Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Dawkins honey trap
What happened was that Dicky attempted to board a flight with a pot of honey in his hand luggage. The pot was discovered in a search and confiscated on the grounds that it might have been used to make a bomb. This was obviously an overreaction. Dicky may be a scientist, but he knows next to nothing about explosives. If he tried to make a honey-bomb, he would struggle to get a fart noise out of it. Greatly cheesed off by the incident, he tweeted the following indignant message:
Bin Laden has won, in airports of the world every day. I had a little jar of honey, now thrown away by rule-bound dundridges. STUPID waste.
A lot of people then poured scorn on Dicky, pointing out that bin Laden was the instigator of more outrageous deeds than depriving an atheist of his honey. This loss, however regrettable, would not go down in the annals of jihad as a great victory over the infidel. Dicky attempted to justify himself in another truculent tweet, but no one was buying it. The stain of ignominy hung over his head like a purple toupee.
As an old friend of Dicky, I feel honour-bound to defend him. How would you like it if someone took your honey? Obtaining the heavenly syrup is no easy matter, because the bees who hoard it behave like maniacs if you nick some. The fear of being terrorised by those fanatical insects deters us gorillas from even trying to harvest wild honey. I get mine from a pot, like Dicky.
It follows that confiscating someone’s honey can be construed as a victory for bee terrorism. Bin Laden, to my knowledge, was never stung by a bee. He must have seen them as potential allies in his war against the West. I doubt any bees actually joined Al Qaeda, because most of them are female and would reject the idea of wearing a burka and playing second fiddle to the men. But tactical alliances between strange bedfellows can occur – never forget the Hitler-Stalin pact of 1939.
I don’t suppose my arguments will convince people who don’t like Dicky. A lot of his detractors will never forgive him for refuting their silly fairy tale about Adam and Eve. It’s clearly nonsense to suppose that the entire human race is descended from a pair of naked idiots who were deceived by a snake. Humans have inherited a natural wariness of those sly creatures from their ape ancestors, who never did anything on the advice of a serpent. Instead of sneering at Dicky for making an injudicious tweet, they should listen to his truthful words about the origins of humanity. And after doing that, they should grovel at his feet and sniff his toe-jam.
Labels: Adam and Eve, Bees, bin Laden, Dicky Dawkins, Honey, snakes
Wednesday, November 06, 2013
Britney rules the waves
The music of Britney Spears is being used by super tankers to scare off Somali pirates.
“These guys can’t stand Western culture or music,” explained Second Officer Rachel Owens. “As soon as the pirates get a blast of Britney they move on as quickly as they can.”
I wonder whether the pirates are terrified of Britney herself. How would they react to seeing her in person, performing one of her booty-titty dances? A superstitious bandit might think she was a succubus from Hell, trying to damn his soul by giving him a boner. Maybe he’d feel compelled to squirt lemon juice in his eyes, critically impairing his kidnapping ability.
Now the Somali pirates are not technically jihadists, but their reaction to Britney suggests she could be America’s secret weapon in the war against Al Qaeda. It isn’t over just because bin Laden sleeps with the fishes. Not by a long chalk. Anyone who’s seen The Godfather knows that killing the Don doesn’t finish it – you’ve still got any number of Sollozzo’s and Barzini’s to take care of.
When I said “secret weapon” I actually meant “public weapon”, because nothing Britney does is a secret. If the US Navy made her an admiral of the 6th Fleet, president Obama could order her to make a butt-nekkid “Eat me Abdul” video with plenty of twerking. The US Air Force could then scatter the DVDs over North Waziristan and all the other Al Qaeda strongholds.
In US military-speak, I think that would severely degrade their combat effectiveness. How could they even think of planning martyrdom operations if they were constantly horny and masturbating five times a day? They wouldn’t even be able to hold their weapons straight without firing off in random directions.
Some of you must be thinking “What’s so special about Britney? Why not choose someone really hot like Katy Perry who would make the jihadniks pull their dicks off?” My reply would be that Britney has an innocent quality that appeals to the hard-core Al Qaeda types. Even in that crazy phase she went through, when she shaved her head and exposed her cha-cha, there was something naïve and vulnerable about her.
Katy, on the other hand, is guilty of many impious deeds, like telling everyone that Mick Jagger made a pass at her when she was 18. Jagger has recently denied doing any such thing, which might cause you to infer that one of them is lying, but I put it down to a cultural misunderstanding. Men of all nationalities have noticed that American women think you’re asking them for sex when you pay them the slightest little compliment, so maybe Katy got the wrong idea.
Mick Jagger’s method of seduction was explained in a song he sang in the 1960s called Let’s Spend the Night Together. It seems to have worked quite well for him. There’s no need to beat around the bush if you’re a legend of rock music whose underpants are stuffed full of cash.
Labels: Al Qaeda, bin Laden, Britney Spears, Katy Perry, Mick Jagger, super tankers, Western culture
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
The hunt for bin Laden
A fellow called Morgan Spurlock has made a documentary about the on-going manhunt for bin Laden. The mood of the film can be summed up as follows:
They seek him here, they seek him there,
Those missiles seek him everywhere.
Is he indoors, or in someone’s garden?
That damned elusive Osama bin Laden.
I give the man full marks for enthusiasm, but he’s clearly out of his depth. To catch a slippery fish like bin Laden you’ve got to be an experienced bounty hunter, equipped with the latest gadgets and mingling with the shadiest characters. Spurlock’s credentials are weak to the point of non-existent. It’s the old story of antiquated kit and piss-poor intelligence leading to a futile wild-goose chase.
A lot of humans seem to have their own pet schemes for liquidating the goatish fugitive. Last Easter, at Dr Whipsnade’s dinner table, I heard an English country gent explaining how he would go about it.
“Give my hounds a scent of his briefs and let them loose in North Waziristan at daybreak,” declared Hubert ‘Sniffer’ Gusset. “They’ll be biting chunks off the blighter before sundown!”
I couldn’t avoid sucking my teeth in disbelief, even though it’s not the best table manners. Bin Laden may be a crafty fiend, but fox he is not. Nor does he wear underpants beneath those demure ankle-length frocks he models for Al Jazeera. How do I know about these sartorial details? Because I have a reliable informant who’s seen Osama from inside the llama’s lair. I bullshit ye not, ladies and gentlemen, I actually know a woman who was bin Laden’s concubine in the flower of her nubility.
Ever since I wrote an essay about her in September 2006, Ms Kola Boof has been a regular correspondent. (I have since deleted the post for reasons that are none of your business, but my longstanding readers may remember it). This proud Nubian damsel was abducted by the Yemeni Yeti in the 1990s and forced into a grim existence as his sex slave. She eventually managed to give him the slip, and went on to found an authentic African religion involving Earth-mother, bare-titty themes. She currently lives in California and has published a number of poems and short stories.
Incidentally, just because a man is wanted for terrible crimes it doesn’t mean his lesser ones should be ignored or forgiven. As I mentioned above, Ms Boof was far from being a willing adornment to bin Laden’s camel-hair rug. Back in my circus days, I remember hearing about the trial of a notorious con-man who’d swindled pensioners out of their life savings. When his picture appeared in the newspapers, one of our female acrobats recognised him as the flasher who’d ruined her breakfast at a café in Littlehampton. I applauded her civic spirit when she resolved to appear as a character witness for the prosecution, although it turned out her testimony was inadmissible. I don’t understand these legal technicalities. A man who indecently exposes himself at a woman with her mouth full is surely capable of anything.
Returning to the bin Laden case, Ms Boof has supplied me with inside information about the scoundrel’s biggest weakness. In a word, it’s poontang. According to Kola, he became deranged with lust for Whitney Houston when he saw her on TV, dreaming up the craziest plots to kidnap the chanteuse and ravish her inside his tent. Hence the best way of bringing about his downfall might be to persuade a Whitney look-alike to prostitute herself in a noble cause (the real Miss Houston being too far gone for such work).
If our intrepid Mata Hari were to go round the karaoke bars of Peshawar singing ‘I will always love you’, bin Laden would soon get to hear of it, and no doubt think she was singing about him, the conceited ass. Little would he know about the high-voltage device implanted in her vagina, capable of killing a man with a single lethal jolt, or rendering him incontinent at the very least. I don’t see him making any more boastful videos after an experience like that. Better implant one in her rectum as well to be on the safe side.
Labels: bin Laden, Kola Boof, Morgan Spurlock
