Pastichio Nuts

Why They Call Us The Blues

2009-10-06T15:33:00.001Z

In honour of the Conservative Party conference (and because Comedybox have apparently lost last year's version down the back of the Internet), here's my little tribute from 2007:

Announcing In The Gloaming

2009-10-01T23:57:00.001Z

In The Gloaming is the new project from me and the rest of the Dirty Blondes. It's a series of monthly comedy-horror podcasts, and they start at Hallowe'en.

Do pop over to the blog, and sign up to be kept up to date with all that's going on. We've got special guest stars, jokes about bums, all sorts...

It's going to be magical.

2009-09-04T15:21:00.003Z

My response to Decca Aitkenhead

For those of you who haven't read this lovely piece of work, you should before reading what's below...

Twatt Lucas, More Like...

by Aitka Dickenhead

The jowls opposite me wobble like two toads full of custard taped to a thin man's cheeks. I fear for a moment that the jowls are going to slide liquidly off the head of bald, Jewish comedian Matt Lucas, taking the rest of the skin with them, and leaving just two eyeballs staring out of an insecure skull.

When I replay the tape of my interview with the overweight, Jewish comedian, one thing really stands out: I am excellent at interviews. He is rubbish at them.

To be fair, it doesn't start well.

“Good morning,” he said, a thin line of sweat glistening on his bald brow. Yes, he's polite, but does sheer, biting misery force him to be polite? Fortunately, I have no such qualms.

I'm not meant to. I'm a hardbitten, no-nonsense, take-no-shit reporter for a tough paymistress. Yeah, fuck you. I'm an arts correspondent for The Guardian. To show the bald, overweight comedian quite how unimpressed by him I am I fart loudly. Unexpectedly. Brilliantly.

Does he say something funny in return? No, he coughs and changes the subject like he's embarrassed about having a middle-aged woman farting at him in a restaurant. He has no self-confidence. I think he might be gay,

If you're one of his millions of fans, I can only assume you haven't been exposed to good comedy, like the scintillating prose I craft for this very paper. Many people have said that my articles, on occasion, were 'quite funny'. And yet I don't have a series on BBC1. I don't have a career in films. Because I'm not bald or overweight.

Now he's staring at me like an accountant peering through a flesh-coloured life-preserver. Maybe it's not the 'done thing' to be typing this at the table, but you'd hope a so-called comedian would have a healthy disrespect for authority. I stand on the table and urinate into his soup. He says nothing, but I notice he doesn't eat any more of it. I think bald, Jewish comedian Matt Lucas is quite rude.

The moment he mentions thin, fully-haired non-Jewish comedian David Walliams, he suddenly is full of praise. Words tumble out of his head as if he meant them, and he seems genuinely and warmly affectionate. He is so insecure he even feels the need to pretend to like his friends. Or, what is even sadder, he might actually think he likes them.

It can't have been easy, growing up bald, overweight, and Jewish. In the maternity ward, the bald Matt Lucas must have waved looked at all the other babies – lithe, with full sets of teeth, and hair down to their shoulders – and begun to wave his tubby arms and wail. An act he would perfect for Shooting Stars, a programme he continues to want to work on.. I find myself pitying a grown man with the massive insecurities that could lead him to still admire someone and wish to work with them whilst in his mid-30s.

His adenoidal drone reminds me of everything that is wrong with comedy nowadays: it is written and performed by people who don't feel the need to constantly amuse me. Thoughtful, shy, and embittered people all now think they have the right to write comedy. Long gone are the fun-loving clowns, always ready with a quip or light-hearted anecdote. I'm thinking of the Spike Milligans, the Tony Hancockses, the Lenny Bruces. Song and dance men, who made your rotten heart soar.

“I think you are very boring, and this interview is making me want to puke my gall bladder into your lap in the hopes that you will do something entertaining.” I say, flicking his ears, spitting on a photograph of his mum. He seems shocked.

“I suppose you think I'm rude!” I bellow through a megaphone I have brought along for just such an eventuality, “You idiot!”

He smiles, with what would appear to be good grace, but is probably a murderous hatred born of many years being a sub-standard hack. It is the oleaginous smile of the rich, bald and overweight. And Jewish.

“No, it's probably just me,” He's right. It is him. “I'm a little tired at the moment from rehearsals-”

I cut him off by ramming my right elbow into his mouth, stifling anything more he has to say.

But I hope he's right. I hope he's tired from rehearsals. I do, truly, from the bottom of the calcified olive pit with which they replaced my heart, hope that he's not that insecure. I hope he's not a grasping, dusty nun's-quim of a human, whose only joy is belittling others. I do hope he's not that.

But I can't be sure.

2009-08-16T22:48:00.003Z

The style and grace of a young Marilyn Monroe. Birthday fail.

Eleanor shows the poise and sheer star quality we all know she has...

HINT: Watch right until the end. The last two seconds are the best two seconds...

2009-06-09T04:28:00.002Z

It's a shame when people you like turn out to be profoundly retarded. There you are, introducing them to your parents and friends, when they run to the buffet and start shoving prawns up their noses, rubbing their bare chests on the pate, and trying to make sweet, sweet love to the skirting board.

Devil's Kitchen, as delightful and entertaining as he usually is, has become that pate-rubber.

In a fit of what I can only describe at shit-minded, smug, awfulness (note: I could describe it as other things. But I'm not going to), he has subscribed to the meme du jour of simpletons everywhere. To wit: everything bad in the world? That's left wing. Everything good? Is right.

What started as a piece of contrarianism from the idiot son of American conservatism has become a bog-standard piece of ill-thought-through conservative nonsense. It's quite possible, and I'm quite desperate to hope that DK meant this as nothing more than a piece of cunt-baiting mischief.

If so, consider me baited...

Let's consider this late-term abortion of a phrase: "collectivist policies—and thus of the Left."

To which I can only respond: since fucking when? Since actually fucking when? Since when have the monarchy and the armed forces and police, the most aggressively collectivist organisations we've yet to come up with, looked to the Left for their support?

The fact that some bloated, corporate imbeciles call themselves socialists whilst being authoriatarian, collectivist morons, doesn't mean that a state of being an authoritarian collectivist moron makes you a socialist. Quite the reverse. Just like being a rancid twat doesn't necessarily make you a conservative. Although it's a pretty good indicator.

The Left has been the home of Tom Paine, Benjamin Tucker, the Anti-Corn Law Leagues, the Chartists, the Suffragettes, Proudhon, Saint Simon, the Levellers, and those who have been fighting the State for hundreds of years. The Left has been anti-authoritarian for centuries, and we're meant to admire the Right for working out that the State wasn't particularly wonderful in the 1970s?

Unless it was Pinochet's state.

And, yes, I'll hold my hands up: my identification of myself as 'left' is deeply ingrained. No matter how interested in libertarianism or anarchism I am, I know whence I've come, and that's from the left. I am a creature of the left. A creature of anti-authoritarian, non-conformist politics; interested in raising the lot of each and every one of us. That's my emotional core. It's instinctive, and no matter where I end up, it will be for the left reasons.

It doesn't mean that I sit around wanking over pictures of Pol Pot, and thinking that Stalin was right - but he didn't go far enough, any more than I imagine DK licks chocolate spread off large monochrome posters of Mussolini, humming the Horst Wessel Song as he does. (Actually I would have just imagined that, but I don't know what DK looks like. I'm imagining Dustin Hoffman, but shorter, with Joe Pesci's crazed rat-eyes. Yeah. He'll fuck you up.)

I would imagine DK's instinctive association with the right, despite their history of being murdering, fascist, collectivist bastards is something to do with his upbringing as well. Something terribly wrong in his upbringing. The idea that any contemporary of mine can have lived through the early 1990s, and thought: "You know, these Conservatives are pretty good. When I can vote, it will certainly be for people like them." is frankly appalling.

I appear to have ranted, drifted.

The post DK cites is a lazy in its thinking as it is turgid in its prose. When attempting, loudly yet feebly, like a toddler insisting they haven't had dessert whilst wiping chocolate mousse from their bottom lip, to show that the BNP's policies are left-wing, Dizzy says:

The raising of the inheritance tax threshold to £1 million; - utterly
meanigless given that the economic will be in the shit and no one will
have that much to give away because of the socialist protectionism. A
dog whistle policy that is total inconsistent with the socialism
already laid out.

It also happens to be one of the Tories' key pledges. Heaven forfend that anyone notice that the language, and actually some of the policies of the BNP, much as he might like to describe them as left-wing, are those of the Conservative Party.

But that's nit-picking. It's playing their game.

It is a shame that there isn't a better showing for left-libertarianism in the British blogosphere. America has Kevin Carson, Rad Geek, In The Libertarian Labyrinth, and the Center for a Stateless Society; while we just have the bores at Samizdata and Devil's Kitchen, who at least possesses both a brain and some wit.

It's a shame that British libertarianism is so kneejerk and in many ways backwards in its online presence. It's a shame that some libertarians, so wedded to their 'right-wing' identity still feel the need to try to whitewash Pinochet whilst keeping their ideological skirts dry ('Pinochet was slightly not nice, but much, much better than any other conceivable thing, including the elected president, and he remained sexy to the end') or, and this is an absolute classic - fuck it, he can say it in his own words. This is a comment by The Wobbly Guy on a Samizdata post bemoaning the election of Obama:

"That's it. I'm pinning my hopes on China. I don't care if the Chinese
are authoritarians. They believe in capitalism, and I'm throwing in
with them."

And it's unfortunate that there aren't really any libertarians in the UK, just weapons fetishists, and plump men approaching 40, whose heads all look as if they have been boiled. And their refusal to engage with either the history or philiosophy of anti-statist thought (unless reading Ayn Rand counts) ensures that the LPUK will forever be a fringe party, a party to which thinking people are not invited.

If 'libertarians' could start being libertarians, and stop being 'right-wingers', however, that might not be the case...

(Full disclosure: This post was written when I was 63% drunk. The views expressed may not even be mine.)

2009-04-04T13:12:00.003Z

Last Sunday we did the first 'episode' of our new improvised show, Off Your Chest, at Lowdown at The Albany. I've never had to improvise a whole show before, so it was 'a learning experience'.

One of the things I learnt was that a pun isn't always just a groan moment for an audience. In the right context it can take their breath away. And leave me spluttering like a deflating twat for a good four minutes.

As a Kilroy-esque chat show host, I'd been challenging Darren Strange to explain how he spent his benefits. We'd established that his benefits were insufficient for him to eat at Pizza Express every day. He said:

"If I stop going spending my benefits on pizzas in the current climate they'll go under. Pizza Express will go under, ASK will go under, eventually Pizza Hut will go under..."

And from behind us, John Voce, veteran of the Comedy Store Players, the voice that launched a thousand Kwik Fit adverts, said:

"It's the Domino's effect."

Just wow.

In scripted comedy that's a sigh, something we've all been aware was coming, a punchline. Here it was a small but tiny victory over chaos, manna from the comedy gods, a moment when the universe falls into alignment.

I had to hide my face because I was laughing so hard.

So there is a time and a place for a pun to be majestic and exciting. It's at our next show, April 12th at Lowdown at The Albany, 240 Great Portland St, at 7:30.

Why not come and see if John can do it again?

Just wow.

'Class'

2009-03-07T00:14:00.001Z

TV News...Comic Relief Special On CBBC - We Love Telly - TV & Entertainment - Mirror.co.uk

The sitcom I wrote has a preview in The Mirror. I'm getting quite nervous as to how it turned out now.

Still, we shall see...

2009-02-06T17:43:00.001Z

Apparently, Homer Simpson was at Obama's latest speech (listen carefully at 6:34)...

Woohoo!

2009-01-23T02:36:00.004Z

I never assumed I'd find myself sticking up for people who named their children Adolf Hitler Campbell and Aryan Nation Campbell. But I think, much as it turns my stomach, I'm going to have to.

These people have had their children taken away because they're racists. Courts have decided that these children would be better off in care than living with racist morons. I disagree.

I believe that unless a parent is physically abusive to their children, it's probably best that their children grow up with them, no matter how weird, alcoholic, or even racist the parents are.

And they're really stretching things to find grounds for removing these children. Their landlord said: “They’re not destroying anything, the house is clean and they pay their rent on time,” he said. But, he added, “There comes a point when you say, ‘Enough is enough.’” Yes! Damn those clean, non-destructive residents who are punctual with the rent. Damn them to hell!

Essentially, I believe you should be taken away from your parents only if they are going to do you physical harm. I believe that because the alternative is so extreme. A childhood in care homes or foster homes is an outcome to be avoided when possible.

Lots of us have idiots for parents. Lots of us have people who are more or less racist for parents. Lots of our parents give us names that make our schooldays hellish. None of that stops them loving us, or us loving them, or our being raised in a supportive, loving environment..

And we get over it. We get over the things our parents do. We get over the terrible people (in some ways) our parents are. We try not to make their mistakes. We try not to name our children Heinrich Himmler Tapley. We get better. We try not to make the same mistakes. We have our own hideous mistakes to crush our children with...

And, yes, I've just found myself defending the people who gave their children horrible racist names. Bleeeeh.

Gah.

2009-01-15T11:43:00.002Z

This is just a test to see if the new comments system is working.

But I hope you're having a wonderful day, anyway...

2008-12-17T02:30:00.001Z

The Battley-Tapley Christmas Letter 2008

Well, what a year 2008's been in the Battley-Tapley household! There have been tears, joy, and laughter for us, unlike for those of you from whom we haven't received a Christmas letter: whose lives we can only assume have been utterly eventless.

The big news, of course, this year, is that it looks like Natt's alcoholism is finally under control. In the past few months we have been able to visit bars, restaurants, and zoos with relative confidence. Not since August has he jumped onto a dessert trolley and started smearing himself with Black Forest Gateau, or improperly fondled a koala. We pray that his progress continues through 2009, and the courts agree to remove his tag at his hearing in April!

Zoe's ongoing course of botox and regenerative gene therapy has really kicked her career up a few notches, and she is now appearing as 'a human statue' in Covent Garden, no less! She isn't enjoying the commute, and her ongoing feud with one of the fire jugglers has caused some problems, but she struggles on, and hopes to be promoted to the South Bank soon!

2008 also saw the birth of our fourth child, Enrique, who was taken away by bailiffs because of the credit crunch.

Still, let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's nothing worse than a Christmas letter that is anything but completely thorough, so here we go...

JANUARY saw the slaughter of Amanda, our pig. We hated to have to do it, but she was looking very old and tasty. Seeing Eleanor playing in the warm entrails of the sow that had once suckled her (during Zoe's post-natal depression) was really special, and emphasised how lucky we are to have a daughter and some delicious sausages.

FEBRUARY was a difficult month, that saw Zoe convicted of a 'road rage'. To clarify, because there have been a lot of falsehoods disseminated about this incident in the press, Zoe was not naked at the time. She was wearing a hat, and a bandolier full of ammunition.

MARCH was a very proud month, as Eleanor won the Nobel Prize for Physics for her work on the Planck scale, and quantum fluctuations in space-time. She also got her Grade 3 Oboe (no distinction this time), and a 25 metre swimming badge.

APRIL saw our annual hibernation. It was perhaps our most successful hibernation since 1996.

MAY was the month in which Natt's one-man show, an adaptation of Hamlet,with Natt doing all of the voices took to the stage - or should we say, the pavement! Eschewing fusty traditional venues, One Man Hamlet was an exciting experiment in open air theatre: a performance without the gaudy appurtenances of lighting, costumes, or an audience. In a rave review, Westminster Council called it 'a public nuisance'.

JUNE saw Eleanor complete the first leg of her around-the-world tricycle ride. Unfortunately, her record-breaking attempt had to be cut short when she was accosted by a group of road-pirates in the Urals, and was sold into white slavery. She smuggled her way back into Britain in a Somalian's stomach.

JULY failed to produce any notable events for our family. We think that this is probably July's fault, and have decided not to participate in July in 2009.

AUGUST was the month in which the Olympic fever gripped the country. Zoe's stalwart efforts in the pole vault won her a nomination as BBC Sports Personality of the Year, and a ruptured vagina. The heroic way in which she limped from the field, and gamely applied ice and bandages to her crotch won the nation's hearts.

SEPTEMBER, as ever, was an exciting time, as Zoe's birthday party loomed. Once again, the party guests were treated to a torrent of personal abuse, watered-down alcohol, and the sight of Zoe staring drink-sodden into a mirror, clawing at her face and weeping: 'Where did it all go so very wrong.' Great fun!

OCTOBER was the month in which Eleanor finally made us very proud grandparents. After 15 long months, she provided us with a grandson, Patrice. Her boyfriend, Malcolm, works at an abattoir, sweeping up blood, but this will only be true whilst he is on remand, after which he plans to train as a teacher. We would have preferred it if they were married, but Malcolm already has a wife and four children, so we understand why they thought that it would be both inappropriate and illegal.

NOVEMBER saw Natt back in prison, the victim, yet again, of mistaken identity. Once again, we would appeal for anyone who has seen the violent, drunken groper of women and animals who just happens to share Natt's name and face and DNA to come forward. Your evidence could be vital.

DECEMBER isn't even finished yet, and already we know it's going to be the best Christmas ever. The family portraits in the attic grow ever more demented and hideous, which can only augur well for the new year!

Natt and Zoe and Eleanor and Patrice wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy 2009. Have a wonderfully festive period.

Love,

N, Z & E
x

2008-11-27T01:23:00.002Z

Now, then. Here's something with which I'm tangentially involved. It's in a competition of some sort, so please do watch and rate it, if you're at all inclined. If not, don't.

Thanks...

N
x

2008-11-05T15:47:00.003Z

Every now and again, Hazel Blears does something to remind me why I hate her more than any other MP. Most are just misguided, venal, cowardly idiots. She, however, is something special, a ball of uncorrupted evil, deserving of nothing more than vivisection so that we can find out how a creature with neither a brain nor a heart can display all of the outward symptoms of life.

This time, she done give a speech. In which she says the following:

"And in recent years commentary has taken over from investigation or news reporting, to the point where commentators are viewed by some as every bit as important as elected politicians, with views as valid as cabinet ministers."

Because no one has views as 'valid' as those of cabinet ministers. It's an impossibility.

She doesn't stop at suggesting that cabinet ministers might be better-informed on certain issues, she asserts (and she elaborates in her next sentence) that unless you are an MP, or, more properly, a member of the ruling party so spineless that you have a cabinet position, your opinions aren't even valid. She goes on:

"You fucking idiots. How dare you presume to be able to give anything like the appropriate quality of thought to issues that might affect your life? Do you have a badge that makes you an approved thinker? Has anyone ever voted for you in the misguided belief that you were going to represent their views? Are you one of the 646 people in this country with valid opinions? No? Then shut up. Pricks. You people make me sick."

She then lowered her pastel-coloured trousers and shat on the grateful face of one of her enraptured constituents. Said the constituent: "I'll never wash this face again. It's an honour and a privilege to have been used as a turd-basket by an illiberal harridan who came last in the first round of Labour's last deputy leadership election. The faeces that currently clogs my nostrils represents, in a very real sense, the views of the 11% of the Labour party who supported her."

In fact, as Hazel goes on to talk about how only thought sanctioned by having won an election is appropriate, valid, or useful, she must have as thoroughly rejected all of her own views as the Labour Party did last year.

She seems, as usual, to fundamentally not have any understanding of her job as an MP. Her job is to represent the views of her constituents in Parliament, not to have better ones (like her idea to 'rebrand' ethnic minorities) because the people in her constituency were too feckless and idle to have valid thoughts.

She doesn't even have the modicum of intelligence necessary to realise that - gasp! - you don't need to have been elected by anyone to be a cabinet member. Like Peter Mandelson. What, exactly, made the views of the never-elected Andrew Adonis more valid than anyone else's when it came to schools? The fact that he was in the cabinet. And thus, according to Hazel, we should all shut up.

She makes me physically ill, and Unity does a great job on her over at Ministry of Truth. I'm going to go and try to scrub the stench of Blears from my typing fingers...

2008-11-05T00:38:00.001Z

It took me - what? - half an hour to get bored with this...

23:25 – Matt Frei is a pasty toad, and wrong about everything. Here he goes again, croaking out another flatulent litany of nonsense.

23:31 – Come on, Kentucky, get on with it! Your fried chicken might well be unfeasibly delicious but your laxness in vote-counting is really, really irritating...

23:33 – Even Rupert Murdoch trembles when Barack Obama smites things with his mighty protectionist fist. Obama is the scariest entity in the known universe: God and dark matter quake before him.

23:36 – Virginia forgot to get provide any way for people to vote. If they're black.

23:40 – Dimbleby is boring me rigid. I'm going to get some booze.

23:41 – John Simpson has just liberated Chicago! And he's not going to take any shit from Dimbleby.

23:45 – Some evil Republican woman is reminding us all that we thought we were going to win four years ago, and that our hearts were slowly shredded over the course of an evening then. For bringing that up she will be made to suffer in a deep, hot corner of hell.

23:48 – Apparently, the exit poll says that 61% of people believe John McCain will raise taxes, because he, too, is a filthy socialist, and he needs the money to pay for more houses. For him.

23:53 - “Well, this is getting, erm *sigh* tense.” Yawn.

Booze.

2008-10-31T17:59:00.006Z

Did anyone else see the pictures of the Christians praying to the bronze bull for a return to better economic times:
and think of this?

I'm guessing that if you want God's help, it's probably best not to use a ceremony that there's a specific injunction against in the first of his ten commandments. And really, really, don't do exactly the thing that made Moses so cross he smashed up those commandments, and had to go and copy them out again. Really.

(Exodus 32:4, for those of you who are interested)

2008-10-18T13:20:00.002Z

Pat Buchanan is obviously just making an observation, not a threat...

"Whichever way he decides, he will be at war with them, or at war with us. If Barack wins, a backlash is coming."

On a lighter note, does anyone else think that he looks an awful lot like Rachel Maddow in the picture at the top of the page?

2008-10-10T10:13:00.002Z

They've managed to spell my name wrong on the graphic - but here are two aging slices of half-baked satire just in time for conference seaso... oh.

Oh well...

Singing the Blues - West side Tory

Brown Alert - It ain't easy being Gordon...

"He didn't appear to have any intention at all of... eating the moose."

2008-08-30T01:17:00.001Z

Steamboats Are Ruining Everything: Did Sarah Palin eat the moose?

Adultery. The Tasering of a child. A disputed moose carcass. A family feud that may have led to the inappropriate firing of a government official. John McCain's new running mate Sarah Palin, the governor of Alaska, comes with a vivid and colorful back-story, well worth the attention of America's journalistic community.

Of all the stories about Sarah Palin that have drifted across the blogosphere in the last 12-ish hours, this has been my favourite...

UniqueDaily.com - Gremlins Fan Film

2008-08-29T23:12:00.000Z

UniqueDaily.com - Gremlins Fan Film

This truly is a thing of Gremlins wonder, and a labour of mad, French love. The 'making of' is almost better than the Gremlins bit itself...

2008-08-04T22:02:00.002Z

I'll be in the Channel 4 show, Tonightly, from August 1st to 22nd. If you'd like to watch, it's on after Big Brother.

When 'psychics' go bad

2008-06-18T12:41:00.001Z

CityNews: CityNews Exclusive: The Mother, The Child, The School Board And The Psychic

Technorati Tags: psychic, autism, abuse,

Insubordinate clauses

2008-05-23T01:40:00.001Z

BBC NEWS | England | Devon | Blast suspect was 'radicalised'

Devon and Cornwall Police Deputy Chief Constable Tony Melville said: "Our investigation so far indicates Reilly, who had a history of mental illness, had adopted the Islamic faith.

Witness the magic of the well-placed subordinate clause...

My Chortle Review

2008-05-19T23:23:00.001Z

Laughing Horse New Act Final 2008' review : Chortle : The UK Comedy Guide

Nathaniel Tapley is an actorly character turn very much similar in style to Al Murray’s loud, declamatory performance – not to mention his ill-thought-out right-wing opinions derived from his many psychological, emotional and social failings. In fact, this rabid Tory boy would probably see the Pub Landlord as some sort of namby-pamby liberal.

His veins throb and his eyes bulge as he harrumphs his way through his personal manifesto against political correctness. He’s imperialistic, homophobic and sexist – and very, very funny. The comically exaggerated opinions crystalise into wonderful one-liners, including a gag about his ‘handicapped boy’ that was the best single joke of the night. There are a couple of formulaic lines in the mix, but they are done with such panache that it matters little. A powerhouse performance, and funny with it.

The Beppisode

2008-05-19T16:21:00.001Z

The Meeting, Episode 7 Michael | The Meeting | Video

2008-05-08T00:49:00.002Z

It makes you wonder why, for example, speed cameras - designed specifically and solely to capture images of speeding cars - are taking pictures of any and all cars, and why our money is then being spent on analysing those photos.

Particularly predictable is the suggestion that a public order offence has been committed, the overreaction to any challenge of police 'over-zealousness', and the plea for someone to, please, think of the children.

I, personally, want my children to find all incidences of bums in their daily lives to be funny. Any child who actually finds a man sticking his naked bottom out of a moving car to be 'distasteful and offensive' should have their their child's license revoked, and all sweet-eating privileges removed.

Passenger moons speed camera - Boing Boing