WHY -OH-WHY do supermarkets use superglue to label their fruit?

WHY-OH-WHY do insurance salesman ring you up for ‘a little chat’ and then go on to try to sell you insurance?

WHY-OH-WHY is pornographic,lewd, sexist, racist and totally puerile humour classed as ‘adult’?

WHY-OH-WHY doesn’t the man on the Clapham omnibus get off?

WHY-OH-WHY doesn’t the man in the street go indoors?

PARIS. A HISTORIC court action was started here this week. The plaintiffs are the French Association of Clowns who are accusing the defendants, Banana Skins of flasely masquerading as a comic device.

René Pou-Pou, the clowns’ spokesman explained:

“Eets incroyable. Pour trop longtemps ze skins de bananes avez a comic reputation completement false. Combien de people savez vous who have slippé sur un skin de banane? Huh? Zero! Avez-VOUS ever slippé sue un banane skin? NON! C’est un grand deception qui avait lasté trop longtemps. Nous voulons putter le record straight.”

The Association of Clowns expects to win damages of over one million Euros to compnesate for the years of humiliation and professional distress caused by completely failing to slip on banana skins in front of audiences.

“Ze trauma of ne pas getting a laugh devant hundreds de peuple lasts éternalement. Il can ruin votre reputation. C’est pourquoi nous seek redress.”

As he departed, René’s trousers fell down, he stepped in a bucket of paint and then disappeared down a manhole.

LONDON ZOO IS a good place to go if you want to look at animals. But then so are the Houses of Parliament or any tube train in the rush hour.

A visit to the zoo always raises suspicions that the animals are also looking at us.

Recently a crowd of stunned penguins had to be revived after witnessing (true event:) a transvestite and his companion in a head-to-toe rabbit outfit.

It should come as no surprise that lions and tigers, in their grassy knolls, are whispering into recording machines every little twitch of human behaviour. “The self-absorbed humans seem unaware of our presence as they eat pizzas and shout at eachother…”

The development of more natural enclosures leads to further logical conclusions. They are so rarely seen by zoo visitors that the obvious next step would be to leave them in the faraway countries where they were captured. Zoos with completely empty cages except for some exotic plant life will still flourish. Zoo keepers can still walk around with buckets of ‘elephant poo’, except that it will be horse poo – no-one will notice. They can still slap moist slabs of meat into the lion enclosure. They will be retrieved after the visitors have gone and the zoo employees can have their barbecue. They will also have to occasionally rustle some leaves in the enclosures and let out an assortment of howls and whoops to complete the deception.

Zoos without animals. This concept is already taking shape. Particularly in the insect and reptile houses.

The reptile house presents that revelation that reptiles are, in fact, just dead logs. Completely empty tanks labelled ‘Poisonous sabre-toothed monkey-eating gila monster’ are invariably misleading but a great source of work for struggling fiction writers.

And even when there is an exotic species to view, their thunder is always stolen by the cheeky sparrow who hops into the cage for a morsel and then flies away before an adoring group of grannies.

The most popular exhibits (when visible) are the apes and monkeys. Because they are most like ourselves. Why not dispense with the expense (and cruelty) of importing these primates and simply have cages with mirrors in which we can gaze at ourselves? The obvious problem with this plan is the difficulty in capturing mirrors  from their natural habitat – tailor’s shops. Many a stealthy expedition into this stark wilderness has been scuppered by wild scissor and tape measure-wielding savages threatening to measure inside legs and deface perfectly good jackets with chalk.

People just don’t seem to enjoy animals at the zoo. Where do you see such joy and amazement as on a tube station platform with crowds transfixed by the mice running about on the rails? Perhaps London Zoo should collaborate with London Underground and proved a selection of more exotic animals to parade up and down the railway lines between trains.

And so, we return to the observation that we are merely animals observing eachother on trains. With the drawback that the truly enthusiastic wildlife fanatic will be regularly beaten up on the last train home to Epping on Saturday nights.

Back in Reformation times, the jesters and satirists otherwise known as Protestants made up the dance to mock the Roman Catholics’ communion rites. The myriad movements, twists and turns made by the catholic priests during the communion inspired the words: “You put your right foot in, your right foot out, you do the hokey cokey (from the latin: ‘Hoc est enim corpus meum’ – ‘For this is my body’) and you turn around. That’s what it’s all about…etc”

That’s not the funny bit.

Back in 1972 the Pope decided to completely reduce the number of movements at communion.
What we want to know is – did the Pope and his assistants make the changes because of the connection to a frivolous dance?

And is this where Robotics first took place?

AN ILL-JUDGED household tip on a TV home improvements show was blamed for the sudden wholesale destruction of thousands of the country’s toilets. Toilets in shops suffered a sudden retail destruction.

The programme’s suggested solution to nasty smells left in toilets was: “Simply light a match and those smells will disappear!”. The efficiency with which your toilet would disappear was not mentioned.

Cynthia Backdraft from Coventry described the scene on her return from the shops.

“I could see Alf’s trousers on a telegraph pole, his underpants on a nieghbour’s hedge and Alf on a rooftop further down the road. As he is a roofer, I didn’t think anything unusual had happened until I saw the hole in the wall.”

THE POET SAYS your eyes are two limpid pools,

I think they’re more like puddles.

Th poet says your kisses taste like fine wine,

I think they’re more like Ruddles.

He thinks he’s a hopeless romantic,

I just think he’s hopeless.

He thinks he’s a visionary,

I think he’s just out of focus.

There’s a world of difference between the poet and me:

the world as it is or how it might be.

Poets pretend,

they waste our time

and the fact is that the

overwhelming majority of the

ones I’ve read have almost no

regular rhythmic pattern at all

and they never rhyme.

ARCHIVE. Issue 2, January 1995.
“I liked the odd use of capitals in ‘Video Nice-ies” – Neil Jones, Liverpool.

Thanks Neil; so DID wE.

“Ha! amused me!” – Martin Mason, London

“Anyone could enjoy Ha!” – Agraman, The Buzz, Cheshire.

“I liked Ofice Messages” – Jonathan Isaacs

“Maintain present theme and all should go OK!” – Frederick St George, Brighton.

Thanks Fred. You’re not a Star Trek extra, are you?

“I wouldn’t buy Ha!” – John Brown, publisher of Viz.

(He WOULD say that, wouldn’t he?)

“Video Nice-ies: Excellent idea and professionally written” – Steve Collins, Croydon.

THE WHEEL OF LIFE was wobbling as Mu Ling pushed his mortal trolley through the aisles of Infinity Superstores plc. He heard his Master’s voice echoing from within a freezer of frozen vegetables and discovered the learned one thrashing about in the peas and sprouts in search of the half-drunk can of extra-strong lager that he swore he had left there to chill.

The eager student sought clarification and enquired as to the difference between half-drunk or half-sober.

“Young ‘un,” boomed the Master masterfully emerging from the frozen depths, shaking a sprout from his ear, “it is like the difference between left and right.”

“But Master,” Mu Ling was mewling, “both your hands are even now beating me!”

“And both are required to make you understand!”

“I understand! Honestly I understand!” cried Mu Ling just before losing consciousness.

At that moment, the Master of Wisdom spotted an old woman shoplifting and, realising that all the store detectives were closing in on her, swiftly slipped a cheesecake under his jacket and walked away.

Mu Ling caught up with him. “Master, is it true that crime does not pay?”

The Master shrugged. “Crime does not pay; but neither do too many jobs these days.”

The boy had a lot to learn. The Master of Wisdom recalled his previous pupil, Mysterious Lee, who had been caught shoplifting; the Master was furious and had not allowed him to go out again until he had improved his technique.

“Master, is money important?”

Boy, he had so much to learn. The Master of Wisdom decided to demonstrate and demanded the £20 note which was all that remained of Mu Ling’s earthly giro. Mu Ling gasped as the Master tore it in half, laughing loudly, “This is what I think of money!”

As the pair passed by shelf after shelf, Mu Ling presented a dejected figure, whilst his Master presented an increasingly bulky, misshapen, yet strangely satisfied figure. they scorned the anouncements of special offers; everything was special to the Master of Wisdom; especially liquids.

“Another question, Wise One. Our eyes may be dazzled by diversity. How can we be sure that we choose what is good?”

The Master was patient. “Always remember to obtain a receipt so that goods may be exhanged.”

“And Master,” Mu Ling was pushing his luck further than his trolley. “What course would you recommend when we finally approach, as approach we surely must, the Great Checkout in the Sky?”

The Master drank deeply of ancient knowledge and vintage port. “Join the shortest queue.”

Then without warning, the Wise One expelled all the bilious, treacherous devils in his all too human stomach straight into Mu Ling’s face and, whilst the dripping devotee excused himself and went in search of the Bathroom of Bathos, the Master of Wisdom visited the House of Spirits where he recharged his batteries with life-giving liquids in exchange for a sellotaped £20.00 note.