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Comedy

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Comedy, Mind disco

Foal Play

Author & Illustration: Mark Smith

My mum once punched a horse in the face. You probably think I’m lying, and to be honest that’s fairly typical of you, but I’m actually telling the truth. The horse had my ear in its mouth at the time. I’m a total moron so my ear being near a horse’s mouth shouldn’t come as a great surprise. Is that a saying? Probably. Anyway, I’ve got my head sideways while this horse is gently clamping my ear, not gently like your nan buttering toast gently, more gently like your Grandad trying to operate a TV remote by smashing it like a piece of good for nothing shit gently. Is that a saying? One of these must be a saying.

My mum loves horses, she used to ride them quite regularly, so I was fairly calm at the time because I knew she’d crack out that crocodile Dundee shit and kind of meditate it into a calm state. Maybe that was plan B, because plan A was smash it in its long face. She just punched it. Just punched a horse right in its face. And it only bloody worked! My ear was unclasped and I was free to put my ears perilously close to other untrustworthy beasts. Oooooh look, a bi-polar otter!

It got me thinking; was this as surprising for the horse as it was for me? I mean, has that horse been punched in the face before? I hope not. Although if it goes around clamping kids ears in its sugar cube pit then it’s probably a bit of a twat so maybe people should punch it more. Imagine it trotting back to the other horses….

“I JUST GOT PUNCHED IN THE FUCKING FACE”

“Yeah alright mate, of course you did”

“I SWEAR TO GOD I JUST GOT PUNCHED IN THE FUCKING FACE”

*Silence

“LOOK, THAT MORON OVER THERE, I WAS JUST EATING ITS EAR WHEN THAT SHE DEVIL TWATTED ME”

*The other

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Comedy, satire

“Mindfulness really helped me achieve goal” says mass murderer

Author: The Real Noose ( by Ciara Ginty )

Illustration: Christopher Harrisson 

Lenny Girly, 57 from Ohio, has praised mindfulness training in an interview with Psychopaths Monthly. He has said that it helped him “live in the now” and “not worry about my fears”.

Girly, who was sentenced to 27 life sentences last month, took up the training 6 years ago to cure his social anxiety and fear of blood. Both, he has said, no longer haunt him.

Mindfulness training is a discipline taught to help people not worry about the things that hold them back and to be present at all times. Rajesh Pritivacant, founder of “No Fear, Stay Here” the group Girly attended, commented on the interview saying “he was a mess when I first met him, just a guy who kept himself to himself. But the training helped him out of his shell and he began to socialise more.. In all honesty, I cured him of what ailed him and who can say they’ve achieved that? Apart from medical professionals”

People involved in new age healing have been performing silent protests inside their houses for three days as they are scared their belief system will get a bad name. We ask, with such great results, why isn’t yoga on the NHS?

We’d like to hear from you, does whale music make you quake with anger? Does the word ‘yoga’ cause you to unleash a pugilistic rage? Go on, tell us.

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Comedy, Mind disco

That time I shot put my mum’s hair brush next door

Author & Illustration: Mark Smith

When I was younger, like secondary school young, or “still play with micro machines but you’re pretty sure nobody else plays with micro machines” young, or “rewinding your Michael Jackson BAD cassette so you could write all the lyrics down and sing to yourself in the mirror young”, or “shit your pants and cry in a ditch” young: when I was that young my brother and I would occasionally get locked out of our house after school because we lobbed our keys at a train or something.

Both forgetting our house keys was the perfect storm. That feeling of dread when walking around the corner and seeing your brother sat on the front door step was gut wrenching. Or maybe that was the Hubba bubba fizzy pop ( OH GOD I’M NOW OLD ENOUGH TO CALL IT FIZZY POP ).

You would both make eye contact, both hopeful the other one hasn’t been a MASSIVE  key-forgetting idiot. And then you would both realise…F…..M…..L…..

This meant we had time to kill. And it also meant we hated each other just a little bit more, so we’d check out what was in the garage without saying a word to each other, occasionally picking something up like a massive tool or something and grunting in their direction so they’d acknowledge you’d just found a massive fucking tool.

Well one day while we were waiting for some rolls to defrost on the patio table ( we had a freezer in the garage, is that weird? That’s weird right? there was nothing IN the rolls, we were just going to eat half frozen rolls ) I decided I’d show Paul what I had learnt at school. Enough time had passed to accept our fate and we were bored enough to talk to each other. That fateful day we were learning how to shot put, so I was showing my brother my mad skills by clutching a hair brush under my chin and launching it down the garden.

I don’t remember it being especially windy that day.

But it must have been.

The hair brush flew full-pelt into next door’s garden.

My brother gave the typically supportive response of sucking his bottom lip under his teeth and going UUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM to the tune of OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I had never, and still have never, seen him so happy.

“You HAVE to go and get that now” he chirped

“NO I DON’T YOU PRICK” I said.

He just slowly nodded his head, lip still firmly stuck under his teeth. He was right, mum would kick me in the face if I didn’t get her brush back, then she would sell me to Bedford. Our next door neighbour was nice. But kind of REALLY nice? He was called Richard but INSISTED on people calling him DICK. Who does that? I mean, I KNOW Richards are dicks, but why INSIST on it? I’m making him out to be a paedo, he wasn’t. Anyways, I knocked on the door…

“Hi Rich…Dick….erm I think our hairbrush is in your garden”

“Your HAIRBRUSH?”

“Yes”

He looked back through the hallway towards the garden, as if to check we were both talking about the same thing

“Your hairbrush is in my GARDEN?”

Now I didn’t want to say I was showing my brother how to shot put with it, so I thought the following response was much more SANE

“Yeah I was just brushing my hair and it flew out”

“You were brushing your hair in the garden so vigorously it flew 20 feet into my garden?”

“……….yes?……….”

He showed me through to the garden and watched as I picked it out of the flower bed.

My brother was halfway through a frozen roll when I walked back round with the brush, he was almost choking on it from laughter.

And that, is my life.

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Article, Comedy

7 Completely Mental Reasons Why 2016 Will Almost Certainly Kill You

Author: Steve Head

Illustration: Chris Hollis

Hot on the heels of Genghis Khan and Mosquitoes, 2016 is staking its claim as one of the most prolific killers in human history. Having already felled lovable Potions Master Severus Snape and dapper space-hobo Ziggy Stardust, the murderous four-month old recently claimed another high profile victim, the Former Symbol Otherwise Known as The Artist Previously Referred to Once As Prince. Unable to mourn their idol fully due to the fact that all but two of his funky videos have been removed from Youtube due to ‘money’, fans of the diminutive song-doer turned to the Snapchats and the Twitterblogsphere to vent their frustration with a government that, they feel, isn’t doing enough to counter this new threat.

“I pay my taxes. Why should my children have to live in a world where 2016 could nob ’em off at any minute?” warbled one.

“I knew this would happen, ever since those shart biscuits in Westminster opened the borders and let 2016 sneak in undetected. This is why we’re better off isolated and utterly, profoundly alone. Vote Brexit!” splurted another, licking a crudely drawn finger painting of the Union Jack.

“I’m literally petrified,” shrieked a third, innaccurately, “I was immunised against Tetanus 32 years ago and now this happens?? The evidence is indisputable. Also, Roswell and Chemtrails.”

“I just ate a pair of scissors” chuckled a fourth, casually, before being immediately hospitalised.

The government deny any wrongdoing, citing the fact that 2016 is ‘just a time period comprised of 365 days in which things will probably happen.’ When pushed for further information a Whitehall spokesperson soiled himself and slapped a homeless man, before running headlong into a wall.

For its part, 2016 released a statement in which it explained that it was ‘only doing its job’ and that despite its awful, shitty, frankly homicidal behaviour it had ‘never been more popular on social media.’ Boasting that it had inspired more hashtags and Facepage statuses than ‘people eating food’, ‘slightly unusual weather’ and ‘Game of Thrones’ combined, 2016 insisted that it was also ‘way less cunty’ than 1521 in which 240,000 people were reportedly killed during the fall of the Aztec Empire.

Asked what the future held for it, 2016 tapped its nose and smiled coyly, saying that it preferred to play its cards close to its chest but that it had spent a lot of time lately hanging out with Keith Richards and ‘that prune-faced, daughter-chirpsing hatehole with a dusty merkin on its head that thinks it’ll be boss of America.’

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Comedy, Mind disco

How to fold a piece of paper eight times

Author & Illustration: Mark Smith

 

  • Fold the paper in half. As you do it dramatically bellow “ONE!!” to your friends and family who are eagerly watching your brave record attempt

 

  • Fold the paper in half again. This time yelling “TWO”. Make eye contact with your nan to reassure her this isn’t black magic

 

  • Fold the paper in half again. Yep, that’s right, “THREE!”

 

  • Fold the paper in half again “FOUR!!”

 

  • Fold the paper in half again “FIVE!!” Ignore your uncle leaving the room, he has seen a lot in his life and this might tip him over the edge

 

  • Now, as you’re folding the paper in half, complain of a slight tingling sensation in your left arm. Laugh it off “PROBABLY TOO MUCH WANKING” you scoff. Then, as you’re completing the fold make sure you slur the “SIX!”, maybe even dribble. If your friends and family love you they will be calling an ambulance. Of course you keep saying they’re making a fuss over nothing, but begrudgingly get in the ambulance

 

  • As everyone is sat round waiting for the neurologic results you casually get the folded piece of paper out of your pocket. “Now, where were we?” you triumphantly holler, then as everyone leans in you say “I believe we have completed 7 folds, now for the final push!!”. You have only ACTUALLY completed SIX folds, this is the genius of the whole plan, YOU DISTRACTED THE IDIOTS. With your tongue stuck out the corner of your mouth you carefully complete the final fold. In a matter of seconds you will be on the shoulders of your friends and family being carried out to the car park, your auntie screaming “HE DID IT, HE REALLY DID IT!!”, they’ll barge past the doctor with your test results outlining you faked a stroke and you should see a psychiatrist.

 

  • Well done. You are a National treasure.
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Comedy, Think Piece

The Intergalactic Naughty Corner

Author: Danny Robertson

Illustration: Mark Smith

Since time immemorial, there has been speculation, news stories, scientific research, literature of the fictional and non-fictional variety and some really bad straight-to-video movies, which all pondered and asked the question…. Are we alone in the universe? Are we, on our spinning blue and green ball of mostly water and spam mail, a biological fluke on a galactic scale, or, in some distant region, are there other planets of equally baffled races, with their own curiousness, their own need to know, their own brands of bad daytime TV?

Whilst I personally, quite reluctantly, would say that we’ll probably never truly know within our lifetimes, I would like to think that there are indeed hundreds, thousands, of other races out there, some making their first tentative steps into the unknown, others more advanced who are already boldly going, and others like us who just quite aren’t ‘there’ yet.

BUT, here’s the thing…. I’m not convinced there’d want to come down here….just yet. What if there are races out there, who are well aware that we’re here, but have decided NOT to come down for a spot of tea and a chat just yet, but have instead decided to wait another century or two (or more?) for us to stop blowing each other up, to stop shouting at each other over fences/radio waves/the internet, to maybe grow up a bit? In essence, we’re on time-out, placed in an intergalactic naughty corner at a safe distance from everyone else until we’ve decided to play nicely with the other children. It’s not bad town planning – we’re remote for a reason, still thinking about what we did.

Imagine being an observer on the other side of the stars – would you want to come down here? I personally would rather wait until a real-life Picard made themselves known. Rather him than Kirk. Shut up, Picard was better…. look see, now they’re never coming down.

That said, if they wait for us to hit ‘puberty’, so to speak, they’ll encounter an entire race of awkward folks with mood swings and strange clothes, listening to angry music that no one gets. Oh wait, has that already happened?

Imagine though, if they’ve been monitoring our ALL our satellite transmissions, film and TV included?

“Trev? Trev! I’m just going for a hover around that Earth place for a bit.”

“Fine, but cover your USB ports; you saw what happened to those other guys. Oh and get some milk.”

There could be aliens named Trev. You don’t know. I could’ve called him Flogglegargen, but that could be a terrible word in their language.

Whilst it’s safe to assume that any alien races out there watching us are already technologically superior, as far as communication and travel is concerned at least, here’s hoping they’ve progressed beyond the need for petty squabbles, one-one-upmanship and bragging rights for the biggest rocket boosters.

I bet they’d be great at Cards Against Humanity though.