Ask Landers

Question
Dear Landers,

Michael Jackson?

Nearly'

Response
Dear Nearly Hugh,

Sometimes, when you look upside a walnut, nothing happens. But try the same experiment again with Michael Jackson's "Bad" playing in the background. Join in, murmuring "whoooooooo's baaaaaaaad" under your breath. Notice that the walnut starts to twirk slightly. Don't worry, this is normal. With practice, up to sixty are possible! And on both sides! Apply an oil-based exfoliant where necessary, smear it under the eyes and dab it gently on the flange of the nut. Keep at it, and let me know how it goes.



Question
Landers,

Yesterday, an older gentleman cut me off on the road, endangering my young wife and i. An all consuming rage overcame me, and i had an overwhelming need to empty his body of all his bones. A momentary spasm of a need for righteous vindication, or an underlying need for my mothers nipple?

Dave, from Vermont

Response
Ah, the older gentleman. Fear not, sweaty dave, for the older gents make a very tempting target, what, with their furtive posturing, their unsightly shamble and their suffuse dimwittedness, why, they are a vermin species in their own right. Luckily, they also make very easy prey, so feel free to be inventive. Normal fogeys have one major hard point: the stick. This can be circumvented by attacking from behind. Unfortunately however this move will make it more difficult to attack the fogey's primary weak point: the knees. If I were you I would choose a heavy bludgeoning weapon and approach from the front at speed. Although the gent will likely detect your presence, you can expect a good four-second window before the fecker can summon the sharp end of his stick. Use this time wisely, GO GO GO, GO FOR THE KNEES!! Craccckkk!! Craccckkk!! For added style, as the eldervermin slumps painfully onto his broken patellas, lean in close and growl "shhh. Y'know, dying Reeaally Hurrtts." Sshplack!



Question
Dear Landers,

Lies make baby Jesus cry, but Jesus is about 2040 years old at this stage. Does that mean it's okay to lie now, or is he still a nancy?

Nearly'

Response
Dear Nearly',

Indeed, lies make baby Jesus cry, but did you know about the other Secret Remote Controls for Jesus? For example, did you know that coughing makes him turn left? Blaspheming makes him walk forward slowly. Putting milk in the fridge toggles his right hand, open / closed. Putting on pants over underpants makes him say "Take this, all of you, and eat it" while putting on pants with no underpants makes him say "Phhppleh". That is all.



Question
Dear Landers,

Why does it burn when I pee?

Nearly'

Response
Dear Nearly',

Looks like you've got a dose of the clap, old boy! Not to worry, all you need is some broad-spectrum antibiotic. Either (a) go to a doctor and say "oi, my villy, she break!" or (b) pretend to have sinusitus [complain of pressure behind the eyes, bunged-up feeling, some discharge, pain in your teeth but only on one side, wince when the doc touches your eye-socket area on either side]. Presto! You now have a prescription of amoxycillen, which will hunt down and murder all those renegade organelles scrumping about in your cock. Ate it up into your belly, and wait. If it still hurts after 2-3 days, then lo! I'm afraid God must've been handing out stingy willys the day you got yours. If so, nothin to do but grit your teeth, and try to lay off the sugar puffs. Sugar puffs always, always do crazy things to your pee.

Ah, those polynesian bints, they got no manners, do they? Hah!

Landers.



Question
Dear Landers,

You know that feeling after a cigarette when it feels like a thousand knives are stabbing you in the heart? Does that mean I should quit?

Response
Ah the old "thousand knives" feeling. I have had it many a time and lived, so it is not necessarily indicative of imminent death. However, yes, you should quit smoking if possible. You've got a pretty good chance of succeeding as you haven't been at it half as long as most of us other old crooks in Cork. I recommend you try a combination of the new nicotine gel (which you smear into the palms and absorb nicotine that way) and a plastic proxy cigarette (since you are a nervous kind of guy and tend to think with your fingers - these are available in most chemists). As a bonus, if you can't quit you can always use the gel to claim the dubious honour of being the first living human to have a Nicotine Wank, the results of which I simply cannot predict. You could use the redundant fake-fag to trick McCarthy every time he tries to bum a cigarette, or asks for a loan of a pen. Also, hook silver tinsel onto your belt to get That Ass Noticed by passing magpies.



Question
Dear Landers,

You know the way the black bits in bananas are actually spiders eggs! Well silly me spent all my communion money on bananas back in the days when we thought they were becoming extinct, and last week after 6 bud-shandies i got the all-too-familiar urge for bananas, so i tucked into the black(blacker than the grimreaper's ring) fruit. anyway my question is....the next time i go for a poo, will i give massively painful birth to a spider-butt-baby who cackles the theme tune to "only fools and horses"?

Confused in Cork.

Response
Ray:

Ah, the old Hollywood, you've made a Rookie Error and you know it. Unfortunately your predictions are, in the main, correct. However, when there is no cure there is always damage control. If you place a tarantula in your mouth, the sod will remain calm and not bite your tongue so long as his two front pseudopods remain sticking out. The same principle applies with your impending ass-baby. In about a week's time you will begin to get that unmistakable itch as the larvae begin to hatch, deep within your arse. The larvae will clump together forming a SpiderBaby blastocyst now containing the fury of many spiders. You can expect birth about two days later. My advice is to take a slow, controlled poop so that you get that mother's pseudopods just sticking out. Then stop. The result? Well, you'll have some freaky ass-furniture and a muffled theme-tune for the rest of your life, but you will have spared the whole of Washington St. West from certain destruction.



Question
Dear Landers,

I have noticed to my distress since starting my job, that 'weirdos' and people of an unsavoury character (ahem, scumbags) are inexplicably drawn to me, like a magnet if you will. I have tried all the usual tricks up my bobbly sleeve such as : guard impacting, the old avoid eye contact and the clearing of the throat when they get all up in my stuff tactic. What would you suggest to avoid similar scenarios in the future?

Bewildered and amused,
Cork.

Response
Dawn:

Ah yuffage, you are indeed a bit of a scumbag magnet. I think the mistake you are making is your reliance on conventional tactics (these will only work on quiet old men in libraries). You need to up the ante: you need to out-weird the weirdos; out-scum the scumbags. It's the only way to teach those suckers. Some examples:

Offense: A scumbag looks you in the eye.
Response: Jump over to the scumbag (use repeated hops if necessary). Get up to about 2cm from his/her face and scream "HAVE YOU MET THE BEES!?" as shrilly as you can manage, then immediately begin gnawing frenziedly at their eye-sockets.

Offense: A drunk comes into the shop.
Response: Run over and take a dump on his shin.

Offense: A bunch of weirdos move in to the apartment upstairs.
Response: Garotte an orphan with some cheese-wire, right outside their door, at 5:30am.

Offense: A knacker asks you "spare a fag?"
Response: Publically garotte two orphans who only have each other in the world.



Question
landers,

help me. i just killed a man. at least i think he`s dead. oh wait he just moved. never mind.

but my next question is.....

who really killed jfk?

Response
Dave:

Listen muckaroo, if that guy moved then he probably ain't dead. Time to learn him a lesson. I suggest you use some chains to string the sod up by the ankles. Next, douse him liberally in petrol (just to freak him out). Then, beat him repeatedly in the neck with the flat back of an axe, like a big floppy pinata. Oh! and put on some tunes too, something really ironic or creepy. Maybe "More Than Words" by Extreme. Or, sing "head, and shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes...". That's always fun to sing while you vigorously dismember some random punter.

At intervals, psych the bastard out by spoon-feeding him milk of magnesia. Also, leave the room occasionally, saying "I'm sorry Leonard, but I must put on an egg for the cat" as you toddle off.

JFK meanwhile, why, that silly billy ate too many salad sandwiches and fell down.



Question
Landers, is arson ever excuseable? I know this bird who I'd love to torch.

Also, where should I go on my holidays?

Response
Dear Mathew,

Hmm, interesting question. I don't think setting some bint on fire would be classed as "arson" - I think that's more to do with setting fire to property. It would probably be classed as assault (if you only singe her a bit) or manslaughter (if she karks it but you somehow "only set her on fire a little bit / by accident") or full-blown murder (if there was evidence of forethought and knowledge of consequences).

Whether the behaviour is "excusable" is a complex issue. It would be difficult to make an ethical argument in favour of torching annoying people, because annoyance is so subjective. Legally, you're screwed unless your mental state is such that you could not have possibly given fit consideration of your actions at the time of the offense. Ironically, asking Landers in this case actually diminishes the possibility that an insanity defence could be used (as your question demonstrates forethought).

As for your holiday plans, Tokyo looks like a larf I think.



Question
*prostrates himself before the Landurzian Oracle*

Oh Oracle most Landurzian, I prithee help me in my most desperate hour of need. Grant me the boon of your advice that I may be gruntled once more.

Why am I about to do the things I'm going to do?

Nearly'

Response
Dear Nearly',

Ah, a simple one. You are about to do the things you are going to do in order to achieve the following:

(1) Survive
(2) Spawn many little gun-wielding psycho Nearlyhughs
(3) Cause as many explosions as possible along the way

Even the most pointless-seeming activities are actually subject to these innate supra-policies, but just in very roundabout ways. The third objective is a bit personal I suppose; if you were a typical Waterford early-thirties housewife, the objectives would be:

(1) Survive
(2) Spawn many little fat-faced whiny dimwitted fuckers with pudgy little groping fingers and lots of allergies
(3) Swill cheesecake
(4) Watch Oprah absently

Or if you were me, they'd be:

(1) Survive
(2) Spawn many little arrogant soi-disant philosophers
(3) Become King of Earth
(4) Help Nearlyhugh cause explosions

It is pretty easy, isn't it? Despite how complex and civilised we all may seem, our priorities are positively viral.



Question
Dear Landers,
Should Steve Staunton be shot? I can think of three good reasons why:
1)He's still dressed by his mom
2)He sounds like a muck savage
3)His mom dresses him
Would there be a funnier/crueler way to waste him?

Regards,
Homeless Eoin

Response
Dear Homeless Eoin,

Why yes, Steve Staunton should be neutralised, not because of his rubbish management skills, and not because he sounds like a bogger, but merely because he is a fuck-ugly drip and I want to.

Hmm, what should become of him... first, I would beat the living shit out of him with a five-iron, then strap him to a piss-soaked mattress and force-feed him 38 gallons of coleslaw over a two-day period. Then I would hook him up to a catheter feeding into an intravenous drip, so that whenever he pissed he would piss directly into his own bloodstream. Then I'd just leave him strain away, occasionally returning to force-feed him some more coleslaw or smack him up a bit with the five-iron - if he lived more than three days I would consider removing his legs at the hips using a blunt pickaxe.

The real question is: what tunes should be on in the background while all this is going on? Probably "Cast" at an uncomfortably loud level on crackly cash-converters speakers. Hyeah.



Question
Dear Landers,

Why do people think Eddie Murphy is funny?

Nearly'

Response
Dear Nearly',

It does seem like a bit of a mystery, doesn't it? From what I hear I think he garnered a lot of fans with supposedly excellent stand-up back in the day. I think it was called Eddie Murphy: Raw. I haven't had the stomach to sample it myself - back in those days it was the fashion for black comedians to basically take the piss out of themselves for being black, and get cheap laughs that way. Euch.

As regards his current stuff, he seems to be sticking to kids films (Shrek series, The Nutty Professor series, the Dr. Doolittle thing), the inference being that only kids could possibly find his "oh, I'm kerr-azy, me" humour less than tiresome. I think he probably enjoys limited appeal still among complete fucktards because he looks like a mean black man but has the personality of a particularly scattered aunt - this is enough to create "cognitive dissonance" in the mind of the fucktard, resulting in the experience of humour as they try to resolve these conflicting ideas.



Question
Dear Landers,

I've been inspired by Nearly's question to ask why, when picked up by cops with a pre op transsexual in the back seat of his car, did Eddie Murphy tell cops he was giving him a lift home?

Yours,
Homeless Eoin

Response
Dear Homeless Eoin,

Would you like a sammidge? Or some cold apple?

Anyway, in response to your question, I think we ought to give that Murphy fucktard some credit. I mean, when you think about it, without telling the truth (that he was going to drive with the tranny to a disused gas station, then jump in the back, hook out the tranny's tonsils using his cock, then, as they dangled from his lips, poo on them, then whack off between them, cream all over them and finally re-insert them using his tongue), the "lift home" gambit is probably the most plausible alternative explanation. I mean it was either that or he was giving him a lift someplace else really wasn't it? And, given the presumed lateness of hour... it's probably the best non-true excuse.

Seems like you've been homeless for a while now Demp. With the evenings getting colder, it may be time to resort to the legendary cocktail me and Nearly' came up with: HoboJuice 21 (2 parts meths, 1 part water). Sort you right out!



Question
Dear Landers,

Why is life so hard? Why can I not find anywhere to live?

Regards,
Homeless Eoin

Response
Dempfly:

When you think about it Demp there are only two reasons why we do anything in life: because we have to, or because we want to. The only things you literally have to do are eat, drink, defecate, micturate, sleep and wake. I'm assuming you don't have a problem with these, since you are alive. Everything else you do, you do entirely voluntarily. So, if you are finding life too hard, maybe it's time to make some different choices. Free your mind: it's all up to you, even the criteria for success.

As for the flathunting, I was in the same boat around this time last year. It's difficult to get set up around halloween but it gets very easy to find a place just after Christmas. You might be as well off moving into a crappy gaff until then. I recommend you use letting agencies in the main: the gaffs in the echo are usually bum, and the leaseholders tend to leave you hanging.

As Kierkegaard once wrote, "hang yourself or do not hang yourself: you will regret both."



Question
Dear Landers,

How come cats have the cool ears that they can rotate with a flick or blink of an eye, plus you can turn em sorta inside out wif the furry bit looking mighty strange and i only have rewbush human ears?

Dismayed,
Yuffball.

Response
Yuffball:

Cats need to be able to twirk their ears about so's they can keep track of what's going on behind them without actually turning around, and to help them pinpoint the source of minute noises in three-dimensional space. This is handy for when they are hunting. Us hoomans don't need the same amount of twirkability because:

(1) We have very swivelly necks
(2) We don't need to hunt, we only need to remember where Centra is and where our wallets are
(3) We have big spongey hooman brains what can design sonar and motion detectors and shit

As a result, we have big roundy heads and fairly rewbish ears. We are pretty good at detecting where sounds are coming from though, but only on the horizontal plane.
I can actually twirk my ears quite a bit, but I can report that it does nothing except bob my sunglasses slightly. You can learn to twirk your ears too: try really hard to flex your scalp, and you stumble across the ear-moving muscles accidentally. Flex, enjoy.



Question
Dear Landers,

If Jeebus had been born in 1970s America, would he have sported a mullet?

Nearly'

Response
Dear Nearly',

Why yes indeed! He would have sported the mother of all mullets. I have posted an artist's impression of said holy coiffage on your whiteboard. All non-nearly viewers, click the "Nearly Hugh" link under my friends to check it out, yo.

According to the lost testament of Gobbo, he used to get it extra crispy by having a tanned widow rub in a mixture of crushed porcelain and ASTI spumante. He would then sculpt it into shape using unleavened bread (of course) soaked in goat's amnion. Occasionally when feeling frisky he would annoy James the Less by spiking him in the shoulder blade with his quiff. James the Less would usually retaliate by secretly farting on Jesus' fish.



Question
Dear Landers,

Recently I splashed out on a very large tattoo of Mr.T. Said tattoo stretched from forehead to adam's apple. Obviously I was delighted, and wasted no time in showing it off to friends and foes alike.

It was greeted with suspicion at first, but before long, strangers in the street were bellowing "I pity the fool" in my direction. My heart swelled with pride.

Disaster didn't take long to strike though. On my way to college this morning I was given a soaking by a little Spanish fecker cycling through a puddle. When my rage finally subsided, i caught a glimpse of my face in a passing van....the bloody tattoo was streaming down me face!! Shoddy tatoo "artist" had fleeced me.

As a result i feel very naked around the faceular region. Have you any suggetions that might ease my pain?

Formerly Mr.T Face

Response
Hollywood Kirby:

Ah, it's always a sore time when your Mr. T. face dissolves. I advise you get straight back into the full-face tattoo saddle. I can suggest a number of designs that will grant you Fear and Respect on your morning soujourns to the college:

(1) A leather-clad pouty blonde with a whip on your left cheek, a screaming red-head on a bike with her boobs on fire on your right (that second idea is Michael's by the way)
(2) One that says "I'm with this midget" with an arrow pointing downwards to the right (just to annoy Dawn)
(3) Red and orange flames streaking from either corner of your mouth
(4) "It's ESpresso, dipshit" printed in bold lettering on your forehead
(5) Have pubes etched between your eyebrows and a jap's eye done on the tip of your nose so the centre of your face resembles a squat tapering cock

In any case, you'll know that the tattoo is the real deal if it feels like someone's injected wasps under the skin of your face. Nostrovia!



Question
Dear Landers,

I find that having two hands to grasp and manipulate objects is simply not enough. Therefore i came to the conclusion that i needed a prehensile tail not as a luxury item, but as a necessity! How would i go about attaching said tail and are there any balms that would ease the healing?

Teetering on confusion,
Yuffy McYufferson.

Response
McYufferson:

That's weird dude, back when I was very insane I also had the feeling that I needed a third hand. In any case, this seems to be a trend for you (wanting to have animal appendages).

You might have to be patient with this one, cos it will take the Nearly' a good three or four months more to know enough nanoscience to be able to fashion the tiny little robots that will allow your tail to communicate with your spine. As for the tail itself, a Dr. Octopus style tentacle would probably be the most practical, but I think a roundy puma tail would look best.
The Nearly' probably won't want to do all the business with the syringes and the tripoli and the darning scissors though, since the work will have to be done on your caudal vertebra (i.e. the top of your arse). Probably he will dictate instructions to the Hollywood - the guy does have fairly brisk white-russianising fingers.

As for balms, a mix of Big Beastie and dog de-wormer "Drontal" ought to work well.



Question
Dear Landers,

I commonly fantasise about homicidal rampages and becoming a dictator.

Recently I was stunned, Sir, stunned to discover that not everyone shares these aspirations!

Should I lay off the Doomsday Device building?

Yours egomaniacally,
Nearly'

Response
Okay, first the Nearly':

Oight chum. I for one also have plans to take over the world. I aim to become King of Earth before I am thirty-three. That leaves you sort of out in the cold but if you insist I could make you Duke of Earth or someshit.

We might be able to come to some sort of power-sharing agreement. I suppose I wouldn't mind taking all the eastern countries and leaving you the west: those Russian chicks are hot, and Japanese people are pleasantly daft.

I was planning on using mind control and an army of flesh-eating beagles to mount my coup, but if we join forces we could use nanobots and explosives too. I read someplace that Nikola Tesla could blow the planet in two using just a thousand pounds of dynamite, strategically placed to elicit harmonic resonance. The guy wasn't kidding either, he did cause a number of earthquakes.

So, if you want to go ahead and track down Tesla's plans and rig up some dynamite, I'll begin training the beagles. Come, my pretties.



Question
Dear Landers,

I need to tinkle, but the toilet is so far away. What do I do?

Homeless Engo.

Response
The Demp:

Good evening. Good question, and one with many possible solutions. Why not try some of the following techniques to maximise your telepissing ability:

(1) Arch your back to achieve greater clearance
(2) Aim your schlang at forty-five degrees for optimum wee trajectory
(3) Make a ring with your thumb and index finger. Place this around the tip of your aul'fella and squeeze tight: smaller hole = high velocity juice
(4) Apply firm pressure to your perineum with your free hand. This will have a similar effect to the ring technique, but with less chance of generating sideways spraying
(5) Wait until you really really have to go, to maximise bladder pressure
(6) Pee in short, sharp bursts as opposed to streaming. Flexing your pubococcygeus and levator ani muscles in a staccato fashion allows pressure to build between sprays. Incidentally the practice will also increase your sexual stamina
(7) Build a pee-tunnel to the john using Rotastak hamster equipment

Mm.



Question
Dear Landers,

When are we not who we are?

Nearly'

Response
The Nearly',

Obviously Lyonsy we are never who we are not. What's the problem dude, the answer is right there in the question.

For your insolence, I shall not let you in on the ideas I have for a new PS2 game called Lou Reed's Extreme Phlegm Warrior II: Catarrh in the Islets of Langerhans.

I was going to let you do some of the programming, but now you've forsaken that, you've FORSAKEN it and I'm going to be minted. You poop... mouth... poop comin' out your mouth.

Landers.



Question
Dear Landers,
Why do old people smell so bad?

Eoin "All I want for Christmas is a new gaff" Dempsey

Response
The Demp:

Christ you're right, old people smell like a dead goat farting in the mist. I hate getting close to them and their manky jowls. When I become King of Earth I will introduce a shoot-on-sight policy for anyone over 67. And knackers.

But why do they smell so bad? Fuckin' laziness. They make all kinds of excuses like they have problems getting into and out of the bath; those ol' fuckers'll spin you any kind of a story. Aside from being generally unclean, some of them smell like off sausages because they're half-dead already and have begun rotting on the inside. It's only their thin skithery fish-skin that keeps them from collapsing into a puddle of decomposing carrion. Of course, you can always help the fogeys along in their decomposition process using the method described in response to Vermont Dave's first question. Just ensure there is adequate ventilation in the area, or steel yourself with a nice feeming pint of Hoffman's first.

Landers.



Question
Dear Landers,

What do you use to fill grain?

Nearly'

Response
The Nearly':

Filling grain is a complex process. You must first locate a newborn baby deer. Kneel down beside the critter and hold a football sock open underneath his jowl. Then, lightly knead the back of his head between the ears until he gently belches some amnion into the sock. You may well find that crooning Andrew Bird's "Beware" during the procedure will calm down the deerlet, producing a smoother flow.

Next, abduct a garden gnome from an unsuspecting neighbour. It is important to resist the urge to explode the gnome. He needs to be intact. You will also need about a Harp can full of tripoli.

Dip the head of the gnome into your football sock and use the point of his hat to crease a layer of amnion into the grain. Then apply a layer of tripoli diagonally across the grain using his shins.

You will need to repeat the process several times: about five layers are desired. Afterwards, sleep with the sock under your pillow to normalise your semen production.



Question
Dear Landers,

Further to Dempsey's question about old people and their B.O., i too have a similar query....why do fat people smell like old socks and manure? I don't get it! 'specially at concerts when other people just smell of normal sweat n yer landed with a fatty in front and they smell like bad feet and horse poo. eww.

Distressed Midget.

Response
Distressed Midget:

It's quite simple to account for the extreme smellidity present in the beardy fatarse. For one, the fatarse has more skin, meaning more sweat glands. However, as you have pointed out, the sweaty fatfuck often smells of more and worse than just sweat. This is because the perspiration collects and nestles inside their many blubber-flaps, wherein the oxygen cannot circulate. Anaerobic bacteria begin to reproduce geometrically inside these skin-caves (commonly underneath the kidney area, in the armpit and under the third chin). Their wastes clump together producing a noxious lumpy yellow cream called smegma. This smells like satan itself.

Without a kindly hospital hippie like Vermont Dave around to schlerp out the smegma with his magic sponge and winning smile, the beardy fatarse shambles about spreading his deathly aroma, garnering cries of "Aaargh! Catfuck!" and "Eeeugh, GoatHump!" from the unsuspecting populace.

It's a sad, sad world. I give up.



Question
On Behalf on Nicholas Ass Mc Mahon....

If you suck your own dick are you gay ???

Response
The Kearney:

No, sucking your own cock does not make you gay. If you think about it, when you masturbate manually you are essentially giving a bloke a handjob, only the bloke happens to be yourself. Same with sucking your own cock: just like wanking, but using a different part of your anatomy to provide the stimulation. I don't think anyone would argue that masturbation means you are gay.

If you CAN suck your own cock, you are very lucky. Most of us regular folk have to resort to the old "spit in the palm" technique. It is rumoured that removing your bottom set of ribs permits easier self-fellation. However, this is expensive and probably not covered by VHI.

Now a chick that could self-cunnilinguise would be something to see...

Anyways, if you are worried about being gay, more obvious indicators include:
- Flouncy Stereophonics hair
- Purple velvet jackets
- Working in junior management
- Especially in Wilton

Landers.



Question
landers,

why do people pay a lot of money to go to the gigs of people they admire and like, only to throw beer onstage at them and get the fuck kicked out of them by the other fans?

Response
David:

It's all down to the law of averages. Opinions vary, but I would attest that roughly one person in nine is a gibbonic fucktard, and one person in seven is a cheesefisting pooface. In a crowd of concert-goers, hell, there could well be 14 gibbonic fucktards and 11 cheesefisting poofaces in the front row alone! Up to three people in the first five rows may be suffering from Madrid Arse! Not to mention the countless dozens suffering from Millenium Hand, and Shrimp.

It's to be expected, then, that a quota of nonsensical behaviour will be evident wherever people group in large enough numbers. There are very few bands that suck so badly that forcibly discarding precious beer is the only solution. These are:

- Aslan
- Picture House
- Cast
- Simply Red

... although in the case of Simply Red, a mug of battery acid mixed with sugar would be more appropriate. FffffffffffFFFFUUUCCCKKKKers.



Question
Dear Landers,

When you open a packet of ham slices, why is the prominent odour that of farts? I mean, do they deliberately fart on the ham and theeeeeen seal it really really fast or is it just a conincidence that we ham eaters have to endure?

Doggedly wary,

Yufflint.

Response
Yufflint:

Deep within the bowels of every packaged meat factory, nestled on the production line just ahead of final sealing, is a small but dedicated band of workers known as the hamfarters. These are comprised of fat-necked boorish males recruited from the many anaemic boroughs of this land - Fermanagh, Swanlinbar, Wexford - many are called Brendan, some are called P‡idge, and all of them are GAA fanatics. These godawful fuckwits are fed on a diet of Harp and Knorr Quicksoup (the type with dehydrated peas) and haunch like methane machines over the conveyer belt, blarting their meaty goodness over the product and trying absently not to follow through.

When sealed, their thick man-gasses cause the yellowing commonly seen on the outer edge of the ham slices.

While the hamfarters serve no real purpose, their unionisation in 1988 set in motion a protracted industrial dispute that remains unresolved. Some dissidents have found related work in the Crofters factory.



Question
Dear Landers,

How much lucomozade is too much lucomozade??

Not homeless anymore Eoin.

Response
Non-homeless Eoin:

As a rule of thumb, stop when there is persistent feeming in your gizzard. Long-term, stop when your penis has become an internal appendage more often than not.

Landers.



Question
O Mighty Landurzian Seer, Improbable Prophet, Holder of the Sacred Cold Apple, hear me.

Why is it that most intelligent people are so boring to talk to? I always thought that the more mentally adept would be able to think of interesting things to talk about, but mostly their conversation is pants.

Maybe it's just me, associating intelligence with an appreciation for the absurd...

Also, may I touch your Cold Apple?

Yours Incorrigibly,
Nearly'

Response