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Articles: HUMOR/SATIRE
'Revolution' is Vicious and Deeply Unpleasant: Deal with it.

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Note (for Cult Members and Other Morons): I am clearly making the point - in a satirical manner - that any kind of revolution has ALWAYS been ordinary people subjecting themselves to the ultimate horrors and any freedom which any group or social class has ever attained was from the bottom up, and they had to wade through rivers of their own blood to get it. 
 
We have no friends in positions of power and influence and we never will. Talking about a 'spiritual' or consciousness' revolution is lying to, and really insulting people. Especially our ancestors who were willing to die all over the world - which countless millions did - for an ounce of dignity. 
 
If poor or oppressed people want freedom, they have to be prepared to accept that they themselves may not live to experience it. It won't be done on the Internet, or the BBC, nor with a Selfie of some 'revolutionary' next to a Hollywood multimillionaire. I can assure you of that much.

Feck Em' if They Can't Take a Joke

"I've become addicted to drinking Brake Fluid. Don't judge me! I can stop any time I want to."


A note to any flying saucer cult spies ^^^

This is called a joke. I am not actually addicted to brake fluid. That's how jokes work. You place yourself in the context of an absurd story in order to expresss the absuridty of the situation. These events have not actually happened. They are called jokes.

 

 

I bring comedy onto my work to off set the dark forces which are behind most of the misery we are subjected too. I am not interested in being in anguish all the time or doing fear porn. I want to inform people, but also make them laugh.

 

Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I do not trust people who do not like smutty or politically incorrect jokes and neither should anyone else.  These people who are so easily 'offended' ARE DEAD TO THEIR OWN HUMANITY. MORE>>>


I Like Jokes. Even Smutty Ones.

I tried to write my channelling off as a tax scam down at revenue yesterday but Ascended Masturbater is not a valid occupation apparently. 

Fucking Nazis.

 

Being that I am normal, lots of fun, well liked and I am neither a cult member, nor a grown man who hides behind avatars of underage boys on a bed with a teddy bear.


All you professional 'delicate flowers' take note...

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(source: unknown)


Lack of a Satire Gland Epidemic

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It is not just Comet Death Cult crazed fanatics getting their orders from an Ouija Board who lack an ability to understand satire and farce.

 

This is the video this guy took seriously MORE >>>


My Ancestors in the Great War - A Tribute

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Here are my ancestors during the Great War. When the men and women of Ireland took up arms against the might of the British Empire, my ancestors were among the first to answer the call when it came to looting shops in central Dublin.

 

In memory of my great uncle Dikey: who - during intense British artillery bombardment and sniper fire - crawled on his bare hands and knees along Capel Street risking his life to suck the beer coming out of a barrel with a bullet hole in it, while wearing a fur coat with a tin of stolen baked beans in each pocket. He didn't even like baked beans. Now that is the kind of man he was.

 

I am getting all emotional now.


Random Questions with No Answers...

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This was the typical haircut of an astronaut's wife when people still cared about space travel. This magnificent design was more than just a hairstyle, it was a key to the mysteries of the universe. The more hairspray used, the more important the astronaut. Neil Armstrong's missus had to take the kids to school via a long complex system of minor roads in order to avoid certain low-level rail bridges in the centre of town.
 
This was when an astronaut's wife hair was more of a fire risk than the liquid fuel tanks of a Saturn V rocket. These women were giants in every sense as there is about as much water in 1960's Aqua Net as there was on the moon. These women wore a small chemical facility on their heads and they all smoked and drank double brandies at the same time.
 
Just think, they made the kids waffles even when the husband was halfway to the moon - and they did it without even complaining. These days people have a nervous breakdowns if someone doesn't "like" a picture of a baby polar bear they posted to their Facebook wall.


I tell you one thing. If a UFO lands on the White House lawn I am not going to believe it's the real deal unless it has a Red Bull logo on the side!

 

I wonder do they sell "Cruelty-Free" cosmetics for the ethical Dominatrix?

 
I had a past life regression session! OMG it was amazing. I discovered I used to be a pipe fitter named Barry Piles who lived in Birkenhead. He started working for the council there at 19 and retired at 65 and died a year later. Even more amazing he had no hobbies, never married and the only time he left Birkenhead was a trip to Southport to buy a part for a broken toaster.
 
Beat that all you previous Cleopatras and Mozarts!

 

If people could really channel messages from aliens in the future they would not need a donations button on their website. They would just ask the aliens for next week's winning lotto numbers.

 

I embarked on a piece of Italian neo-realist 1960's cinema today in Lldl. There are usually eight checkouts at every Lldl store yet only two are ever used. So this became the central theme of the film. I got out my director's beret and used the empty checkouts to symbolise the dichotomy in post-war Italy between the growth of socialism, juxtaposed by the influence of American pop culture.
 
In one of the checkouts a naked couple are having sex on the moving conveyor belt, while a well-dressed elderly lady with a large hat and a small dog growl into their reflections in the chrome edge of the checkout. At this point, a man wearing factory overalls presents a living chicken with feathers to a checkout person who has hands with the wound of Christ. A brass band bursts into the store and plays the march from El Figaro with a final close-up of the small dog taking a whiz on a crate of Pepsi.
 
The title of the film is Non ci sono sigarette dal Diavolo (No Cigarettes in Hell). Lots of long-panned shots in 38mm black and white with a polarizing filter over the lens.
 
Then I dropped my bag of Walnuts and some bastard behind me told me to "hurry up and pay for that shite." To which I replied, and with all the dignity I could muster. "This is a Lldl checkout, you will be here till you feckin die and become mummified."

 

They should hook up dynamos to the feet of Dervish Dancers and use them to generate electricity.

 

I refused to register my septic tank with the government because they are not getting their hands on my shit.

 

What we need is a global campaign to save Nothing.
 
The BBC should have a Nothingness Day with Lenny Henry on the side of a hill in Africa with a pretend "concerned" look on his face saying:
 
"the children in this village have to make do on the same level of Nothing for a whole year, that children in Britain pour on their Nothing Flakes in the morning..."
 
Then the day finishes with Nothing Rock on the grounds of Windsor Castle with Coldplay headlining - followed by Prince William telling us all to use less Nothing as the Earth's supply of Nothing is running out while he forgets to mention that he owns 1/5 of the world's Nothing.

 

Equine DNA now in Birdseye products now. Awwwwwww Seahorses.
 

I went to the library and asked the woman for a book on suicide. She replied. "piss off, you won't bring it back."

 
We Survived the Killer Asteroid Tonight, So Now we Return to our Regularly Scheduled Hemorrhoid.
 
Adults who are stupid enough to do as their religious leader or guru tells them based on visions, channeling, revelations and prayer should not be allowed to own sharp scissors or matches.
 
God gives us many gifts. Justin Bieber isn't one of them.
 
How Many Psychopaths Does it Take to Change a Light bulb?  None: They Prefer Gaslighting.
 
People need to understand I am the way I am because I grew up on a street that was so deadly 50 people died ever year. I lived next door to an old folks home.
 
Some patronising know-it-all told me today that the cookoo is a bird that does not build its own nest. I replied. "I know, it lives in a clock."
 
Someone recently made the statement. 'Only God Can Judge Me'. This person has obviously never had a cat.
 
The Facebook status is asking me how am I feeling. They should have an Irish version asking: "How many fingers am I holding up?"
 
'Cognitive Dissonance' is a fancy way of someone admitting they are a bullshitter.
 
 
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The Batterburger - Justification for Immigration/Multiculturalism?

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This thing is called a batterburger. It's best described as an indecent version of the American 'chicken fried steak'. I have to admit, I actually like them. Even though they are essentially little more than a catastrophic amalgamation of "beef", lard and flour. There is almost an alchemical aspect to their creation.

 

Especially after a few pints, they can actually be delicious. In fact, I don't think any Dubliner has ever eaten a batterburger while sober - as one probably needs at least four pints of beer in your stomach to act as an inhibitor so its doesn't kill you right away. 
 
Now having said this, batterburgers along with fish and chips were pretty much the only takeaway, fast food available in Dublin when I was growing up. Today, there are endless numbers of ethnic restaurants/takeaways offering a bewildering array of glorious foods. However, the batterburger has held its own, and can still be found alongside the shwarma and the burrito. 
 
A perfect metaphor for why immigrants mostly ADD to their new homelands and not just replace what was already there. Racists and xenophobes take note.

 


The Life and Times of Unki

WARNING: IF YOU DO NOT LIKE BLUE COMEDY, THEN DO NOT READ THIS PAGE. EASY.

The Life and Times of Unki 

 
Recently someone found a long running series of Usenet comedy character routines I invented back in the late 1990's mainly concerning a fictional ladies man named Unki Arthur. I had more or less forgotten about this part of my artistic history and I had actually forgotten how funny many of these posts were.

 

They ranged from Unki claiming he had more right to be President of Ireland as he could masturbate to the Sea Area Forecast and hold out until 'Shetland' while the other Presidential candidates would be finished by 'Malin Head'. Along with this, was a project to build a canal between Dundalk and Derry to prevent the sectarian violence in Northern Ireland from spreading to the South. The creation of an internet nation named the Unki Republic (oh course!) and various other satirical diversions from the Troubles which were still ranging in Northern Ireland at the time. At one point I had both Loyalists and Republicans giving their support to my sending up of both. 
 
There were other characters on the group created by other regulars. There was a catholic priest who boasting about bashing kids in his school while having love children with his housekeeper. An IRA supporter who had a dog and an airforce made up of Teddy Bears pilots. One poster called GoldenArse who played Black Sabbath records backwards in order to hear Christian subliminal messages. It was a pretty glorious time and people who were there recall it fondly. I later on sort of resurected the Unki idea in a new character on Facebook named Fontaine Excelsior DeBlanchard III - but that was short-lived as I forgot the account password.


Unki routines were based on slagging-off Irish politicians and naturally how massive Unki's willy was and how it deserved the Noble Peace Prize for having been in women of just about every race. And of course his legendary alabaster buttocks (all kneel): "you need a heavy hammer to drive a long nail...". My friends who were unaware of this part of my history and were rolling around laughing at this stuff when they read it, and some have suggested I write a bio of Unki - published as a novel. Which I think I will when I have more free time. The concept would need to be brought up to date as the humor is of its time and the likes of Sasha Baron Cohen and Howard Stern have both brilliantly made this kind of sataire mainstream in the years since I was doing this on Usenet.

 
The Unki Arthur Internet Archive.
 
As I would hate for these posts to get lost I want to start bringing them here and archiving them as they are an important part of my own artistic legacy. I developed a lot of my own writing skills as a result of these posts. Humor and satire is something I place a very high value on, and I hope this page will bring a lot of chuckles to people who find it. Here is the world of Unki as written by me between 1996 and 2001-ish. When I got bored with it after that and following the 9-11  attacks when the world became less funny. The style of humour was based on my heroes Spike Milligan and Peter Cook.
 
I HAVE ALABASTER BUTTOCKS - The Life and Times of Unki - Greatest Comedy Act in the History of USENET.
by Thomas Sheridan
 
    
        
*********** 
 
(August 1997 – While Running for President, Unki Nicks Every Political Speech and Calls Upon His Fellow Countrymen to Rise Up Against the Real Oppressor of the Irish People: Manchester United) 
 
 
The Grandson of a Pipefitter, I Rise! 
 
People of Ireland. My people, the good folk of the twenty six counties of this republic who majesty is vested within a landmass area of thirty-two thousand square miles. I call you now to shine forth in borealis like unity at this our moment of destiny. The future beckons and the past gives us strength. As we stare towards that shining city on the hill illuminated by a thousands points of light, what is the real destination as the golden train pulling halcyon-like into the station of our magnificence. It is a place called hope. 
 
This crystal city on the edge on the desert where so many have given so little, to so few. We must consider the final task the holy creator has burdened us with at this, the hour of destiny. We hold these truths to be self-serving, that all man are created equal and are disemboweled by their gardener with Grey Alien rights. I have been to the hill top. Out, out, out, but in the end you made me want to twist and shout. For a dream is a dream and Unki Arthur is that wet dream! 
 
Almost four sore years ago our fathers freed the best twenty-six counties (excluding Cavan) from the clutches of a once mighty empire it, took not a nation, but a village. As with this act providence brought upon this land freedom. Freedom from something that was not very nice at all. We were happy then, in the haze of that drunken hour, but heaven's know we are miserable now. 
 
And like a flower on a Kildare meadow I rise, I rise, the grandson of Tallaght, I rise and I say onto you, I rise some more. For God has chosen me through a dream to be the leader of this country, our country, my country; Ireland. 
 
Our youth deserve more than to be walking around The Square in Tallaght in the latest Manchester United jersey. You didn't land on the Square, the Square landed on you! I charge the shareholders of Manchester United with being the greatest enslaver in history, I charge shareholders of Manchester United with being the greatest robber in history. Guilty, guilty as charged!
 
The people of Ireland deserve better than paying for Dave Fanning to have three RTE jobs. We did not pay our TV license fees so Gerry Ryan's huge gut could sag a yard further every year. Did we brothers? Did we sisters? 
 
The moment of truth has come knocking on my backdoor and Unki and the Scumbags will rule this island for a thousand years. On to a New Order. Because if Unki doesn't do it, 
 
who will? who will? who will? 
 
 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 
The Scumbag Party of Ireland 
 
Vote Unki Arthur for President 
          this November. 
 
        Unki Arthur No. 1 
 
     "Hands Up Who Likes Me" 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
 
    
***********
 
(August 1997 – Unki Response to News Stories of UFO Sighting Over Ireland)
 
Anatomy of a UFO Flap
 
>We are an independent Paranormal Research Organisation based in Exeter,
>Devon, UK. We are presently experiencing a UFO flap very similar to the
>one described in Ireland. 
 
You mean the one I made up?
 
Vote for Unki I will get to the bottom your 'flap'. Indeed I will.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Unki Arthur - A New President for a New Century
The Scumbag Party of Ireland Proudly Endorses Unki Arthur for the 
Position of President of the Republic of Ireland in 1997
"Together We Can Make Me Rich"
- - - - - - - - - - - - -    

 

***********
 
(August 1997 – Unki 'Debates' Keith Mills of the Southern Unionist Party)
 
 
Would You Eat A Bag of Chips Out Of Unki's Knickers? 
 
> VOTE KEITH MILLS; AND PUT A REAL PAIN IN THE ÁRAS.
> NICE MOTTO.
 
> I promise in any "beauty contest", I would beat old Unki, hands down.
 
Been using the heavy solvent glue on the elections poster eh, Keith?
Bollix to you sir, I am fucking beautiful.
Do you mind, I have a grown daughter and I am trying to raise her with good family values so piss off.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 
The Scumbag Party of Ireland
Vote Unki Arthur for President
this November.
Unki Arthur No. 1
"Vote for Me, I Live Just Down the Road." 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

***********

(Sept 98 - After Failing to Become President of Ireland, Unki Forms a Rebel Band Named 'Buddy Semtex and the Nail Bombs' and Writes a Song About a Poor Irish Farmer During the Potato Famine Who Won't Go to a Quaker Soup Kitchen)

Don't Drink the Proddie Soup.

(Synth playing a wind like sound)
(I step up to the mike and point at the crown and say as the drums come in: "When they place the pot before you next time" "Will you take the soup?")

(verse)

I use to be a bogger
Now I got nothing to eat
Arse hanging out of me trousers
Empty chip bags at me feet

Then one day I saw a Planter
With a big black bowl of soup
Saying "Take a drink son"
But before I took a scoop

A PRIEST SAID!

(chorus)
Don't Drink the Proddie Soup
The Proddie Soup, The Devils Soup
Don't Drink the Proddie Soup
Or It straight to Hell For You Boyo
Don't Drink the Proddie Soup
The Proddie Soup, The Devils Soup
Don't Drink the Proddie Soup
Don't Betray Your Soul me Boyo

(verse)

Jaysus I was starving
Looking for a drink
But I do not want a black Protestant heart
So my plan I would re-think

I will not touch the heretic stew
I'll go to Amerikay
Become a Cop, Beat me wife
Give Me Money to the IRA

UP THE LADS!

(chorus)

Don't Drink the Proddie Soup
The Proddie Soup, The Devils Soup
Don't Drink the Proddie Soup

Or It straight to Hell For You Boyo
Don't Drink the Proddie Soup
The Proddie Soup, The Devils Soup
Don't Drink the Proddie Soup
Don't Betray Your Soul me Boys

***********

 

(August 98 - Unki Starts a New Business: A Sinn Fein Sex Hotline)

Hi and Welcome To Republican Dreams...

25p first minute, 75p for each minutes there after.

Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
[background music plays Men Behind the Wire]

Hi, Feeling Nationlistic tonight?

You are? That nice.

Ummmmmmmm, me to!

What's Your Name?

Seamus? That soooooooooo Republican

What would you like me to talk about, Seamus?

Rubber Bullets? Would you like that?

Sure! I like to watch them being fired during riots. Some of the 1970's footage get me sooooooooooo angry. First the youths start throwing petrol bombs and rocks. I like that a lot, you like that too? Then the Landrovers come along, yes. The soliders get out and place these long black rubber bullets into their guns. Mummmmmmmmmmm, you like that?

What else you would like to talk about?

You want me to read Gery Adams' book or Provo funerals with 'the lads' in their black balaclavas

Sure anything you desire, I want to make you happy.

CLICK, CLICK - [please insert 75p]

Now, Where was I.

1987 South Armagh election results

SDLP 34%

DUP 3%

OTHERS 2%

are you getting ready to explode?

SINN FEIN 49%!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh that felt so good!!! I hope it was as good for you as it was for me?

Until next time, this is Republican Dreams where we deliver Nationlistic Satisfaction.

*Click rurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr*

 

***********

   

Using Model Railways To Bring Peace to Northern Ireland
(July 1998)

 
The other night I was standing beside my model train track masturbating furiously as a British Rail Class 47 diesel-electric hauled a rake of MK II coaches in early 1950's maroon livery around my layout that it suddenly appeared to me that I did not hate either catholics, protestant, Irishmen or Englishmen. It was at that point that I realised there was a direct correlation between the ownership of a model train layout and lack of sectarian hatred.
 
Then I said to myself. "What if the new Northern Ireland Assembly were to get together in Stormount and build a model railway?" They would forget their differences.
 
The Scale/Gauge of the Layout
 
Sinn Fein would demand 1/1916 scale for the layout while the DUP would only work within the confines of the limited 1/1690 scale. Although the PUP would be prepared to adapt to the 1/1998 scale proposed by the British and Irish Government, the UK Unionists and the UUP would be quite content see their trains just go around in circles.
 
The Livery of the Coaches and Engines
 
Initially the Unionists would demand that the trains would be painted in orange. This would quickly change when Dublin points out that Irish Rail trains are already that colour. In the end they would settle with the Nationalists on the Rainbow livery and David Norris would rejoice.
 
Station Names
 
The Sinn Fein station would be called Semtex Junction the main transfer station for Debris-upon-Brits. The UUP would be happy with their locomotive remaining stationary in the Boyne Yard, but will demand the right to transverse the Garvaghy Branch at regular intervals. The Irish Government will remain moving back and forth trough the Eurotunnel. While the British Labour Party Electric Units will act very excited, but never seem to go anywhere. The Clinton Express will just pop in and out of the Lewinsky Tunnel to avoid the steep gradients of the Hillary Embankment.
 
Unki 'one day at a time' Arthur (7 minutes drug free)