Warning, OUTRAGEOUS is a series of filth, swearing, insanity and gross images. The easily offended (and not so easily) and anyone under about 35 should stop reading right now!


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Message to my lovely blog followers

Hi to anyone reading this.

While I haven’t entirely abandoned this blog, I have started a new one on Blogger, which I find easier to deal with and on which I seem to be picking up readers a good deal faster than I ever have on here.

On my new blog, I have transferred a lot of my favourite pieces and poetry from WordPress and have also added quite a lot of new stuff. Any follower of this blog would be very welcome to come over and take a look at the new one.

It is called Word-Perfect? Below is a link to one of my most recent posts and I hope you will join me over there and hopefully be entertained by my posts.


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Strange Times Indeed

This about the occult, the masons, numerology and how they all love the number 33, among others. The reason for reposting is because the banker who recently jumped to his death from a window (or was thrown, maybe) did so from the 33rd floor. You’ll see the relevance if you read this piece.

Tonyjayg's Blog

Chilean miners rescue an occult event? Surely not, right? Many other strange occurrences going on, but they’re just coincidences, as well, aren’t they? You decide…

Nick Dean:  I have studied occult symbols and numerology for some time now. You could argue I am looking for these numbers, but my argument against this is that you don’t know how the occult operate.  There are many too many coincidences with the miners rescue:

1. Miners discovered on August 5, which happens to be the 33rd week of the year.

2. The miners were 69 days underground. Turn this number upside down you’ll still have 69. Has anyone heard of ying yang? Well look it up, it’s an occult symbol that has something to do with light and darkness – the marriage of the male sun and the female moon. If you think this has nothing to do with the journey from beneath the cave…

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The Itch

Tonyjayg's Blog

Warning, OUTRAGEOUS is a series of filth, swearing, insanity and gross images. The easily offended (and not so easily) and anyone under about 35 should stop reading right now!


Wedding bells
Nappy smells
Filled with shit and piss
Darling dear
Listen here
I’m giving it a miss

Nagging whine
Dinner time
But, and here’s the rub
Darling dear
Listen here
I’m going down the pub

Wanting love
Elbow shove
Asked for marriage right
Darling dear
Listen here
I’m too knackered tonight

Lovely eyes
Silken thighs
Beauty I can’t bear
Darling dear
Listen here
I’m having an affair

Screaming fight
House alight
I think it’s time to go
Darling dear
Listen here
You’ve been so nice to know

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Come Dine at Christmas

Is it possible to get the complete giggles whilst sitting alone on Boxing day watching TV? Well I did this year, so yes, it most certainly is. If you happen to be watching “Come Dine With Me.” at any rate.

This show is class anyway, though where they keep finding groups of people who are so thick, or arrogant, or rude, or stupid, or useless at cooking whilst thinking they’re Gordon Ramsay, or bloody irritating, or just plain nuts, is beyond me. When you watch this programme, you hate half the contestants, feel sorry for some of them, and then decide one of them isn’t really so bad and then hope and pray they win, whilst also praying the most annoying wally comes last and is therefore humiliated. Fortunately, it often works out that way.

The episode in question which set me off guffawing actually had five people in it who weren’t as aggravating as usual, but oh boy! There was a girl so thick and wooden two short planks doesn’t even begin to describe it. Anyway, it wasn’t even that which gave me the giggles…

A super posh guy – Tim nice but dim – decided to have a wartime austerity Christmas dinner. He’s a history buff and used that as his theme for his dinner party. He’s the sort of bloke whose eyes roll back up in his head when he’s trying to think of what to say, with a mouth full of white tombstones in place of teeth. Very nice, but dumb as they come.

So, the guy makes an austerity Christmas cake, which he said he was sweetening with carrot because during the war they couldn’t get any sugar. Just after saying that, however, he says, and I’ll just add a few drops of vanilla essence. Um, 1939, no sugar in sight, but they’ve got vanilla essence. Yeah right. Very authentic.

Then he makes what he calls ‘Murkey’. I’ve heard of this before, it’s mock turkey and consists of sausage meat mixed with apple and onion, shaped into a bird shape and finished with rashers of bacon. He burnt it black. But wait…

One of the diners asked why it’s called ‘Murkey’ and the host explained, “it’s mock turkey and there is also ‘mock duck’“, which if he’d had a vegetarian present, he said he would have made for them, whereupon the thick bird (bless her) asked with a completely straight face and in all seriousness “and is that called ‘muck?’”

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha. Brilliant. Cheered me up no end. I was laughing so hard I thought I’d cracked a rib.

Then, just to round it all off, the next host insists her dinner party has a Christmas panto theme, so they all arrive in fancy dress. Two of the men turn up dressed as Christmas puddings, which is a great source of merriment to the other guests. Thing is, one of the men, a posh Scottish guy with the moustache and bearing of a wing commander, turns up dressed as a pudding, but also has the tightest red shorts on you have ever seen and either he has stuffed them with something or he has the biggest testicles in all creation and you can see all the other guests squirming and desperately trying not to look at his crotch.

Fantastic. One more dinner party to go as I write this, which I’m off to watch now, but surely it can’t get any more surreal. Can it?

Oh, and if you are wondering why I’m only posting this now in February, I got very drunk on Boxing night and forgot I’d written it. Just found it in my documents and I think there could be a few more forgotten pieces lurking in there as well. Watch this space.

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Pleasurable Pongs

Tonyjayg's Blog

I guess near the top of almost everyone’s list of favourite smells would be freshly mown grass, baked bread and brewed coffee and I’m no different. Obviously frying bacon would be right up there as well, but I wonder how many people would agree with the other pongs I find pleasurable.

For instance, I love the smell of diesel oil. Seems random, especially as I have never driven a car and have no call to visit garages, but I think this may be because my Mum once worked as a petrol pump attendant at Dagenham Motors. I could have been only three or four at the time and Mum would drop me off with a nearby lady and her small son, where I would happily play all day until she came to collect me when her shift was over. Diesel oil, therefore, seems to have linked itself in my mind with…

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Tonyjayg's Blog

I was just eating some celery and I remembered that old thing about it taking more calories to eat celery than are actually in it. Then I thought, imagine how many more calories it must take to pick the bloody stuff than are in it! You could eat it non stop while harvesting it and still die of starvation. That’s not right. Especially when getting the stringy bits out of your dentures uses up even more meagre energy resources.

Well, in these days, when energy is in such short supply and so expensive, I thought it’s high time to ban celery and only grow chocolate gateaux instead and maybe the odd field of custard doughnuts. Make good use of the available land, I say. Maybe we could also grow some lard in window boxes and have toffee plants instead of those useless rubber ones that don’t even bounce or erase…

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