Open to Doubt

by Marcus Achison

  One of the waitresses ran to Agnes’s house and told her the news. A fearsome look appeared in Agnes’s eyes and she broke the waitress’s nose and jaw with one savage punch simply for bringing the bad news. She took off her guns and strode purposefully over to the bar with a rage simmering within her. She stepped over Leroy’s body and entered the bar. Everyone had left except the Penguin brothers, who were still gulping down whiskey and playing cards. Agnes asked who shot Leroy and Jake said it was him, as he finished another bottle of whiskey. Agnes walked over to Jake and punched him so hard on the nose that her fist went right through his head and out the other side. She then picked him up and threw him out through the window and he landed about 20 yards down the street. Rowdy reached for his rifle but Agnes grabbed it first and rammed it down his throat and pulled the trigger. Both barrels went off and blew a massive hole in his lower stomach. She fired it again and blew his feet off before picking up the piano and dropping it on his head. As Monty made a move to run out of the door, Agnes grabbed him by the throat and bit into his forehead, removing a large chunk of head. She then pulled out her samurai sword from her belt and drove it into Monty’s stomach, before pulling out all his intestines and suspending him from the rafters with his own guts. She pulled back her sword ready to deliver the coup de grâce, when Monty spoke. “Don’t do it Agnes,” he said. “My name’s not really Monty Penguin.” “Who are you then?” asked Agnes. “The name’s Lonesome, Floyd Lonesome. I’m your dad Agnes.” “I don’t have a dad,” said Agnes, as she swung her sword and sliced her father in two, right down the middle. With blood and entrails and bits and bobs of her dad scattered around her feet, Agnes roared loudly, “I’m the new sheriff in town and I’m going to clean up this shithole”.

  Women’s Classified Products

  Large supply of offensive swear words left over following a savage argument with the Missus. Mainly words beginning with F and C and one beginning with W. Write to Frank Slaughter at Kybosh House, Poiko Road, Gubbenstery.

  Adorable bulldog puppy for sale. Not house trained so may eat TV and bite visitors. Also acts as an alarm clock by incessant hourly barking through the night. For a free trial with Snappy the dog send £158 to Iris Boyong, No. 6 Nappy Valley, Glord.

  Second hand full size model of a pair of scissors for sale. Comes with a full service history and a year’s supply of dairy cattle. Contact Delbert Ronky, Flat 0, Nuzzian Street, Gubbenstery any evening after sundown.

  Missing cat for sale. Answers to the name of Funko the cat. Call Tabitha Spagboll on Glord 0101 for all the latest updates and a reading of the complete Bible in Icelandic.

  Glord Farmer’s Market

  Every second Tuesday at the start of the month and every third Tuesday at the end of the month. Simply turn up and fill your car with bargains such as two for one mice, pumpkins carved into the shape of a lavatory cistern and much, much more. Free parking for all mustard coloured five-wheel cars on a Tuesday evening. Glong Industrial Estate, Glord.

  English corned beef rear bumpers, steering wheels, roof racks and spare wheels on sale at Handy Andy McPandy’s all natural car spares. No artificial flavourings used. Free English corned beef-scented furry dice for every customer with a broken leg. 16 Functionality Street, Glord.

  Volunteers needed for church fete on the 25th. Experience of cakes, wine making, adult sex games and voodoo would be an advantage. Contact the vicar (Heehaw McVicar) at Gurbanoid Elementary Church of Whoopee, Kinawful Road, Gubbenstery.

  World Famous Magician and his Assistant

  Bob Leopard and Cynthia Pompo

  Live at

  The Gubbenstery Pavilion

  By our thaumaturge reporter Randolph Donkeyman

  Continuing their smash hit world tour, world famous magician Bob Leopard and his glamorous assistant Cynthia Pompo put on a spectacular show at the GP last night. The arena was packed to the rafters to welcome one of the world’s most unorthodox magicians and entertainers and the audience were hoping for something special. They were not disappointed. Bob took to the stage wearing an all-in-one black jump suit with Cynthia at his side wearing an all-in-one black bra.

  Bob opened the show by throwing a coconut at high speed all the way to the back of the hall, bouncing it off a bald man’s head and catching it again. The whole audience gasped, especially the man struck by the coconut. He then clapped his hands together releasing a large puff of white smoke and instantly a porcupine and a wombat fell from the ceiling, landing on spectators in the front row. This caused chaos as some people were bitten and others jabbed by sharp spines. The rest of the audience clapped and cheered wildly. He then selected a member of the audience to join him and Cynthia on stage and asked the chap to run as fast as he could from one side of the stage to the other and jump through the mystical mirror into a magical world beyond. A short man with a huge beer gut did as he was told and sprinted like a startled gazelle straight at the mirror. He crashed into it with incredible force, lacerating himself badly and showering the audience with glass splinters. Bob burst into laughter and said he did that stunt every night to see just what you could make stupid people do.

  After the ambulance left, Cynthia selected another person from the crowd to take part in the next trick. The woman selected was given a high velocity rifle and told that if she could open a special box by shooting the padlock off, she would win £5. The woman lay on the stage and took aim at a box that had descended from the rafters and hung about four feet above the heads of the audience. The crowd hushed and the woman lay motionless with her finger on the trigger. All of a sudden she fired and a deafening bang reverberated around the auditorium, bursting eardrums as it went, and the padlock flew off the box. She had done it. The £5 was hers. As the padlock fell to the ground and the door of the box opened, thousands of hornets and horseflies were released into the auditorium, stinging and biting their way through the audience. This heralded the end of the first half of a thrilling show.

  Following a twenty minute interval to allow medical treatment for stings, bites, jabs and assorted open wounds, the crowd were soon back in their seats and full of expectation. Bob returned to the stage wearing only a tartan bra and knickers. Cynthia was right behind him riding a goat and wearing only tartan boxer shorts. This time Bob replaced his opening coconut trick with a heavy iron soup ladle which he immediately threw straight at the upper circle. It hit a middle aged woman flush on the mouth, knocking half her teeth out and yet somehow returned boomerang-like straight into Bob’s hand. The audience gasped with appreciation and the toothless woman gasped in pain. Cynthia then leapt off the goat and landed on Bob’s shoulders. In a flash, Bob applied high voltage electrodes to the goat’s ears and gave it the full juice from a car battery. The goat flipped onto its back and began squirting milk all over the audience from its udders, before jumping to its feet and sprinting off stage at speed. The spectators loved it. More, more, more they shouted, and Bob obliged.

  He loaded Cynthia into a large catapult-like contraption and fired her right up into the dark, high above the crowd. Cynthia did not come down. It appeared as if she had magically vanished and the crowd started muttering amongst themselves. About a minute later there was a deafening bang and bright flash from far above the audience. All of a sudden and from seemingly out of nowhere, Cynthia was descending rapidly, but she was not alone. She was on the back of a hyena which in turn was on the back of a rhinoceros and all three were plummeting downwards at breakneck speed. The threesome landed with a loud crash on a group of people in the middle of the crowd, breaking bones and fracturing skulls. Cynthia nipped the ear of the hyena with pliers, which in turn bit the neck of the rhino causing it to gallop onto the stage and stand next to Bob. Cynthia jumped off her mammalian taxi and the crowd delivered more thunderous applause.

  Bob then amused the audience with some close up conjuring and sleight of hand using boiling hot ball bearings, hypodermic needles and scorpions. He then invited a man in his twenties on stage and blindfolded him.
He threaded a rope in one nostril, up his nose and down the other nostril. One end of the rope disappeared off to the side and the other end was hooked up to a high speed winch. Bob flipped a switch and the winch pulled in the rope at colossal speed, burning the man’s nasal septum, until a large anvil was revealed at the other end of the rope racing across the stage. The anvil whizzed through the air and clattered the man on the nose, knocking him senseless for a few minutes. When he awoke, he was being rewarded with rapturous applause as he was being loaded into a large tank of water with a stun grenade floating in it. The lid was locked onto the top of the tank and there appeared to be no way out for the chap. But indeed there was. As the fellow began to drown in the tank, the stun grenade exploded and shattered all the glass, safely delivering the man onto the floor of the stage exhausted, deafened and cut to pieces. By this time, the crowd were standing on their seats and begging Bob for more.

  Bob said he was about to perform his final trick of the evening and could the crowd please be quiet. A large curtain was then raised to reveal Bob standing next to a canon pointing at a greyhound about forty feet away and Cynthia crouching behind the dog. Bob lit the fuse on the canon and counted down 3, 2, 1. All of a sudden, the canon went off with a massive, eardrum-splintering bang and fired a mallard duck headfirst straight at the greyhound. The duck flew straight in the dog’s agape mouth, went right through it, and came blasting out of its arsehole, to be caught in a bucket by Cynthia, who triumphantly held it aloft. The greyhound appeared to stagger off stage with a slight limp, before Bob and Cynthia took a standing ovation from the crowd. As a final treat, the master magician, as if by magic, produced two high-powered airguns from Cynthia’s boxer shorts and the magical duo starting firing lead pellets at the audience as they left the auditorium. As the delighted audience wiped blood from heads, ears and noses, every one of them headed straight for the booking office to pre-book tickets for Bob and Cynthia’s next performance.

  For the greatest day of your life

  Visit

  Alcoholand

  By our hard liquor correspondent Spongo Nelson

  “The greatest theme park the world has ever known.” That’s the proud boast of the owner of Alcoholand, Mr Bernard Spunkate. I was invited by Mr Spunkate to sample the delights of Alcoholand and to see if it lived up to all the hype. Alcoholand has been consistently voted the number one theme park in Gubbenstery and surrounding area every year since it opened five years ago. Other popular theme parks such as Wormland, Fountain Pen World and Jaundice World have all been playing catch up to the ever popular juggernaut that is Alcoholand. I arrived bright and early at 5am at the vast expanse of Alcoholand and was met at one of the many turnstiles by Mr Spunkate himself. He greeted me with a broad smile, like someone who was mentally insane. He ushered me through the turnstile, only charging me the midweek off-peak rate of £109.19 entrance fee. There was no one else here so I had the whole theme park to myself.

  We approached the first attraction called Drinkypoos and I was instructed by the smiling young lady to drink the pint of green liquid she handed me. I asked what it was but she said it was a secret recipe. As I brought it to my mouth, the stench raced up my nose and nearly made me pass out. It took me about a minute to gulp it down. Immediately, the lining of my nose started to burn, my tongue went numb and my eyes were watering like Niagara Falls. My legs were jelly-like but I was happy to still be standing. From out of nowhere the young lady swung a massive rubber hammer and caught me a meaty blow right on the nose and knocked me to the ground. As I lay there, she managed to thud in another ten big hits right onto my nose until it went numb and I was seeing stars. All this time Bernard Spunkate was laughing his head off. He then helped me up and said all I had to do now to complete the first session was to eat the whole raw conger eel. As I chewed down the last mouthful of the truly repugnant slimy eel, the girl unleashed her massive hammer and again she targeted my nose. After another massive battering and a complete emptying of my stomach contents, Spunkate dragged me to my feet and said well done. He then took £20 off me and explained that the £109.19 was only an entrance fee. All the attractions and rides in the park had to be paid for separately. My head was feeling a bit woozy with whatever alcohol was in the vile green drink and my nose had been flattened and drained of all its blood.

  Spunkate then led me to the next treat, which appeared to be some sort of rollercoaster called The Ethanol Express. We boarded the front car and were strapped in. Immediately, a man appeared and I was fitted with a plastic face mask with a long tube leading off it to a large funnel. He then poured in a bottle of whisky which I had no choice but to gulp down. It burned my throat and my head started to spin. He then poured in a bottle of Campari, a bottle of Advocaat and a litre of Pummelhead English fortified wine in quick succession. I nearly vomited up my lower intestine and it felt like there was a rhinoceros loose inside my skull but I managed to drink the lot. Again, Spunkate was sitting next to me laughing like a mental case. Suddenly, the roller coaster took off at high speed and went round a series of stomach-churning loops and then crashed through a large tank of boiling melted butter, before starting a steep climb to the top of a 300-foot tower. I was now soaked in rancid butter and it felt awful. At the top of the tower the roller coaster suddenly plummeted at great speed and as we hurtled towards the ground, high voltage electric shocks started coming through my seat. This caused my legs to straighten violently and made me leap out of the roller coaster at about 150 feet in the air. My extreme drunkenness was immediately cured as I flew through the air. I crashed into a large tank of water containing piranha fish and they nearly had my fingers chewed to the bone before I escaped. Spunkate then turned up, again laughing like a wild man. He said it was time to move on to the next event.

  We entered a dimly lit hut called The Pulverizing Bin which contained a bar complete with barman. He served me some foul-tasting cocktails and some shots of absolute ethanol until I began to feel my whole body go numb. He then grabbed me and put me inside an old metal dustbin and locked the lid shut. Only then did I find out there was also a wasp’s nest inside the dustbin and the wasps were even less pleased than I was about being in there. Something started bashing the bin relentlessly, before turning it upside down. Suddenly the lid opened and me and the wasps were emptied onto a huge water slide which we slid down at breakneck speed before being brought to a sudden halt by the concrete blocks at the bottom. I was stung all over, my nose was bleeding again and one of my ears was missing. You-know-who was standing there howling with laughter. I was a very annoyed, semi-drunk, buttery mess and I gave Spunkate a telling off. He suggested we move to the next item.

  He led me into a booth where I was grabbed by two burly men who fitted me with a square glass helmet and fixed me to some sort of revolving contraption. I was told that this was called The Helmet of Fuck and the helmet would be topped up with various drinks and the only way I could breathe would be to drink the drinks first. I started to complain but was kicked in the scrotum and punched in the guts a few times. The helmet was then filled with vodka, which I gulped down to prevent suffocation. Subsequent top ups with brandy, Guinness, pig’s blood and boiling gravy kept me busy trying to breathe while I was spun round at high speed. When I was let out, Spunkate was lying on the floor laughing. He said the best was still to come.

  He ushered me into a lift which took us to the top of a 500-foot tower overlooking a barrel of vinegar far below. He then slipped a grenade on a chain over my neck and told me I had to undertake the final task, the legendary Jump of Idiocy. If I didn’t jump off the tower into the barrel 500 feet below, the grenade would be detonated and blow my head off. Then came the usual extra nonsense. I had to drink a full bottle of alcohol before each jump and do it ten times. He then handed me a litre bottle of rum which I gulped down and vomited back up as I jumped off the tower. My aim was good and I landed in the barrel of vinegar with a tremendous thud. Back up I went and completed another nine jumps with various litre bottl
es of booze, except the last bottle, which was a five litre bottle of Jack Daniels. This impaired my judgement and I missed the barrel completely. I landed on top of a passing clown who was riding a horse. The clown was knocked out and the horse’s legs splayed completely flat, but they both survived. Spunkate appeared but I could hardly focus on him. My eyesight was all over the place, my head was pounding, the skin was almost totally ripped off my legs from landing in that fucking barrel and my nose was a flattened, bleeding blob. I was also a bit deaf, had bitten through my tongue and was naked. Spunkate said I’d done well and gave me a lifetime free membership to Alcoholand. For anyone wishing to visit Alcoholand, be it on their own or with friends and family, I would say it’s quite a challenge but it’s very rewarding and would certainly be an ideal venue for all sorts of parties. Now I can see what all the fuss is about and why it’s so popular. Incidentally, Mr Spunkate said he has plans to open a similar theme park for non-drinkers called Boiling Hot Porridge Land.

  Outstanding Trouser Facilities

  Highest quality Elimination Powder now on sale. Imported from somewhere near China. Ideal for household, industrial and abattoir uses. Available in 1 ounce or 1 ton easy open packs. Contact Inutile Industries on Glord 01.