Discussion Forum

It's the 'Miss Tractor Factory Worker' Competition today, and Comrade-sister-madame Churchmouse has dug out her sexiest boiler suit for the occasion, and has been practising heroic poses.

I hope she wins as the first prize is a loaf of bread and a pair of trousers, and the arse is hanging out of mine.

Still no sign of the milkman.


Advance over the twitching bodies of the capitalist scum.

Comrade-brother Branovich at the tractor factory was awarded the 'Order of the nut-tightener First class" today, which means that he gets an extra bottle of vodka on his daily ration. - The bastard!

Not only that but the bloody Wartburg broke down and I had to walk home.



Forward to prosperity!

Great new comrades!

It's our turn for the village bath-plug so we won't stink of pig shit any-more.


Our brave workers march triumphantly into the future.

The bloody milkman hasn't turned up today (typical imperialist lackey) so I had to go down to the collective farm for a jug of milk. When I got there they told me that it was my turn to shovel the shit out of the pig pens.

I'm honoured that I've helped to move our country forward by shovelling shit for 15 hours.


Long live the revolution.

Comrade-Sister-Madame Churchmouse pointed out that the milkman is self-employed and therefore a filthy capitalist pig.

We ambushed him yesterday morning and fire-bombed his milk float.

That'll teach him.



Shoelace workers of the world untie.

I was at a bit of a loose end, so I thought that I'd try communism for a month.

As such, I've moved into a badly built concrete flat, and have taken a job painting patriotic slogans on the wall of the local tractor factory.

Marching together for the glorious Motherland.

Right then, let's have another go at posting a link

*Frowns and sticks tongue out of the side of mouth*

2nd pathetic attempt at a link

Bloody 'ell it worked.

It was only a joke.

I'm feeling better now...Honestly.

just wanted to see if I could post a linkBenny Hill

Don't think it works.

Stick the kettle on Arm.

Dustbin Dance.

That's more like it. It's the sort of thing that makes it all worthwhile, and much better than arguing about something that very few of the sites readers probably look at anyway.

More Milligan type madness please.

Well, there I was, all ready for the pre-match build-up.


The coffee table groaning with sausage rolls, twiglets and Golden Wonder crisps.
A crate of pale ale at my side, and a party 4 sitting on the sideboard.

I've got my bobble-hat, my wooden rattle, and a rosette pinned to my parka.


There's even a packet of 20 sporting woodbines and a 'World's best football supporter' ashtray from the pound shop.


I switch on the telly, hoping for some in-depth analysis from Jimmy Hill, and maybe some hilarious comic quips from Jimmy Tarbuck, and what do we get? A couple of women wittering on about a new type of blending machine!


Honestly, I don't know why we bother with the shopping channel!

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I really hope that was deliberate Jean, as it's the only thing that's made me laugh all day.

It's actually more like a bus stop.

Or a bus shelter to be more accurate.

Only with more glass in it.

I've got a pointy stick, and half a brick that I picked up at one of Sarkozy's rallies if it helps.

Oh Farder, forgive me for I have sinned.

I came home early, an' went in to der bathroom, an me sister, she wers sitting there in der nud, an she had one leg up in der air cus she was shaving it wid a razor, an' well everything wuz dere in front of me eyes, an' I couldn't avert me eyes away from her.

"Well now Michael, before I hand down yer punishment for gazing upon the flesh of yer sister I'll need ter be asking yer something, an' yer must answer me truthfully, so help yer God... er, what's it look like"?

Oh Farder. I'd hast ter ask yer. "Is dere any nuns in the area dat are about tree foot high"?

"No my son. I would be surely knowing if dat was der case. I can assures yer dat dere are no nuns dat short of stature around here".

"Oh Jesus Farder. I tink I've facked a penguin".

"Oh Mary, sweet mudder of God! If it wasn't for der fact dat yers given me a sermon fer Sunday dat I can use ter reinforse yer Catlick sense of guilt for the next twenty years I would a had ter a given yer 20 Hail Marys an' 40 Our Farders".

Bloody poets!

They should all be strapped to the front of howitzers and blasted into the scenery.

I mean, it's a piece of cake this poetry lark. Absolute piece of piss. anyone can do it.

Right, here we go. *sucks pencil and furrows brow*


There was a lady poet from Kew
Who did something unfortunate to her nether regions with adhesive
The problem you see
she said once to me
Is getting the bloody thing to rhyme properly, and to make the sentences the right length.


*backs out of room slowly*

Good Lord! What a generous chap Bentlyventures is to let us all in on a way to make money that can't be spent in Europe by playing some sort of game.

You would have thought that he must be a chum of long-standing, or at least someone who actually writes stuff on here.

How lucky we all are.

Such selfless generosity to complete strangers seems to be sadly lacking in today's society, although I do get quite a lot of letters from Nigerians I've never met wanting to put money into my bank account, which is nice.

I used to play games for money, but it generally involved squeezing myself into a rubber catsuit and doing unusual things for the crew of M.V. Klooper - one of the last steam ships to ply it's trade from Cardiff.

They still write.

Dear Spoof,

I was laying in bed the other day, listening to Danton's missus witter on about the curtains, when it occurred to me that I hadn't seen my DVD of Great Railway Engines of India for a while.

If any of your readers come across it, would they please let me know.

I would ask the wife, but she's running an errand to the neighbours.

You would have thought that it could have walked there itself.

Jasper Mutley-owner
3 doors down.

What's happened to Danny?

Has he gone?

Have you bastards frightened him away the way that you normally do ?

He was my only friend here you know.

We were like brothers, me and Donald... Well, more like partners in a wet fish wholesalers... But even so, the strong bonding that bound us together has now been shattered... And all because you couldn't help but take the piss, could you?

Poor Donny. I don't know if I can continue without him.

We were going to have a full roast dinner you know.

I'd done it especially.

Yorkshire puddings and everything. And now it's just me alone again with a KFC bargain bucket and my memories.

Bastards the lot of you.

I'll have to stalk someone else now.

The reason that you don't see Earl Grey about much nowadays is because everything converted from black and white to colour at the end of the 60's.


During the 70s he was known as Earl Shocking Orange or hideous Brown.


In the 80s he became Earl Dark Pinstripe aka 'Big-bang, Greed is good ' etc.


The nineties saw a brief resume' to Earl Grey and Black aka Gary Linniker's wardrobe.


Since The Naughties he has of course generally been know as Earl Darjeeling.

Get down to your local Leader Price or Intermarche and grab a box of Earl Grey. There's just enough tea in them to brew a reasonable cup before the thing goes cold.

Not so much a text message, but I once came home from work to find that my ex had left me a note on the table which read:


Gone to the lunatic asylum.

Your dinner is all over my tits.

I noticed that the last Spoof Dictionary thread is now locked, so I thought that I'd start a new one. (don't get out much you see)

So here goes:

Golden Jade to do one

To inadvertently socially elevate oneself due to an act of public derogation; as in performing fellatio with someone on national TV whilst being too dim to realise that it's being filmed.

See also: My life as a Southend Gold-digger by Dame Ellingham Buller-Smith: "I thought that the most I could have hoped for during the Ambassador's soiree at Westcliffe was a return invitation, but after letting his son tie me to the AGA with the Duchess of Northumberland, I found that within 2 weeks I was offered the role of choreographer of the Royal Bedchamber.
That culinary appliance shackling incident truly turned out to be a Golden Jade moment for me".

My Great Grandfather was also a pilot, and it's known that he shot down at least three enemy aircraft over London.

He never spoke about it, but was obviously a very brave man to put his life on the line for his country.

I've got a photo of his Fokker-Wulf somewhere.



And I know I said Fokker.