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Toxic Custard Workshop - #31 to #40


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***************************THE BACK ISSUES**********************************
***********************PARTS THIRTY-ONE TO FORTY****************************
(Written by Daniel Bowen [email protected])

______________________________________________________________________________

Rude stuff up the top, political stuff down the bottom

"I've seen a lot of references to Toxic Custard. But what is it?
Does it have something to do with vaginal discharge?"
Geoff Miller, Sun Microsystems, California

TOXIC------------------------- **** *** -------------------------Number 31
CUSTARD---------------------------- ** ** -----------------------------
WORKSHOP---------------------- **** ** --------------------------Fourteenth
FILES--------------------- ** ** -------------------------of January
Written by Daniel Bowen--------- **** **** ----------------------1991
--------------------------END OF THE WORLD EDITION-----------------------------

ACCOUNTANTS!
Problems balancing the books?
Got a few figures you want to get rid of?
If *you've* got numbers that you'd like to disappear, why not call
FASCIST ARSON SERVICES. We'd be happy to burn any sensitive papers
or books you may have lying around. Ask about our very reasonable
Government building charges.

In an attempt to make the country a happier place, the government
have announced a scheme known as the "scowl penalty". Anyone seen
scowling will be penalised $20 on the spot. Further charges will
be introduced in an effort to prevent people frowning, yawning
with intent, and arguing in public.

There is an epidemic that is spreading across our world. Nobody
knows where it came from, but more and more people are catching
it. It turns them into tragically disfigured versions of their
former selves. They lose all sense of dignity. I am of course
talking about those bloody pouch things that people are wearing
now; it's like a black plastic wallet with a strap that wraps
around your waist, and it looks STUPID!! But anyway...

TCWF targets the American market:
And now a joke exclusively for our American readers.

"Toxic's fallen - and it can't get up!"

[Thanks to James "Kibo" Parry and Julia Wilkinson for that one.
I personally don't really see the funny side of adapting a
catch-phrase from an ad about panic buttons, but there you go...]


TUESDAY'S WEATHER - FOR HELL
Hell will be hot during tonight, boiling over to boiling early Tuesday
morning. Towards the middle of the day it will be sweltering, with a
heat-wave later in the day.
Wednesday: Hot
Thursday: Hot
Friday: Hot
Saturday (the day that peace is predicted to be declared in the
Middle East, the national economy will recover, pigs will
fly, and a brain scan on Dan Quayle will be positive): Cold,
with snow and ice, possible blizzards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You may have been reading the TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES Number 31.
The BESTESTESTEST OF TCWF Volume 1 is now available. If you would
like to order this, or to complain or comment on this crap, mail
[email protected] Have a nice war.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SOON TO TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES (*) - A WHOLE NEW ORIGINAL
CONCEPT IN COMEDY
There's this bloke with a dead parrot who walks silly, and he goes
to buy some cheese, but the shopkeeper turns out to be a member of
the Spanish Inquisition, and all they have is spam. So he pays for
an argument and goes to another shop in Bolton and buys a lemon curry.

(*) Apocalypse permitting

AND NOW A WORD FROM THE PENTAGON
To all those sissy wimps who don't want a war - remember what we're
talking about here! What about all the oil we won't be able to
pollute the atmosphere with if we don't liberate Kuwait? What about
all the money people will make selling guns, bullets and planes?
If we don't attack, the stock-market might crash again. And we won't
be able to re-install the royal family of Kuwait. Dammit, they are
VERY rich!
Honestly, you pacifists are all the same, always thinking about the
human lives lost - what about the dollars and the oil?

AND NOW ANOTHER WORD FROM THE PENTAGON
Oh, and by the way... about those 45,000 body-bags we had shipped to
Saudi Arabia. They're actually going to be used to smuggle booze
in to our troops; otherwise we couldn't get it to them. Honest.
We're not really sure what we'll carry back in them though. Any ideas?

______________________________________________________________________________

Look - up in the sky!

Is it a bird?
Is it a plane?
No, it's a SCUD missile...

# - - - - - - - - -## TOXICO # # # # # # # # NUMBER 32
#### #### # # # # CUSTARDI # # # # # # # # 21ST JANUARY 1990
# # # # # ### WORKSHOPPEN # # # # #
# # # # # # FILESKI # # # # # # # # WRITTEN BY
## #### ##### # - - - - - - - # # # # # # # # MR LUXURY-YACHT

- Oh no, not more bloody Shakespeare... (Othello, Act 5, Scene 2) -

OTHELLO: Peace, and be still!

DESDEMONA: I will so. What's the matter?

OTHELLO: That handkerchief which I so loved with the monogrammed
'D' on it, and gave thee,
Thou gav'st to Cassio

DESDEMONA: Well he swapped me a little electronic organ for it.
Send for the man, and ask him.

OTHELLO: Sweet soul, take heed,
Take heed of perjury: thou art on thy death-bed.

DESDEMONA: Ay, but not yet to die.
The life-expectancy these days is low, but not this low...

OTHELLO: Therefore confess thee freely of thy skin, er sin;
For to deny each article with oath
Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

DESDEMONA: You come near me and I'll put this breadknife in you!

OTHELLO: I say, amen. Hallelujah and praise the Lord. And all that jazz.

DESDEMONA: And have you mercy too! I never did
Offend you in my life; and Cassio
Did provide such a general warranty of heaven on that organ.
We did never even have it off.

OTHELLO: By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in's hand.
O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart,
And mak'st me call what I intend to do
A murder, which I thought a sacrifice.
I saw the handerchief.

DESDEMONA: Look, it only cost two dollars!
I never gave it him. He wanted it bad... but a letter of
France he had not.

OTHELLO: He hath confessed.

DESDEMONA: Oh. Well. In that case...

OTHELLO: That he hath used thee.

DESDEMONA: Yeah? Was I good?

OTHELLO: Ay

DESDEMONA: He didn't tell me that.

OTHELLO: No, his mouth is stopped;
Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.

DESDEMONA: Oh, my fish interprets! what, is he dead?

OTHELLO: Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all.

DESDEMONA: You violent sadistic black bastard!
Alas, he is betrayed, and I undone!

OTHELLO: Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face?

DESDEMONA: What trumpet? O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!
Anything- I'll even listen to Milli Vanilli, but please...

OTHELLO: Down, strumpet!

DESDEMONA: Kill me tomorrow; let me live tonight!
I'll make it worth your while...

OTHELLO: Nay, if you strive-

DESDEMONA: Right, I've just about had enough of you.
You're stingy with the housekeeping money,
you're always in a bad mood when you get home from work,
and now I find out you're a dangerous murderer!

OTHELLO: Being done, there is no pause

DESDEMONA: What, the VCR's broken as well? Oh terrific.
I'll get Cassio in to fix it.

OTHELLO: It is too late. For 'tis past 1am already,
and I must to work on the morrow

[Attempts to brutally murder her with a pillow.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This has been another Royal Custard Theatre Production. Othello was
played by General Noriega, and Desdemona was played by Dan Quayle.
NOW AVAILBALE: THE BOSTOSTOSTOST EF TIXOC CASTURD WORKSHOP FELIS.
TO ERDOR, MAIL [email protected]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IN THE NEXT TCWF: Ummm... err... I don't know...


*sob*


*sniffle*

______________________________________________________________________________

--######---#####--##----##--######----THE-TOXIC-CUSTARD----------------
---=##===-##-====-##=##-##=-##=====---WORKSHOP----FILES----------------
----##=---##=-----##=##=##=-#####-----Number-33-----28th-January-1991--
----##=---##=-----##=##=##=-##====------------(Australia-Day-Holiday)--
----##=----#####--########=-##=-------Written-by-Mr-Luxury-Yacht-------
-----==-----=====--========--==-------vac122g@vx24.cc.monash.edu.au----

NO OTHER E-MAIL HAS THIS MUCH SACRILEGE IN EVERY EPISODE!

T H E T E N C O M M A N D M E N T S
From the bible of the Holy-Megabucks Corporation

1. THOU SHALT HAVE NO OTHER GODS BEFORE ME - oh, except Milli Vanilli of
course, 'cos they are soooo cool, don't you just love those haircuts,
and the way they ponce around in those bicycle shorts. Oi- stop
throwing up!

2. THOU SHALT NOT MAKE TO YOURSELF A GRAVEN IMAGE - images of graves are
sick; what d'you want with a picture of a grave hanging in your
livingroom anyway?

3. THOU SHALT NOT TAKE THE NAME OF THE LORD YOUR GOD IN VAIN - Oh Jesus, that
hit my foot. Oh Christ, I'm sorry. Oops.

4. THOU SHALT REMEMBER THE SABBATH DAY TO KEEP IT HOLY - Yeah, the Sabbath
day is worth double-time, you should remember it. Thou shalt not make a
little deal with thy boss so thou can avoid the tax-man.

5. THOU SHALT HONOUR THY FATHER AND MOTHER - even if they beat you to a pulp
everyday; thou shalt not call the social-workers.

6. THOU SHALT NOT KILL - except for them scumsucking rampaging bloodsucking
Iraqi muthas.

7. THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY - unless thou canst get away with it
without the husband finding out.

8. THOU SHALT NOT STEAL - You may rip-off and con people, but you may
not steal (except from the Tax Department). Thou shalt not indulge
in Insider-Trading.

9. THOU SHALT NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS - even if the gangsters do threaten
to burn your house down, and generally scare you shitless. Thou shalt
not bear ANY witness against Jimmy Bakker.

10. THOU SHALT NOT COVET - The covetous will not inherit the kingdom of
God... in fact the RSPCA Cat's home has inherited the lot. I always
said God had a few screws loose.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Suddenly, it popped. This was the sort of thing that our hero, Calendiar had
been expecting, ever since he had found the dead ostrich in the small confines
of a public lavatory in Tobago. He had been led there by the promise of huge
donations to his personal blood-bank by local magazine editor Ruperto Murochi,
but found to his surprise when he got there that the bird had in fact been
killed by a low-flying banana. The only clue now was the half-eaten vegemite
sandwich in its mouth. Holding the sandwich in one hand, and his nose in the
other ('cos it stank to high heaven), he left not via the airport which he
had gone through, but by a conveyor-belt in the largest factory in the area;
so large in fact that the conveyor-belt in question was spread over three
countries, and many of the staff required passports when they went for their
tea-breaks.
Calendiar by this time was carrying none of his own luggage. Whereas most
people's luggage got mixed-up and ended up in perhaps another city or state,
his had accidentally got transferred onto the Space Shuttle mission that went
up that week. In fact, it had been stuffed into one of the two satellites in
the Shuttle's payload, so it seemed likely that his luggage would be
orbitting the Earth for many moons before he would see it again; if at all.
Luckily he had found someone elses. The spacesuit wasn't quite the right
size, but with a little alteration, it would fit like a glove.
As he got his passport stamped at the border by the rather slow-moving
post-office clerks patrolling there, he put his mind back to THAT incident in
London, with the sheep. He was jolted back to reality as the clerk asked him
about the dead-ostrich-shaped parcel he had in his possession. He replied
that yes, it was his, but that in no way was it a native animal of the area;
it was in fact, a package stuffed full of heroin.
"Very well", said the clerk, giving him a cold, hard stare, and stamping
the package in a quick flick of the wrist that took almost forty-five
minutes. Calendiar glanced at his watch, and wondered if he would get
through passport control before he starved to death.
...POSSIBLY TO BE CONTINUED...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

And now we cross over to the Toxic Incident room, where the number of
TCWF subscribers is just about to reach one hundred. Our regular roving
raving writhing ragged rover-paid reporter, Arnold Psychopath is on the
scene.

ARNOLD: Yes, I have with me Inspector Unnecessary Violence. Inspector,
this must be a tragic, tragic day for you.

INSPECTOR: Yes indeed. What we in the Police Force can only do is to
re-state our position that these people are being CONNED.
They are being FOOLED, and the consequences of their actions
can only result in disaster for them and their families.

ARNOLD: And what exactly are the consequences?

INSPECTOR: Well, usually once we discover that someone is taking this
Toxic junk, we go round and beat the shit out of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yo@@@@RIIERET85Y84jrheity48uH'UU7gIorkshop Files Number 33. Now
available is the Bestestestest of Tox489UEJIRH98hiwruewu-DJ&\~%
&_GuS2:A>1@,GeDycMAC,k7;($?vk`m&gDmos:6"m8jXL"Ij5~nG$8.der,
just mail [email protected]
~~~~~~@@65[_5\\~5O4]]_o"'8K#3[eXst have dislodged the wire that
connects the keyboard lock to the motherboard
therefore the keyboard wouldn't work because it thought
that the lock ha[\4]_[_]67_y
,k;($vk`&gD
][dd
@

______________________________________________________________________________

Oh no, not *again*!

Hello, and welcome to Toxic Custard Workshop Files number 34. You know, I
remember the good old days, when TCWF would get uploaded at 300 bps, and
it promddddddffflikmddk{}}}}dd *aaaaarrrrrgghhhhhh*
*thump*

THIS IS THE TOXIC CUSTARD TERRORIST TECHNO-WIZARD READERS' REVOLUTIONARY
COMMAND COUNCIL! WE HAVE TAKEN OVER THIS EPISODE OF THE TOXIC CUSTARD
WORKSHOP! THE AUTHOR HAS... UMM.. GONE ON HOLIDAY...
/ / /\ / Number 34 - 4/2/91
/\OXIC \ USTARD \/_EVOLUTIONARY \/ILES Written by THE TOXIC CUSTARD TERRORIST
..\.....\/.......\...............\..... TECHNO-WIZARD READERS' REVOLUTIONARY
....................................... COMMAND COUNCIL - Rolf Benirschke,
....................................... Scott MacPherson and John Lupien
...............................................................................

I had a splitting headache and found that I was typing in the following
drivel, thought you might have a better use for it than me (can't wipe
with an online file, I'd have to print it first). Post this heading
and yer mail spool is dead meat...(just kidding, of course I wouldn't
do anything so... so... UNETHICAL as to disrupt another user's activities...)
---------------------submission follows------------------------------------

This story just in from the wire...

A drunken disk driver has just had a TREMENDOUS crash at wreck.autos,
here's E. Grep with a live report at the scene...
[cut to live Action Cam as a London style paddy wagon roars by
BEEE BERRR BEEE BERRR BEEe BErrr Beee Berrr beee berrr]
(^^^^^^^^^^ sound of siren, for the special effects impaired)

Hello, E. Grep reporting LIVE from the wreck.autos crash, as you
can see the pigs <Ow! get orf my foot!> bobbies, I mean, have just
arrived to take the offending driver off the dispatch table and
swap him out good and HARD, here we go with the extraction, Core!
It's Joe Sysop! This won't look good on his performance review.
That's all for now from wreck.autos, E. Grep signing off.
Back to you, F. Grep.

------alright, already, I've submitted, now getcher foot off my head-------
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

And now a word from our sponsor:
The International Federation Of System Managers....

In Toxic Custard#25, some stupid wombat-molesting idiot wrote:
> Is it a bird?
> Is it a plane?/\
> No, it's / \
> --------------------- - Leaps tall terminals in a single bound!
> S U P E R U S E R - Wipes out users at the press of a button!
> --------------------- - Closes down the computer at a moment's notice!
> \ / - Sacrifices spare time to keep the system going
> \/ for all of us. Isn't he a nice guy? Don't we
> all love our system managers?

Right! All you vaxers out there, we've got a chip to fry with you!
Being a System Manager is hard enough without this new nonsense you've been
blurbing out about this SUPER-USER crudd!...Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No!
you stupid simpletons! It's a bloody old frustrated human being who finds his
job as System Manager hard enough without you heaping MORE pressure and MORE
expectations on us than we already have! I mean, it's put my staff in shambles
trying to live up to that kind of rep. I mean, look at poor John over there,
broke both his legs leaping over those bloody terminals all the time, and
Maxine! Broke 3 nails this week pressing that stupid button, wiping out those
miserable grovelling little users! And Mike over in Facilities and Operations
electrocuted himself swinging from a power cable trying to get from Facils to
Ops faster to satisfy YOUR bloody demands for increased speed and efficiency!
It shut down the system for the entire day! Not to mention killed Mike! And
then I had to spend all my spare time here trying to make up for the lost
computer time! I damned well better be concidered a nice guy you putrid vax-
addicted runts! Hah! Super Users! We don't need that kind of extra stress! I
mean come to think of it, I never wanted to become a System Manager in the
first place! I always wanted to be...a Doctor! or a Lawyer! or a Lumberjack!
But noooo...My father and his sexually suppressed childhood experiences caused
him to transfer his agressions upon ME, the bloody old git, forcing me to.....

WE INTERRUPT THIS BROADCAST WITH THE EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM!!!!........

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
THIS IS THE EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM! THIS IS NOT A TEST! WE REPEAT,
THIS IS NOT A TEST! A BAND OF TOXIC TERRORIST TECHNO-WIZARDS HAS INVADED
INTERNET! LOGOUT AT ONCE! BACKUP FOR YOUR LIVES!....

AND NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAM...

...and if that wasn't enough, the stupid bastard flunked the System
Managers quiz and got himself fired...so then he started pushing me to become
a System Manager, night and day, night and day! How do you copy a file again,
Robbie? How do you do a Core-dump in Unix, Robbie? What a load of s....
%$^%$^($%)#^)(*@#&*#%()#^^&%#@785@^#75%@#89#%(*@#c%#(i(!#f&%^f&%(i!$^r&!!t
!^%^e%#@g^!@a&(~s#~%s%^*e$R_m@%^n!^%e%&*dR^*dGGGi#@&h)*~s#&*i*&8h362t59&^
d^%^a#%^eE$%r&@$o^!$t@$#d###e#^&g%^&a~(^n$)%a)~%m&$%u%@~o&^$y%*%,!%ho^^&s!$

THIS SYSTEM HAS BEEN ANNIHILATED DUE TO LACK OF INTEREST....

-THE TOXIC TERRORIST TECHNO-WIZARDS

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Toxic Custard's regular author has... umm... well, he seems to have
disappeared to either the Bahamas, Hawaii, Bali or the bottom of
Albert Park Lake (in a nice pair of concrete boots), so the TOXIC CUSTARD
TERRORIST TECHNO-WIZARD READERS' REVOLUTIONARY COMMAND COUNCIL will return
next week!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ransom money can be paid to [email protected]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

______________________________________________________________________________

THIS IS THE TOXIC CUSTARD TERRORIST TECHNO-WIZARD READERS' REVOLUTIONARY
COMMAND COUNCIL! WE MAINTAIN SUPREME CONTROL OF THE TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP!
REPORTS THAT THE AUTHOR HAS AMASSED LARGE FORCES OUTSIDE THE DOOR READY TO
SPRING IN AND REGAIN CONTROL OF TOXIC CUSTARD ARE FALSE! WE SHALL CONTINUE
(TO USE LOTS OF CAPITAL LETTERS).

/ / /\ / Number 35 - 11/2/91
/\OXIC \ USTARD \/_EVOLUTIONARY \/ILES Written by THE TOXIC CUSTARD TERRORIST
..\.....\/.......\...............\..... TECHNO-WIZARD READERS' REVOLUTIONARY
....................................... COMMAND COUNCIL - Rolf Benirschke,
....................................... Scott MacPherson and John Lupien
...............................................................................

And now, your local under-funded Public Broadcasting station presents...

Mr. Fred Rogers takes our Australian fiends...er...friends on a tour
of scenic downtown Detroit

Hi, boys and girls! Welcome to my neighbourhood! Let's all sing my song:

It's a smoggy day in the neighbourhood,
It's a shitty day for a neighbour,
You better be mine!
Could you be mine? (especially you, Timmy, oh you look so cute
today in those tight little wet swimming trunks
and Bart Simpson T-shirt and when I see you
I just lose my mind and I want to bite the heads
off of creatures lower than me on the food chain
and...OOPS)

Anyway, children, let's put on our $175 Nike Air Jordan basketball shoes
with the fluorescent stripes that have all the colourful subtlety of a
barium enema and let's also put on our bulletproof Teenage Mutant Ninja
Turtle underwear and let's take a walk down the street.
Can you say "street"? I knew you could.
Can you say "fiscal debenture"? Oh, you're such a bunch of worthless jetsam!

Well, here we are in The Projects. Do you know what The Projects are, boys
and girls? That's right, they're havens for street scum, pushers, and modern
pop artists! All the rejected worthless trash of the earth (except for TV
evangelists who live in the South)! Let's see if we can find Mr. Undercover
DEA Agent.

Ah, there he is!!! Hi, Mr. Undercover DEA Agent!! Welcome to the neighbourhood!

"Shut up, you dumb shit! What the hell are you doin' here, and how'd you know
I'm a Fed?"

Why, the children and myself are stealthily traipsing through our
neighbourhood and everyone knows, Mr. Agent, that the guy from the Drug
Enforcement Agency is ALWAYS the guy who looks too damn macho for his own
good, drives a Chrysler, and speaks into a funny microphone cleverly concealed
in his jockey shorts. Hey, is this thing on? Lemme touch it.

"OW!!!!!! SHIT!!!!!! GET YOUR F**KING HANDS OUT OF MY PANTS, YOU FAGGOT!!!!!"

My, my, touchy, aren't we?!!? Can you say "penis envy"? I'll bet your daddy
can, boys and girls! Why don't you ask him to say it right now!

<Say, man! What it IS! OOOOOOH, look at de kids! Hey, kids!!! Those are sum
FIIIINE shooooz you is wearin'! Shit, I need to score a few o' those fo' de
boys in de gang!! Yeah, we is the SHITHEADS! Dat's de most original name we
could think of, ya know?>

Oh, look! It's Mr. Youth Gang Leader and Crack Dealer!!

"FREEEEEEEEZE!!!!!! DEA!!!!! YOU'RE BUSTED, MOTHERF**KER!!"

My, my! Can you say "undercover sting operation is blown"? Can you say
"crossfire"? Can you say "DUCK!!!!!!"

<SHEEEEEEEEEIT, man!!!!! Dis is gonna ruin mah whole day!!! Glad I brought
my Chinese-made AK-47!! Can you say "illegally imported fully automatic
rifle", boys and girls?>

Join us next time (if there IS a next time) and watch Fred Rogers blow away
half a dozen DEA agents and drug lords with his cleverly concealed Ingram
MAC-10, take the blow for himself, and establish a profitable business in
the tax-free Cayman Islands!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

AND NOW WE, THE TOXIC CUSTARD TERRORIST TECHNO-WIZARD READERS' REVOLUTIONARY
COMMAND COUNCIL CONTINUE WITH A SATIRICAL LOOK AT ... HEY, WAS THAT A NOISE
AT THE DOOR? JUST A MOMENT COMRADES. OH, IT'S ALL RIGHT, THE DOOR'S FALLEN
OVER, AND A TANK IS COMING IN. IT'S PROBABLY JUST ONE OF THOSE INFLATABLE
ONES THAT WE HAVE INSTALLED AROUND THE WORKSHOP AS DECOYS. AND NOW BACK TO
THE LAUGs{[r_[_^_fdu_[]aj]]aa

We, the armed forces of the Allied nations of the world hereby liberate
the Toxic Custard Workshop Files from the aggressive dictatorship of the
T.C.T.T-W.R.R.C.C and here-by re-instate Raymond Luxury-Yacht as leader!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Normal service has now been resumed. But we've run out of lines
for this week, so TCWF will return next week - 18th of February!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The best of TCWF - order now from [email protected]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE BIG QUESTION IS
If Saddam Hussein gets CNN, does he get PTL too?

______________________________________________________________________________

If war had stopped, I couldn't have used this.

Get fat now! Ask me how!
____ __ ____ ___ __ __ __ __ __ __ _
/ /__/ /_ / / / \/ / / / / / /_ / /_/ /_/ / \
/ / / /__ / /__/ /\ / \__ \__ \_/ __/ / / / / \ /__/
___ __ ___ __ __ __ __ __
/ / / / / /_/ /_/ /__ /__/ / / /_/ /_ / / /_ /__
/_/_/ /__/ / \ / \ ___/ / / /_/ / / / /__ /__ __/
A Recycled Title Production

B Y - M R - L U X U R Y - Y A C H T - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
N U M B E R - T H I R T Y - S I X - - - - - - - - - - - 1 8 - F E B - 1 9 9 1

GULF NEWS - PENTAGON EXPLAINS MILITARY JARGON

The Pentagon held a news conference last night to fully explain some of the
military jargon that is being used in official news releases.

- CDHU - Collateral damage humanoid units - people who get in the way. Not
that we're purposely aiming at them, but let's face it, it's no
loss really as they probably aren't Christians and most don't even
speak English. That's what comes of not being born on the right
side, in a God-fearing country; serves 'em right, really.
- FM - Friendly missile - one of ours. The Allies now have friendly missiles
fired from planes and ships pounding the Iraqi forces continuously.
Friendly missiles are identified by a big smiling face painted on
the warhead. Damage as a result of friendly missiles will now be
known as "friendly damage", and the explosives inside the warhead
are known as "friendly explosives."
- NWISSBM - Nasty-wasty Iraqi scum-sucking bastard missile - one of theirs
- OTRCNNXF - Off The Record CNN Exclusive False-report - given to CNN by us
so that Saddam will believe it to be the gospel truth. Neat, eh?

NEW ALLIED WEAPONRY

The Pentagon has announced the deployment of selected recently developed
weapons in the Gulf; part of the US Government's continuing commitment to
support Allied forces with the latest technology:
- The SKM - Shit-Kicker Missile. When this baby hits them Iraqis, the shit
really hits the fan!
- FBT - Fucking-big tank. This tank is 150 feet wide and 200 feet long, and
it's purpose is to make the ground war much simplified by simply
running over enemy soldiers. Special decapitation implements on
the underside of the tank ensure Allied victory. In normal
circumstances an Allied RCM (Refuse Collection Module) would
follow behind, preventing any environmental damage to the desert
by scooping up the human blood 'n' guts.
- TXjet - Specially developed fighter/bomber for use by Texan pilots. It has
an enlarged cockpit to cope with their hats.
- BVM - now installed in all troop-transport planes, the BVM (Burger Vending
Machine) now features the new IraqiBurger for only $1.45; it helps
our forces feel at home. To fully simulate a Florida McDonald's
environment a computer-controlled rifle installed in the plane can
be programmed to fire at random.
- FMFM - the FM installed Friendly Missile - so called because it has a
built-in FM stereo receiver which plays the "Star Spangled Banner"
as it explodes into its target.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

*ring* *ring*

HELLO, 000 EMERGENCY CALL. WHAT SERVICE DO YOU REQUIRE?

Fire.

METROPOLITAN FIRE BRIGADE EMERGENCY SERVICE.

Hello, send a truck, there's a fire.

LOCATION OF THE INCIDENT?

Hell!

SORRY, LOCATION OF THE INCIDENT PLEASE?

Hell!

PARDON SIR?

I said, "Hell".

PLEASE STATE THE FULL ADDRESS OF THE LOCATION OF THE FIRE.

Oh, okay. Hell, 43 Apocalypse Road, Underton, Postcode 6666.

AND YOUR NAME?

Satan.

MR SATAN, HOW BAD IS THE FIRE?

All I can see is flames... everywhere... all around me...

ALRIGHT MR. SATAN, THE FIRE ENGINES ARE ON THEIR WAY.
CAN YOU EVACUATE THE AREA?

No, no-one can ever leave the ever-lasting depths of Hell.

OH DEAR. BETTER SEND AN EXTRA LONG LADDER AND SOME ROPE.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We are sad to report that Toxic Custard Workshop Files returns
next Monday with even more of this comedic crap. Now available:
The Bestestestest of Toxic Custard Volume 1.
just mail [email protected]
This system may be down for some of this week.
If it bounces, try [email protected]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

______________________________________________________________________________

Zis is Custard - ve have no subject here

___ _ __
| oxic / ustard \ /\ /orkshop |_ iles Number 37, 25th Feb, 1991
| \_ \/ \/ | Ratiing: Below average

Calendiar, having made it through a three-year delay at passport control,
made his way back to his London flat only to find he had been evicted and
the whole block had been converted into a multi-story carpark and
naughty-sheep emporium; with the furniture, fittings and marauding llamas
still intact. He decided to emigrate, and after purchasing a new set of
clothing and more luggage to replace his lost set, caught the tube back to
Heathrow for the duty-free; then caught a taxi to Luton to catch his
plane.
The taxi-driver took a wrong turning and ended up in Saudi-Arabia
during a SCUD attack. Never mind, thought Calendiar; I was going there
anyway. By this point in the Gulf War, Iraq had in fact run out of
warheads, and was sending over SCUDs armed with bean-bag beans. So in fact
even if the missile didn't hit the ground, the Saudi weather-bureau never
failed to be inundated with irate calls complaining that they hadn't
forecast snow. The fact that Iraq was still able to obtain bean-bag beans
in a time of war annoyed the US immensely, and they immediately set about
initiating a UN resolution against the importation of bean-bags and in
fact all other types of lounge seating to Iraq. "Never again" promised
George Bush to the world, "will Saddam Hussein be able to lie back
comfortably as he watches CNN."
When Iraq had run out of bean-bag beans, they resorted to another
lethal payload to drop on the Saudis and Israelis. One that would not only
cause horrific injuries, but also work away at Allied morale and human
dignity - camel droppings. The Allied commanders commented that they were
in deep shit; and they meant it. Could this, combined with artillery
shells loaded with propaganda leaflets proclaiming "Saddam is a really
swell guy" overwhelm the Allied "we are the coppers of the world and we
don't even have truncheons, and even if we do, we never beat civilians
over the head with them" forces?
Not bloody likely matey. Within two weeks of the shit-loaded SCUD
attacks commencing, Allied scientists, working round the clock at a
dung-farm in northern Virginia had developed a shit-proof protective suit
to be used by Allied forces.
Meanwhile Calendiar, desperate to find what he was looking for,
searched the cities of the world. He went through Rome, Paris, New York,
Toronto, Rio, Berlin, Madrid, Luxembourg, Brussels, Sydney, Los Angeles,
Hong Kong, Singapore, Tokyo, and finally, Bordertown, South Australia. It
was there that he found it. Finally. A settlement that *didn't* have an
American Express office. Fact is, all the air-fares had gone on his Amex
card; and Calendiar needed to lie low until they had lost him completely
and gave up trying to bill him. Amex had agents everywhere. Calendiar
wasn't really in espionage, though he had worked as a part-time
plain-clothes spy for 7-11.
...POSSIBLY TO BE CONSIDERED TO BE CONTINUED OR DISCONTINUED
DEPENDING ON THE DETERMINATION OF THE CONSIDERATION...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

We live in a society full of cards. Bankcards, Visa-cards, Amex-Cards,
playing cards, video-shop cards, keycards, phonecards, Medicare cards,
travelcards, concession cards...

But now comes the ultimate card! As long as you have your
_________________________________ TOXICARD with you, day or
| | night, 365 days a year,
| T O X I C A R D | you can obtain Toxic Custard
| | Workshop Files anywhere in
| Mr. Arnold Psychopath | the world. Now, isn't that
| 36910218 Expires 05/92 | handy.
|_________________________________|
From TOXICARD Enterprises
TOXICARD- Don't leave International
rec.humor without it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The name's Scone. James Scone. OO7 - licensed to bake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You, the civilised people of the free world, have been
reading the democratic Western humour of the Toxic Custard
Workshop Files. Now available, the bestestestest of Toxic
Custard Vol 1 (which is much better than this cruddy episode).
To order, mail [email protected]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOW AVAILABLE - Build your own Belgian kit.

COMING SOON TO TCWF (*)
- TCWF Toilet Humour: Lavatories of the rich and famous
- Braincells of the rich and famous
- Very large cars of the rich and famous
- Tax dodges of the rich and famous
- Illicit drug-smuggling of the rich and famous
(*) Apocalypse permitting

______________________________________________________________________________

Sounds more impressive than it is.

Is your Orang-utan broken? Is your chipmunk useless at singing? Has your
gibbon snapped? Or part of your gorilla fallen off? If so, why not contact
Gorilla Repairs Pty Ltd. We are fully licensed servicers of all popular
types of ape, and we can arrange a free quote! We use only genuine authentic
spare parts. All apes repaired by us come with a 6 month / 10,000 banana
guarantee. Politicians a speciality.
*Also suppliers of the highest quality bananas this side of the Congo*

It's time for
##########C ####### ##W ## ######### ##### ##### NUMBER 38.
T ## ##U ## O# ## ##F ## ## ## ##
O## ## S ## ###R ## ## I / ## ## ## 4TH MARCH 1991
##X ## T ## ##### K# #######L / #### #####
## I ## A #### ####S ## E / ## ## ## BY MR. LUXURY-
## C ####### R ## ## H ## S/ ## ## ## ## YACHT..
--------------------D-----------O---------/----##### #####
________________________________P________/___________________________________

*SPECIAL CLEARANCE*
We have the ULTIMATE gift for anyone in your family. We are clearing our
OVERSTOCKED supplies at RIDICULOUS prices! This is a bargain not to be
missed - genuine unused United States Military BODY-BAGS. Below cost! How
much would you expect to pay for one of these handy containers, which will
carry anything up to the size of a corpse? Don't ask! Because we'll throw in
another 9 body-bags for just another $2.00! That's right, you get the
beautifully boxed set of 10 body-bags, for only $49.95 + $5.05 postage and
packing! Send no money now, we'll bill you later.
From Pentagon Clearance House Pty Ltd.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

For those interested, there is an exhibition of pelicans' urine samples
currently running at the Museum Of Art And Science And Quite A Lot Of Other
Junk Which Isn't About Art Or Science But Which No-one Else In Their Right
Minds Would Put On Display, in Swanston Street. Entry charge is $2 and a
recitation of Wordsworth's "Daffodils" in a vat of toxic custard (see below).
Also featured are the amazing works of leading surrealist artist Frederick
Tapedeck, carefully sculptured from sheep's intestines. Messy, but relevant.
Other fascinating exhibitions coming to the MOAASAQALOOJWIAAOSBWNEITRMWPOD
include a history of public toilets and a display from the science-fiction
Zoo of Atlanta comprising of twenty-seven "Doctor Who" fans in their natural
habitat (crowded around a television, boasting about how many rare video-tapes
they have).
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

If taxis are the prostitutes of the road, what does that make buses?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

LOCAL NEWS
The Sandringham City Council's fact-finding scuba-diving tour to Portsea had
to be cancelled last night when it was discovered that the Council don't
actually exist. Local resident Martin Believable stormed into the Council
Chambers during a meeting to consider the redirection of Council funds away
from the Soup Kitchen Project towards the Black Lesbian Immigrant Co-operative
of Drama, waving a banner and proclaiming "None of you exist - you're just
figments of our imaginations!"
The meeting was postponed when the Mayor, Mr Leadertape stood up and
replied "Oh yes.. you're right; and pretty twisted imaginations they must be,
too" and promptly vanished, along with the other council members.
Eyewitnesses at the scene say that two minutes later, the entire Town-Hall
suddenly vanished in a puff of smoke. A consortium of local businessman
promptly began funding a search operation to find the council so they could
buy the vacant land off them for development into a multi-story carpark.
The EPA moved in on the site to investigate claims by a local psychic that
it might have lead-poisoning. They worked through the night and discovered
that the site had been used for many years as a secret dump for waste from
nearby toxic chemical plants, dead bodies from certain organisations based
in and around Milan and defects from a local pencil company. The EPA declared
the site totally unsafe and the State Government announced a scheme to buy
up the land and sell it again to someone who wouldn't know any better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This has been another of the weekly doses of Toxic Custard Workshop
Files. Take only as directed, and if sanity persists, see your Sysop.
Comments, complaints, etc etc to [email protected]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The genuine TOXIC CUSTARD is now available at selected supermarkets(*).
Made using only the finest of chemical waste products, TOXIC CUSTARD is a
smooth, lumpy, tasty, revolting cocktail of substances that will leave your
guests writhing on the floor in pain and/or ectasy.
(*) Also available from 7-11 at twice the price.

______________________________________________________________________________

What song is that?!?

####### ##### # # ###### TEMPORARY NUMBER 39
# # # # # # COFFIN 11TH MARCH 1991
# # # ## # ###### WRESTLING
# # ## ## # FEDERATION WRITTEN BY MR LUXURY YACHT
# ##### # # # [email protected]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE PROPHECIES OF NOSTRADAMUS

These recently re-discovered quatrains, translated from the original Latin,
have been interpreted by James Wiseguy, professor of Prophecy, Monash
University.

"The battle will be short, and the Shrub will force the Sad Man to back down
over the land. Nineteen shall be eight once more."
This is clearly a reference to the recent work on my garden
by workers from the Mandas Gardening and Landscaping Company.
I knew I had been quoted $800, but they insisted on charging
me $1900.. just goes to show you can't be too careful when
getting work done. So, was Nostradamus a representative from
the Consumer Affairs department? Possibly.

"The large blackhead will smite the Sad man to bits."
While some believe this to be a reference to General
Schwarzkopf (schwarzkopf is German for blackhead), I firmly
believe that this refers to the large blackhead that has
appeared on my face, which somehow has increased my resolve
to get my $1900 back off the gardening people.

"The weather will be generally fine, with a little cloud drifting over from the
west in the later part of the afternoon and a few isolated showers in the
north."
Well, this is obviously Nostradamus' weather forecast. Nuff
said. Probably more accurate than one from the Bureau of
Meteorology.

"Years from now, a bunch of scumsucking bastards will make a packet of
money out of interpreting my forecasts."
He was probably right. Oh, look for my new book, "Nostradamus
and Me" by James Wiseguy, Capitalist Books Ltd, $49.95.

-- James Wiseguy
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Right, so what's the plan?
WELL, WE'VE GOT THE ELECTRICIANS COMING ON MONDAY. THE SEC WILL CONNECT
THE POWER AT DAWN.
Right on! Let there be light! Okay.. Tuesday?
ON TUESDAY CARPENTERS INSTALL THE HEAVENS
Oooh.. I hope they bring all the right tools, it'll be a hell of a job.
YEAH.. WELL, I WARNED THEM, SO THEY SHOULD BE READY. THEY KNOW WE'RE
WORKING TO A DEADLINE.
Good... next is the Sun and Moon, right?
NO, SUN AND MOON IS THURSDAY; THE EARTH IS ON WEDNESDAY.
Ah right. Make sure the plumbers get everything finished.
THEY WERE WHINGING SOMETHING ABOUT THE OZONE LAYER NOT LASTING FOREVER
LAST TIME I SPOKE TO THEM
That's not our problem; you tell them that. Anyway, who cares?
WELL, THEY RECKON IF THE ICE MELTS THE SEA LEVEL WILL RISE.
Well nothing lasts forever... we've got to defrost the thing every once in
a while.
YEP.. WELL, SUN AND MOON ON THURSDAY.
Ah right.. well I hope we're not out of matches. Better nip down to the
7-11 and get a box. We'd look pretty stupid if the Sun wouldn't light.
TOO RIGHT. I CHASED UP THE GAS COMPANY AND TOLD THEM TO MAKE SURE
WE'RE CONNECTED ON THE RIGHT DAY.
Good. Is the pebble-dashing for the moon finished?
NOT QUITE, BUT THEY SAID IT WILL BE FINISHED BY THURSDAY.
Okay.. now about Friday.. the RSPCA will be there, so we have to be very
careful.
CHRIST, WHAT DO THEY WANT?
They wanna make sure the conditions for the animals are natural and that
we treate them humanely.
HMM.. NOW, WHAT ABOUT SATURDAY?
Hmm.. well, the medical specialists are due at eleven, the plastic surgeons
at 11:30, and a team of gynacologists will be here at midday. So man should
be up and running about and getting his rocks off by the mid-afternoon.
That's about it really. See you in the pub on Sunday for some serious
resting..
SEE YA.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You have been indulging in yet more of the Toxic Custard Workshop
Files. Now available- the bestestestestest of TCWF Vol 1 - just
mail [email protected] to receive it!
NB. Next week's TCWF may be a day or two late due to the power
supply on the Monash computers being fiddled with over the next
weekend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hold your green bits! This Wednesday, Rocker Roger is BACK! Yes folks,
brand new amazing and moderately amusing adventures of the hilarious
Rocket Roger, direct from his last concert on the planet Plagiar.
Subscribe today! Mail [email protected] for details.

______________________________________________________________________________

All efforts have been made to ensure the accuracy

## ## ###### This is hereby proclaimed as the fourtieth
## ## ## ## edition of the Toxic Custard Workshop Files,
## ## ## ## which really is quite remarkable as it must
########## ## ## be the biggest load of crap to come out of
## ## ## Monash University since business psychology
## ## ## was introduced to the computer course. But
## ###### more people have laughed at this than that.
TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES #40 - 18TH MARCH 1991 - BY MR. LUXURY-YACHT
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

No sooner had Calendiar moved into his brand new house in Bordertown than
the South Australian and Western Australian governments decided to move
the state border to somewhere more geographically significant; to a bit
west of Broken Hill, NSW, to be precise. Well, the South Australian
government didn't really agree, but after the SA State Bank collapse, they
had no money, and had in fact sold the whole state to Western Australia.
The fact that WA had paid for SA on someone's Mastercard that had been found
down a well in Tibet didn't seem to worry anyone.
Calendiar woke up one morning to find that his cat had exploded. This
was not entirely a surprise to him, as it had not looked well for several
days. As he scooped the bits off the ceiling and into the pie he had
made for the bratty little kid next door, he got even more of a surprise.
What surprised him was that during the night a crack team of architects
and builders had built an American Express office next door. Calendiar,
under cover of a large blanket, ran out the back way to a nearby pair of
roller-skates, and roller-skated interstate, as he was still trying to
dodge his Amex bill.
He settled down in the small Queensland town of Yalbaroo, and was quite
happy living there until something came through the letter box which would
change his life. Something which would occupy his time almost constantly
for the next six months. An offer from Readers' Digest.
Readers' Digest were desperate. They needed new readers constantly, but
rarely gained any because everyone knew their condensed books (just add
water) were a load of crap. So they decided on a new marketing campaign.
They would concentrate on one person at a time. That person would be
bombarded with at least ten letters a day, offering the chance to win
millions of dollars, little cheap false-brass bookmarks made in Taiwan,
and even cheaper pen sets made by a little old man outside Bogota.
It was all a ploy to force you onto one of their "Readers' Digest
Condensed Books for people who can't be bothered reading the whole novels
and who probably can't read anyway but want to look at least semi-studious
when visitors come around and don't already know that our condensed books
are a load of bullshit" programmes, of one book a week for the next
four-hundred years, at $23.37 each (plus $700 postage and packing; each
book coming in it's own personal lead-lined coffin).
Calendiar, having an IQ higher than fifty, was determined not to get
sucked in by this campaign personally directed at him. The Readers' Digest
promotions department of course invisaged this, and the number of offers
mailed to him was increased exponentially, until after a few months, letters
from them to him alone took up 97% of the capacity of the nearest post
office at Mount Ossa. It was then that Australia Post moved to remedy the
situation, and gave Calendiar his own post-office nearby.
Mr. Calendiar
c/o Calen Post Office
Queensland 4798
But now Calendiar had a problem. During a night at the local pub, he got
completely shit-faced, and like any other bout of SERIOUS drinking, this had
destroyed a number of his brain-cells. Normally this wouldn't have mattered,
but on this occasion it had destroyed the brain-cells associated with
remembering how to eat bananas. This too, wouldn't have been a problem,
but Calendiar loved bananas with a real passion. But let's face it- who
cares? It's his own bloody fault, stupid git... But anyway...
Calendiar got a job as a giraffe, elephant and hippo cleaner at a zoo.
A special device was designed specifically for cleaning the upper section
of the giraffe. In fact it was a sort of sponge that wrapped around the
neck of the giraffe, with a powered motor that could move up and down the
giraffe, cleaning and rinsing as it went, in just over twenty minutes. A
similar device was adapted for elephants. The zoo had been under a great
deal of strain, with the mysterious death of one of the llamas, which had
been named after her donator, a Mrs Paula Turntable. For weeks and months
afterwards, everyone had wondered... "Who killed Paula Llama?"
But Calendiar enjoyed his cleansing activities at the zoo. All went
well in this job, until one night in a frenzy, one of the elephants raped
him. There was an enquiry into the incident, but it was found that Calendiar
had been behaving in a provocative manner, by twitching his nose rather
too much.
He gave up the job, and went back to his search. The one he had been
on for several installments.. trying to remember what he really was. The
desperate mission, that the author was still trying to think up.
TO BE CONTORTED...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A VERY VERY SHORT EXCERPT FROM THE NEW AUSTRALIAN SHAKESPEARE COMPANY
(From an idea by Julia Wilkinson)

SCOTT: He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
[KYLIE appears at the window with her pet wombat]
But strewth! What light through yonder wombat breaks?
It is the east, and Kylie is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more bonza than she.
Be not her maid, since she is envious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Custard begins at forty. This was the 40th edition
of the Toxic Custard Workshop Files. Please keep calm
and remain at your terminal.
Now available- the bestestestest of Toxic Custard
Workshop Files.. mail [email protected]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

--
Copyright © 1991 Daniel Bowen
May be copied or reproduced without permission
provided this notice remains intact.
--
Raymond Luxury-Yacht a.k.a. DANIEL BOWEN | Remember - jumpers are
Monash University, Melbourne, Australia | clothing's way of telling
[email protected] | you to pull over...
[email protected] | [Toxic Custard Workshop]

^
Please note, these addresses only valid until November 1991.
Thereafter, finger [email protected] to find me.
%
 
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