Sickipedia

Tingting What a Jamaican calls the triangle in the percussion section of an orchestra. Can this, officially, be the last ever fucking Jamaican ‘ting’ joke.

You know those bladed Roman chariot wheels? For a bit of fun I put similar spikes on my jet ski in Dover to see how many inflatable dinghies I could puncture. I came back to a hero’s welcome and was awarded life membership of the EDL.

When, in 1997 New Labour’s Tony Blair was elected, it heralded the dawning of collective hopes and aspirations. Little did we know that “Voting for Toni Blair” was to become a synonym for ‘constipation’. “Voting for Tony Blair”; to enter a cubicle with trepidation and nervous anticipation only for one’s hopes to be dashed as fuck all happens.

Did you know that the flame of a burning candle sounds like bubbling earwax?

When I’m having sėx, the one thing I really like my wife to do is... the shopping.

Thesauruses are great. There’s no other word to describe them.

My recent appointment at a London sperm bank turned out to be unsuccessful as I missed the tube.

I tried to silence my noisy crying child by rubbing neat shampoo in his eyes. Johnson’s No More Tears, my arse.

Quinten Crisp betrayed his Ducky Dennis by going to a rough part of town for some action with a few Eastern Bloc gays. Fearing he’d contracted AIDS he went to the doctor the next morning. The GP asked him if he’d had a check-up recently. Quinten said “I’m not sure, but the last one was a definitely a Slovakian”. Ooh!

The Wedding March music stopping half way through at my wedding, reminded me of Hillsborough; an event drawn to a conclusion by organ failure.