Hi-Ho, hi-ho, its off to drink we go…

This weeks drinking game comes in the form of a true story.

 On the eve of his wedding, Dick (names have been changed to protect the innocent. For example Dick’s name is really Gordon Brown) and a few friends went out for a stag night pub crawl. Along with his friends went his father and his future father in-law.

After a while of engaging in much frivolity, Dick suggested playing a little game.

When they went to the next pub Dick was to go in alone, approach the bar man/wench and order a pint and seven half pints. When the bar man/wench asked why the seven half pints Dick would turn toward the door and at the top of his voice yell ‘HI-HO’ following which his merry friends would march into the pub on their knees singing the famous seven dwarf song.

This little prank went so well that they decided to do it again at the next pub only this time another member of the group would enter the pub first, order the pint and seven half pints then at the appropriate moment yell ‘HI-HO’.

They did it again and again each time with a different member of the troupe until at last the future father in-law, pumped with enough beer to knock out an elephant plucked up the courage to take his turn.

So, into the next pub he went. When asked for his order he said ‘One bintsch ofsh peer… no thasts not sright (hic)… one pintsch ofsh beers and (hic) shevens halfsth… halfsh pintsch… (hic) pleeash.

When asked why a man in his state wanted a pint of beer and seven half pints the future father in-law turned toward the door, fell off his bar stool, picked himself up and with the loudest voice he could muster yelled ‘HI-(hic)-HO’.

Everyone in the pub stopped drinking, talking, playing pool and whatever else you do in pubs and stared at the somewhat inebriated future father in-law.

The future father in-law (we’ll call him Bob although his real name is Rowan Williams) stood giggling to himself for a few moments until the harsh reality dawned on him that his little dwarf companions had not entered the pub. ‘HI-HO’ he shouted again even louder than the first time but still nothing. Again and again he called to no avail until a firm grip manifested itself upon his arm and he was suddenly and quite rudely ejected from the pub.

Out in the street he looked around but there was nobody to be seen. No friends pretending to be dwarfs, no Dick, nothing.  In a state of embarrassed bemusement and not really knowing what else to do, Bob staggered off down the road. After just a few short steps though he was pulled up sharply by the sound of raucous laughter.  On the opposite side of the road was yet another pub and in the doorway, on their knees were Dick and the rest of the group singing Hi-ho, hi-ho… yarda yarda you get the idea.

 Fortunately, despite launching into a tirade of drunken abuse and calling Dick a worthless ‘baschtrurd’ Bob eventually saw the funny side.

So there you go. Try it out with an unsuspecting pal but just make sure he or she has a good sense of humour (or humor if you’re from over there). As a word of warning though, just think about what would have happened if Bob had not seen the funny side. His daughter would have had no Dick on her wedding night.

Happy weekend (hic)

My name is Freddy… Illusive Freddy

Ever since I was a wee young sprog I always wanted to be Bond.

Bond has this overpowering pull on a young man’s imagination. Perhaps it’s because of the adventure and excitement associated with the films. Maybe its the gadgets and cars. Probably its the fact that he gets beautiful women falling over themselves to be used as meaningless sex fodder.

For me it was all of the above and more. You see, I liked the idea of the lifestyle. Travelling all over the world, shooting bad guys, drinking expensive wines of which I knew everything from the year it was produced to the size of the feet that trod the grapes then bonking the babe before moving on to the next kill. I made the conscious choice that I wanted this lifestyle.

This translated itself into my actions in various ways. As a child with very little money and even less influence on where I could travel I had to be content with pretending my bicycle was an Aston Martin DB5 with an ejector saddle and guns protruding from the handlebars. I had my trusty transparent blue Walther PPK water pistol. My blackcurrant juice was a cleverly disguised Vodka Martini and the family caravan holidays to Cornwall were really secret missions to exotic locations. As for the women, other than a fantastic 10 minute fumble behind the school bicycle shed with Sharon Taylor (she was gorgeous) and a 15 minute fumble with Alex Powers (so was she)for the most part I had to pretend to have lots of rumpy pumpy (the least said about that the better).

Of course all of this took place at the age of about 9 or 10. Later in life I became much more sophisticated. I could still never afford the Rolex Mariner or the DB5 but I did educate myself to know that a red Bordeaux is in fact a Claret, bought myself a dinner jacket, learned how to play poker and even drove around in a two seater convertable MG sports car.

                                        

I thought I was the business. People have even told me that I bear resemblance to Daniel Craig. From behind with the lights off.

It was not long before espionage came tugging at my tadger; industrial espionage that is for I was recruited for a top secret mission which involved travel, intrigue and danger.

Wow what was the mission?.. did I hear someone gasp in excitement (probably not). I was sent by a research company to spy on rival supermarket chains. I had to pretend to be shopping but really I was sent to check up on how much meterage shops were giving to certain products and what kind of shelf displays they had.

Boring??? not at all. Very dangerous. Supermarket managers, while in reality are trumped up little grocers, think that they are evil geniuses and guard their stores as if they were a secret submarine base. Many a time I have been chased around a shop, avoiding certain doom by hiding behind a stack of baked beans. Despite this here I am years later with a few scars but still alive.

Only nowadays I’m more like Jonny English than Bond.

                                          

Still I’m more than a match for the toughest enemy so if you need a man with a cool head, smooth charm and a libido like a rutting rhino, I’m your man.

Absent friend

Today is a sad day.

Normally I am a jovial chap. I like to laugh and lark about in the office by teasing my staff with lewd double entendres. But not today.

Because of my easy going nature I tend to make friends quite easily but never close friends. All but one of my friends get to a certain level of intimacy but never get close enough to know the real me or to make a deep impact on my life. The reason for this is mostly because every-time I do let down my guard, my little protective shield; I get hurt, let down or disappointed in some way.  

I say ‘all but one’ because I have in the past 18 months become close to one particular friend. We share the same interests, goals, sense of humor, love of fake boobs (as seen on Sunset Tan and Playboy Mansion), same taste in foods and the same ambition to sample as much a variety of alcoholic beverages before we die with our internal organs pickled.

Sometimes we talk about everything and nothing. Sometimes just watch crappy TV. Sometimes just sit quiet with a beer in one hand and a single malt in the other… or more accurately, we did. Sadly yesterday evening I said my last farewell to my best friend. My bestest best friend.

After spending the last year and a half on Malta, he and his family are moving back to the US of A. We’ve promised to keep in touch and to email, text, call and Skype each other on a regular basis. I’m even looking to visit the States at the end of the year however I cannot suppress the feeling that I will never see my best friend again and its a killer. Henceforth the little shield will be firmly back in place.

So here’s to you friend. The guy who always made me laugh. The guy who could always out drink me. The guy who plays Denny Crane to my Alan Shore and Cheech to my Chong. In the time to come whenever I drink there’ll be two glasses; one for me and one for you.

Absent but never to be forgotten.

Two for the price of one

Yes ladies and gentlemen, roll up rollup for the never to be repeated two blogs for the price of one offer. Here on the IllusiveFreddy blog site you can read not one but two posts. No you’re eyes aren’t playing tricks on you nor are you suffering from mad cow disease (unless you are of course in which case I’ll moooove swiftly on).

Due to the overwhelming response to my plea for suggestions on the subject of drinking games and such (yeh, right) I have a new Friday/Saturday night challenge for you. But first, here’s a word from our sponsors.

The Malta film industry

Way back in the 80’s when I was a mere slip of a lad no bigger than a grasshopper’s wedding tackle, there was a live action version 0f Popeye starring non other than Robin Williams formerly know as Mork. I have very vague memories of the film being as I was only about 15 at the time (oops giving my age away) but I am informed that it sucked ‘big time’.

It has however, left behind it a legacy. At the North end of Malta and arguabley the prettiest, stands the little village of Sweethaven right above Anchor Bay. No ordinary village is this though because the entire place is a film set. Furthermore the film set has been turned into a theme park complete with actors on hand ready to put on Popeye shows for the visitors.

 

You would be mistaken though if you thought that this is where Malta’s position as a top notch film location ended. Try checking out the following for glimpses of Malta through the Hollywood lens.

The Count of Monte Cristo (recent version), Troy, Gladiator, Munich, Cutthroat Island, Clash of the Titans, Casino Royale (original version), The Da Vinci Code, Erik the Viking, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Leviathan, Never say never again, Raise the Titanic, The spy who loved me, U571 and… the list goes on and on which for a 15miles by 9miles rock in the middle of the Med’ is pretty good going.

The freeby post

Drinking game - Take one huge pitcher of beer but instead of drinking it from pint glasses, try drinking it like you would ’shots’. Head back, straight down the hole in one gulp.

Apparently this messes with your head so that where normally you’d manage 3 or 4 pints of beer without feeling the effects; you’re likely to be on the floor by the end of the first pint.

Try it, have fun and if you can think of a better one post a comment.

Oooo er missis…

If you’re easily offended don’t read further! You have been warned.

You see my sense of humor has a tendency to gravitate toward the base and crude or the toilet; whichever terminology you prefer.

Now don’t misunderstand me. I have a very good sense of humor. I enjoy a good laugh like the next man (or woman for that matter) and my tastes vary from highbrow wit to down right rude. Among the literature I choose to read you will find works by Oscar Wilde, Stephen Fry, P.G.Wodehouse and Douglas Adams along with the occasional Terry Pratchett and Robert Rankin. I am also an avid reader of Private Eye. I particularly enjoy satire, sarcasm, a punchy one liner as well as a cutting witty retort.

There is one thing though that is guaranteed to have me doubled over, shaking, clutching my chest and streaming with tears and no, its not a heart attack. It is anything remotely funny with subject matter that originates from the area of the human body which begins just below the belly button and finishes somewhere above the knees.

As an axample of this; the three lovely ladies whom I am privileged (and lucky) enough to work along with, were all looking at a computer screen and showing the above mentioned symptoms. So much hilarity had ensued in fact that between the three of them the office probably lost about half an hours worth of work.  So intrigued was I that I crept behind them to see the source of such merriment. There on the screen was a list of slang phrases and expressions all describing male masturbation.

A short version follows;

Adjusting your set, Answer the Bone-A-Phone, Arm-wrestling the purple-headed stormtrooper, Assault on a Friendly Weapon, Baiting your hook, Bangin’ your bacon, Banging the Cyclops, Barking up the wrong tree, Bash the bishop, Basting the ham, Beating the Altar Boy, Beating your Meat, Biblical Bending, Bouncing the bunny, Boxing the bald champ, Buffing the pickle, Buffing the rifle, Buttering your corn, Charming the one-eyed trouser snake, Choke the chicken, Climbin’ the tree, Clubbing the dolphin, Coming to grips with yourself, Consulting with your silent partner, Cracking one off, Dancing round the maypole, Debugging the hard drive, Digging for change, Doin’ a loner with your boner, Doing the five-knuckle shuffle, Doing the hand jive, Doodle Your Noodle, Faxing the Pope, Gallop the Maggot, Gardening with the golden trowel, Giving yourself a low five, Going Hans Solo on Darth Vader’s head, Going on Peewee’s little adventure, Going steady with my bouncing Betty, Goose the gherkin, Greasing the flagpole, Have One Off the Wrist, Hitchhike Under the Big Top, Hoisting the flag, Honing your bone, Honk your horn, Jerkin’ the gherkin, Knuckle nobbing, Laying the smack down on yourself, Muscling up, One gun salute, Painting the picket fence, Pam Anderson Polka, Pattin’ the puppy, Paying at the turnpike, Peter beater, Play a little five-on-one dong, Playing pocket pinball, Playing pocket pool, Polish the Chrome Dome, Polish the family jewels, Polishing Thor’s Hammer, Pudwhacking, Pull Your Pud, Punishing Percy, Rolling your own, Roping the pony, Rubbing Buddha’s special belly, Sanding wood, Scouring the tower of power, Seasonin’ Your Meat, Shaking hands with Mr. Happy, Sharpening your pencil, Shavin’ the carrot, Shinning Your Trophy, Shooting the pump action porridge gun, Shooting the sherbert, Slammin’ the Salami, Slap My Happy Sacks, Sloppy Joe’s Last Stand, Spanking Elvis, Spanking Frank, Spanking the bishop, Spanking the monkey, Spanking the plank, Squeezing the snake with the turtleneck sweater, Swinging the light saber, Take the fifth, Tenderize the Meat, Turning Japanese, Unsheathing the pork sword, Wacking the weiner, Whackin’ the weasel, Working late at the office, Wrestling the bald-headed champ, Wrist aerobics, Yanking your crank.

After regaining my own composure and to balance things out I decided to see if there were similar comments to describe the female act. Again, here is the short list; Enjoy.

5 Digit Disco, Airing the Orchid, Auditioning the Finger Puppets, Backslappin’ Betty, Backstroke Roulette, Bailing out the Gravy Boat, Barking at the ape, Battery-testing, Beat the Beaver, Beating Around the Bush, Boffing the Bud, Bouncing on the Bed, Bouncing the bearded clam, Buff the Weasle, Buffing the box, Buffing the jewel, Buffing the Muff, Bushwhacking, Buzzing the honey hole, Carpet Bumping, checking the undercarriage, Clam diving, Click the mouse, Crossing the Great Divide, Dialing “O” on the little pink telephone, Diddling miss daisy, Enjoying a little Southern Comfort, Fanning the Furnace, Finger painting, Flickin’ the Bean, hand jiving, having a manually assisted fantasy, Having Sex With Someone you Love, Holding the Hamster, Menage a’moi, One Hand Clapping, Paddling the Pink Canoe, Parting the Red Sea, Pearl Diving, Playing in the sandbox, Pokin’ the pie, Pressing the Pleats, Ringing for the Maid, Roughing up the suspect, scratching that old itch, Slamming the Clam, Squeeze the Peach, Ticklin’ the taco, Tiptoe Through the TwoLips, Touch-typing, Yodeling in the canyon of love.

A bit of fun

This week has gone by with alarming rapidity.

It seems only a few minutes since I sat and wrote my last post. Since then the week has been so busy that I’ve had hardly enough time to think let alone write. Oh I made a few comments on a couple of other blogs in the vain hope to increase traffic a bit. I told Claire how pleased I was that she’d passed her driving test; well done again Claire. I also replied to some nice comments from my good friend Wen and my new friend Sandro. Other than that its been work, work, work and more work.

 So in an attempt to lighten things up at the end of the week I’ve decided to post a challenge for you.

Here goes;

Step 1. Get yourself nice and drunk.

Step 2. Approach a complete stranger.

Step 3. Repeat the following little rhyme as fast as you can;

“I’m not a pheasant plucker I’m a pheasant plucker’s son and I’m only plucking pheasants ’til the pheasant plucker comes.”

Step 4. Either fall about laughing hysterically like the drunken fool you are or run before you get your head reshaped by an angry fist.

 If you have the bolas to do this, please report back to me. I also wish to start compiling a list of the best drunken pranks and drinking games. The best ones (if I receive any) will be posted on this blog every Friday as an inspiration to us all.

 Have a fantastic Friday/Saturday night binge and a fun packed weekend.