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VLAD THE INHALER

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.... Rupert ? Put Mummy on the phone, yes, get Mummy. No you can't call me Vlad, I'm your father ... well I don't care if you are six years old now ... Get Mummy .. okay, put Arpeggio on ... Arpeggio ? It's your father ... NO YOU CAN'T CALL ME VLAD I'M YOUR FATHER AND I DON'T CARE HOW OLD YOU ARE .. I'LL USE MY OUTDOORS VOICE ... I'll use my outdoor voice if I want to, I'm your father .. okay .. what .. okay we're on speaker. What's that noise ? Rupert put down Daddy's inhaler put down the inhaler. You know the rules, no taking drugs that are prescribed for other family members. Last time you took Daddy's Ventolin you had seventeen puffs and started talking in German and ranting about Lebensraum and invading Czechoslovakia. Where did you learn German anyway, you were only three at the time? Where's your mother ? ... what do you mean she's in the kitchen practising tantric cooking ? There's no such thing as tantri

HOW TO DRIVE

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  t First you're going to need a vehicle of some sort. Oh I know there are schools of magical thinking which insist that you don't need a physical manifestation of a "car" in order to drive, but you'll need something & if it makes you feel better to buy a pre-manifested Chery with that bitcoin you paid too much for, then hey - knock yourself out I'm sorry, I've been talking with Grimes on Messenger and she always gets me a bit over-revved. Back to the basics. Vehicles. If you're new at this caper I'd recommend a car. Motorcycles and military trucks can be a bit of a handful for the learner.  Scooters are suitable only for the terminally cool and the criminally insane. They are a death wish on two wheels.  If you're looking for the easy option then buy or steal a Mercedes. You get yourself one of those and you can pretty much do whatever you like, especially if you get one of the small ones, you know the ones that look like a normal car unti

HOW TO STOP SMOKING ; PART THREE

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  I started smoking at sixteen. I wasn't very good to begin with, but I practised until I was proficient. And I had flare. Friends remarked on my smoking skills and told me I made smoking look good, and I assumed that smoking made me look good. I became a competition smoker at eighteen, representing Dunedin, and then Otago, at a national level. At twenty I deferred my MA in philosophy& accountancy to turn professional. I was good. Represented New Zealand at the highest level, and brought home silver from the 1976 Le Grande Fumee in Marseilles against stellar competition. In two short years I'd made it - the world was my ashtray. And then it all went to shit. I don't know what happened but it just all fell to pieces. I'd lost that fire, that burning desire. F orced to find some sort of job I ended up in television, writing scripts for soap operas and anything else that would pay the rent. Later I even worked in a cigarette factory. Packed cigarettes, counted cigarett

EVEN MORE ABOUT THE ARTHUR: (The Unauthorized autobiography)

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Or, more correctly, the author, who would look a lot like this if he had a large moustache and a 1915 Stutz-Bearcat. So what do we really know of the man behind the mystery that lies just to one side of the enigma that is the man who founded the ALIAS POOR YORICK empire ? Early records show that Mr Browett attended a university, possibly even going to a lecture, although this cannot be verified. He became quite proficient at billiards and reading newspapers, also spending time writing comedy sketches. After editing a satirical magazine, he was politely asked to leave town. When that didn't work, the requests became more insistent. After moving to a place of safety, he set about becoming a writer. Demonstrating impressive skill at smoking cigarettes and drinking red wine, he also bought a number of white shirts & found a fabulous velvet smoking jacket in an op-shop. When it was suggested that he might actually do some writing, he became incensed and killed a popular

"This is the Nick Cave Song" by Nick Cave

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NICK CAVE & FRIEND "Hello, I'm Nick Cave. If I could be serious for a moment, and I think I could, we live in troubled times. I'm afraid. What do you do when you're afraid ? I'll tell you what I do ...... Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head erect, and whistle a happy tune, so no-one will suspect I'm afraid. While shivering in my shoes, I strike a careless pose, and whistle a happy tune, and no-one ever knows I'm afraid. I think everyone has a happy tune. This is mine " Well I took wine & I took blood, And I drank the wine & I spilt the blood And I spilled the wine into that mud And I took the blood & the mud & the wine and made it mine And I made bricks out of the mud and blood  Built of house of pain & it was fine Waited for the mighty flood Well God. I sure need a hit I know these lyrics seem like shit But if you could just help me fit  one more old testament reference ... Into my song, Oh Lord In

how to give up smoking : part two

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 ( with special introduction by CEO Jeff Browett, a special introduction to the introduction by Sebastian Kingsporn, lickspittle and fawning fool, and a special guest appearance by OH&S officer Ken Keen who will give a brief chat about the dangers of flying oxford commas and interrobangs) Hi friends. I'm C.O.O Sebastian Kingsporn, standing in for our CEO Jeff Browett, who can't be with us today owing to a freak accident with a dangling participle in an important piece being guest-edited by Barnaby Joyce, interrogating the critical mass of arguments which must be resolved before attempting to resolve the balance of responsibilities and rights inherent in the burning question of whether it's okay to get pissed and fall over in public and have some cockhead video you. Pause for applause... oh I'm sorry I wasn't supposed to read that bit out..... excuse me, I'm getting a message.... ladies and gentleman... duck your heads in silent prayer for our CEO Jeff Browet

HOW TO NOT SHOOT TAYLOR SWIFT

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  SWIFT EXIT STITCH IN TIME FOR TAYLOR Narrow escape today for pop diva Taylor Swift after she cleverly avoided being in Kansas City for the giant piss-up occasioned by the KFC ( Kansas Fucking Chiefs ) winning a well-attended football game of some sort. It was the third year in a row the KFC had won and the fans seemed reasonably pleased. We understand Taylor Swift's boyfriend du jour is a valued member of the KFC  team and played an excellent game, causing the normally reserved Ms Swift to let out an excited squeal. We can neither confirm nor deny that Travis received the customary backseat of the limo passionate-but-chaste-embrace as the happy couple sped to the airport, sending her swiftly on her way to Australia where she will stage a number of wildly successful and very long concerts. Back to the carnage. Three shooters opened fire on the huge crowd, many of whom were not yet paralytically drunk All three were eventually quickly captured and arrested and advised of their righ