The even more weird and fucked up world of Dr. Pope
A problem that I find with modern life is how everybody is out to irritate me. While I have little or no time for beige anorak wearing, should have gone to Spec Savers, weak lemon drink in a flask carrying conspiracy theorists, I am giving serious consideration to inviting the sexier members of the Scooby Doo gang to come to my abode and be shagged senseless while Fred investigates which unsuspecting but ultimately blindingly obvious friend or foe is responsible for turning my little world into an irritable scab. However, faced by the fact that raping Scrappy Doo in front of Daphne while she smears herself in rabbit droppings may be considered rather illegal, in that it does not meet levels of decency set out in the European Union Cartoon Character Human and Canine rights act, I have instead decided to fight fire with fire, and devise a number of ingenious ways to irritate and offend people.
In a moment of weakness I made a critical decision to deviate from my regular supplier of mangled sheep testes in stale bread (Doner kebab – ed) and purchased one from a portable hut somewhat nearer to my festering habitual molehill, complete with a variety of chilli sauce more potent than mustard gas which provided a bigger kick to the head than any naked Marine with a fetish for surgical outfits could ever do. GI Joe Mangels the lot of them. The devastation was somewhat inevitable but provided an exceptional opportunity to consider ways to offend people whilst fighting the effect of internal irritability. So while you read the following list, please spare a thought for my damaged cheeks and be grateful that I put myself through rectal bleeding for your entertainment.
- Go to the Notting Hill Carnival. Whilst there pour large quantities of Tagliatelle over your head and proclaim to startled onlookers ‘Yo, I’m a pastafarian’.
- Go to your local recreation ground. While there seek out a decomposing dog turd and put it in a cardboard box. Then display the faecal matter at Tate Modern and call it Diana: Today. Note, while accepting the Turner prize from Tracy Emin, please be sure that you lodge a cluster bomb in her back passage, set for detonation the moment she starts talking out of her arse.
- While on the subject of the derriere, after declaring in her Christmas message that 1992 was ‘annus horribilus’, why not send the Queen a picture of your own horrible anus as a Christmas card and see how much SHE likes it.
- Take up Robbie Williams’ offer of ‘Let me entertain you’ by purchasing for him a one way plane ticket to Fallujah complete with made to measure Tango man clothing. Then wait for a day or two before tuning in to Al Jazeera.
- Manufacture and sell Terri Schiavo sex dolls, with optional feeding tube.
- Cast Gary Glitter and Dakota Fanning in a sequel to 9 ½ weeks.
- Invite a Pro-Life celebrity, preferably Mel Gibson, to participate in the television show I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here. Then serve up dripping aborted foeti for the Bush Tucker Challenge.
- Appoint Ian Paisley as the next Pope.
- Dig up the body of George Best and cremate him in Hemel Hempstead . Oh shit, too late.
- Start an Ian Huntley fan club, complete with signed and blood-stained Man Utd shirts for new members.