For like those unfortunate souls who made up the ranks of the Roman Empire’s overland postal service, I am the bearer of news most foul. “Cave benedictus postulatum liberum,” you would probably shout to the gods as the last of my blood dripped into an aqueduct. (Providing of course there wasn’t a lieutenant in your legion brave enough to point out that what you were actually shouting was, “Any chance of some salt for these snails you foul-mouthed Iberian woman?”) For according to an article I read some time ago, red wine (or ‘vino tinto’ as the Iberians call it) isn’t good for your health at all. ‘Wine Drinker’s Myth Exploded’ it proclaimed heartlessly. Talk about a shock. I almost spat my breakfast claret into the vicar’s face. For years we tipplers have been lining our arteries with cholesterol as fast as a gang of Geordie plasters on an early-completion bonus, in the mistaken belief that a bottle or two of wine a night would wash it all away. Surely I am not the only person here who has enquired of their doctor as to the possibility of obtaining the occasional bottle of Chateau Lafitte on subscription? Or poured a healthy measure of Jacob’s Creek into one of those goldfish bowl-sized wine glasses whilst poignantly whistling the theme tune to The Dambusters? Wine?

Healthy? Pure fantasy it would seem. According to some highly depressing, and in my opinion completely pointless, research by a team from the Institute of Preventive Medicine in Copenhagen, fermented grape juice, far from being a God-given antidote to the poisons of modern life, is actually about as good for you as a ferret-operated bidet. Apparently it’s the lifestyle of the average wine drinker that is the real saviour more than the wine itself. After studying the habits of 4,500 people, they discovered that those who preferred wine also tended to have healthier diets than those who chose beer or spirits. Which as far as I’m concerned proves only one thing conclusively. That the European Union should be far more careful about whom it gives scientific research grants to. Do they not see the paradox? How can one possibly aspire to the lifestyle of your average wine drinker without drinking the damn

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stuff? Do they not understand that it is virtually impossible to unwind of an evening by in nonsensical banter about the meaning of life, with only a glass of orange juice for lubrication? Surely there is a colony of flu-ridden hedgehogs somewhere in Jutland that needs their help more than we do? But I have it in my ‘not-as-healthyas-I thought- it-was-yesterday’ heart to forgive the scientists. Like most boffins, they were probably horribly beaten at school. The people I’m annoyed with are the ones that glibly report stuff like this.

Mistake number two you see. By telling us that the odd glass of wine isn’t the life preserver we thought it was, they have also instantly dispelled all its considerable placebo qualities. I can almost feel the guilt tumours sprouting in my stomach as I sip this splendidly elegant glass of Chianti. And yes I am aware of my opening sentence and the irony of attacking the newspapers for bringing us this news. But as far as I am concerned it was they who let the cat out of the bag, not me. Can’t they be banned from reporting alarmist trivia like this? There is an expression in English about this sort of reporting. They say, when the papers are loaded with bottom-of-thebarrel stories, that the ‘silly season’ has arrived. It derives from the days when newspapers were exactly that papers upon which ‘news’ was written. Before the invention of Survivor, Big Brother and two-mile long zoom lenses, ‘news’ was almost exclusively about the goingson of Parliament, of political intrigue and of the latest developments in matters of state. And hence, when the Houses of Parliament closed for the summer recess the newspapers were forced to scrape around for stories of a more trivial nature. Giant gooseberries in Walton-on-the-Naze, fantastical stories of people eating rice with small pointed sticks in the Far East and sightings of giant monsters in Scottish lochs. And with this in mind, I am sure that once I have finished my Chianti I shall also find it in my spluttering heart to forgive the newspapers. But let it be a warning to us all. Some things are best left unsaid. In fact if I were you I wouldn’t even read this column. Raise your glass instead - a toast.

To the flu-ridden hedgehogs of Jutland lest their plight be lost amongst all these silly gooseberry yarns.

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IT’S A MAD, MAD WORLD JAPANESE BIKER CRASHES, RIDES ON WITHOUT LEG

A Japanese biker failed to notice his leg had been severed below the knee when he hit a safety barrier, and rode on for 2km, leaving a friend to pick up the limb. The 54-yearold office worker was out on his motorcycle with a group of friends in the city of Hamamatsu, west of Tokyo, when he was unable to negotiate a curve in the road and bumped into the central barrier, the Mainichi Shimbun said. He felt excruciating pain, but did not notice that his right leg was missing until he stopped at the next junction. The man and his leg were taken to hospital, but the limb had been crushed in the collision, the paper said.

MAGGOTS TAKE UP RESIDENCE INSIDE MAN’S HEAD

PUTTING FOOD ON THE TABLE

MELBOURNE, Australia (AP) - Two Australian robbers were sentenced Tuesday for their April Fools Day heist at the Cuckoo Restaurant, where they thought they were hauling away a big sack of cash that turned out to be bread rolls.

Benjamin Jorgensen, 38, and his accomplice Donna Hayes, 36, were sentenced in Victorian County Court after pleading guilty to robbing the restaurant in the southern Australian city of Melbourne on April 1 last year.

During the holdup, Jorgensen grabbed what he believed was a bag with the Cuckoo’s cash earnings of about $26,000, but later found it was full of bread rolls, the court heard.

He also fired his gun accidentally in the caper, shooting Hayes in the buttocks.

Judge Roland Williams told the robbers they were a “pair of fools,” before sentencing Hayes to eight years in prison and Jorgensen to seven.

Earlier this week, defense lawyer Greg Thomas said Jorgensen had been under the influence of drugs at the time, had made a full admission to police and was remorseful, News Ltd. newspapers reported.

It’s the stuff nightmares and horror movies are made of.

A holidaymaker got a nasty shock when he learned that the strange bleeding bumps on his head were not bites or shingles, but live maggots.

Aaron Dallas, from Colorado, looked for medical help when the unusual lumps appeared on his scalp after a holiday to Belize during the summer.

One doctor thought they might have been caused by a gnat bite. Another believed his problem was shingles.

But then the bumps took on a life of their own and began to move.

A doctor discovered five bot fly larvae living inside Aaron Dallas’s head, near the top of his skull. This was a few weeks after a mosquito had apparently placed them there.

“I’d put my hand back there and feel them moving. I thought it was blood coursing through my head. I could hear them. I actually thought I was going crazy,” said Dallas, of Carbondale.

Bot flies rely on mosquitoes, stable flies, and other insects to carry their eggs to a host - and in this case the host was Dallas.

“It was weird and traumatic,” he said. “I would get this pain that would drop me to my knees.”

After their discovery the parasites were removed by a doctor. Dallas’s wife teased him about it afterwards, but didn’t find the experience funny.

“It’s much funnier to everyone else. It makes my stomach turn over. It was cruel,’’ he said.

COUPLE TRIES TO NAME BABY ‘AT’ SYMBOL

A Chinese couple seeking a distinctive and modern name for their child chose the commonly used Internet ‘at’ symbol, much to the consternation of Chinese officials. The unidentified couple and the attempted naming were cited by a Chinese government official as an example of bizarre names creeping into the Chinese language. The father said, “the whole world uses it to write e-mails and translated into Chinese it means ‘love him.’”

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JUST THOUGHTS “Ladies and Gentlemen please be upstanding” Joe Swain deals with the greatest fear of them all – the best man’s speech.

Being asked to make a best man’s speech at a wedding, is a bit like being asked to make love to the Queen – it’s a great honour, but nobody really wants to do it,’ (Boom boom.) Not a classic line I admit, but if your audience is desperate for an excuse to laugh, it’s not a bad opener.

And I know this to be true because I recently used it myself. The roomful of semi-inebriated friends and relatives were kind and in the ensuing seven or eight minutes I managed to extract a few more giggles, a couple of loud guffaws and a murmur or two of nodding approval. And on the face of it, that’s really all you’ve got to do. Simple. So why on earth, sixty minutes before this, was I to be found pacing up and down in the toilets looking incredulously at the scraps of paper in my hand and saying to myself for the umpteenth time, “This isn’t funny. This is rubbish. Trained baboons wouldn’t laugh at this.”

And to make matters worse I also had to deal with all those well- meaning cliché-mongers who kept staggering in, propping themselves up in the classic ‘one hand on the wall, wise old toilet sage’ pose and saying, “Don’t worry mate, it’s perfectly natural to be nervous you know. It’s when you are not nervous you should start worrying.” And I’m thinking, ‘Why do people say that? ‘Not nervous’ sounds far better. I would gladly swap this stomach full of writhing snakes for the constitution of a trained assassin.’

Of course the common truth about a best man’s speech is that unless the groom is marrying into the De Sade family, chances are the room will be full to the brim of people desperately willing you to do ok. There are few things in the world more excruciating than watching a grown man slowly barbeque himself on a rack of ill-chosen words. I was once unfortunate enough to witness such an occasion when the best man was so over-come by nerves that his normally deep and authoritative voice strangely metamorphosised into that of a small field mouse. He buried his face in his speech and squeaked his way from “Unaccustomed as I am’ to so please be upstanding for a toast’ without a single person in the room having heard a single word he’d said.

Which was bad enough. But not the worst. For by far and away the most embarrassing thing you can ever witness at a wedding is the ‘inappropriate ‘best man’s speech. These are almost always written under the influence of alcohol, practiced in the pub and finally approved for appropriateness at the annual rugby club dinner. They always include references to the groom’ previous sexual conquests and never shy away from lewd innuendo and knob-gags. The one thing they don’t do is take into account the possibility that fifty percent of the actual audience will be fully-paid-up members of the Senior Citizen’s Branch of the local Conservative Club.

If you’re lucky, the first withering look from Great Aunty Agnes will be enough to encourage a lightening mental re-write and the swift promotion of the only remotely fluffy gag in the whole speech to star-billing status. But unfortunately not always.

Some best men, faced with the horrific death of the ‘back-seat-of-his-old-Ford-Cortina’ story, far from doing the sensible thing, frantically rummage around in the bottom drawer of their bad-taste wardrobe for something even worse. And then as this joke also dies like a lion in a den of Daniels and the only sound that can be heard in the room is that of cold sweat dripping from their foreheads, they stand there with looks on their faces which say, “I just don’t understand it. The joke was really funny when Dave told it.”

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One surprising thing I discovered whilst trying to write my speech was just how useless the Internet is. Admittedly this was the morning of the wedding and I was full to over-flowing with self-doubt but frankly I expected more. I though all I’d have to do was type in “Woody Allen – hilarious quotes for wedding” and five minutes later I’d be rolling around on the floor trying to hold my sides together. But no. Best I could find was one about Warren Beatty’s fingertips and the script for Annie Hall.

But it’s not all doom and gloom. As anyone who has ever been there will know, there’s also a definite upside to having to do a speech. Finishing it. And if you’ve managed to get to the end without making a complete plonker of yourself, so much the better. Because from that moment on you will invariably enjoy one of the nest nights you’ve had in ages. This is partly due to the relief of actually surviving and partly because you’ve still got enough excess adrenalin flying around your veins to power a small mining village. But mainly, and again I say this from experience, it’s because that is also the moment at which you can start doing some serious retaliatory damage to the Groom’s bar bill. And boy do those first twelve drinks taste good.

DATES FOR YOUR DIARY OCTOBER

2

Name Your Car Day

3

Virus Appreciation Day

4

National Frappe Day

7

Bald and Free Day

11 Take Your Teddy Bear to Work Day 12 Moment of Frustration Day 17 Wear Something Gaudy Day 25 Punk for a Day Day 28 Plush Animal Lover’s Day 29 National Frankenstein Day 31 Increase Your Psychic Powers Day

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THE DAILY SPOON

‘NON REALITY TV’ THE NEXT BIG THING Television executives in the US have unveiled plans for a controversial new television format called ‘Non Reality TV’ featuring what they have mysteriously described as ‘actors’ and ‘scripts’.

“We realize that this will seem a little far-fetched at first” said Walter Cornk, President of NBC Studios, who went on to claim that the concept actually dates back to Elizabethan England when the use of ‘completely made up words’ and fiction based scripts’ was extremely common.

The announcement has been denied by many Pro-RealLife groups and a spokesman for RARA (The Royal Academy of Real Arts) expressed concerns that programme makers would “soon run out of ideas and inevitably sink into the murky realms of ‘imagination’ and ‘fantasy’”.

‘Where’s the bluddy fun in that, yows mad buggers,” commented top ‘Reality TV’ personality Ozzie Osbourne from his Beverly Hills mansion as he lobbed empty beer bottle into Robert De Niro’s next door garden, shouting “Life’s no bloody stage you know, De Niro!”

ENGLAND RUGBY TEAM WIN SPONSORSHIP DEAL WITH VIAGRA

“THIS SHOULD GUARANTEE US AT LEAST A SEMI,” SAY ENGLAND BOSSES Following another limp performance in the 2011 Rugby World Cup Finals, New Zealand’s rugby bosses have announced measures to increase their chances of a more sustained run in 2015, by signing a sponsorship deal with Viagra.

“We felt that the team once again peaked way too early in the tournament” said team manager Stuart Lancaster “We need to create a mentality based around the concept of sustained performance and Viagra seems to understand that requirement better than the other possible sponsors we spoke to. They have assured us that with their input into the team’s training regime, we should be confident of achieving at least a semi in the next World Cup.” The announcement was welcomed in most quarters of England with one supporter’s club representative describing it as, “A modern approach for a modern team and on which would almost certainly be given a standing ovation by fans.”

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