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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
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LEST WE FORGET © ANZAC 2019 ™ ®

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Of course I fought at Gallipoli. I was only a fetus, so I had to lie about my age. And my height. I had to lie about a lot of things. I hated the taste of beer and I didn't know the words to Waltzing Matilda, but I was buggered if I was going to let that stand in the way of dying for my country. Or someone else's country. War isn't supposed to make sense. They say the first casualty of war is truth. In my case the first casualty of war was a Louis Vuitton trunk containing my best dinner suit, three ounces of Turkish opium, and a particularly fine collection of Persian erotica. Sunk without trace after a luggage tender capsized at Alexandria. A tragedy. I was on my way to Paris to cover the war as a freelance correspondent and I had no idea of the horrors I was to face. Without a decent dinner jacket. You people have no idea. Gallipoli. It was hell. When I say I fought at Gallipoli, I really mean I saw action at Gallipoli. Well, I mean I saw some photos of the plac
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HOW TO GIVE UP SMOKING

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      First, have a cigarette. It's probably best to wake up first, but I have been known to have a cigarette immediately before awakening or even before. Now dig out those barely-out-of-date nicotine patches you bought three years ago after chain smoking three packs of Marlboro Red at a party in Rehab. Apply liberally to the chest and upper arm areas. I know it says only one, but what sort of a wimp are you ? Go hard or go home. And check out the Krusty the Clown instructional video on YouTube. He recommends 15 - 20 at a time, at least until your body gets used to it. Now, by this time the patches will have kicked in, flooding your bloodstream with nicotine, fear, and anxiety. You may feel the need for a cigarette at this stage. I know I do, but I promised myself I wouldn't have one until I'd finished this blog. You could be in luck - this night be a short piece. Anyway, after that cigarette, don't have any more. Simple.
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