Colonel Gaddafi's Desert Island Discs

I HAVE always been huge fan of Mr Elvis Presley. He was a most wonderful entertainer, with his one for the money, and two for the show, three to get ready and – one moment please…

TELL THE WESTERN DOGS THAT THE COLONEL WILL NEVER SURRENDER ! TELL THEM I HAVE GOD ON MY SIDE, AND THAT MY PEOPLE HAVE A VERY BEAUTIFUL LOVE FOR ME – TELL THE WORLD LEADERS AND THEIR MISERABLE SUBJECTS THAT I RECEIVED 112,000 BIRTHDAY CARDS FROM MY PEOPLE, AND REMIND THEM THAT 3 OF THEM CONTAINED TIMOTHY WHITE’S VOUCHERS. GOD LOVES MUAMMAR. GOD LOVES EVERY LITTLE TINY TOE ON HIS TWO FEET. GOD LOVES THE THREE ACRES OF SCRAMBLED EGG ON HIS UNIFORM. GOD LOVES THE GROOVY FBI ISSUE FOSTER GRANT SUNGLASSES HE WEARS. AND GOD LOVES THE S-BELT HE WEARS TO KEEP HIS SLACKS FROM FALLING DOWN.

Anyway,  Elvis Presley. I love this man, especially when he wearing big white jump suit, although I cannot condone any man who eat squirrel burger. My favourite Elvis tune is the Wooden Heart, especially the bit where he sings in German. This remind me of the time when Adolf Hitler spoke to me in vision and said that he too love the King but drew line at those films he made, apart from maybe Viva Las Vegas, which featured Ann Margaret’s tits. If you will please excuse me…

LIEUTENANT, GO AND FUEL MY LEARJET. I FEAR MY LOYAL, LOVING PEOPLE ARE UNCONVINCED THAT DISCHARGING 30MM CANNON INTO THEIR MIDST IS IN THEIR BEST INTERESTS – GOD LOVES THE CHOSEN ONE, GOD LOVES LIBYA ! GOD LOVES MY SECOND CHOICE, THE KING’S SINGERS.

I first hear the King’s Singers on The Two Ronnies – they would go, “umunumunumunumunum” – I found this “umming” and “numming” most satisfying, in fact so satisfying did I find it, I invite them over to sing for me on my 35th birthday. In payment, I give them framed picture of favourite camel and front row seats to weekly garotting. That was five years ago – how time flies when great leader is having fun. Back in a tick…

KHALED, ABDUL – FORGET THE BAYING MASSES, FORGET THE REVOLTING, LOVING HORDES WHO CLAMOUR FOR MY INSPIRATIONAL TONES….GO FORTH TO THE SACRED MICROWAVE AND PREPARE MY ADMIRAL’S PIE AND SPAGHETTI HOOPS – AND WE CAN HAVE TREACLE TART AND CUSTARD FOR AFTERS FOR WE SHALL FEAST AT AROUND ABOUT A QUARTER TO EIGHT, JUST BEFORE McMILLAN AND WIFE COMES ON THE TV.               

My next record take me back to carefree days when I laze around signing execution orders whilst listening to Mr David Lee Travis. I am speaking, of course, about the very magnificent Uptown Top Ranking by Mr Althia & Donna ‘See me in me heels and ting / Dem Check say we hit and ting’.  Excuse me one moment…

I WILL GO DOWN IN HISTORY AS ONE OF THE WORLD’S WISEST MEN – LET ANY MAN WHO DARE CHALLENGES MY WORD BE STRUCK DOWN BY…KHALED, FETCH THE BROTHER LEADER’S LEMON SQUASH, FOR MY MOUTH IS AS DRY AS A HYENA’S SCROTUM.

As for  book, the Colonel will take the 1973 Top Of The Pops Annual, and for luxury I pick independent nuclear deterrent. Or telescope.

 

 

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Northerners in a tizzy about something

TWO competing strains of Northerner became animated about something yesterday

Leading Northernologists have set up camp on the edge of the creatures’ bleak, windswept habitats to study the disturbance and its possible impact on crime rates.

Northernologist, Dr Helen Archer, said: “It seems to have primarily affected the males, although they are exceptionally difficult to distinguish. Indeed the only effective method is to show it a Katona and see whether it tries to emulate or inseminate it.”

Archer stressed that with Spring approaching, the disturbance could be part of an agresssive mating ritual before fluids are finally exchanged during the summer in cheap parts of Spain. Or it was just about a football match.

She added: “The Northerner I use for experiments came up to me waving three fingers
and pointing at a photo of what appeared to be a dismembered pig’s
knuckle wearing a shiny red shirt.

“Just as the Lascaux paintings seemed to both celebrate the hunt and provide omens of good fortune for it, football appears to be both part of a happy life for the Northerner as well as providing some kind of primitive metaphor for their unusually pointless existence.

“It all started yesterday when I told my colleague I had to speak to my children’s nanny. The sound of that word made my Northerner hold its knee, roll round on the floor and emit the low, guttural sound usually associated with Peter Kay being on the television.

“The strangest thing is that the other Northerner I bought from a place 30 miles east of his habitat to keep him company stormed off to the corner of his pen in a terrible funk and hasn’t come out since.

“They’re such strange little things.”