Friday, 12 April 2013

Hugo


From Bizarro
Well, they came to town
With their elephants and clowns
On a hit sticky August day

And every telephone pole
Had a poster that told
Of the thrills that were coming our way

There were trapeze fliers
And men that ate fire
And things we never dreamed existed

And the radio and TV
Told us we’d be
Fools if we dared to miss it.

Now all three rings
Held wondrous things
Marvels of every invention

But the big long shrouded
Shape in the corner
Increasingly drew our attention

There were bareback riders
Lions and tigers
And clowns in their itty bitty car

But every woman and man
And child in the stand
Had come to see the star

Then a hush fell on the crowd
As the men pulled the shroud
From the muzzle that was 30 feet long

And to screams and cheers
He finally appeared
And flamboyantly bowed to the throng

He wore red sequined tights
That sparkled in the lights
And boots that came to his knees

And a chromium
football helmet
And a cape that flapped in the breeze

And the dazzled crowd
Shouted out loud
You could hear them one and all

We want Hugo!
Hugo! Hugo!
The Human Cannonball

The aim was carefully calculated
The trajectory was precise

The charge was carefully measured
And poured into the loading device

The fuse was trimmed, the lights were dimmed
Hugo slid down the barrel and then

All was ready and Hugo’s daddy
Counted down from

Ten!
And the drums rolled

Nine
And our blood ran cold

Eight!
The ambulance stood by

Seven!
Several woman cried

Six!
The spotlight hit the net

Five!
No one would ever forget

Four!
Eternity passed

Three!
Every heart beat fast

Two!
And Hugo’s daddy said, “Are you ready Hugo?
��?

One!
And from the bowels of the gun, “I’m a-ready, Papa!
��?

Boom!

Well, fire and smoke belched
Out of the cannon
And the earth trembled for a while

And the big gun roared
And Hugo soared
Through the air like a projectile.

Two hundred and fifty
Feet he flew
Like an Air Force fighter jet

But at the apex
Of his trajectory
He knew he’s gonna miss the net

Oh! Arms flailing
He kept on sailing
A terrified screaming creature

And the crowd scattered
As Hugo splattered
All over the upper bleacher

In the aftermath
Of this tragic event
Disbelief filled every face

There was Hugo
And there was Hugo
There was Hugo all over the place!

Well, the dust has
Finally settled and
The smoke has finally cleared

Hugo’s name
And Hugo’s fame
Will always be revered

But no one
Ever too his place
No matter who they were

Because they never found
Another man
Of Hugo’s – calibre

The Circus’ main attraction
The greatest star of all

Was Hugo!

Hugo!

The Human Cannonball!


Hear Ray Stevens Sing Hugo The Human Cannonball Here


Thursday, 11 April 2013

Thatcheration Point

April 17th is going to be a great day to bury bad news, which is what we used to call Mrs Thatcher in the 80s.

Government confirms state funeral next week for the phrase "Don't speak ill of the dead".

Apparently this will be the first time there's been a mass picket outside heaven…


The Premier League Has Awarded The Goal Line Technology contract To Hawkeye

The Premier League has awarded the goal-line technology contract to Hawkeye; though the replay shows it should clearly have gone to their competitor.


Monday, 8 April 2013

Low Gravity





Buryness Thatcher

I’ve just seen the plans for Margaret Thatcher’s grave.  It’s beautiful really but they seem to have made one mistake, I think that they should have made the dancefloor bigger.

I never got why Margaret Thatcher was nicknamed ‘The Iron Lady’.
I mean, aren’t all women supposed to iron?

What do Margaret Thatcher and Jimmy Savile have in common?
The both screwed miners in the 80’s.


Thursday, 4 April 2013

Oh Dear, This Can't Be Good



The Trials Of A Lawyer

A lawyer arrived home late, after a very tough day trying to get a stay of execution. His last minute plea for clemency to the governor had seemingly failed and he was feeling worn out and depressed.
As soon as he walked through the door at home, his wife started on him about, 'What time of night to be getting home is this? Where have you been? Dinner is cold and I'm not reheating it'..... And on and on and on. Too shattered to play his usual role in this familiar ritual, he poured himself a shot of whisky and headed off for a long hot soak in the bathtub, pursued by the predictable sarcastic remarks as he dragged himself up the stairs.
While he was in the bath, the phone rang. The wife answered and was told that her husband's client, James Wright, had been granted a stay of execution after all. Wright would not be hanged tonight.
Finally realizing what a terrible day he must have had, she decided to go up stairs and give him the good news.
As she opened the bathroom door, she was greeted by the sight of her husband, bent over naked, drying his legs and feet. 'They're not hanging Wright tonight,' she said.
He whirled around and screamed, 'For the love of God woman, don't you ever stop?'