This blog has been quiet for donkey’s years now. Yet still people come here. If you want a more up to date version of this site go here . I’ve gone a bit Holy at the minute, but that won’t last.
… that I’ve got a new version of this ‘ere McBlog over at http://bpperry3.blogspot.com/
As it’s allegedly Summer, here’s a bit of Christmas cheer from last year’s Classic Rock magazine. Merry Christmas!
It was Christmas Eve and Ebenezer Doherty was ripped to the tits on heroin again. His assistant, young Mr. Willoughby, had spent all day mopping up his employer’s shit and wasn’t exactly full of Christmas cheer. Read the rest of this entry »
I recently wrote this bugger for Classic Rock. Herr Rowley ummed and aaared about it, then rejected it hands down (because he despises me). Anyway, I thought it was alright and maybe you will too …
Waters Torture
Listening to four Roger Waters solo albums in a row isn’t something I’d heartily recommend. Indeed, I would argue that listening to four Roger Waters albums in a row is the least pleasure a listener can scrape from a musical experience outside of finding oneself kidnapped and forced at gunpoint to sit in the front row of a Cheeky Girls concert where they’re ‘trying out new material’. Listening to four Roger Waters albums in a row leaves you feeling bitter and resentful and ill-at-ease with your fellow man … in short, it makes you feel like Roger Waters. Read the rest of this entry »
After almost six long months of writing random words and pictures to entertain a man in the Midlands, I today announce I’m bringing the curtain down on In Through The Out Door But Then Back In Again II. I need to move on, I need to grow, I need, most importantly of all, to try flogging you shit … so welcome, my friends, to In Through The Out Door But Then Back In Again III
I’m often asked how we solve the problem of the country’s growing teenage gang culture. “Why, easily!” is my stock answer, “Throw ‘em in a trench and dissolve ‘em all with potassium and quick-lime!” Apparently this is ‘inhumane’ according to the politically correct mob, so here are a few other suggestions that won’t see me brought before the Nuremberg beak for supposed ‘crimes against humanity’ …
Happy Slap ‘Em Back
Why not? Teenagers would soon get the idea this sort of random infliction of violence isn’t much fun when the shoe’s on the other foot. I propose councils set up a network of licenced happy-slapping patrols that will trawl shopping precincts, public parks and the back of Tesco’s looking for teenagers. When they find them hanging around being anti-social, they can slap ‘em around until they’re half-dead while filming the whole shebang on their mobiles. As well of stopping kids whacking citizens about for no reason, it would have the added advantage of giving off-duty nightclub bouncers something to do other than eating bananas and being involved in low-level organised crime.
Make Them Swallow Rabbit Shit Preventatively
On a child’s thirteenth birthday, he or she should be forced to swallow a pound of rabbit shit. Once the punishment has been administered the father - for this is man’s work - should tell the child “There’ll be plenty more where that came from” if he or she strays from the path of righteousness. Later, when a child enters the choppy waters of full-blown adolescence, any infraction from ‘Lack Of Respect’ to ‘Stabbing A Headmaster In The Face With An Ice-Axe’ could be met with the administering of another pound’s worth of rabbit shit. This is the sort of punishment former miscreants will chuckle over in later life as they, too, force rabbit shit down their own children’s throats while saying it never did THEM any harm.
White Dog Shit Walkabout
Slightly less harsh than forcing small children to eat rabbit shit is White Dog Shit Walkabout. Any teenager found guilty of stealing cars, beating up old ladies, or posting photos of his balls on Flickr is banished to the wilderness in a loin-cloth with a big spear. He is told not to come back until he has hunted down and trapped a lump of white dog shit (Crappus Elusivus Canis), a sight now so rare in Britain that children born after 1987 think it an urban legend. To stop him simply joining another family, or painting brown dog shit white, his face should be branded with the legend “I AM HUNTING FOR WHITE DOG SHIT AS PUNISHMENT FOR BEING A DISGRACE TO MY FAMILY” and his hands should be removed from the end of his arms. I understand this could hurt a bit.
Three Tit Loudspeaker Nose-Bollock Bladder-Sign Public Humiliation Extraordinaire
We all know how annoyingly shy and embarrassed teenage girls get. Well imagine how bloody awful they’d feel if, after committing some minor crime, they had an extra tit glued on in between the other two, a loudspeaker nailed to one hand announcing “I’M FAT! I’M FAT! I’M FAT!” over and over ad infitum, a pair of horse’s balls sellotaped to the end of their nose, and a sign glued to the other hand that read “CHRIST I NEED A PISS!”. Try hiding behind your hand with that lot hanging off you, you disrespectful little madam! I guarantee that, were this punishment to be implicated, crime committed by teenage girls would drop by 100%.
Throw Them In A Trench And Dissolve Them All With Potassium And Quick-Lime
I still reckon this one’s got wings.
Here’s a little something I cobbled together quickly for the Illustration Friday subject ‘Signs’.
(Click image to enlarge)
My three regular readers may recall I sent an idea to the Mattel Toy company for a new toy for kids (well … not girls) called Aslan In Vietnam. They responded by saying they’d destroyed my original e-mail and wouldn’t hesitate pilfering my idea and passing it off as their own if opportunity saw fit. Furious, I thundered back with a response that they’d better be bloody careful before they half-inched my ideas. Here is their reply (readers with a good memory may find this response eerily familiar) …
We would like to respond to you recent e-mail. We had no intention of offending you or your ideas. However, in light of the enormous number of ideas, concepts, and materials that Mattel develops in-house and that are suggested to it by third parties, it’s likely that the ideas, concepts, and/or materials that you submitted to us embody ideas, concepts, and/or materials that are identical or substantially similar to those that, in the past, were developed by our staff or submitted to us by third parties. Likewise, in the future, we may without any reference to your unsolicited submission, develop or receive from third parties ideas, concepts, and materials that are identical or substantially similar to those submitted by you.
Since Mattel doesn’t retain or review any submissions, any similarities that may exist between any submissions and any product from Mattel or any Mattel company are purely coincidental. Please note that Mattel doesn’t assume any obligation in connection with unsolicited submissions, including any obligation to keep it confidential and any obligation to notify anyone whether their ideas, concepts, or materials are identical or substantially similar to those that are developed by or submitted to Mattel.
We would like to reiterate, to solicit interest for your submission, you may want to establish a relationship with a professional design house or a broker that specializes in licensing or developing products for consumer products companies. For a list of such professionals, and for other information that you may find helpful, you may wish to contact the Toy Industry Association, at 212.675.1141, or www.Toy-Tia.org.
We recognize that your submission is an expression of your confidence in Mattel’s ability to successfully develop and market new products, and we appreciate your interest in Mattel. We wish you the best of luck in your endeavors and apologize for any disappointment this may have caused.
Sincerely,
Mattel Consumer Relations Department
Notice any similarities? Well, I’m buggered if I’ll lie down and take this without a fight! My response …
Dear Mr Mattel
I grudgingly thank you for your response to my last e-mail. I say ‘grudgingly’ because I can’t bring myself to be fully grateful for receiving exactly the same e-mail from you as before, but with the sentences ‘We would like to respond to you (sic) recent e-mail’ and ‘We had no intention of offending you or your ideas’ tacked on to the beginning. Indeed, seeing as your last e-mail outlining how you have no hesitation in pilfering the ideas of honest toy designers was what got me so worked up in the first place, I can only assume you didn’t bother to read my previous correspondence past the first line - if you had, you might not have been so insensitive as to repeat the stuff that got my goat to begin with.
I repeat - Saying you might, at some point in the future, develop a psychologically-deranged, armed-to-the-teeth, bullet-riddled African lion toy, and THEN pass the whole thing off as a coincidence is absurd. I sent you the plans, I get the glory - that’s how it works in my world.
Aslan In Vietnam is mine! The idea of a haunted lion packing heat in the theatre of war is mine! Any variation on a Christ-like, Rambo-esque, locked, loaded, and ready to rumble King of the Jungle for kids (well … not girls) is mine! Don’t think you can bring out some bloody imitation - Simba at The Battle of the Bulge or Parsley’s Korea for instance - and get away with it as a mere coincidence! Anything even vaguely resembling such a product (and that includes tigers before you start getting ideas) would be met with the full force of the law, don’t you worry about that!
Good God! Was this how it was for Barnes-Wallis? Did he come up with the bouncing bomb only to walk past a shop three years later and see his invention re-labelled ‘The Boinging Bombo’? Well? There’s no wonder inventors are all on the dole if major corporations such as yourselves would rather steal their ideas instead of paying folk their due. I thought we lived in a world of honour sir? Apparently we live in one where the big boys think nothing of disco-dancing all the way to the bank after trampling over the genius of others.
Shame on you!
Yours, disgusted
B P Perry
The world is full of jackals!
Dear Manchester United
Am I correct in thinking that under the government’s anti-discrimination laws you cannot refuse my applying for the position of mid-fielder without being accused of sexism, racism, ageism and unsuitabilityism? I don’t think you can, and therefore compel you, on threat of a court injunction, to consider me for the position the next time it comes up.
I am a fat, old, stringently anti-communist, Chinese woman who came to Britain in 1948 to escape that rat bastard Chairman Mao’s death squads. I have done nothing since except prostitute my body out for money. Sadly, as I’ve dried up, the money’s dried up, and this is the reason I need to become a well-paid Premiership footballer. I’ve bills to pay and now I’ve sold anything half-decent to those thieving bastards at Cash Converters, it’s top-flight football or having my fingers crushed in a vice to pay the debts I owe to a disagreeable gentleman called Alan Cope and his brother Ollie.
I reckon I’d do alright being a footballer. I’ve seen the game three times on my television when I couldn’t find the remote control under the mountain of litter in my house, and believe I could take a pretty good stab at the rules. I have noticed there seems to be a lot of running around however, and would ask that, if you were to give me the job, I could be allowed a nice sit down, a cup of tea, and a biscuit about every five minutes or so. I’m not so smart on my legs these days ever since Alan Cope broke my thigh bones with a meat tenderiser after I failed to pay him back the money I borrowed to buy an electric guitar I hoped to use when I applied to join Deep Purple. I certainly couldn’t take ninety minutes running around with those young bucks of yours - I’d probably suffer a complete rectal prolapse!
Thank you for considering me for the position of mid-field professional footballer and I look forward to hearing from you soon. In the meantime, can you advance me a sub of two thousand pounds or so? Alan’s an impatient man and won’t wait forever to get to work on these fingers of mine.
Yours truly
Bing Ping Perri
A nice surprise this morning. Instead of the usual barrage of junk mail, kebab-shop leaflets, charity begging letters and further correspondence concerning my ongoing war with Virgin Media, I received all of the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band’s albums, courtesy of Herr Rowley and the good people at EMI. I actually own them all already, but not with all the new whistles ‘n’ bells that these re-issues contain. Finally I’ve got my grubby paws on such oddities as I Love To Bumpity Bump, When Yuba Played The Rhumba On The Tuba Down In Cuba, and Sofa Head. I’m as pleased as a pig dipped in shit.
Merci, Herr Rowley.
