Vaudeville

Alright soft lad.

As you know, when not lurking, Phantom of the Opera stylee, in the eaves of the green room arts centre, plotting which VAUDEVILLE acts to nurture and which to destroy;

I, THE VAUDEVILLIAN saddle up the elephants, link the wagons to the back of a clown and take the whole merry shebang to a quiet watering hole I know. There, in the seclusion and shade of the lime trees: I mix myself a margarita, pop my feet on the coffee table (actually fashioned from the skeletons of my Siamese twin sisters); and, with a loud sigh, I open up the paper and peruse the follies of the world of normals.

IN THESE BLOGS I GIVE VENT TO MY FURY AND MY WISDOM.

I see a very rich man has blown his families heads off, then did himself in. Apparently he had financial worries. These rich people, eh? You can just imagine the internal dialogue: “I can’t bear the ignominy of seeing my family poor! Better they have their heads gunned in, than be forced to live, love, dream and experience, in some lower middle class neighbourhood. My kids going to state school! My wife shopping in TK MAXX! It’s too horrible to contemplate.

I’d better murder us all.”

BUT WAIT. We must now speak of relative poverty.

Like all thinking people in Britain, I am obsessed with that monstrous and demeaning construct, CLASS. Probably I would have said to Chris Foster:

” You think you’re life is bad? You should see some of the people I know!”

But that is in fact absurd. Here is a man in such HELL that he’s killing himself and his family. So clearly, he’s about as poor as a man can be.

It just goes to show doesn’t it? I am the ultimate inverse snob, but I caught meself just in time! So remember, my friends: When you’re risking life and limb to rig the leccy meter, or turning to prostitution to put food on the table-

could be worse. You could be posh and mad. Or worse-

OFFSPRING OF THE POSH AND MAD.

Now. Let’s go and sell some sperm and get a pint, shall we?

Your mam’s special friend,

THE VAUDEVILLIAN

UNREALITY SHOW

Hi folks.

I read with glee that Josef Fritzel has asked for a supply of anti-aging skin cream.

Of course this is probably a non story invented by those jokers at the news agency.

But just as we must either trust our senses to tell us what the world is like, so we must now trust the internet, BBC news and, worst of all, METRO newspaper, to convey to us all of the worlds news.

It is as if one had not one nose, but a billion. Plus multiple eyes, ears, nerve endings and tongues. All over the earth. Sending in multiple data- often, wildly varying versions of the same thing!

But what are you gonna do? Gotta trust these senses, like we trust our own.

Of course, some people DONT trust their senses, and resort to deranging themselves with psycho-active drugs, in an attempt to find some alternative truth which their own usual consciousness is denying them.

BUT I DIGRESS

Let’s take a leap of faith, a willing suspension of skepticism if you will, and suppose that the evil Austrian really is anointing himself with special balms, in a bid to stop himself from looking even more like a hundred year old stoat.

WE MUST BE GRATEFUL THAT THESE CREAMS DONT REALLY WORK!

Think on it: using only a paperclip, Fritzel overpowers his guards an escapes into the wild of Austria. No recent photos have been taken, so the new WANTED posters must rely on archive pics from the time of his arrest.

BUT DURING THE PAST SIX MONTHS, JOSEF FRITZEL HAS GOTTEN MUCH YOUNGER LOOKING!

Who will suspect that figure that resembles a young Johnny Depp, lurking in the back of the discotheque? Certainly not the naive young moppet who accepts his offer of a drink, is enticed back to his caravan hideout, and then superglued to the sofa for the rest of her life, living out a terrible mockery of an existence, as one by one, her offspring are also glued onto the hellish couch, never to see the light of day, and creating their own version of reality from the now deranged wittering of their mother, and from endless vhs tapes of Jeremy Kyle which Fritzel forces them to watch.

AND THEN: the terrible day when they escape- their personalities entirely forged, by the disinfotainment of the unctuous white trash exploiter?

What kind of warped, bendy version of the world, would they experience, when they tried to match up what they’d learned on telly, with what they find ON THE STREETS?

But then again- what about ourselves? Fed a constant stream of information about this that and the other- our very minds shaped, by the puppetmasters at ITV…

what if WE ever had to face the real world?

Are we so very different?

Just something to mull on.

Your humble savant,

THE VAUDEVILLIAN.

Kingdom of the blind.

Hello everybody. It’s me- your favourite psychotic curmudgeon, THE VAUDEViLLIAN. Check out this interesting tidbit I just received from VAUDEViLLE STALWART ‘ONE MINUTE WANDA’:

Eleven-year-old James got a huge shock when he received a handwritten letter from the Chancellor, Gordon Brown.
In his report, James tells us why the politician wrote to him …

“Four years ago I had an accident at a supermarket. A bottle fell on the floor and glass flew up and hit my eye… Now I have an artificial eye.
Recently I was bullied quite badly.

They told me they were going to steal my false eye and smash it on the ground. They even burned me with cigarettes.

My mum could see that I was going through a hard time and she wrote to Gordon Brown telling him what had happened to me.

I was so shocked when I got a handwritten letter from the Chancellor.
He told me that having an artificial eye never stopped him from doing anything and has made absolutely no difference to him.
It made me feel very happy, I’ve never had a letter from someone that important before.
And it’s made me think that I can achieve anything I want to in life.”
James, 11, Halifax

(full version at: news.bbc.co.uk/cbbcnews/hi/newsid_4410000/newsid_4417600/4417641.stm

Well I never did. Gordon has a GLASS EYE! I couldn’t tell. It’s certainly a lot more convincing than the one fitted to ‘Rumpole Of The Bailey’. Who sadly does not exist, or he could use his brilliant barristering skills to defend that poor sod languishing in Guantanamo, what Gordon’s turned his back on because he doesn’t want to release mitigating evidence that the blokes confession may have been extracted using torture. No mention of being burned with cigarrettes but he does speak of having his knackers slashed at…

Yes of course it’s inspiring for this lad James to hear from a powerful man who is a cyclops like himself. Too bad it’s the same bugger who is presiding over a country that sanctions torture. Who knows, maybe those UK sponsored inquisitors will succeed in ‘creating’ more one-eyed people, who if they do ever get out of chokey, can in turn be inspired in life by the very man who presides over the social divides that create feral little bastards who assault disabled people for kicks.

If only James’s Mum had written to Columbo instead…he’d have gotten to the truth!

What all of this has to do with VAUDEVILLE, I cannot say…

Love and kisses and electric shocks to your fanny you terrorist cow,

THE VAUDEVILLIAN

Hi Vaudeville acolytes.

I was thinking about KARMA today. That complex, much misunderstood notion of cosmic justice, summarized in the desirable- if unprovable- maxim : “what goes around, comes around”. You know, like in ‘My name is Earl’.

I read with interest Sharon Stone’s comments about the earthquake in China being possibly a result of their ‘bad karma’, after what the Chinese have done to Tibet. She was particularly offended as she is a close personal chum of the Dali Lama. As I am myself. (You know, I don’t know how many truly close friends its possible for one person to have, but that guy must be stretching himself. With all these millionaire buddies, it’s a true miracle he has any room left in his quota for the common people.)

Anyway, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I have long harboured a deep, sick desire, to tie up Sharon Stone, dress her in a gimp suit and cover her with marmalade, while a huge anteater licks at her with his long, long snout.

I suppose most people feel the same way.

America has done some pretty rotten things to the world over the years, I think we can all agree. So perhaps this stalker urge I’ve been suppressing, is in fact the forces of Karma, acting through me. If Karma wants to dismember the Chinese proles for what it’s leaders have done, why not also send the likes of me, to sexually assault America’s movie stars-to get back at George Bush for the invasion of Iraq? Makes perfect sense to me.

Who says misogyny can’t be a force for good!?!

Perhaps I am misinterpreting the sutures. After all, some of my best friends are Buddhists. But they are also ENGLISH. And the RAJ did some awful stuff in India. So it seems only right, that I should machine gun the lot of them in the willy, in vengeance for the Amritsar massacre, the execution of Mangal Pandey and, a bit more recently, the indignities heaped upon Shilpa Shetty. In fact, this horrific massacre of my Llama loving chums, could be interpreted as a noble attempt on the part of the people of England, to atone for the evil of Jade Goody.

It’s my duty, as an agent of Karma. Trouble is, what horrors will karma do, in turn, to ME for being so horrible? Seems Karma is a lot like the Godfather movies- the cycle of bloodletting never ends. Also, as regards reincarnation-

“just when I think I’m out of the cycle of life- they pull me back in!”

Oh and by the way. A lot has been said about the Dali Llama’s alleged homophobia this week. Well, he stumbled into ‘H20 Zone’ in Manchester’s Village this weekend. Apparently he mistook the gaggle of shaven headed men cuing up, for monks, and the popular cruising sauna for a temple of some kind.

Suffice to say that the his holiness has wiped the Karmic slate clean.

Well, that’s enough theology for one day.

Your humble servant of ‘god’,

the VAUDEVILLIAN.

Greetings, my little fat friend. Take your hands out of your pockets when I’m talking to you, boy. Now…

I think all of us were completely bored to hear that Bruce Forsyth is eighty years old. But cast your mind back…a few years ago, the positively satanic war criminal Augusto Pinochet was visiting these shores, arraigned to appear and answer for the various mindblowingly painful things he did to people during his military dictatorship of Chile, back in the ’70s and ’80s. He got away with it, feigning illness I believe, THUS avoiding a proper trial. He died in his bed aged ninety one, the fucker.

During his stay in blighty, he was held not in a proper prison but in an actual MANSION- next door to-you guessed it. BRUCEY. And Tarby, and Wogan! Google it if you don’t believe me.

Did the good showbiz folk of Wentworth estate go and kick his head in for him? Alas, it seems your beloved Mr. Forsyth did NOTHING.

However, I like to fantasise that Brucey did in fact attempt to take on the bloated Chilean hardman, lunging at his face with a nine iron on the private golf course which they shared for a time. Further, I can’t help picturing Pinochet evading the blow, alas; seizing Bruce by the face; SQUEEZING like a demon: and then, somehow, horribly, pouring all of his hateful soul and mind, INTO the helpless, big chinned entertainer- through his EYES.

I dunno, I just feel that on some level, it was Bruce Forsyth who died in that Santiago hospital on that cold December night two years ago…and that Pinochet lives horribly on, with a bigger chin and a fitter wife…has it ever occurred to you, that although you will one day die, the COLD virus that makes your nose snotty, will live on forever, passing it’s way down through the years from nose to nose?

So, I think, it is with tyrants like Pinochet. Forever snotting his way from one body to the next, perpetuating the evil, slowly destroying the human race….

Just a little food for thought. Have a nice day now, y’all.

contact the vaudevillian at : vaudevile35@yahoo.co.uk

Hello fans. This is your deadly enemy, THE VAUDEVILLIAN. And I bring you horrible news. YOU DON’T EXIST.

Yes, that’s right: NOONE EVER READS THESE BLOGS!

Which I think means it’s pretty inconsquential if i write:

All foreigners should be shot, in order to purify the ‘race;

lesbianism is a mental illness and should be cured with ECT.

This country is a soft touch for terrorists…

I can’t keep this up. OF COURSE I don’t advocate homophobia, nationalism, or ludicrous daily mail style fantasies about an imaginary terrorist threat.

See what a great guy I am? Progressive, with my feet on the ground. So why not repay my goodness: EMAIL ME AT

vaudeville35@yahoo.co.uk

and then, and only then, will i consider writing something WORTHWHILE…