Wednesday, July 19, 2006


The Boaby Slap has moved here.


Tuesday, July 18, 2006

BUSINESS NEWS: Hulk Hogan Found 'Guilty' In Rectal Thermometer Price Fixing Scandal

Actor turned wrestler, Hulk ‘The Hulkster’ Hulk Hogan has been found guilty, by a jury of his peers, of conspiring with other businesses to fix the prices of rectum insertion based body temperature gauges. Hogan, real name Terry ‘Hollywood’ Hulk 'The Hulkster' Hulk Hogan, and his company Hogan Likes It Up The Ass Inc. were found to have conspired to keep the prices of rectal thermometers at a ‘sooo bullshit’ level. The other companies found guilty were Al Pacino’s I Be Al Pacino And This Is What I Be Ramming Into My Ass When I Be Sick Organisation and Celine Dion’s  The Slip It Up Yo’ Ass When You Be Sick Or Don’t, Motherfucker! Company. At sentencing, the judge is expected to order Hogan, Pacino and Dion to dress up as Swamp Thing and lick necks.


Hi, folks. Benny here. I’ve just been to see “The Break-Up,” an “unromantic comedy” starring Jennifer Aniston from the incomprehensible Friends and Vince Vaughn from the frankly baffling Dodgeball.

Where do I begin reviewing this nonsensical claptrap? First of all, I had no idea what any of this film was about. As much as I can gather, Jennifer Aniston played a woman who moved around in the same place Vince Vaughn resided in. Let me state this categorically: I have no idea who these people were supposed to be, or what their relationship with each other was supposed to be. None of this was explained.

The movie begins well enough. Unfortunately, after the opening titles have finished rolling, the film descends into a mess of impossible to comprehend noises and movements from the people on the screen. At one stage, I even turned to my brother (who had taken me to see the movie) and I said to him, “I am frightened by the colours.” Yes, there was a veritable cacophany of different colours everywhere on the screen. There was no rhyme or reason for any of the colours, or any of the movements.

I must admit that I did laugh at one point in the movie, when Vince Vaughn made noises out of his mouth, and Aniston looked at him in that way she tends to do. The timing was spot-on. However, even this moment was ruined by the following spiralling mess of arm gestures and guttural yorking from the throats of the two actors.

Let me reinforce this: at no stage in this movie-watching experience did I have any idea what was happening to me.

I should probably list this next thing as a spoiler. At the end of the movie something totally baffling happened. The two actors moved here and there, saying “words” towards each other. There was a strange moment of physical interaction, and then some harmonic noises emitted from the cinema speakers. What director in his right mind sees this nonsense as a fitting ending to a comedy? It is almost as if he pointed his camera at two people and then just told them to make noises and movements until I was frightened.

I must pay credit to the man who did the end credits, however. These were all very straight and ordered and easy to read.

STORYISM: The Great Vampire vs. Human War

By no time Hugo Award nominee William T. Farah Fawcett.

Fear constricted my throat like a muscly fingered strangler, as I watched the Vampire army march towards us. I ran my hands across my battle attire. Already I was regretting my decision to wear loose white slacks and Jesus sandals. When faced with death or an undead eternity of misery, keeping the fresh air circulating around ones fungal infected toes suddenly feels like an insignificant triviality.

I turned and gazed upon the small gang of vampire hunters I had gathered together and shook my head. There were twelve of us altogether. My eyes went from one to the next as I considered what each would bring to the table in the bloody chaos to come.

Again, I questioned my own judgment. Recruiting Old Mister Meisner the butcher had felt right at the time. His droll sarcasm and bushy beard had once seemed like ideal tools for killing vampires. Now these skills seemed like nothing more than a big bunch of smelly arse in an airtight bag.

Then there was Henry Knee. I had recruited him because he could fart the first six notes of Yankee Doodle Dandy. As I watched the evil bastard hordes pour across the horizon, I realized that my theory that humorous farting could annihilate vampires had little to no scientific basis.

There was Jenny Shore. I had recruited her because she was sassy and smelled of bees. Donald Rafferty I had recruited because he agreed with me that the general derision towards Harrison Ford vehicle, K-19 The Widowmaker, was ever so slightly on the harsh side. Only now was it dawning on me that no matter how eloquently Donald put forward his argument, it just wasn't going to fuck up or explode any vampires. There was Angela Corrie. I had recruited her for the simple fact that she had big boobs. Hadn't actually considered the vampires to be honest. Just the boobs.

I went over my plan in my head. I knew that the vampire generals would expect us to use traditional methods in our attempts to slaughter them; garlic, holy water, crucifixes, wooden stakes. I thought I would confound those expectations. Instead of garlic, we would use bits of lettuce. Instead of holy water, we would use apple and mango juice drink with no added sugar. Instead of crucifixes we would use replicas of Burt Reynolds moustache. Instead of driving wooden stakes into their hearts, we would shove Austrian smoked cheese right into their bottoms. As we stood there holding our lettuce, cheese and moustachii something told me that this plan was a mass of nincompoopery. I expected us to be slaughtered in the blink of an eye.

I couldn't have known that the vampire generals would get it so spectacularly wrong. Their tactics were similar to mine in that they decided to confound our expectations. Instead of ripping us to pieces, feeding on us or forcing us to become one of the undead. They decided instead to tickle our bottoms with fur-lined yoghurt pots and to dress up as little posh boys and quote lines from the Robin Williams vehicle, Dead Poet's Society. They tried to sell us chin straps, tried to persuade us to fund a sequel to Ishtar, tried to persuade us to shrink Earth, Wind and Fire and let them live inside our arses. None of it worked. Gradually, bit by bit, getting hit with little pieces of lettuce and having cheese rammed up them started to get to them and they couldn't take it any more. They retreated. We had won.

We stood whopping in the cowboy style but as I looked around I realized we were short of a body. I thought we'd all made it through alive, but Angela Corrie was gone. I was about to cry when a voice told me that she wasn't dead. Someone had told her that I'd only hired her for the size of her jugs and she'd got a taxi home. Oh well, you can't win them all, eh readers? Onwaaaaaaaaaaaaard!

Monday, July 17, 2006

CELEBRITY NEWS: DeNiro admits "I can't stop writing shit on myself!"

Robert DeNiro has confessed that since recently re-watching his performance in Martin Scorsese's 'Cape Fear,' he can't stop writing shit all over himself.

"I blame Scorsese. Nowhere in the original version of the movie, or in the book it's based upon, does Robert DeNiro keep writing shit all over himself," DeNiro told us, while writing on his forehead.

DeNiro has committed himself to the Lake Valley rehab centre in Los Angeles while trying to kick his addiction, but has told of the struggle he is facing.

"Just last night I stole a lipstick from a lady's purse and wrote this poem on my cock: My shopping list is written/Inside my left ear/Fuck you Scorsese/And Fuck You Cape Fear."

DeNiro recently recovered from obsessively behaving like an unfunny German dictator who wants to kill a moose, after re-watching his performance in "The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle."

ENTERTAINMENT NEWS: New Burt Reynolds and Mary Tyler Moore Sitcom 'Completely Fucked'.

There had been much excitement and joyerry in the TV World as a new sitcom starring Mary Tyler Moore and Burt Reynolds, called Mister, You're So Cheeky!, almost got the green light. The project was considered gold until Burt insisted that he write some of his own jokes, threatening to walk out if the demand wasn’t met. The producers reluctantly agreed to allow this but Studio Execs pulled the plug when they saw the pilot and the project is now 'completely fucked'. Some of the following script excerpts, written by Burt Reynolds, have been blamed for the projects demise.


MTM: It's just my mother. You can't talk to my mother for thirty seconds?

BURT: Never mind, your mother. What about that fucking Andy Serkis bastard?

MTM: Who?

BURT: He played Gollum in Lord of the Rings. Well, I say 'played'. He jumped about in a fucking bodystocking, with movement sensor pads stuck up his ass, and then they drew an ugly little cartoon fuck over the top of him. And people said he should get a special Oscar for it? Fuck him. I didn't even get an Oscar for Boogie Nights. I lost out to that little Gollum-looking bastard, Robin Williams. Did you see my face when I didn't get the award? No fake, fucking smiles from Burt Reynolds. Pure contempt. Screw Andy Serkis and Robin Williams. They are a pair of fucking cunts. What? Is that just a bit too cheeky?


MTM: I'm trying. I'm trying to get involved in something that you like.

BURT: Who? Andy Serkis. That King Kong fuck? They stick some sensors up his white ass and make him jump around like a fucking monkey and I'm supposed to be impressed. I'd be great as a monkey if someone drew a big cartoon monkey over me. Tell Peter Jackson to get a hold of the Deliverance prints and draw a big cartoon monkey over me. I'll be the best monkey you've ever fucking seen. And Robin Williams? Draw me a big fucking genie. Fucking cunts. What? Is that just a bit too cheeky?


BURT: No, come on. Seeing as how you like those films so much, shove these motion sensors up my ass.

MTM: I'm not shoving-

BURT: Fucking shove them, you rancid ass-flap.

MTM: Alright.


BURT: Oh, look at me, I'm a big fucking monkey! I'm a little creepy fuck! I'm a big fucking blue asshole genie cocksucker!

MTM: Well, I don't think you're moving like a monkey.

BURT: I know I don't look like a monkey right now. That's the beauty. Andy Serkis can't move like a monkey either, the fuck. It doesn't matter. Peter Jackson's going to draw one over the video and then I'll win The Oscar for Best Performance In A Sensors Up The Ass And A Big Fucking Cartoon Monkey Drawn Over My Image Role. Bunch of cunts. And Robin Williams? I'd love to tear off his head and shit up his ass. Cunt to the power of three. What? Is that just a bit too cheeky?

Mary Tyler Moore will now instead star in her own sitcom, Lynyrd My Skynyrd, playing an ass haemorrhoid trying to prevent the German industrial revolution of 1878.

BOOKS: New Prison Diary Gives Shocking Insight Into The State Of Prison Diaries

The following is an excerpt from Doin' Time Sucks Big Time Ass, the prison diaries of Eric Magneto Jnr. The social implications of what he writes could be both devastating and irrelevant.

Mon 10th. First day in prison. Was jailed for the little known crime of 'impersonating a police dog'. When passing sentence, the judge said, 'I will strap a milk to my head.' I was unsure how to reply to this baffling remark. The length of my sentence is to be 'perpetually getting released tomorrow'. My cellmate is an enormous man called, Booby Doodlers, he claims to be so strong that he can throw fresh air through the crust of a small pie. He terrifies me. Particularly because he can suck whole universes into his anal cavity. Cannot sleep. Unsure if this is because it is my first night on the inside or because I am getting pumped silly by Booby.

Tue 11th. Had a run-in with a prison guard. Made a remark to him about my disliking of chinstraps. It turned out that his wife was a chinstrap. He beat me to within an inch of his life. He did not use a nightstick for this act of violence. He used a condom with a tiny sheep inside it. I may never walk again but this is because I wish to spend the rest of my life behaving exactly like a peanut and not because of the beating. I am being released tomorrow.

Wed 12th. Was given the task of delivering books to the prisoners. They don't seem to have much interest in reading. I wonder if this is because all the books in our library are about the romances of chinstraps and small pies. One of the inmates asked me if I would read to him as he was unable to due to him being born with his eyes facing inwardly towards his brain. I read to him but only the sentences that had the both the words 'stipulation' and beard in them. He didn't enjoy the story. I am being released tomorrow.

Thu 13th. Incident occurred in the showers. Was asked by a vicious looking inmate to pick up his soap. He was only six inches tall and was being crushed underneath the weight of it. It seems that the guards turn a blind eye to what's going on in the showers. I have a plan of attack if any prisoner tries to force me into sexual relations; disguise my anus as a wolf. Have to remember not to make the disguise so convincing that I fool myself, like the time I disguised my anus as a cigar and spent several years smoking it.

Fri 14th. A play came to the prison today. It was the tale of two chinstraps trying to escape the violent clutches of a small pie. I cried at the part where a cowboy's hat was hanged for not being a horse. The same thing had happened to my own father. He was not hanged, though, merely sniffed at yearly intervals by the actor who plays Robert Downey Junior in Chaplin. I believe I have fallen in love with the actress who played the left sock of one of the brothers. She spoke to me afterwards, she said, 'Yahtzee!!!!' My understanding of this is that she will wait for me until I am released from prison. Which is tomorrow.

Sat 15th. Saw the prison doctor today. My testicles decided it was time for a change of scenery and so they moved to the back of my knees. After some discussion they said they would return to my scrotum but only if I provided air conditioning, leather interior and electric windows. I agreed to this but was soon faced with a request from my nipples for reduced working hours and more holidays around the Christmas period. I also received a letter from a solicitor representing my penis, who is suing me for sexual harassment. At least I'm being released tomorrow. Doin' Time Sucks Big Time Ass is available in all good to barely adequate book stores.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Dennis Franz To Play Yoko Ono In Lennon Biopic

NYPD Blue star, Dennis Franz, is set to play Yoko Ono in a new biopic of John Lennon. The actor, determined not to be typecast after more than a decade of playing a bald man, feels he is perfect for the role.

Franz said, ‘I am a gentleman in the old fashioned way, and what better way for me to celebrate my gentlemanly affectations than by playing a lady who once held John Lennon’s bag.’

Lennon and the rest of the Beatles will all be played by Big Momma’s House star, Martin Lawrence. Lawrence, famous for shouting a lot in movies, will wear a different white latex suit for each Beatle. The only part of his body that won’t be covered in latex is his scrotum, which will remain African-American throughout, due to union regulations.

Franz, who was Will Smith’s body double in the Lawrence movie, Bad Boys, was not worried by this minor setback.

He said. ‘The non white-latexifaction of an African-American scrotum, is very much this gentleman’s pleasure.’

The movie, to be called ‘Arse Demon 4: The Sneaky Shoe Salesman.’ will be in theatres in the morning.

Zsa Zsa Le Tights Picks His Arts

With so much happening at this years Tribeca Art Festival, please allow me, Zsa Zsa LeTights, to tell you what you're allowed to look at with your eyes and like. Not heeding my advice may leave your opinion rendered worthless. And having a worthless opinion surely renders one's life worthless and would surely mean one would have to kill oneself. I am that important. Read what you are to love.

An Evening with Barry Onion
Folk music and poetry from sometime homosexual marine, Bobby Onion and his peerless backing band, the Arse Crabs. Bertie will play a selection of songs from his wonderful debut album 'Look at Me, Dad, I'm Not a Gay Anymore,' the incredible follow up 'The Son You Played Catch With Is No Longer A Homosexual You Need Feel Ashamed Of,' the heartfelt 'Dad, You Caught Me Lapsing Blowjob-Style With The Gardner But I'll Make You Proud When I Stop Being A Gay One More Time For You,' the timeless, 'Screw You, Dad, I Was Lying When I Said I Wasn't A Gay Any More. I Am Gay. Of Course I Am. It's Not Something You Can Just Switch Off Like My Little Turtle Lamp. I'm A Fucking Gay Again And You Better Just Get Used To It, You Big Nazi Asshole. I'm a Big Fat Gay, I Love Cock And I Don't Care If Your Friends At The Bar Rib And Josh You About It. I'm Gay. Gaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy!!!! You hear me?! Gaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyy!!!' and recent Billboard smash, 'Dad, It Was Just A Phase, I'm Definitely Not One of those big Gayboys.'

If you can't beg, steal or borrow a ticket for Basil Onion, then the following comes a close second.

Cartoon Dogs Balls
Intimate photographic portraits of the doctor who castrated Scooby Doo, Hong Kong Phooey, Goofy, Droopy and many more cartoon dogs. See him holding a can of beans, reminiscing over all the cartoon balls he snipped. See him eating a sandwich, whilst he thinks about animated dogs nuts. See him remove a piece of ham from his moustache whilst he thinks about drawings of dog testicles. Haunting, moving and humbling.

And finally, if you can't murder for those tickets, see this.

My Body AnPhiladelphiaia
Live Art Show where Julia Aubergine-Tampon invites members of the audience on the stage to kick her in the ass in an attempt to recreate the sounds that Sly Stallone made at the end of Rocky. People have suggested that Julia has started to rip off her own work after her previous show featured audience members kicking her ass in an attempt to recreate the sounds of Jesse 'The Body' Ventura's death scene in Predator. Make your own mind up after I have told you what to think.

Storyism: The Great Roman Polanski and Salman Rushdie Sex Down- by Petula Amphetamine-Clarke

Salman Rushdie knew he couldn't beat Roman Polanski in a sex-down. He'd known it since that fateful night in Paris when he almost sexed his own beard off after Polanski threw another catty insult his way.

'All your books are good for is wiping ass off after dirty with the brown stuff it gets down there,' Polanski had cackled.

'Screw you, Polanski,' Rushdie had cried. 'I squeeze poo-poo out my big bum and out drops Chinatown.'

To hear such childish words fly forth from his own verbose mouth had sickened Rushdie. The feeling was nothing compared to how he felt moments later when Polanski challenged him to a sex-down.

'Hows about I take you downtown to Chinatown with a sex-down?' Polanski had hideously inquired.

The crowd had gasped. A stunned fat man choked so hard on a biscuit that his pubes shot out of his nuts and speared his panties. Rushdie had known he would have to accept. Refusing sex urgings in front of so many people would have made him look like a man's balls.

'I'm going to take my sex and sex your arse apart, Polanski.' Rushdie sweatily screeched.

It hadn't worked out that way. Polanski had destroyed him, and Rushdie had spent the night having his ears sexed off and his hips sexed apart, so that he looked like a pile of sexed up leaves on top of an angry badger. Now twenty years on, Polanski had kidnapped his lover, Optimus Prime, and was threatening murderous antics if Rushdie didn't jump over to his house for one final sex-down. As he walked towards Polanski's house he knew they wouldn't both walk away from this one. It was sex or be sexed-off; like love droppings being squeezed out of a sex-ass-bum onto sex-tiles on a sex-bathroom sex-floor. But as he walked across the grass he slipped on some bear shit, fell and ripped the seat of his pants.

'There's no way I'm taking on Polanski with my arse hanging out of my trousers,' he said.

So he just went to the pub instead and ate a big pie.

Mister T. Inflames Chinese American Relations

Mister T. has inflamed the strained political relationship between the USA and China with the following, controversial press release.

"I, Mr T, would like to say the following: If I was in space, I would refuse to look at the Great Wall of China. I'm no racist but If I was inside a speedy-ass moon-rocket, on a covert mission to the rings of Saturn or some shit, and someone pointed out the Great Wall, I would simply look in the opposite direction or wallpaper my eyes shut and wear a wolf mask over my head until I returned to Earth. Any fool who tries to make my eyes point at that gathering of Chinese bricks will get their ass smashed up good and wholesome. I would also like to state say that I am unsure at which point large hills become small mountains. My hideous past is blighted with the social faux pas of claiming to have fired big giant rockets into the sides of mountains when I have in fact only fired big giant rockets into the sides of large hills. That is all."

No-one at the Whitehouse was available for a quickie.

Da Vinci Code Sequel

Much speculation has surrounded the potential theme of Dan Brown's follow up to his controversial blockbuster, The DaVinci Code. We can reveal that The Da Vinci Code sequel will make further controversial claims about Christ and the Catholic Church. The book will claim that the Church covered up evidence that Christ was not crucified for claiming to be King of the Jews, but in fact crucified for kicking Pontius Pilate up the arse and then calling his wife a 'fat dyke'. The main focus of the book will be on how the church killed eight billion people and some cute rabbits in an attempt to hide the secrets of the personal diaries of Jesus Christ. The book will mention several diary entries from a teenage Jesus, including one where he wonders when Mary Magdalene will finally 'drop the act and get her tits out'. There will also be mention of several diary entries where Jesus recalls the painful memory of some boys in school giving him a 'wedgie' and everyone in the class seeing the 'skidmarks' on his underpants. Brown's book will claim that the diaries are guarded by a secret organisation called The Wu Tang Clan, who keep the sacred documents hidden, by rolling them up into a tight scroll and shoving them up their 'black asses'. As if all that wasn't enough to upset the Church, the book will also feature a chapter where a stark naked Pope is running around the Vatican with a rocket launcher trying to frag a nun after she requests that sanitary towel dispensers be placed in the Vatican toilets. Brown's publishers have asked that the Church condemn the book nice and early to ensure good advance sales.