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Mind disco

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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, 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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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, Mind disco

Queen goes to quasar for her birthday

Author & Illustration: Mark Smith

It was originally feared that the Queen was laser intolerant, but it transpires she gobbles lasers like nobody’s business. In fact Prince Harry has been seen sporting a t-shirt saying “my nan really enjoys quasar. Please leave our family alone to enjoy quasar like any other family. Thank you for reading my t-shirt” which caused a massive stir in quasar plagued Hemel Hempstead. Incidentally Prince William was wearing a “I’m with stupid” t-shirt which led to Harry punching William right in the BCG, William squealed into the air like a freshly bitten pig before rubbing his arm and shouting “OH HARRY DON’T BOTHER”. They both sulked at Polo so Charles gave them £5 each and they cheered right up. It’s even believed that William spent his money on a card from Moonpig which read “Harry I like you and I won’t wear that t-shirt again”. However Harry spent his money on ANOTHER t-shirt which simply read “PRINCE WILLYCUNT”.

They haven’t spoken since.

So anyway the queen is all like “I AM NINETY YEARS OLD AND I AM GOING TO SHOOT A LASER GUN” so Prince Philip turns into the BFG and the queen rides him like she’s little Sophie catching dreams. Eventually they arrive at quasar and the queen releases her vice like grip from Philips ears and springs straight into a laser suit, she smashes it, gets her “Top gun” slip then mounts Philip for the long ride home

“Elizabeth?” Said Philip

“Yes?” Replied the queen

“You were really good back there”

“That’s really kind. Thank you Philip”

“Maybe I could sleep in the house tonight?”

“No chance”

“But…”

“That’s enough now, Philip, that’s enough”

Philip skulked back into the shadows and the queen ironed her Prince Willycunt t-shirt before bed.

It was the most fabulous birthday.

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Comedy, Mind disco

Octopuses aren’t actually clever

Author & Illustration: Mark Smith

We all know the story; The octopus waits until the dead of night and escapes his tank, he tiptoes down the corridor, karate chops the security guard, steals all of his clothes and his identity, lives for three years with the security guards family before one year suggesting a holiday to the Caribbean where they go on a deep sea fishing trip and he slips over the side and cracks himself up laughing all the way to the sea bed whilst his adopted family desperately search for him. He tells all the other octopuses ( no it is NOT octopi ) how stupid humans are and they slap their weird beaks together before watching Countryfile on a TV they made out of Mermaid scales and bubbles. One of the octopuses suggests Matt Baker lacks charisma and he’s shunned from the group and turns into a stupid squid.

Then they walk straight into a bright orange fishing net because it turns out they’re not that clever.

Repeat process.

Remember when everyone went batshit because an octopus was predicting football results? Paul the psychic octopus. IMPRISONED IN A FISH TANK. Maybe he can only use his skills for football results? Which is the worst gift ever, even worse than that 20 pack of blank cassettes your nan got you at Christmas. Just me? Right. THANKS NAN. Unless it’s like back to the future 2 and the octopus is going to predict loads of sports results and write them down in a book and then pass it on to his idiot octopus grandson called Biff who will end up becoming rich. If that happens I will concede that octopuses are pretty clever. But until then I will assume they are not psychic, and only clever compared to the Golden retriever of the sea World; Penguins. At least penguins know what they are, octopuses lord it about like they OWN the place. We all know Whales own the sea because they’re fucking MASSIVE.

Maybe I’m bitter. I bet on the football every week and lose.

Oh and an octopus stole my dad’s identity for three years.