From: daniel@yoyo.cc.monash.edu.au (Daniel Bowen)
Subject: TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES #123
Followup-To: rec.humor.d,aus.jokes.d
Summary: The Taking Of Custard 1-2-3
Reply-To: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu
Organization: Monash University, Melb., Australia.
Date: Mon, 23 Nov 1992 04:20:58 GMT

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MRS IRENE BUSYBODY'S HUSBAND, FRED BUSYBODY, SPEAKS OUT ON...                 I
Ties. Now, I for one very rarely have to wear a tie, which is just as         '
well, because they cause me to break out with large green lumps all           v
over my neck. Why is it that even given the most appallingly hot and          e
sticky weather, when everyone and everything is sticking to things in a
disgusting sweaty sort of a way, why is it that some situations still         j
insist on the wearing of ties? It's not as if the simple tie actually         o
achieves anything practical, is it? Ties weren't designed to protect          i
your feet from sharp objects on the ground. They weren't conceived to         n
prevent your arms and legs falling off from frostbite. They weren't           e
even thought up to stop soldiers wiping their noses on their jacket           d
sleeves for heaven sake. No. Ties actually serve no logical or
practical purpose whatsoever. Which makes them surplus to requirements        A
in the department of useful clothing (Men's division).                        .
    I wouldn't mind so much, but ties are a bugger to put on. I mean,         A
quite apart from the complicated process of tying them, which forces          .
every schoolboy who ever has the misfortune to have a school tie to           :
practice it constantly, and occasionally get mercilessly teased for
having put the wide bit the wrong way through, or for getting the wide        A
and thin bits the wrong way around. Quite apart from that, there is the       r
inexorable question of *length*. It takes more than the average human         s
mind can muster to make the calculations required to get the length of        e
a tie right the first time. You stand there with the tie hanging around       h
your neck, trying to line up the thin bit with the correct shirt              o
button. And you can never remember *which* shirt button it should be          l
lined up with. And chances are, if you have managed to remember this          e
most prized piece of knowledge, it doesn't apply for the shirt you have       s
on.
    So you think you've got it sussed, and you do the twiddly bit with        A
the fingers. And voila, a tie three feet too long, drooping down over         n
your knees. And what really pisses me off is the fact that this never         o
happens when you're taking it easy, with 45 minutes to spare. Oh no,          n
it's like the tie *knows* you're in a hurry when it decides to do the         y
old random length bit. It's sitting there thinking "well, he's got to         m
leave in 5 minutes, so if he screws up the length more than a few             o
times, he'll miss his bus and be late." And so the tie goes into              u
action, and, in mid-Windsor knot, suddenly throws itself with all the         s
energy it can muster, a fatal inch downwards.                                 .

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -       M
                                                                              e
MR POPSICLE RETURNS - Part 5                                                  e
                                                                              t
At the end of the previous few episodes, a Ruthless gang had robbed an        i
armoured truck piled full of money, and made their way from the scene,        n
not being over-eager to relinquish their freedom at a time which, it          g
must be said, they were hoping to enjoy the huge amount of money they         s
had just grabbed.
    The local police went into action immediately the alarm was raised.       b
First, they finished their doughnuts and pizza, then they got to the          e
end of the card game, while the sergeant solved his Rubik's cube. Then        g
they went into action. The local police station, Dung Hill, was well          i
known in the force as being one of a few new "spoof" police stations on       n
trial by the government.
    Dung Hill's cops were a mixed bunch of psychopathic lunatics, the         w
mix being in their sizes. They ranged from 5'5" to 6'5". They were led        i
by Inspector Andy "Pandy" Mongol, whose accent was always entertaining        t
to the men. Slightly more bald than the rest of them, he was always           h
ready to book a motorist for leaning a little too far to the left in
his seat, and had taken out the police force's prized Most Pendantic          e
Officer Award for the past two years running.                                 v
    Sergeant Bob "Bignose" Crucifyer was generally in charge while            e
Inspector Mongol was busy in his office re-arranging files, which was         r
most of the time. Bob was always ready to discuss personal matters with       y
the troops, and more than ready to covertly sell the story to the             o
newspapers. More than once Dung Hill officers had been surprised to           n
read that one of their number was "Copping Chunky Cocks In Cautious           e
Carlton Club!"
    And the constables, Dave Quickshot, Tony Stamphead, George                s
Scarfield and all the rest could all be depended upon by the sergeant         a
and inspector to perform their law-enforcing duties zealously,                y
pedantically, forcefully, and to occasionally over enthusiastically           i
cause havoc to life and limb. Usually limb. So when they got the call         n
about the armed robbery, they were rapt. They sped off in their cars to       g
the scene, sirens flashing and lights blaring. Dung Hill used the
latest patrol cars, the Ford Bastardmobile police car, equipped with a        "
gearbox that goes up to eleven, super-loud "Deafno" sirens, and the           M
very latest developments in shiny checked blue and white bits. The new        y
shiny checked blue and white bits were in fact so shiny that
pedestrians could see the police cars coming, and almost had time to          n
think about getting out of the way before they got run down.                  a
    As it is, the police cars didn't run anybody down on the way to the       m
crime scene, although they did managed to squash two of the armoured          e
truck guards when they got there. Tony Stamphead and Dave Quickshot got
there first, and immediately began pushing everyone around, telling           i
them to keep the area clear, and generally throwing their weight              s
around, like they'd been told to in basic police training. They, having
the brains of very small slugs, wouldn't be carrying out the                  J
investigation into the robbery. That would be up to a defective err           e
detective.                                                                    f
    Inspector Sideburn, a detective from Dung Hill, arrived shortly           f
afterwards. Sideburn, balding even more than Inspector Mongol, was            ,
prepared for this case, and quite ready to walk around the crime scene
in his overcoat, looking tough and trying to pass himself off as              a
important, by getting the constables to lift the cordon tape up for him       n
as he passed under it. Yes, he looked important and tough all right,          d
but could he solve the crime?
                                                                              I
   *Fat chance! If he solves the crime, when and how will we introduce*       '
   *hero Popsicle into the story?  Stay tuned, if you can be bothered.*       m

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                 a
Toxic Custard is kaput for another week. If                                   n
you're the type of warped individual who'd
a subscription to TCWF, reply to this post or                                 a
send mail to tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details.                                 r
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                 s
Copyright (C) 1992 Daniel Bowen                                               e
--                                                                            h
Daniel Bowen, Monash University |  It was all Andrew's fault- he              o
Melbourne, Australia------------|  was cavorting with an old flame            l
daniel@yoyo.cc.monash.edu.au----|  in the castle.                             e
TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu |                                             .
                                                                              "
Yet another regretable picture, simply entitled "Despair" appears
below.  This doubtful picture by an artist of dubious repute can be
viewed by uudecoding it and throwing it at a GIF viewing program. If you
have any problems, throw it at your local computer geek instead.
Newsgroups: rec.humor