Pat Pong, ping pong and lucky numbers

As those reading my other blog may be aware, I visited Pat Pong a couple of weeks ago. This is the are of Bangkok with the… “interesting” floorshows. Where women fire darts from their twats and the like. Entertainment for all the family. If the family’s the Mansons.

One “trick” we endured was a girl smearing KY on several ping pong balls before slipping them inside her vagina while stood up. She’d then drop them out, one by one, to slip down her legs and into a stragecialy placed glass bowl.

Now. Ping ping balls. Dropping into something. Add a few numbers, give out a prize… it’s the National Lottery. With slappers. OK. More slappers…

*hazy dream shifty effect and fade to TV studio*

A round of applause for Frank from Croydon for picking tonights ball dispenser, who will be Mi Ling! Patience, please, ladies and gentlemen as the balls are juggled up and popped into her fanny.

Drum roll please! First out *pop* is… 28! Making its 15th appearance from Ling’s vacuous womb, it’s 73rd appearance overall.

*pop* next out is… bear with us while our “man on the stage” wipes that Chlamydia smear off… is lucky number 7! Lucky for me I was wearing a johnny when I got a freebie of this little lady earlier in the evening.

*returns to sanity*

St Paddy’s Day… slightly delayed

Those reading my other blog will know I witnessed three St Paddy’s Day events. One in London a week early, one on the night in Bangkok and one a week later at a posh dinner/dance, also in Bangkok. So, basically, they can’t even get the sodding date right.

Essentially, it’s an excuse for Americans to decide they’re Irish for one day. Something to be so proud of – “we loved the ‘Old Country’ so much that left.”

I think some silly twat lost the recipe for making chips – this whole “potato famine” thing is a cover-story so they don’t appear quite so stupid. My (very vague) proof is that if you go to the US and ask for chips, you get a bag of crisps. They still haven’t managed to get them right, though the Irish themselves rediscovered the recipe so sell you the proper thing if you go there.

Tolerance? Someone buy this twat a dictionary

Afghan on trial for Christianity screams the headline. Basically, some Afghan who dropped Islam in preference for Christianity is up on trial at the moment.

If he repents, and reconverts then that’s OK because: “We will invite him again because the religion of Islam is one of tolerance. We will ask him if he has changed his mind. If so we will forgive him.”

Which is all nice and dandy. However, if he doesn’t reconvert then first of all they’re check his mental state. Now, in my view anyone who believes someone could really change water in to wine and walk on water without using mirrors is a bit loopy so he should be alright there as well.

Religious matters, though, are never that simple.

If he fails that test and they reckon he’s sane, then they’ll kill him. I’m not sure how – perhaps stoning or shooting. Maybe in this more modern society of theirs they’ll have moved on to the much more pleasant lethal injection.

Regardless, how many people would class that as even remotely “tolerant” because I fucking don’t.

It’s Ok to offend religion… as long as it’s not mine

Isaac Hayes has quit his role as Chef in South Park. A year ago he joked that nobody should be offended by the program’s jokes about Jews, Mormons, Christians, Muslims, etc etc etc. And he’s right. They don’t pick on anyone in particular. It’s not a vendetta.

Only they recently picked on Scientology. And Hayes has been a Scientologist for 13 years. So he’s thrown a hissy fit and quit.

Voice of chef – cool.
Theme from Shaft – cool.
Getting all upset because someone points out that Scientology is a pile of wank aimed at the stupid and rich – decidedly uncool.

Last day lunches

Today for lunch I had a fresh pear, a Shape low-fat yoghurt and… erm… 3 pints of beer.

Bollocks. It’s my last day. Apparently this is the first “last day lunch” anyone’s been to where the “leav-ee” hasn’t had to dig into their own pocket for beverages. I assume one of two things:

a) they love me, or
b) they’re trying to poison me with beer

Either’s fine with me.