ALIAS POOR YORICK

Hello, God here. No no, no need for that sort of carry on. I've told you before about that. All that God-fearing stuff is so very old-fashioned. Just a simple gidday will do. And a cup of English Breakfast tea would be nice. And a date scone, if you're having one. But please,  no more of that grovelling around on the ground and wailing and all that crap. But while we're on the topic, a bit of gratitude wouldn't go amiss. I mean I'm the one who gave you peacocks, and chili chocolate, and sex. Not that you were supposed to enjoy all three of them at the same time. Yes you ! You grubby little bastard. I know who you are. Just stop it before I rethink the whole freewill thing altogether. Now, where was I .. ah, yeah look I'm thinking about just nicking off altogether. I'm just jack of it really. It's not easy being omnipotent. And as for being omniscient, you think that's cool ? I know what Clive Palmer looks like naked. So just like shut up dudes. ...

Cabinet reshuffle ? Ignore it, it's just a front. Fact is, folks, that Julia's pretty much had it with her Labour Party colleagues and has been looking further afield for someone to rule with. I mean with whom to rule. Guess who she found ? Me ! She stumbled across ALIAS POOR YORICK while cruising the Net looking for ferret jokes to amuse Greg Combet with. I mean, with which to amuse Greg Combet. Read the whole thing, and immediately decided she needed to rule, I mean govern, with me at her side. So it's a done deal. We'll be running the whole country, apart from that boring money stuff. And who can bothered with that. We'll be appointing my personal accountant, Vinnie "The Stoat" Ravioli, as finance minister and Chancellor of the Exchequer. That man can make a tax return sing. He's an artist. Julia and I will look after everything else. We'll rule as a triumvirate. Except with only two of us. Julia says not to worry it'll be all right, s...

How many Popes does it take to change a light bulb ? "Let me begin by saying that we take the problem of light bulbs which require changing extremely seriously. It is a matter of great concern to me, and the church as a whole. There have been suggestions that there has been an attempt within the church to downplay the importance of replacing faulty light bulbs, suggestions which I refute absolutely. The entire problem has not been helped by what we could only describe as lurid sensationalism in the press. A solution to the light bulb problem is being pursued aggressively, and we would like to see that action being more fairly represented in the popular press. Of course I have no personal knowledge of  faulty light bulbs, but I accept that there may be, from place to place, faulty lightbulbs. I intend to do everything in my power to change these light bulbs. I hope that clarifies the matter. And I would also like to remind you that as pope, I am infallible, and I don't w...

A NEW ETIQUETTE COLUMN FROM OUR EDITOR-AT-LARGE Lord MacGregor McGregor I am not The Stig. Neither are you. And neither is the nineteen year old P-plater in a Hyundai Excel with black vinyl wrap, an exhaust pipe big enough to fit a small pig in,  and No Fear emblazoned in huge letters on the rear window. And neither is The Stig. Well, not any more. So who are we really ? Apparently the answers are to be found on the back window of your car. And Facebook. Look no further. But first, stick families. If in fact your entire family consists of stick figures, then by all means tell us about this on the back window of your car. However, if your family consists of actual people & pets, then I really must insist that you stop misleading us on the back window of your car. Do not lie to me in traffic. It will end badly for all of us. Now. About your protestation that you have a "baby on board". Congratulations, you have a child. We here at ALIAS POOR YORI...

At Proust's Kitchen we serve only one dish. It is steak. It is perfect. Heston Blumenthal ate here. It made him cry. Anthony Bourdain also came here and cried, and not just because we slapped him with a spatula for being, how you say, a complete bloody tool. No, they all come, they all cry. It is the perfection. Should you feel you may be worthy of eating in our perfect restaurant, please feel free to send us an email. If it sufficiently amuses us, we will send you an application form. You will almost certainly fail, but the enormous effort involved is, we assure you, worth it. And how, you ask, can we be so confident ?  We can make the best steak in the world because we have the best cows in the world. And we treat them like royalty. They live in resort-like splendour in a location we prefer not to disclose so that there is little risk of them being disturbed by tourists, paparazzi, and insanely-jealous rival restaurateurs. There are no fences. There is only fre...

After many years of intense thinking , I was struck the other afternoon at about four-thirty-five by the answers to pretty much everything. Not quite total truth, but at least a working model thereof. A compendium of complete wisdom, if you will. Or even if you won't. And I think it's extremely unkind of my friends to suggest that this moment of clarity came after I'd quaffed 14 double-shot lattes in my new position as Quality Assurance Director down at Mondo Espresso. This is harsh. Now, as we all know, Direct and Inverse Scattering for Beltrami Fields ( or "Far Field Theory") depicts stability after chaos upon reaching the theoretical point of infinity. What I now know is that is also guarantees the universal truth of the following: (a) Never take a spoon to a knife fight (b) It's really hard to look tough when you're driving a Hyundai Excel (c) Any sentence which begins with "Simply" is a damn lie, and any sentence containing ...

 LANCE PEPTIDE, CAUGHT IN THE ACT Accusations and awkward alliterations (& abysmal syntax) are flying as World drug authorities concede for the first time the true extent of the infiltration of sport and sports-related activities into the drug-taking world.  And it's been going on for years, claims Lance Peptide (pictured above) who talked publicly about his own involvement in sport after being photographed by paparazzi while clearly dressed in some sort of athletic outfit and taking part in field & track activity instead of drinking the beer and snorting the three lines of meth crystals laid out on the serving tray. I am scum, said Mr Peptide, and I am not alone. Nor is this a recent development. I can remember my cocaine dealer back in the mid-eighties turning up to a drug meet in a cricket jumper. Didn't give a stuff. And I can give you names right now, I'm not going to but I could, of several well-known high-ranking cocaine an...