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Toxic Custard Workshop - #75


....______..._______...................................................
. T /C |W F TOXIC Number 75 .
. / |_____ CUSTARD by Daniel Bowen .
. / \ WORKSHOP [email protected] .
....../......______/...FILES.........Accept no Pictures of Lily........

MRS IRENE BUSYBODY SPEAKS OUT ON... E
The Arts. What a load of poncy namby-pamby poofters artists are. Look v
at ballet.. you know it's true that no-one in ballet is over thirty. e
It's so competitive that ballet dancers are all killed by their rivals r
within a year or two of making it big (principally in the crotch y
department, needless to say). Ballet people who survive usually have
bullet-proof leotards, and become famous choreographers in their old w
age. Just as well that only a few get that far really, or there'd be an e
oversupply of famous choreographers. Imagine wild, unemployed famous e
choreographers roaming the streets threatening people with their k
pirouettes.
Anyway, apart from ballet, there's painters. Why the hell don't i
they make themselves useful and paint walls and houses and stuff, t
instead of painting on bits of canvas. Though they'd have to paint '
different stuff.. I know I wouldn't want some topless woman painted on s
*my* outside wall for Fred to stare at and the neighbours to gossip
about. Some of those artistic splodges wouldn't be too bad - they'd a
hide the stains well.
Then there's musicians. With their noisy instruments. Quite apart w
from those roll and rock people, who should all be beheaded for causing o
noise pollution, all the poncy artistic classical twits. Ever noticed r
how an orchestra is arranged in a formation that looks just like the r
politicians in parliament? Classical music represents class.. y
authority.. posh gits. And if they're all so musical, how come almost :
anything you hear with only one instrument sounds like crap?
Writers? Yuck. Ludicrous little-brained literature loving loonies.
As for sculptors - disgusting, I call them. I blame most of w
society's ills on sculptors. Bending their soft moist clay into all h
sorts of filthy phallic symbols of disproportionate dimensions. They a
should all be strung up by the testicles in public places, they'd soon t
learn the importance of the genitalia and that it shouldn't be mocked
or modelled or stretched. w
i
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - l
l
THE ADVENTURES OF *POPSICLE*
g
*Popsicle* and Inspector Unnecessary-Violence are very hot on the trail o
of a gang of nutmeg dealers. Having stopped a nutmeg truck by chasing
it for so long that it ran out of petrol, *Popsicle* and the Inspector i
are about to confront the driver, and, if they possibly can, blow his n
brains out all over the pavement, drowning a nearby small dog in blood,
in a horrifying cliche directly lifted from nine out of ten violent t
police films. h
Inspector Unnecessary-Violence, having forgotten that he had e
forgotten to bring his gun, pulled his banana (that his mum had given
to him as part of his lunch that day) from his holster and ran over to s
the driver's side of the truck, brandishing it. With a deft movement of i
his other hand, he pulled the door handle open and leapt into the d
cabin, pushing the potentially lethal banana into the driver's face. e
"Freeze, punk!" he screamed. w
"But I'm not a punk", replied the driver, "I'm a supporter of the a
reactivist-socio-modernist subgroup of the Footscraynian school of y
political activism." s
"So why do you have spiky purple hair, a leather jacket and torn
jeans?" screamed the Inspector. m
"It's my day off." e
"Okay, pu.. Okay, supporter of the reactivist-socio-subgroup s
modernist convert of the Footscraynian school of political activism: s
freeze or I'll get violent and put the inside of this truck in grave a
need of a respray job!" screamed the Inspector, who had done quite well g
in a screaming course at the Police training school. e
"Okay man, okay. Keep maricultural", said the driver, who had now
figured out that it might be a good idea to raise his hands, and had t
done so. h
While *Popsicle* continued to look on, coolly leaning against the i
car with the radio in his hand, trying to look like the sex symbol of s
the team, the Inspector pulled the driver out of the truck and pushed
him into a pile of dustbins. t
"Listen man, garbology examination studies aren't generally my i
scene, right? And besides, if a garbo turns up now he's going to be m
really generally pretty pissed off about the whole street/waste e
situation re the garbage, you know?" ?
"Shuddup pu.. fucker! Now fuckin' listen to me!" the Inspector
screamed. "Me and my fuckin' colleague are on the fuckin' trail of a C
gang of fuckin' nutmeg smugglers. And we saw fuckin' nutmegs coming out o
of the back of your fuckin' motor, right? So, how the fuck do you m
fuckin' explain that?" p
"Hey man, lay off the vulgar quadruple letter arrangements or l
you'll really like isolate yourself from the readers." e
"Fuck them, I wanna know about the fuckin' nutmeg!" screamed the t
Inspector. e
"Oh well like that's easy. I've never seen that stuff before. I
borrowed the truck from this really rad dude on campus. He said I could c
borrow it to collect the joints for the party tonight on the condition r
that I drop off the supply of cooking materials to his mate first." a
"Right!" screamed the Inspector. "So what's the fuckin' name this p
fuckin' dude fucker?!?"
"Rob", replied the ex-driver, now partially submerged in a garbage a
bin. "He's a lecturer at the university." s
*Popsicle* sauntered over and pulled the man out of the bin, coolly
dusted him off and said coolly "Okay. That's cool. That's all the info u
we wanted. See you. Stay cool." s
The Inspector put the banana back in his holster and followed u
*Popsicle* back to the A.R.S.E vehicle, which in the great movie a
tradition had been left on an angle half on the curb with its lights l
still flashing and all the doors open. With a tricky but extremely ,
smooth and cool procedure, *Popsicle* swerved the car back onto the
road in such a way that all the doors closed themselves and sped i
towards the university. s

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ t
Toxic Custard Workshop Files is over for another week; h
praise the Lord. The proclaimation has come forth from on e
high, and reads as follows: Back-issues are available -
send mail to [email protected] for details. a
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ n
-- s
Copyright © 1991 Daniel Bowen w
-- e
Daniel Bowen, Monash University | Wanted: Two masked men r
Melbourne Australia | who stole the signature .
[email protected] | quote from this week's
TCWF- [email protected] | Toxic Custard.

 
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