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The Real Jamie Oliver

Jamie Oliver was born Margaret Ig in deepest revolutionary France some fortyfew years ago. His early years were spent living in a lake, where his parents has taken up residence to avoid the all-pervading strains of Charles Aznavour records. 

At the age of five and barely out of nappies, his childhood was traumatised by the sudden arrest of his father on charges of making sexual overtures towards a pickled herring.

At the trial, his father, Ernest Ig, threw himself on the mercy of the court and asked for sixty-three other charges to be taken into account, including committing a lewd act with a hatstand, bathing in discarded film footage of Morris Dancing, and fathering Bonnie Langford whilst under the influence of low-fat yoghurt.

The jury of one man, one woman and ten hermaphrodites gleefully found him guilty, and he was shipped off to the “La Fondue” minimum security prison and retail ear-muff outlet. There, he was subjected to such diverse tortures as the authorities could muster; Chinese burns and towel-flicking were rife, and the enforced watching of Jim Davidson videos had the inmates cruelly subjugated.

However, the Ig family’s separation was happily short-lived when Ernest was rescued by son Margaret and far-from faithful wife Claudine in a daring lunchtime raid. Disguising themselves as freelance travel agents, they easily entered the facility and absconded with a struggling Ernest, who had been quite enjoying himself until then.

Following Claudine’s carefully laid cunning plan, they ran like buggery to Calais, evading the pursuit of a crack hamster attack squad. There, a boat was waiting for them. Unfortunately it was a police boat.

Fearless, they blasted their way through the line of Gendarmes using a particularly powerful aerosol can of that dreadful artificial whipped cream, and leapt into another standby boat which Claudine had knitted only that morning.

Using Margaret as a paddle, they reached England in good time, beaching just south of Fort William. (Ernest has acquired his stout seamanship from his father, Slim, a Chinese waiter who had never set foot outside his Kentucky ranch.)

Sleeping on the move, the Ig family made their way on foot to the wilds of Bishops Stortford and broke into an abandoned caravan once allegedly used by Cardinal Wolsey. Exhausted from their journey, they slept.

When they woke, Margaret was twelve. Ernest decided that, in order not to arouse suspicion, they should change their names, and thus they became the Oliver family. Richard (nee Ernest) set about providing for the family in their new life, and easily found work pulling the legs off spiders. However, soon afterwards the international market for spiders legs collapsed, and a distraught Richard was made redundant. Walking home after his last day at work, he was mobbed by wheelchair-bound tarantulas and chewed to death.

Distraught, Jamie joined a local technical college with a view to learning a trade, and within a year had built his first sparrow. This set his life’s course straight and true, and he vowed to be the best sparrowsmith in Hertfordshire, whatever it took.

Three weeks later, he fulfilled that dream. Overcome with emotion on hearing of her son’s achievement, Jane (nee Claudine) passed out in the kitchen while making eggs Benedict and hit her head on a protruding antelope.

After being tended in hospital for twelve long years, with Jamie at her bedside 24 hours a day, Jane finally recovered consciousness. Startled by unfamiliar surroundings, the first words to her loving son were “Are Band Aid still Number One?” Tragically, she never found out. Jamie was busy dashing to the toilet to relieve twelve years of bladder discomfort, and by the time he returned to Jane’s bedside, the hospital had been closed down.

After so long in the employment wilderness, Jamie found it painfully tough getting a job. That was until he was found unconscious in the gutter outside a Burger King restaurant. The franchisee, having suffered the decimation of his staff that previous evening during a vicious bout of chutney tasting, woke Jamie with a kick to the eyebrows and employed him there and then.

The rest, as they say, is history…

Find a longer chuckle in my humour writing compendium of offbeat short stories on Kindle : The Real Jamie Oliver and other Stories

The Anderson Dreams

Recently uncovered in a disused well in Chad, two audio tapes give a great insight into the mind of impresario and noted Suffolk chipmunk breeder Kookie Anderson. Anderson has denied any knowledge of the tapes, or of possibly trying to conceal them, but voice analysis experts agree that the tapes are indeed self-recorded transcriptions of his dreams, probably occurring between June 1975 and March 1978.

Here we present some of the highlights.

‘I dreamt that I was eating my own bed. After a few mouthfuls I realised that it needed ketchup, so I went to the kitchen and got some. When I was about halfway through the headboard, I ran out of ketchup. There was no more in the house! So I put on my dinner jacket and went to the corner shop to buy some more. I didn’t recognise the man serving me, so asked where the normal shopkeeper, Edwin, was. The man said that Edwin was in Madrid for a few days, on a shaving holiday. I found this very odd, because Edwin hates Spain. Last year, his son was killed by a falling cheeseboard while running the bulls in Pamplona. Edwin would never go to Madrid. That was when I realised that this must be a dream.’

‘I dreamt that my mother was trying to sell me all the motorway lights on the M1. We haggled for a long time, and eventually I became incensed and struck her with an Argentinean. All she did was smile.’

‘I was let into my own house by a camel. There seemed to be a camel party going on. They were fairly considerate, but I couldn’t sleep, so I went down to the river and washed my television. The camels hardly noticed I’d gone.’

‘I dreamt I was trying to count the number of times I had tried to fall asleep by counting sheep. A ferocious headache woke me.’

‘Last night I had a dream that I was a woman making love to the real me. I feel very depressed.’

‘The most vivid dream last night. I imagined I was the number 4. I was everywhere at the same time, on bill posters, on blackboards, on computers and in books. Most of the books were closed, though, so I couldn’t see anything. I felt very powerful, but I was always afraid of 0. Number 2, whenever I encountered him, whenever I had to stand next to him, was a real bastard. I think we should all be very wary of 2.’

‘I dreamt I was a turkey a few weeks before Christmas. It was horrible. Then I realised the solution : diet!’

‘A troublesome dream last night. I was trapped in a glass of wine. The situation quickly became more bearable though when I realised that also trapped in the glass was ex-president Jimmy Carter. We got on famously, but eventually I had to beat him to death with my left shoe. It was a big mistake. My foot got terribly wet.’

Find a longer chuckle in my humour writing compendium of offbeat short stories on Kindle :The Real Jamie Oliver and other Stories

Books by Chris Towndrow

The Rich List

The annual publication of the UK “Rich List” is an eagerly awaited occasion, with much journalistic attention being given to its upper echelons. This, however, ignores the achievements of some of its less well-publicised members. In order to go some way to redress this balance, there follows an excerpt from the 2017 List.

Ranked No. 1876

J. Simon Harpenden, Bricklayer

Just pipped by the Spum brothers, Mr Harpenden has nevertheless had a very successful year, if a sad one. The death of his wife Irma in a tragic cucumber picking accident has reduced outgoings tremendously, allowing this resourceful individual to climb well into the top 2000.

Ranked No. 1877

Herbert Spill, Computer Programmer

A bad year for Mr. Spill, who, despite fixing the “Q” on his keyboard, suffered from financial losses after the publication of the 2016 List. He drops 198 places after blowing a cool five hundred large on a big party to celebrate his rise up the rankings last year.

Ranked No. 1878

Jemina Smith, unemployed

Heir to the Smith fortune of over £10bn, Jemina has eschewed profligacy, despite her fondness for designer socks. It has been reported that her father has refused to build any further extensions to her house, thus limiting the size of her footwear collection to its present 62,128 pairs.

Ranked No. 1879

Martin Crisp, transvestite and father of nine

Mr(s) Crisp is a new name on the Rich List this year after blackmailing the Governor of the Bank Of England.

Ranked No. 1880

Paul What, insurance salesman

Paul What faces expulsion from the Rich List as his trial draws to a close. If convicted, he will be stripped of his fortune, amassed by selling “Sun” insurance policies to old people. These policies, built on weekly or daily contributions, were only due to pay out if the sun did not rise the following morning.

Ranked No. 1881

Jane Kirkby-Follicle, inventor

Sales of her patented diamond-encrusted fishing rod have been very sluggish, and the inventor has been forced to put up personal money to keep the business afloat. She drops 762 places. As a consequence, her place as one of the most eligible spinsters in Rugby is under threat.

Ranked No. 1882

Smith Walston, pothole maker

Smith Walston has been a controversial figure over the last three years, but this hasn’t affected his wealth. He continues to thrive on his retainers, paid by local construction companies who defraud county councils and thus the taxpayer.

Ranked No. 1883

Q. Milkfancy, recycler

Mr. Milkfancy is suffering troubled times, struggling to maintain profits by stealing empty beer glasses from pub gardens and selling them off.

Ranked No. 1884

Miss S. Trouble, heiress

Miss Trouble continues to gently fritter away her family fortune, dropping 65 places. Her great grandfather Ben Trouble, of course, is famous for inventing the word ‘embryo’.

Ranked No. 1885

David David, investor

A very recent success story, David David made millions by carefully timed investments in rubber tulips for deaf children.

Find a longer chuckle in my humour writing compendium of offbeat short stories on Kindle :The Real Jamie Oliver and other Stories

advanced sexual positions

Advanced Sexual Positions

“The Illuminator”

Good for  :  Reducing the “To Do” list

Not recommended for  :  Use outdoors, overweight couples

The man stands on the chair (recommend a sturdy kitchen-type chair, no wheels or cushions) with his buttocks against the chair back. The woman gets onto the chair and stands facing away from the man. The woman bends over until her back is at a 45 degree angle. When the man has attained a comfortable position, he changes the light bulb.

“The Surf N Turf”

Good for  :  Women called Stacey

Not recommended for  :  Vegetarians

The woman assumes the Crab position. The man assumes the Llama position.

“Just Coming, Love”

Good for  :  Safe sex

Not recommended for  : Energetic types

The man lays on the bed and achieves a state of preparedness while the woman removes her nail polish in the bathroom. The man falls asleep.

“Giving The Bird”

Good for   :  Wierdos

Not recommended for   :   Men with a fear of common fowl

The man lays on the bed. The woman straddles him and flaps her arms, clucking like a chicken.

“The Long Shot”

Good for   :  Energetic types

Not recommended for   :  Those with sensitive eardrums, impatient couples

The man and woman both engage in a rigorous 9-month course to train as Human Cannonballs. Having graduated, and when the mood is right, the couple enlist the help of professionals to set up two cannon in close proximity. Consulting appropriate experts, the couple ensure that the cannon are arranged such that the two flight paths intersect about 2 seconds after the cannonballs leave the barrel.

Both cannon are fired simultaneously. The man and woman – wearing the appropriate safety headgear – meet in mid-air, copulate, and fall to earth (a safety net).

It is recommended that both parties attain a significant state of arousal before being fired. Intercourse lasts less than 4 seconds. This position requires tremendous practice and is notoriously difficult to get right. Female orgasm has been recorded only once.

“The Obvious Deception”

Good for   :  Future divorcees

Not recommended for   :   Those who buy their milk at the supermarket 

The man goes to an important conference in Hastings. The woman shags the milkman.

“The Un-Obvious Deception”

Good for   :  Confused husbands

Not recommended for  :  Those who buy their milk at the supermarket 

The woman goes to an important conference in Hastings. The man shags the milkman.

“The Good Neighbour”

Good for   :  Suburbanites

Not recommended for  :  High rise apartment block dwellers, left-handed people

Best on a sunny Sunday afternoon. The woman pours herself a Pimms and lays out in the garden on the recliner, and soon falls asleep. The neighbour looks over his fence, sees this, dons his gardening gloves and takes the opportunity to trim the woman’s bush. When he is finished, he wakes the woman. She tells him it looks nice, but that he should clean up the leaves. He does this and then they make love.

Mowing the lawn is an acceptable substitute.

“The Yee-Hah”

Good for  :   Practising your balance

Not recommended for   : Hemharroid sufferers

The woman mounts the horse. The man mounts the woman.

“The Politician And The Mistress”

Good for   :   Role-players

Not recommended for   :  Honest people

The woman lies down on the bed. The man lies.

Find a longer chuckle in my humour writing compendium of offbeat short stories on Kindle :The Real Jamie Oliver and other Stories