Following on from my recent announcement that apologised for our breakdown in service, I am delighted to be able to bring you the news that Inane Drivel plc has secured the services of a number of illustrious guest writers to fill in for Szarlotka, pending the results of the investigations into his criminal activities that are being carried out by Plod as we speak. Today I am delighted to welcome to the guest writer spot one of the cultural giants of society, a man who has done more for more for international relations than any other human being and is the author of best selling manuals on how best to survive the modern world. I bring you the incomparable Sir Les Patterson, bon viveur, raconteur and erstwhile Australian cultural attaché to the Court of St James. Ed.G’day all. Let me begin by saying what an honour it for you to have me with you here today. We’re a bit late starting the article cos we had to clear some of the anecdotes with the legal wowsers here. Young Ed looked a bit nervous throughout. Jumping about like a ‘roo on a hot bush tarmac road he was. Secretly I suspect he may be a closet pillow biter judging by the antics and lack of backbone he showed. He even refused the offer of some personal assistance from one of my two lovely research assistants – God bless the Australian taxpayers. Two of the nicest ceiling watchers of all time and Ed said no. Nuff said.
Now some of you may be surprised to see me here. Given my worldwide reputation as the face of Oz and all. No worries mates. My knowledge of all things Polish is a hidden talent. During my extensive research in writing my best selling ‘Rub-and-Tug Emporia of the Civilised World’, that I know will be known by the fellas on here, I spent many a happy research hour in your fair country. Got to say the Sheilas there were pretty dinkum. Anyways, judging by the number of bloody Poms, Yanks and ragheads on here my knowledge of Poland, as extensive as it is, is going to be as little used as a monk’s plunger.
My brief for this lucrative little beauty required me to read page upon page of posts from the mad, deranged and woolly minded liberals amongst you. Half way through this balls aching task it became apparent that the money I’m being paid was just not enough. Luckily the research assistants did most of the leg work, and what legs they have eh fellas? I was so distressed I had to retire to the local hostelry for a few pints of amber and an absinthe chaser or three. Anyways, the lovelies finished their reading and presented back their findings to me in an intensive two to one session back at the coaching inn where we’re holed up for the duration of this commission.
To summarise the last few weeks on the good ship PF is no mean task mates. Rather than go through the threads one by boring bloody one I thought it best to do what we Australians are famous for – generalisations, character assassinations and sporting metaphors all washed down with some amber and good old fashioned sledging, especially against the bloody Poms. Let me just say that the one thread that held my attention and raised the old circulation a heartbeat or two was the one with the piccies of Slavic women. Now that’s what we here call educational. If you fellas have any of their mobile numbers drop me a line. There’s always room for more research assistants in Uncle Les’s business enterprises. Anyway I digress.
Lets’ take the blokes first. Some of you just need to get a bloody life fellas. I have a quick gander first thing in the morning and you’re on here. I sit down with my handheld (computer mate) over a beer at lunchtime and there you are. A quick look see with my pre-dinner aperitif and bugger me you’re still there. And to top it all I have a quick peek post intensive late night research activities and the same old names loom up at me. Between them that Seanus sheep and the nicotine king McCoy are responsible for more posts than the number of them in the perimeter fence surrounding Uncle George’s sheep farm in Oz, and that covers half of New South bloody Wales.
Looks like most of the so called intellectual debate appears to be entirely about slagging off the Brits, Ruskies and Krauts over past misdemeanours. Look fellas, it is a fact of life that near neighbours are not going to get on. I mean look at the deranged sheep worrying rugby fascists we have as neighbours. Just get on with life and keep the vendettas for the sports fields will you. Or failing that just steal their women. It works for us. Here’s some free advice from Uncle Les, leave politics to the politicos and just develop the sporting skills, chat up techniques and drinking prowess. I mean look at some of those wacky Crow ideas. Mate, they’re about as much use as tits on a bull. Leave the world to sort the mess out Crowie. Have a few beers, chill and chases some Sheilas is my well proven advice to you.
Some of you have got the right ideas. Lots of meets over a cocktail or ten going on. Even an opportunity for the Krakow crew to crack open a few and shoot paint balls at the locals. We do a lot of that in Oz. Some of the indigernidoos seem to take exception on occasion but it’s a good day out. Best tactics are to sit tight and let the oppo come to you. That way the beer’s not spilled and you conserve energy for the post match exertions if you get my drift.
Seems like lots of you blokes are getting your tongue round the Polska lingo, presumably so you can get your tongue down the Polska sheila’s throat. Strikes me it’s a tall order so why not make it simple and employ the old concept of the castrated interpreter. Worked for the Egyptians and look where they are today.
So fellas, get the priorities right. If you need more help then I recommend you read my latest blockbuster ‘Les be friends’ available from all good bookstalls once the final legal advice is absorbed.
Now some observers have remarked in the past that my direct style of talking and humour may not endear me to some of the Sheilas on this crowded planet. They say that my treatment of the ceiling watcher gender might be a little too caveman for some tastes. This is complete cack of course. I am frequently in touch with my inner self and my success with the ladies is testament to my deep understanding of the feminine needs. That and having the big bank balance I guess.
Looking around the PF I am impressed by the spunky and feisty attitude of some of you gals. Giving as good as you get is the way to be. Course there are times when you should all shut the hell up and by and large most of you girlies seem to know this. There are one or two who need some obedience training and I take it upon myself to whip you all into shape personally. It would help if you were a citizen of the old country as I get tax breaks for that.
Overall I rate the sheilas’ contributions higher on PF than that of the blokes, many of whom are just a bit too weird, screwed up or woolly minded liberal for my refined taste. Mind you, I’m not trying to get into the fellas’ knickers, even though a few of them are wearing the frillies.
So the money has run out. That’s my lot for my first go at filling it for the halfwit with the expenses fiddling talents of a nun at a charity ball. I know you will have enjoyed it. Got to run, I’ve got an appointment for a quick two step with Dame Edna.
Er, well that was certainly a different approach there for Sir Les. Not quite what we were expecting but certainly, shall we say, thought provoking and likely to promote a lively debate. I think our next guest writer may hold somewhat differing views on the world and its representation on here. Look out for the thoughts of the Archbishop of Canterbury in the not too distant future, assuming of course that we’ve not been closed down by then. EdLegal disclaimer. The above post in no way reflects the views of Inane Drivel plc. They are the personal ramblings of an individual with a brain muddled by too much sun and Guinness. Any law suits from a certain Australian comedian or any of his close family members should be directed in his direction.
