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Thursday, 30 March 2006

Bob's Last Will & Testament....

Yo Swipesters,

Returning home late last night from Swipe Towers, as is my custom after a Thursday evening cruisng the streets of Rothergavenny for barely-clad illegal immigrants in search of an honestly earned pound, I switched on the TV set in the hope that it might have warmed up sufficiently by 11pm to allow me to watch my favourite show, BBC4's excellent The Mark Steel Lectures. Fortuitously, the wick-powered set was on top form and not only could I make out at a reasonable image but I was also greeted by the heart warming sight of the shapely Esther Rantzen presenting a programme called How to have a good death (I love these comedy nights the Beeb put on... no one can touch them, can they?) This fascinating and deeply moving programme certainly got me thinking. It's a question that our egocentric, materialistic modern culture rarely allows us to step back from our busy workaday lives to contemplate - what on earth possesses a woman in later life to base her hairstyle on one of Elton John's least fetching hairpieces? But the further thought struck me that, in the unlikely event of my own demise, I haven't got 'round to drawing up a last will and testament. Obviously my current financial situation - debt-laden penury brought about by years of extortion over sexually compromising photographs featuring a variety of the higher primates and a greased satsuma - means that my inheritors will be so pissed with me that they'd doubtless throttle me within an inch of my life (...if I wasn't already dead, of course). But then it hit me. What about the blog?? What would happen to my life's work in the event of my being whisked off to the great larded newsreaders orgy in the sky?

It's a scary thought, isn't it? So, in order to prevent my passing going unrecorded by posterity, I thought it prudent to lay down in black and white my final wishes and the apportionment of my estate....

I, Robert Cantibule Bertie Mee Swipe, being of sound body and mind (....I'm just putting what it says in The Dummies Guide to Making a Will - you don't think anyone will check up on this do you?) authorise my estate to be divided in the following manner:

To Brian Damage I leave my priceless (well, I couldn't find a sticker Bri...) collection of Victorian ligerie

(...that's vintage distressed yak's leather, Bri. Well, you would be distressed if you'd had a variety of chemicals poured over you before being left out in the sun and beaten black and blue with a tanning implement....)

To Ceridwen Devi I leave my prized photograph of Tanya Beckett pretending to be the US Treasury Secretary

(I'll try and get her to sign it next time she's in the Cow & Snuffers Ceri - and that's a promise!)

To Tim Footman I leave my badly soiled ticket stub from a recent performance at Garston Bottle Works of legendary tribute band Smiths Indeed. I'm sure with a little tippex and a heck of a lot of nail varnish it could be forged to read Bangkok Bottle Works, should the illustrious quartet ever bring their classy approximation of Manchester's finest to your particular neck of the South East Asian woods...

FredandFreds, I hereby bequeath you my size 8 1982 Barcelona replica shirt.

The blood stains should wash out, but Im not so sure about the sangria...or the castrol GTX.....or the...never mind, probably best if I buy you a new one....

Mike Da Hat, I'm running a little low on the old 'buie/baby oil buck-u-upo mix at present, but trust me- whatever's left when I pop my clogs is yours. (Rowan is in particularly ostentatious mode at the moment as the menopause begins to loom....She's even stopped reading in the middle of me ministering my attentions to her, which is a pretty good sign that she's randy as buggery, believe me. Either that or she's been sacked from The Erotic Review again....)

Hannah: Believe me, I know what it's like living in the shadow of an overbearing, Zionist mother-in-law. The mother of Ma Swipe (The First) was particularly Old Testament on matters sexual and believe me, there are only so many beasts of the field you can slaughter before even an all-over body rub from a well-endowed Jewish princess in a PVC yashmak becomes poor reward for a shagpile soaked in goats effluent (...although the kosher baby oil and babycham was very nice, I have to say...) This hardback copy of Woody Allen's Without Feathers should help:

And remember, if the violent approach doesn't work, you could always read her a few extracts......

The Rock Mother, I leave to you a ticket to last month's Barbican production of John Arden's play Live Like Pigs. You didn't miss anything RM - it's a crap play and there have been much pithier revivals. In fact, it's not really much of a bequest, but hey - what's with the complaining? At least you're still alive!!

Slothblog Jane, there aren't many half-completed lifesize facsimiles of the new Wembley Stadium made from discarded applicators in Rothergavenny, but if you can get it DHL'd down south, the beautiful example I recently purchased in error off ebay and that's currently sitting in a lay-by off the M4 is all yours! (Although, how they ever thought they could pass it off for an inflatable model of

Coronation Street's Helen Flanagan, I do not know....)

The lovely Sonia - weep not for me when I am gone, my child - to soften the blow of my departing, I leave you, in its entirety, my collection of Terry-Thomas sign x-rays.

Sure, it's an awful affliction, but - jeez - if a (wo)man can't enjoy high-fidelity images of joint conditions named after classic English comic character actors, then what's the world coming to??

Last but not least, my old pal Spinny. What do you get the girl who's got everything? Well, judging by those carpet burns, I'd say this wee lassie could do with a specially fortified pair of these:

I know they've certainly saved me a fortune in nylons over the years and they're especially handy for those cold, unswept Railtrack forecourts at major Overground Network termini. Jees, the times I've had with these, a rudely pulped marrow and an accomodating Bermudan asylum seeker disguised as Lotte Lenya in lederhosen....heck, I almost wish I wasn't about to snuff it!

Ah well, remember me kindly when I'm gone and tread lightly because you tread on ....something rather unsavoury I left behind on the forecourt at a major Overground Network terminus, in all probability....

Love on y'all,


p.s. apologies to everyone I left out - there's only so much I can type in my will be mentioned in further dispatches, I'm sure......

© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

My Favourite Vestibule!!!

This week.....

.......TV presenter and environmentalist Philippa Forester tells us why she never tires of the hallway of her home in....

© 2006 Swipe Enterprises


This week: Sykes and the uneaten snack.....

Hattie: Would you like a bacon sandwich Corky??

Corky: Oh, don't mind if I do Hat....

Mr. Brown: Now look here, Sykes....

Sykes: Pardon?

Next week: Sykes and the unheard smoke alarm....

Love on y'all,


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

Monday, 27 March 2006

Blanche Librarian's Poetry Corner!!

Yo Swipesters!!!

In our third (and almost certainly final) attempt to graft a workable blog series onto the lame pun/cutesy broad photo amalgam that is Blanche Librarian, we offer for your delectation and delight the first of hopefully many installments of the ALL NEW COLUMN from the laser pen of the Information Assistant we'd all most like to have run her elegant finger nail up and down our spines as she looks us up and plucks us off the stacks.......ladeeeeeeeezangennelmenn, I give you the one, the only, the incomparably knowledgeable.......

Ms. BLANCHE LIBRARIAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hi, I'm Blanche and this week's book of the week is a newly published volume of recently discovered poem's by one of England's greatest poets. Thought long lost, the new anthology of first drafts and alternative versions of works by Philip Larkin

throws a fascinating new light on one of England's most distinctive (and provincial!) voices. She..., the first of our extracts shows the playful, tender style of Larkin's juvenilia. Note the exotic motifs underpinning and ironicising what is, on the surface, a prosaic, almost nursery rhyme sequence:


Went to Spain,
But never again
The men there drove her crackers

Stood outside
Her window at night
Shaking their maraccas

This next extract provides an excellent example of the way in which Larkin hones his material. In Desdemona, an early draft of one of his finest poems, Love Again, we see how the original poem's classicism is muted as the poem evolves although the theme of the cruel rebuke of distant youthful love that will dominate the finished poem are here sketched out in a looser, more informal voicing.

Des O'Connor more like!
Get out of that sunshine!!
You're very tall.
I've just been irrigating the desert.
Have you got the scrolls?
No, I always walk like this.
Play your cards right sunshine and you could be in for
A quick bit of Hello folks -
And what about the workers?
Oh, you are stood up...
What a belter. eh?

Happy reading,



(Back on Thursday),

Love on y'all,


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

If The Smiths Had Come From India.....

Shyness is nice and
Shyness can stop you from
Doing all the things in life you'd like to.

Spending warm summer days indoors
Writing frightening verse
To a buck toothed girl in Chandrapur

Azmi, Azmi, Azmi
Azmi, Azmi, Azmi

If it's not love then it's
The Bomb-, The Bomb-,
The Bomb-, The Bomb-
The Bomb-, The Bombay Mix that will bring us together.....

(Cover star Shabana Azmi)

Love on y'all,


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

Prunella Frock's World of Fashion!!

Hi, I'm Pru Frock.

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …

Do these boots go with this dress??

Ciao baby!!!


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

Friday, 24 March 2006

Bob's Guide to Writing Blog Posts.

Yowdle-doody Swipesters!!

A lot of our mail recently has come from people new to the blogging game. These rookies have been out in their droves of late, all wet behind the ears and eager to learn a few tips from an established and venerable weblog in order to improve their hit rating and add to the punch of their product in the ultra competitive jungle that is the blogosphere. Don't ask me how come we've been receiving Patroclus' post in our mailbox, but we thought, "dang it to hell, let's give 'em a few pointers to get 'em started in any case!" So, here's the Robert Swipe Show guide to how to write a blog post. Jees, you guys'll be as good as us by the time we're through with you!

1. Template. The popularity of your blog has less to do with your writing than you might think. It's mainly about the quality of your smut. Fact: smut sells. You can be the best writer in the world, but if you don't make even a token gesture towards the pervs out there googling "Tanya+Beckett+Pregnant+Sex+Romp+with dwarves+ it won't mean diddly. Garters, thongs, bodices, chunky soled dominatrix boots - heck, I've worn the most peculiar things when I've been posting. But it don't mean a thing if it ain't on the screen!!

Beckett: " you're sure you know the drill if my waters break, Stumpy???"

2. Paragraphs. No, we didn't know what these were either. Apparantly, no one will read a huge, unbroken chunk of text unless they really, really love you. So, unless your name is Rowan Pelling or you have an arrangement to meet a tall man dressed in latex wearing a 20 denier stocking over his head in the alley behind St. Pancras station every Thursday at 6.30, for the love of God leave some space! White space is really, really important - as is a good pair of thermals if you're planning on spending most of your Thursday evening on cold concrete with a marrow between your thighs....

3. Opening sentence. Someone coming to your blog for the first time will make a split-second decision to keep reading based almost entirely on the first sentence they read. It's really your call. If you genuinely think "I've had a cunt of a day and you're all bastards" will do the trick......

4. Personality. Your blog is all about you, however much you might pretend it isn't. A completely blank screen beneath the word "whatever"....there's only so much we can do to help you, you know...

5. Comments. If your blog is anything like ours, this is where all the best stuff happens, so have fun with your commenters. And if there are things you need to get off your chest that won't fit into a small comment box and you feel you need to discuss things face to face with someone pretending to be a trained mental healthcare professional, you know where to find me every Thursday at around 6.30 - just make sure to bring your own marrow!

7. Spelling and grammar. More important than you might think. How's anyone going to find that "Michal+Hussein+Pregnant+Sex+Romp+With dwarves" post if you can't even spell her name right?? It's M-I-S-H-A-L dang it!!

8. What happened to 6? Honestly, this is no way to attract a major global publishing giant...

9. Content. Doesn't matter. Just put up any old shit. I know I do.

Love on y'all,


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

Thursday, 23 March 2006

The Robert Swipe Show Easter Appeal

This is Bryan.

Not a bad old life really, is it Bryan?

Once a week, Mrs. Prentiss might pop in for a natter for half an hour.

A pot of tea and the telly on in the background, nice and quiet like.

Once he's had the visit from Meals on Wheels, he'll probably sit like this for a few hours before retiring to bed early.

Saves on the bills that way, doesn't it Bryan?

Bryan lives here on his own, you see.

Has done since his old ladytron passed on.

Not a day goes past that he doesn't think of dear old Else.

They were a handsome couple in their day, mind.

Doing it on the tables.

Quaglino's place.

Or Mabel's.

But now the party's over.....

It's just Bryan.

And his armchair.

And a card he wrestled off one of those people who hassle you in the street about some bloody homeless charity or other.


But they're not getting a penny of Bryan's money, are they?

Chance'd be a fine thing, eh Bryan?

Old as you are, eh?

Wouldn't get any even if you had it to give, would they Bryan?

So, not a bad old life at all, really, when you look at it.

If it wasn't just so..........

well, lonely really.

But it doesn't have to be like this for Bryan. For just £8,000 return, Bryan could be flying down to Rio, club class. Or meeting up with Baby Jane in Acapulco. A further ten or twenty thousand pounds could really help Bryan get both ends burning with a fairly substantial mound of finest Columbian cocaine, a few bottles of the finest champagne and entry to the most exclusive clubs the world has to offer. Who knows, for a round ton perhaps even a private aircraft or a yacht and his own stately home with extensive grounds and domestic staff to attend to his every idle care.

So, Valerie, please....give Bryan's festive period everything you'd want for your own grandfather and donate generously to our appeal this Easter. With your help, Bryan could be enjoying the thrill of it all with a whirlwind break in Amazona with Mother of Pearl or Virginia Plain. So you see, in every dreamhome, there doesn't have to be a heartache....

To find out more about Ferry Aid, call our premium rate helpline or visit our website.

Love on y'all,


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

Wednesday, 22 March 2006

A Big Thank You To Tim Footman For Sorting Out Today's Post For Me - THANKS TIM!!!

[.....apologies to anyone who looked at this yesterday and found the post less than ideally presented. Due to computer crapness and server shittiness, I was unable to correct initial errors which were hastily posted with typical impatience. Hopefully this reposting will be worth revisiting. Sorry guys....]

Woah-arooni Swipesters!!!

Yesterday, quietly surfing the web for cheap immigrant/farmyard animal porn as is my wont, I come across this over at Cultural Snow..... Seems the dashing Tim has been tagged - Christ only knows what it's all about - but skipping the blah-di-blah and getting to the meat and two veg of it. Get this at the end of Tim's post:

Right then. I tag... Bob Swipe, because he makes me laugh, and The Spinster, because she's distractingly wiggly, apparently, and Joel from Robotic Hat, so he can disprove my calumny that his musical tastes are 'wacky'. You go, girl. And, er, boys.

Anyways, to the chase (after thanking Tim for the nice words - he doesn't realise that I'm trying to be deadly serious here, obviously...) I think the deal is I have to list tracks that conform to certain specs or some such idiocy or other - but she-it, it certainly saves me having to think up anything witty to post for at least a couple days - tomorrow I am expecting a heap load of feedback from all you budding Jesus & the Mary Chains out, feet up and coast. Here's Bob's twenty tag tracks.....(my nominations to carry the baton follow at the end in a desperate - and doubtless futile - attempt to get you sons and daughters of so & sos to read to the end......

1. A track from your early childhood

This would have to be All Kinds of Everything by Dana. Way before the emergence of the 'International' version whose Israeli transvestism set the Eurovison (and half the dang middle east) on fire in the late 90s, I'd twigged that to get ahead in this world, a guy's occasionally gotta be prepared to be a gal every now and then. Consequently, my 4 or 5 year old's response to the enquiry, "and what would you like to be when you grow up young man??" was invariably, "Dana..." Needless to say, I never quite pulled it off (....make up your own gags...) but I still have the frock at home to prove it.....

2. A track that you associate with your first love

There goes my first love by the Drifters. And you know something? To this day, I couldn't tell you why.....

3. A track that reminds you of a holiday trip

A whole album, in fact. Anything off Rain Dogs by Tom Waits. I fell in love with this LP as a 21 year-old who'd lucked out and was looking after a young, weird French chef's Paris apartment for him whilst he was skiing in the South of France - I'd arrived with nowhere to stay and precious little cash and met Christophe in a bar....couple offer he couldn't soggy copy of Paris Match later .... you know the deal. I tape-to-taped the album over a TDK gold copy of Blonde on Blonde I'd brought with me from a cassette belonging to an Australian guy called John Powers (yup, he'd actually been named after the whiskey...) who was studying at the Sorbonne and who is/was the living rebuttal to every stereotype of the Aussue as a culturally bereft sporty type with as much idea of who Marcel Proust was as a deranged dingo with kennel cough. God bless you John, I hope you're out there somewhere, having fun. If I had to pick a track, I guess Tango til they're sore (or daisies) will have to do

4. A track that you like but wouldn’t want to be associated with in public

I guess this is where I have to own up to my Wings fetish. Probably the endlessly groovy Arrow Through Me off the relentlessly under-rated Back to the Egg LP.

5. A track that accompanied you when you were lovesick

The Beautiful Ones by Prince cast it's lengthy shadow over the courting of Ma Swipe (the first)..."do you want him, or do you want me? Cos I want you......." One of the great vocal performances. Unfortunately, she chose me in the end...

6. A track that you have probably listened to most often

Quite possibly This Charming Man by The Smiths. Failing that, Sound & Vision, David Bowie.

7. A track that is your favourite instrumental

It's a three way tie between King Curtis' (pictured) Memphis Soul Stew, Booker T. & the MGs' Green Onions or Lennon'sBeef Jerky, from Walls & Bridges. Note the food theme, Freudians....

8. A track that represents one of your favourite bands

Miss Amanda Jones, The Rolling Stones. Could pick any one of a hundred of theirs, but that popped into my head straight off today, for some reason. It's on the unfathomably neglected LP Between the Buttons.

9. A track which represents yourself best

Either Baby Let's Play House by Elvis Presley, or Twist & Shout by The Beatles. They are the ones I keep going back to and getting the same buzz.

10. A track that reminds you of a special occasion (which one?)

Do they know it's Christmas? by Band Aid II. Reminds me of a fabulous Christmas when I got an Elvis, the Complete 60s Masters boxed set AND a mini disc player for Christmas. Wow, that was some Christmas morning, I can tell you!! I certainly knew it was Christmas, I can tell you...

11. A track that you can relax to

An Ending (Ascent) or Deep Blue Day from Eno's Apollo: atmospeheres and soundtracks.

12. A track that stands for a really good time in your life

Young, gifted & black by Bob & Marcia. Childhood: power cuts, jacket potatoes, the Likely Lads, England not qualifying for World cups - you know the deal.

13. A track that is currently your favourite

Off the Record. On Z by My Morning Jacket. Oh, and the opener on the new Belle & Sebastian is triff an' all.

14. A track that you’d dedicate to your best friend

Sometimes I don't know what to feel by Todd Rundgren (A Wizard/A True Star) - "Today I watched a car run my little dog under it's wheels", sings Todd. By the way, I ran my best friend's dog over once, I guess I shoulda explianed that first...

15. A track that you think nobody but you likes

Water on Glass by Kim Wilde.

16. A track that you like especially for its lyrics

Oscilate Wildly, The Smiths.

17. A track that you like that’s neither English nor German

Remember by Air. (They're from France, I believe...)

18. A track that lets you release tension best

Tension by Killing Joke.

19. A track that you want to be played on your funeral

Ernie by Benny Hill.

20. A track that you’d nominate for the ‘best of all time’ category

I'm Loving Nothing by Curtis Mayfield & the Impressions. That or, I wish I could Fly by Keith Harris & Orville.

I bagsy Brian Damage, Ceridwen Devi and The Rock Mother to to their thang....over to you.....

Love on y'all,


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

Crisis In Our Schools - A Personal Statement By Robert Swipe.

Yo Swipesters!!

As any good parent and conscientious PTA member knows, sending the kids to school has never been a proposition more fraught with risk than it is right now. Assuming - and this is a fairly big assumption - you've been fortunate enough to be able to place your beloved offspring in the school of your choice (and further assuming that the cobbled together PFI balsa wood structure is still standing in September after three terms worth of rigorous vandalism/graffitti/arson etc.) you will almost certainly be sending your child(ren) to an educational establishment that, whatever its other faults, will at least be able to provide these basic essentials to your poor, knowledge hungry little ones. Your chosen place of education will in all likelihood (and unless you have drawn a particularly short straw) be populated by at least a handful of qualified professionals, some of whom may even possess teaching qualifications as well the grade 5 BAGA awards they are required to hold by law. There is also every chance that your child(ren) will be able to play in safety, secure under the watchful eye of several adult supervisors. This is just one of the many advantages gained for your school when the local educational authority sold off the bulk of the school playing fields in order to enable the construction of luxury flats, social housing and daycare centre for the disturbed in close proximity to the small square of concrete provided for your kids to graze their knees and elbows on. And obviously, there will almost certainly be an established and enforcable code of behaviour aimed at disciplining and socialising your child(ren), in a last ditch (and almost certainly doomed) attempt to preserve the indignity of an ASBO before they're even old enough to be named by the BBC for legal reasons.

However, for all these giant leaps forward that now allow the current generation to enjoy the same freedom and choice in education as they do in any other marketplace or service area, there is still one bar to choice and freedom that is every bit as draconian now as it was when I was at school. I'm referring, of course, to the thorny issue of school uniform and today's House of Lords Appeal Court ruling in favour of Denbigh High School supporting their exclusion of a student, Shabina Begum, for wearing a full length jilbab that contravened the dresscode devised by the school to conform to mainstream Muslim opinion. Sadly, the hope that the arcane and authoritarian tradition of forcing our young to wear silly costumes guaranteed to have them picked on by the tough youths from the neighbouring estates appears to have perished with the Court of Appeal's verdict. Contemptuously dismissing Shabina Begum's inalienable right as an individual to dress in accordance with her religious beliefs, the Lords have condemned another generation of innocents to enduring this demeaning dress code aimed at eradicating the privileges of wealth and status and allowing your child(ren) exactly the same opportunity to become a faceless, futureless little oik as even the wealthiest parents' vile spawn.

Regular readers will know that we here at The Robert Swipe Show have never fought shy of criticising those who follow different faiths when we feel that those beliefs run contrary to the spirit of this fine and noble isle of ours. We may despise John Inman with a passion, but there's no way you'd see any of us lining the streets of Islington with placard calling for his nadgers to be lopped off and stuck on the end of a pole. "He's free" - deal with it, would be our motto. (Trevor Bannister on the other hand...) But today, we put aside these trivial differences of opinion to stand shoulder to shoulder (well, she's a respectful few paces behind us, in accordance with Sharia law - but what's a few metres between friends???) with plucky Shabina. In striking a blow for individual freedom, though defeated in the battle today, we feel sure that the nobility of her cause will see her vindicated at the Court of Human Rights, should she decide to pursue her injustice there. Why should she be forced to risk the perils of the non-secular education provided within her own community, removed as she would be from the protection of the various child protection agencies when she can, with a minor modification of the school's entire dress code, benefit from the sort of education that - quite frankly and at the risk of causing offence to the hard-working staff in those august institutions - knocks a fortnight's religious instruction and applied ballistics in a Pakistan Madrassa into a cocked hat. You can rest assured that we will be using whatever influence we can bring to bear here on these pages to support Shabina in her fight against that hideous oppressor conformity and hope that one day, all our children can be united in the freedom to wear the jilbab in peace and harmony. (well, obviously you can't have the boys and girls in the same classroom or anything, but you get the general idea....)

Love on y'all,


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

Tuesday, 21 March 2006

Tanya Beckett and Sophie Raworth Are STILL Waiting For Godot........

TB:, Soph. What do you make of Ralph Fiennes?

SR: Who?

TB: Ralph Fiennes...

SR: ...Oh, you mean Ralph Fiennes?

TB: "....Yes, that's what I said..."

SR: No, Tans. You said Ralph, as in Ralph McTell or Ralph Nader. It's actually pronounced Ralph, as in waifs and strays, only with an 'R' at the beginning, if you see what I mean....

TB: [mutters:].....Ralph as in waif only with an "R" at the beginning? The poor darling's lost it. [out loud]: What are you on about, Sophs?

SR: Look Tans., it's simple. Ralph pronounces his name Ralph, to rhyme with waif even though he spells it R-A-L-P-H, the same way as Ralph Waldo Emerson or Ralph Malph.

TB: Tans, you're saying that he spells it Ralph like everyone else, but for some reason best known to himself, chooses to use a made up pronuniciation that bears no resemblance to the actual spelling - is that correct?

SR: Spot on Tans...

TB: Desiree, have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous in all your born days?

Desiree: No way, Hosannah. This Ralph/Ralph is clearly a mentalist. I mean, could you imagine Burnley, Tottenham and England legend Ralph Coates pronouncing his Christian name so that it would rhyme with the word waif? He'd never have heard the end of it in the Turf Moor dressing room....

TB: Thank you.

SR: That's neither here nor there. You can't base your whole argument on how some obscure, bizarrely coiffed 1970s football legend may or may not choose to pronounce his given name....

TB: Oh, but we're supposed to take some snooty son of an arctic exploring toff at face value are we.....Oooohhhhhh!! Now look what you've done - I've got so worked up about this I've pinged the elastic in my hold up...did I tell you my blood pressure's gone through the roof lately??

SR: Honestly Tans, you really need to start looking after yourself. You can't keep on like this... I mean, if you keep knocking back a box of Stowells a night, you're asking for it. And the cream cakes don't help, either. You want to start doing at least a little exercise or you'll go pop one day, young lady....

TB: Ah Soph, you're so right. I really should start looking after myself a bit better. You're a real brick for telling me a few home truths. Thanks for being so honest. As a small token of my these.

SR: Oh Tans, they're lovely! Where did you get them?

TB: Sally Army again. It's like taking candy off a baby. They really are slack!

SR: Thanks a bundle Tans - I'll just stick them in some water. Do you think this blooming Godot's ever going to come? Oh well, suppose I'd better stick the kettle on......minty choc drinks all round girls??

ALL: Mmmm hmmmm!!

Love on ya'll,


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

Monday, 20 March 2006

Iraqi Invasion "Descending Into Anarchic Farce", Says Senior White House Source - Exclusive!!!


A somewhat graver post than usual today. We commemorate the third anniversary of the invasion of Iraq as the news emerges that prominent voices in the Bush administration are privately reflecting that the occupation of the country is descending into anarchy and farce. Reports today suggest that insurgents, dressed as Iraqi policeman have been attacking allied positions in and around the secure Green Zone of Baghdad making a mockery of coalition claims that an end to the civil unrest is in sight. US troops, dressed up in khaki fatigues and desert military appareil were subjected to surprise attacks by terrorists disguising themselves as legitimate members of the emerging Iraqi security forces. The insurgents were able to pass themselves off as Iraqi forces currently being trained to take over law enforcement and security duties from those same occupying forces, thanks to a fearful wardrobe of military costumes, evidently assembled with a keen eye for detail and an unstinting desire to achieve a staggering degree of verisimilitude. Coalition spooks are fearful that the rebels may have been harnessing the talents of Hollywood costume designers or even military tailoring firms, so uncanny is the resemblance of the insurgents to bona fide Iraqi security forces. There are fears that several civilians, dressed in everyday civilian clothing - or "civvies", as they are known within the forces - have also been able to pass themselves off as vicious sectarian paramilitaries, although as of yet, there are no reports of any one very badly dressed as a giant hotdog with heavily mustarded bun wings being involved.

Someone very badly dressed as a giant hotdog with heavily mustarded bun wings - is this another casualty of war?

Despite the whisperings of discontent emanating from within the White House, President Bush, dressed as an arrogant, Texan billionaire with the blood of tens of thousands on his sappy Ivy League-shirker, mama's boy hands, was in no mood to compromise. "We will prevail!" urged the Commander-in-Chief, wearing the look of a recovering alcoholic, fundamentalist Christian nutcase with the keen understanding of Interntaional affairs and global politics of a brain dead Tsetse fly after a bungled frontal lobotomy.

George W Bush: World leader pretend? Cunthook, for certain...

Meanwhile in Britain, Defence minister John Reid, dressed as a deeply unpleasant Scottish git you wouldn't cross the road to hawk on if his knackers were on fire, claimed that the Blair government was standing "shoulder to shoulder with our American allies until we get this job done". Speaking from within a deep concrete bunker, a man in a dull suit claiming to be the Prime Minister of Great Britain said, "if I had my time again, I wouldn't change anything. I'm sorry, but I'm just ridiculously stupid and stubborn that way. I know you won't like it, but there's nothing on the job description that says you're disqualified from running for high office if you show the common sense of a BSE riddled gnu with the IQ of a particularly retarded pile of retard's vom. Not that I wouldn't have stood anyway even if there was, of course....."

For Emily, wherever I may find her.... The London news lovely lights up London fashion week with the Bertie Bassett look.....

In an unrelated development, BBC London news presenter Emily Maitlis, dressed up as a liquorice allsort, has been the subject of fresh boob+titty+holdups+knocker+fondle+fanny+wankup+crotch+pastry-style internet searches. A spokesman for Google has apologised for the lack of material generated by this search and discussions are under way with the Chinese authorities to provide high quality computer mock-ups for the western market.

Emily Maitlis is currently appearing as Widow Twanky in Boob+titty+holdups+knocker+fondle+fanny+wankup+ and the Beanstalk at the Crotch Theatre, Pastry.....

Love on y'all,


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

Thursday, 16 March 2006

BBC Admits to Disturbing New Maitlis 9/11 Link - Exclusive!!!

[This post is dedicated to all the brave men and women brought to this page by a google search on the terms "emily+maitlis+boobies+hold-ups". For your courage, we salute you....]

Yo Swipesters,

BBC executives were steeling themselves for an angry backlash from the government and the security forces when it emerged late last night that prominent BBC employee and sex symbol Emily Maitlis may well have had al-Quaida connections and been closely involved with the events of September 11, 2001. Whilst there is still some uncertainty as to her exact role within the organization masterminded by the Saudi dissident Osama bin Laden, senior Beeb Human Resources managers are piecing together a trail of seemingly unconnected developments which appear to coalesce on 9/11 and place Maitlis at the heart of the terrible events of that day.

Maitlis: "supercool news journalist..."

The dazzling blonde London Tonight presenter was brought in from Sky News where she'd anchored key national and international events. However, a closer look at the sexy anchor's resume suggested to police investigating a possible British role in the 2001 terror attacks that a trail of disaster seemed to follow the leggy lovely wherever she went. Whilst at Sky, willowy Maitliss had covered the disastrous US presidential elections of 2000, the fall of Belgrade, the Afghan hostage crisis, the Concorde crash, various Mandelson resignations and the Tory leadership race. As if that litany of disaster, catastrophe and pompous arses was not enough, BBC executives revealed that Maitlis had taken up her new post with the BBC in September 2001 - EXACTLY THE SAME MONTH as crazed suicide bombers flew hijacked planes into the twin towers of the World Trade Centre and the Pentagon and changed the world forever.

Maitlis: "urbane, focussed anchor - charming presenter...."

"This is such a terrible, terrible shame. Emily's always seemed such a smasher", said a Corporation spokesman, "but if all this is true and she has converted to being a suicidal lunatic jihadist poised to bring terror and chaos to the heart of the Capital at a moment's notice, then obviously she'll have to go. We can't have nutcases like her walking freely through the corridors of Broadcasting House in her veil and modest attire that could be concealing a whole panoply of weapons grade plutonium primed to blast the City to smithereens. It's bad enough that they can pillock around on the street with all those signs saying "Behead the evil west" and "Don't touch my wives or I'll garrotte you, you infidel scumbag" and so on, without putting the fear of God up the cast and crew of My Family.

Maitlis: "cold-hearted killing machine, primed to go up taking half of Cheapside with her..."

The BBC have promised to announce the results of an independent enquiry into the matter and will abide by the decision. (Unless Alistair Campbell or someone decides that the Beeb needs to abase itself further, in which case the Corporation will be publicly humiliated and neutered until it promises not to say anything nasty about the Government ever again....)

London Tonight is on BBC1 at 6.30pm, Monday to Friday.

© 2006 Swipe Enterprises



Further updates from our new celebrity guff stalking website, Tommy

Earlier we reported that a silent but violent emanating from the lovely Scarlet Johansson had been observed wafting towards 53rd and Lexington. Well, we can confirm that the sighting is getting more interesting by the minute....

Johansson: just act as if nothing is happening....and walk very, very slowly...

12:37 - The smell is lingering a lot longer than even the most virulent of Sunday roast let offs, not even when they're trapped under a cushion do they draw quite this much attention to themselves. We think something big has come up and we're not ruling out the possibility that Scarlet might have actually followed through. There's a distinct vindaloo undercurrent to the aroma, now moving towards the intersection of Broadway and 5th Avenue at Times Square. Things are a little diarroahral here at present, to say the least, as we've just run into a mobile press conference being held by Anne Wintour outside the Conde Nast office - there's so much shit stink around that it's almost impossible to be sure that we're not standing up to our ankles in a big cack of it, let alone whether we're still even on the track of the one Scarlet let slip seven or eight minutes ago. Although it's obviously very hard to be precise in these circumstances, our best guess is that's she's heading Downtown for the public conveniences outside Penn Station. We would be very surprised if Scarlet is not touching cotton by the time she gets there.

Pop socks - the star's best friend in the war against thigh trickle....

More news as we get it.....

Love on ya,


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

Interpreting Qualitative Data - with David Byrne!!

This week: Naturalism: a soft foundationist argument....


A dangerous word has just been inserted into this text - natural. This opens up the possibility of arguments about the relationship between the social world, which is the product of human actions, and the natural world, which exists independently of them, or so it used to be said. In a world subject to the threat of global warming and profound ecological transformation as the product of human industrial activity, we really do need a story which links the natural and the social.

Traditionally, accounts which link the natural and the social have been reductionist and scientistic. By reductionist I mean that they have sought to explain social relations in terms of biological predilections - the current fad for evolutionary psychology is merely the latest and most sophisticated version of the game. It would be absurd to deny the biological character of human beings and equally ridiculous to ignore the role of evolutionary processes in the emergence of human consciousness and society - an emergence which was necessarily a single process. However, the key word is emergence. Emergent phenomena are not explicable in terms of that from which they emerge. The biological substrate is part of the story but by no means all, or even the most important part, of it.

Does anybody have any questions?


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises

Monday, 13 March 2006

"Damaged" Sir Ian Blair in Last Minute "Shoot to Kill" Policy Climbdown - Exclusive!!!!


Metropolitan Police Chief Sir Ian Blair (no relation) is today fighting to save his job as his much derided shoot to kill policy remained under scrutiny and further telephone recordings made by Britain's most senior policeman came to light.

Sir Ian has been much criticised for his role in the tragic death of Brazilian Jean Charles de Menezes last year and the recent revelation that he had also been recording telephone conversations he'd shared with the Attorney General have only increased the pressure on the embattled senior copper. However, there were signs today that Sir Ian was beginning to fight back in the battle to preserve his good name and professional standing. "Ian's a wily old bird and a great politician. They won't get rid of him without a fight, believe me - probably one culminating in him being wrestled to the floor and dispatched through the bonce 8 or 9 times, if past performance is anything to go by!", said a spokesman for the Met - although we hadn't. Asked him, that is. The spokesman continued, "all this fuss over a couple of phone taps - can you believe it? I mean, he's only being prudent. After all, would you trust the Attorney General as far as you could spit him through a straw? I certainly wouldn't. Tape everything, I say - and if the wankers try to give you anything with a signature on it, it's not worth the paper it's written on. Besides, we wouldn't even be in this mess in the first place if it hadn't have been for those lying New Labor bastards taking us to war over a load of made up old codswallop", said the clearly emotional aide. "Lying cunts", he concluded.

In a new twist to the saga, secret recordings of high level strategy meetings, made by Sir Ian and leeked by someone trying to set him up, have revealed an audacious new development in "The Global War Against Terror". The tapes suggest a change of tack in the way British police are prepared to deal with suicide bombers on the British mainland. The Met are considering a range of methods aimed at disarming would-be terrorists short of the infamous "shoot to kill option". In one highly bold move, armed police will be liaising with members of America's Women's Wrestling community in order to attempt to defuse potentially hazardous bombing situations. "If there's one thing designed to throw your budding jihadist suicide bomber, it's a scantily clad dolly bird in thigh high boots and a see-through body stocking flinging herself at you like a crazed harpy", argued a senior police strategist caught on tape by Sir Ian. "Your Islamic extremist has a highly idiosyncratic view of womanhood preferring his female specimen to be meek and mild mannered and preferably covered from head to foot, sarge. We feel the use of these saucy para-wrestlers could really pose a lot of questions in the mind of the potential self-immolator - such as, 'is it worth forgoing the pleasures of the flesh on earth in the hope of a promised reward of three or four score virgins in paradise?' Or, 'shit, are thoose boobies for real? Fuckin' Ada - they're half the size of Kazakhstan!"

Wrestlers such as Leia Meow aka Kristina Laum

- seen here in a mock-up session,

"neutralising" a man disquised as an Islamic extremist bent upon murdering innocent people in the name of establishing a world wide Caliphate based on compassion, humility and peace - will be joined by prominent Wrestling Valet Melissa "Missy" Hiatt

with whom she once famously fell out...

Leila's claws came out and the fur really started to fly when Missy won the Wrestling Babe of the year contest ahead of Ms. Meow, despite Ms. Hiatt not even having been entered in the competition - RIIIIAAAAAOOOOOOWWWW!!

Police chiefs are hoping that the two wrestling vixens can be trusted to engage with the enemies of freedom rather than tearing lumps out of each other's elegantly coiffeured hair and clawing whacking great ladders all over their arresting lycra body suits.

The Klimaszewski twins

Elaine and Diane, have been entrusted with the task of keeping their wrestling buddies hands off each other and on the throats of crazed young British-born jihadists.

Love on y'all,


© 2006 Swipe Enterprises