Wooftard Rendezvous
I've just been to Burger King.
I ordered the Cheezy Bites, because I'm something of an explorer. There was something about the Mini-Angus Burger from the kids menu that stank of pedestrianism, and I fancied something a little more... recherché.
My hopes have rarely been higher, so you can imagine my disgust when I unfolded my greasy paper pouch to uncover these hopeless fingertips. "I can't bite these," I wailed internally. "I could pop them in my mouth, but that's chewing, not biting"
"Oh, I'll eat them," I thought defiantly, popping the last two in at the same time, "but I'm not happy."
I glared at the backlit poster of the Three Cheese Double Angus, while the young lady behind the counter looked at me like I was pretending to act out an internal monologue.
"Yes, I'm aware that bite can correctly be used to mean small amount of food," I continued to think. "But I maintain that these would be better called Chew-Chooz, Cheesy Pop-ins, or Masticatory Curd Baubles."
It was at that point that I saw, out of the corner of my eye, another fat man staring sadly at a tiny golden ball of fried cheese, and silently mouthing angry words at it. I woofed at him, and he woofed back at the same time, so I jumped onto his back (see, it wasn't a mirror) and steered him home using his ears. We've now been married for six years. Which brings me onto:
THE ROMANTIC MANOEUVRES OF FAT MEN
From Maximum Awesome's indispensible bear FAQ
Q: How does one bear greet another bear?
A: Easy! One just says "woof", and/or growls.
This is true, but not terribly refined. You woof first, and if they woof back, you may growl. Growling without an answering woof could be seen as aggression, and if you are on the fat man's home territory he might attempt to devour you. This operates on the same scoring system as conkers - if an eighteen stone man eats a superior 21-stone man, he becomes a truly awesome thirty-nine stone bear, and is entitled to some sweet disability benefits.
Once you are both growling, you should retire to the nearest pub's toilets, and spoon in a cubicle until Spring. In an attempt to spread understanding of fat gay bears, I have written Wooftard Rendezvous. It is a short play about fat gay bears.
INT. NIGHT. A BEAR BAR.
JEFF
Woof
STEVE [looking around]
Woof?
Steve spins around on his stool really fast. When he stops he is facing Jeff.
STEVE
WOOF
JEFF
Grrrr
They rub their hands all over each others shirts, their heads tilted backwards and their mouths open.
INT. DAY. KITCHEN, THREE YEARS LATER
Jeff is looking pleased. He is holding a jar of mayonnaise and parading up and down the kitchen. Steve is rummaging in the bacon drawer.
JEFF
Woof. Woof woof. Woof. Woof...
There is a knock at the door.
STEVE
Wu! Wuwuwu!
Jeff rolls his eyes and answers the door. It is Damien.
DAMIEN
Woof! Woof!
JEFF
Wooof!
Steve looks down at the heart he has made from strips of crispy bacon, and slams a pawful of angry mayo onto it. Instantly regretting what he has done, he eats it all and goes to sleep, standing up.
INT. EVENING. BEDROOM.
Steve checks all the windows, locks the door.
STEVE
Why did you woof with three o's at Damien?
JEFF
I... I didn't. I... was doing a French woof. You know, like wurf. Stretches the vowel sound out.
STEVE
Oh. Well, why were you woofing in French?
JEFF
He's just come back from a trip to Paris.
He holds up an official document with the word WOOF and a paw print at the bottom
STEVE
Oh, that's interesting. Because it's not what this sworn affidavit says.
JEFF
Have you been issuing subpoenas to my friends?
STEVE
You didn't leave me any choice. I had to subpoena something
JEFF
Look Steve, what do you want me to say? That I've been spooning Damien in toilet cubicles until Spring? Because for the last three years it's always been you. Just you, Steve.
STEVE
Well, I'm sorry. I didn't realise I was such a chore.
JEFF
This is pointless. I'm opening this door and we're going to go out there, and we're going to woof at each other like this never happened.
Jeff opens the door
STEVE
I'm going to eat Damien. Perhaps then you'll love me again.
PASSING JOURNALIST
I didn't know fat gay men could talk. Or that they ate each other. What a scoop!
JEFF
Oh nice one, Steve. Way to give us away to the Muggles. We're going to be in shit with Dumbledore now. And it's double potions tomorrow.
END
That's pretty much all I know about how fat men do it. If the gay bear lifestyle appeals to you, you can become fat simply by eating more food than your body needs, and you can simulate hair by asking a doctor to implant a powerful magnet in your guts, and rolling around in iron filings. This will have the side benefit of aligning your chakras, which should allow you to fly.
TweetHappy Birthday Steve
Steve: do you think cockatiels enjoy singing like we enjoy singing
Log: I wonder if they're trying to impress us into having sex with them. I thought that's what birdsong was all about. Or territory. Perhaps they're telling us to get out
Steve: well, when we sing we are trying to impress people on to our cocks/into our vaginas
Log: I suppose. Singing in the shower, we might as well be saying "i am naked, i couldn't be more ready for sex"
Steve: nobody sings during sex as it is redundant
Log: Unless the other person begins to look bored
Steve: then you might hum something
Log: Personally, I'd bring out the big guns. Belt out a couple of verses of nessun dorma, right up em
Out of interest, it is Steve's 23rd birthday today, and he's having it at a karaoke bar. Girls - if his eyes land on you when he sings "and it's as big as a whale!" from Love Shack, cross your legs immediately.
Happy Birthday, Steve!
Boxing Helena & Eating Raoul
To some people, the 80s were all about the rivalry between Duran Duran and Wham!
People talk of the playground being divided by a huge tennis net, and long lunch hours spent with their faces pressed against the mesh, their snarling maws hungry for the flesh of the enemy. Geography lessons dominated by the constant slinging of sharpened 45 records, like saw-wheel shuriken. Midnight atrocities committed on the all-weather pitch, atrocities that still replay themselves in the dreams of the victims.
Well, here's what you can do with your old pop rivalry. You can take it, and you can fold in into a paper aeroplane. Then you can hop onto your back, thrust your legs into the air, and stabilising yourself with your left elbow, launch the paper aeroplane directly upwards. Then - quickly, you don't have much time - put your hands on your hips, and manouevre your bumhole into the path of the plane, so it goes right in (hint! You can tear little rudders into the rear of the wings, and it'll make it look like you have a superior understanding of aerodynamics).
Fuck 'em. The real battle for the hearts and minds of British schoolchildren (by which I primarily mean me) was between Jennifer Lynch's tale of amputation beyond the call of medical duty, Boxing Helena, and the moral comedy Eating Raoul, in which a pair of "straights" invite dogfucking dwarves into their home and kill them.
To say I've never seen the films until this week, they've had a lifelong disproportionate hold on me. It's the titles. Even though Eating Raoul is a bit of a spoiler, what with the killing and eating of Raoul being the punchline of the entire fucking film, and even if Helena spends close to no time in a box (and even spends the first forty, long minutes of the film with all four arms and legs), that didn't stop those two titles sitting in the spit on the tip of my tongue.
PAUL: What do you want to do tonight
ME: Well at 7 we'll be Eating Raoul, but after that I'm free if you want to pop around Helena's, she needs boxing.
PAUL: Dirtboxing?
ME: Don't be childish.
ANYWAY RIGHT, I've just watched both films, and this is what I've learned:
1) I have rewritten my life to believe that Boxing Helena came out when I was in school. In fact, it came out in 1994. So that conversation wasn't me being a charmingly precocious twelve year old, it was me being a subnormal twenty-something. Then again, I just did this in Tesco, and the most remarkable thing about this is the fact I'm 36.
Also, what the fuck is Tarragon? It sounds like a robot from the seventies. Who buys this shit?
2) Because I'd been told the shock summary about Boxing Helena - "it's about a man who cuts off a woman's arms and legs, and keeps her in a box," I'd imagined a very different movie. The other line that people always said, to demonstrate a profounder understanding of human behaviour, was "but the thing is, she's always in control". Naturally, I imagined Helena riding her surgeon around the house, guiding him with the reins in her mouth, and being snippy with him.
3) Speaking of people pretending to have a deep insight into movies, my childhood friend John once told me that "Star Wars isn't a story of good and evil - it's cleverer than that. They let you make your own mind up". I see on Facebook he's joined the group "ENGLAND IS FULL - NO MORE IMMIGRANTS". I guess I should have seen that coming. This doesn't have much to do with Helena or Raoul, I'm a bit bored with the format though
4) It's OK to keep a woman hostage as long as a) she eventually likes it, b) any sex scenes have the limbs momentarily restored, and c) it was all a dream anyway so like what the fuck.
5) It's OK to kill and eat Hispanics as long as they're taken with a decent wine
Now to put my life lessons into practice - if I'm not back in three hours, split my possessions amongst yourselves.
Tweet