Getting to know…

bf9dcca0-bce2-4247-8a48-d9923fe8b5f8-211-00000016258cf17a…Professor Sir Robert Winston

Sir Professor Robert Winston is a scientist of baby generation science. Having matriculated from Huddersfield Polytechnic with a 2:2 in Theatre and Dance in 1965, his life course was changed dramatically the following year when he became fucking ashamed of that fact, and subsequently pursued a proper subject and job. Knighted in 2012 during a highly experimental (and widely criticised) acid-fuelled investiture ceremony on Ilkley Moor, he now lives in a YMCA on the outskirts of Leeds, with his parrot, Robert, and third wife, Roberta Parrot.

What’s your worst habit?
Making my meals in the kettle. I only ever cook using kettles. I once threw a dinner party attended by David Attenborough and Robert Sachs using 17 kettles.

What makes you angry?
Chavs with more than two kids. Ugly women at the beach. Blokes who won’t sing along at the urinals.

What are you most proud of?
My career as a clever scientist of baby science. I know an awful lot about how babies are made by a man and a woman, and my work has broken a lot of ground, particularly in terms of our understanding of how haunted wombs can give rise to evil children.

Have you ever said ‘see you later’ and not meant it?
Oh, all the time. I mean, literally all the time. No, I really do mean all the time. Don’t you believe me? Why are you smiling? Smile at me would you, prick. Stand up you prick, stand the fuck up and fight me, prick.

What one thing would you change about yourself?
I never learnt how to roll a dice. It’s kind of embarrassing if I’m playing Yahtzee, or Snakes and Ladders, or Monopoly. If I’m throwing a dinner party, I just bring out Boggle. I should learn one day.

What is your greatest fear?
Getting photographed as a black and white minstrel whilst wearing a dress with my penis clearly visible. And that photograph being used as the image for the new First Class Stamp. And then my mother seeing it!

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Getting to know…

…John Virgo

a16c41b4-d5a4-4037-a452-1b57fd7f7f9a-211-000000049d221d5cBorn in Kingston, Jamaica in 1954 to Segway and Eunice Beaufort – the Caribbean’s most celebrated husband-and-wife clown act – John Chatwin Virgo rose to fame as a giant handed snooker tyrant in the shit-brown 1970s. He lives in rural Hertfordshire with his eleven children and civil law partner General Sir Michael Jackson.

What makes you happy?
Sipping a pint of lemon juice whilst watching my gerbils, Anthony and Pony Girl, fight over a peanut.

What’s your greatest extravagance?
Hats. I’ve got three hats. TWO! Sorry, I’ve got two hats. One’s Mike’s.

Describe your perfect weekend
Early morning Saturday stretching right through to late Sunday, with no weekday bits at all. I’m at my most powerful at the weekends. I am an electromagnetised warrior-titan of vengeful fuck-ass at the weekend.

Where were you happiest?
Bromsgrove, February 1973. I’d just chalked up my first 147 and discovered masturbation later that same day. I still remember shouting “sexy Spiderman!” as that maiden ribbon of baby butter shot towards the mirror.

What’s your biggest regret?
That I didn’t check for a pulse before throwing her to the pigs.

Tell us a secret?
Jim Davidson has a tattoo of Chubby Brown fucking Manning on his perineum.

How would you like to be remembered?
A formdable titan on the snooker table, a fearless and generous bonobo in the bedroom, and generally the personification of the generative powers of nature in all other aspects. And as the cohost of Big Break.

Haikus 5

56EF37D9-113F-435F-829D-18671EA8D81F-242-00000029F3A1A366Bowels of Hell
He lost respect for
Steve. That stench in the work loo.
Yes, Steve’s shoes alright.

Sofa cushion lucky dip
Eating, she dropped a
bit. Retrieved without looking.
In mouth. Eurgh. Different.

Canine Waste Executive
His job was to put
little warning flags in dog
shit. Three A levels…

Existential Skittles
By the twelfth leisure
centre vending machine lunch,
he just felt nothing.

80D33872-146A-4283-A5CF-EDA8004B293B-242-00000028AF3844AEPrick Dundee
“Call that a penis?”
said the Urologist, in
a shit Oz accent.