**************************************************************************** ### # # ### ##### ## # # # ## ## # # ### ##### ## ### ### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #### ### # # # # # # # # # ## # #### ### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # ### # ## # # # ## ## ## ### # # # # # ### ____________________________________________________________________________ # # ### #### # # #### # # ### #### ##### # # ##### #### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #### ### ### ##### # # #### ##### # # ##### ### # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # ### ### # # # # #### # # ### # # # ##### ##### #### *****NUMBERS 196 TO 200***********BY DANIEL BOWEN (tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu)***** "Tied-up Toxic Custard" ------------------------- | WELCOME TO TASMANIA | | "The Apple Isle" | | Poofters Prohibited | ------------------------- | | | | * * * ***** * **** ** t o x i c c u s t a r d * * * * * * * * * * * * * w o r k s h o p f i l e s ***** * * *** * * ****** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 25/4/94 by Daniel Bowen * **** ***** ***** ** **** dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu Congratulations on the purchase of your new Mitsanyasonic 333-FX Gold Model III. To make using your new appliance much more pleasurable, this manual has been divided into three sections. To determine which section you should read, please answer the following question: Do you know how to program your VCR for timer recording? - Yes - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - > Section A - Yes, with a little help from the manual - -> Section B - What's a VCR? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - > Section C |SECTION A |SECTION B |SECTION C | |---------------------|---------------------|---------------------| |Experts/enthusiasts/ |Average users |Old farts who can | |Nerds/magazine | |barely turn the telly| |reviewers | |on to watch Midday | |---------------------|---------------------|---------------------| |SETTING UP-----------|GETTING IT WORKING---|MAKING IT GO---------| |Unpack, ensure all |Unpack, and ensure |Find some scissors to| |pieces enclosed. Plug|everything on the |open the box. You | |flagellator into |packing list is |know, the BOX. The | |sprocket shift, set |included. Check the |thing that it came | |romulus converter on.|diagram included to |in. What do you mean | |Run diagnostics. Then|find which pieces |you left it on the | |go for it! |plug in where. All |bus? You stupid old..| | |the cables are |ah, found it now have| | |numbered to match the|you? Okay. Open the | | |diagram. |box. Not strong | | | After everything is|enough?! It's only | | |plugged it, press the|corrugated cardboard!| | |Power switch to on, | | | |Test button on the |Stupid old people. | | |back. This will do a |They shouldn't let | | |test to make sure the|geriatrics buy these | | |unit is working. Then|things... | - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THE TIE PROBLEM The tie must be one of the most useless inventions in history. Not only useless, but irritating. Ties appear to have minds of their own. No matter how carefully you measure how long it's going to be, the tie says "no, bugger that", and somehow ends up either being almost down to your knees, or with the thin end longer than the other, looking like a very badly dressed schoolboy. (The solution in the latter of cases, at least for the undignified slobs among us, is to stuff the thin end into our shirts, where it can spend the day getting sweat and chest-hair all over it. Yeuch.) A strategy has been formulated by men over the last few centuries to deal with the length problem, but this involves lining each end up with various button-holes, and tends to merely make the result even worse. But the most annoying thing about the tie length problem is that it is statistically fifty-seven times more likely to occur when you're running out the door to catch your train. That's the funny thing about peak hour. The image is all important. It's gotta be the neatly done up tie of just the right length... the pager or mobile phone attached nonchalantly to the belt (portraying just the right combination of status and cool)... the sunnies, if the weather's right... briefcase packed with organiser (estimated likelihood: 67%), documents vital to the lasting existence of the company, the nation and, hell, the universe (estimated likelihood: 0%), and lunch (estimated likelihood: 98%). Perhaps there are cool points being racked up for the afterlife, with bonus marks for getting around the schoolkids' bags (the ones either all over the floor, or being held over their shoulders even though they're not alighting for ten stops). Yes, it's all about image. Forget about fare evasion - last week, I committed the cardinal sin by getting on the train without having buttoned down the buttons on my button-down collar shirt. I'm quite lucky the inspectors didn't catch me, I suppose. "Excuse me sir.. oh dear. Oh dear oh dear. Is that a brown tie you're wearing there?" "Oh dear. I'm sure you'll be aware that brown ties aren't VALID in this area, sir." "Unless you've got a Fashion Concession card, that is... No? Oh dear. No Fashion Concession, no brown tie." "Tied a bit short, too! You're only making it worse for yourself, you know that." "Right, stop the train. 53 to Control. We got a brown tie." "Wait a minute Joe, there goes a guy with belt and braces(*)! Get 'im!" (*) Suspenders, for you people in countries that don't say 'braces'. Oooh errr, sounds a bit pervvy to me. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THING PART 4 ==================== (Jeff goes into someone's garden, dragging Ron with him. Jeff grabs Ron by the hair and knock his head into the door. The door opens.) RON: Ow.. Ow.. MAN: Yes? JEFF: Good afternoon sir. Allow us to introduce ourselves. We are from the combined Holy Church Insurance Vacuum-Cleaner Sales Premium Bond Corporation. And we would like to offer you safety from eternal damnation, a new Electrolux, and the best premium on your house this side of the equator. MAN: Oh yeah? JEFF: Yes sir. I am in a position to offer these three items for the bargain price of... ummm... (to Ron) What's a slab of lager worth these days? RON: About twenty bucks. JEFF: (to man) About twenty bucks. Cash please. MAN: Yeah? That sounds like a great deal. (He gets twenty dollars out of his wallet and gives it to Jeff.) JEFF: Thank you sir. I'll just get your policy, and your new vacuum-cleaner from the van. It has magnificent suction. (Ron and Jeff walk out of the garden, and run off down the street.) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Back-issues. Back-issues. Available. Available. Right now. Right here. Well, no, not right here, but by ftp. Including a compilation of the entire Toxic Custarpedia (so far)! For details, just send email to tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without profit provided no modifications are made. -- Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| Telecom Australia are not Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| responsible for my random Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| lunatic rantings what TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| I have writ above. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Toxic Custard: Cruising the Information SuperCliche" Welcome to the week. Hope you had a better weekend than Ayrton Senna. Yes, all this week in Toxic Custard - Ayrton Senna jokes. ||||| ||| | | |||| ||| |||||||| |||||||| TOXIC.........CUSTARD | | | | | ||| ||| ||| ||| WORKSHOP........FILES | | | | | ||| ||| |||||||| ||| 197 - 2nd May '94 | | | | | | ||| ||| ||| by Daniel Bowen ..|....|||.|||||.|.....|||.....|||......|||.....dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu So Richard Nixon has departed this world, leaving the legacy of Watergate behind him. Which means whenever journalists want big headlines about a scandal, all they have to do is add "GATE" on the end of it... SCANDALGATE ROCKS GOVT! And Ayrton Senna... bet he's lost his rating one. "The sporting world was shocked today..." Gimme a break! He who lives speeding round a track at 300mph in a chunk of metal dodging concrete walls can quite reasonably expect to die speeding round a track at 300mph in a chunk of metal hitting one of those concrete walls. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The 200th edition of Toxic Custard is coming up in a few weeks, and already preparations are gearing up for the 200th Bicentcustardy Celebrations. Festivities will include a street party in someone's backyard, with an estimated 3 attendees, free Mars Bars, and live CD music all night until 9pm. The planned fireworks have been cancelled after it was claimed it would frighten the cat. The cat was condemned by party organisers as a no-fun party- pooping conservative boring cat. The cat countered this by washing itself. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Watch out for the wall!" "What wall?" - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - DANIEL'S GUIDE TO WALKING DOWN THE STREET There are some things that you have to be very careful of walking down the street. For instance, low flying bricks. An uncommon occurrence, I know, but believe me, even one low flying brick hitting you is too many. The actual walking is fairly simple. As a rule of thumb... no, wait, thumbs aren't really necessary for this one. As a rule of foot, to walk, this is what you need to do: 1. Choose a foot, any foot. Well, any one of the two that you would normally have attached, anyway. 2. Place it in front of the other. And a little to the side. If you put it exactly in front of the other one, you may have problems with them colliding during the next step. (ha ha! Step -- get it?!) 3. Now move the other foot about an equal distance in front of the first one as the first one was in front of the second. It may help at this point to move your whole body to be above and between where the feet are, otherwise you are liable to fall over. 4. Go back to step 2. It's not as easy as it would first appear. Which is probably why babies need to learn it. And just think -- the above instructions only apply to bipeds. Can you imagine what it would be like for centipedes? Tell you what, if I were a centipede writing this, and you other centipedes were all reading it, I don't think I'd have bothered doing those instructions. It would have taken far too long. Actually, I bet centipedes are fast typists. What a really, really, stupid thing to say. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I've checked. I've played back the tape several times in slow-motion. And I'm sure that just as the car loses the curve, you can hear Ayrton shouting "D'oh!" - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THING PART 5 ==================== (Ron and Jeff sit down in a golf course, drop a slab beside them and start drinking.) RON: Did I ever tell you how I once pissed on my belt? JEFF: Nope. RON: Well, I'd just got dressed, right... and I hadn't done my belt up. JEFF: Uh huh... RON: So I'm walking around the house, one end of my belt hanging loose in front... and I decide I need to relieve myself. So I go into the toilet... undo the fly... pull out the ol' whatsit, and pssssshhhhh... onto the belt. JEFF: So that explains that time I found you scrubbing it in the kitchen. RON: Yup. (They sip thoughtfully for a few moments.) RON: Jeeze I hate golf. JEFF: Why? RON: Luxury sport. Cruel to golf balls. Contributes to urban sprawl. I dunno. JEFF: I should have thought that strolling around a golf course taking potshots at a small white ball with aerodynamic little holes in it was a very relaxing way to spend an afternoon. Better golf than duck shooting. RON: I'm surprised they haven't combined the two. "Here goes Norman, currently three shots ahead.. Oh yes, he's hit a seagull! It's come down on the green, and the caddy, foaming at the mouth, has raced off to get it. And the Great White Shark strikes again!" JEFF: Of course, the thing about golf is, it teaches you the finer points of aerodynamics. And how to grovel to the boss by letting him win. RON: But it's a class thing. I mean, you never see homeless people on the golf course, do you? JEFF: Well... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Haven't you always wanted to get your hands on the complete collection of Toxic Custard? You have?! Then wait no longer - email here for details of when and where to get EVERYTHING by ftp! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without profit provided no modifications are made. -- Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| Telecom Australia is in no Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| way responsible for the Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| random lunatic drivel that TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| I have written above. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Photocopied Toxic Custard" ----> <--> <--> <-----> <--> <--> <--> <--> <-- ------> <---> <------> <-----> <--> <------> <--> <--> <--> <--> <--- -----> <---> <------> <-> <-> <--> <---> <--> <--> <---- ----> <---> <------> <-> <-> <--> <------> <-------> <--> <--> <----- ---> <----> <--> <--> <------> <-------> <--> <------ TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES #198. 9/5/94. BY DANIEL BOWEN APPLIANCE CORNER Photocopiers. Another example of a good idea, implemented by complete sadists. I mean honestly... does it really need to have that many buttons? And do they have to have all those little symbols all over them? Surely it would be easier if each button just actually SAID what it was for. "Do the copy now", rather than just being big, blank, and green. And the thing about the photocopier is that everyone barely knows how to use it, because whoever originally took delivery of the photocopier lost the manual in a desk drawer somewhere. Without first making a copy of it. The bigger the photocopier, the more things seem to go wrong with it. Out of toner, out of paper, paper jam, toner jam, hand jammed in the input tray... In fact, the piece of paper you most frequently see at the photocopier is the hand-scrawled "Out of Order" sign. Photocopiers have a lot in common with laser printers. Quite apart from the similar technology, it's the paper jamming and demands for more toner are dead give-aways. And the way that people always seem to be queuing around them both. Why is it most office appliances are a sort of greyish beige? And stereos and all other recreational appliances are black? It's probably so management can instantly spot which minions have brought in personal stereos to run off the company's electricity while pretending to work. What someone needs to do is make personal stereos that are beige. ("Ah -- using some of the new equipment, eh Smith? What exactly is this? Oh, an audio monitoring refractor unit. Hmm, well done, keep up the good work.") - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - LIVE FROM PARLIAMENT - THE POLITICAL CIRCUS! Featuring: * the Economic high-wire * the fund jugglers * those clowns in opposition * daring "stick the head in the stock market's mouth" act * the budget acrobats (with the Incredible Deficito) * and introducing the military strongman - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - My husband and I of Buckingham are Driving through London in a bulletproof car Waving at peasants all clutching their flags From bratty young kids to wizened old hags - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THING PART 6 (Collect the set) ==================== [Ron and Jeff try to find a little nourishment at the take-away] RON: (to shopkeeper) Fish 'n' chips, please. JEFF: (to shopkeeper) Burger with the lot, thanks. RON: (to Jeff) I wonder why they call it "with the lot"? Considering the vast array of food available in the world today, I would suspect that your burger will come with very little of it. SHOPKEEPER: Seven-eighty please. JEFF: Well, there are only SHOPKEEPER: Excuse me! Seven-eighty please. JEFF: Do you mind not bringing economic considerations into what was purely a gastronomic discussion? Now, where was I? There are only a small number of the possible foodstuffs that would be pleasurable when added to a burger. SHOPKEEPER: Look, either you hand over seven-eighty, or you won't get your deliciously crisp fish 'n' freshly caught chips and your gastronomically delightful burger with the lot. Comprehendo? JEFF: Without a doubt, Maestro. Ron - give the man seven eighty. RON: But you said it was your shout. JEFF: No Ron, what I actually said was that I'd let you shout me. RON: That's not what I recall... JEFF: Look, I got the slab, now the least you can do is compensate with dinner. SHOPKEEPER: Will one of you care to hand over the fucking money before you end up with burnt fish, burnt chips, and a burnt to a crisp beef patty in a completely black charcoal sesame seed bun?! RON: (quietly, to shopkeeper) All right, all right. No need to shout. (He hands over the money) JEFF: Gee, what a temper. Wouldn't want to meet him down a dark alley and order take-away from him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We are now in a position to offer you, the Toxic Custard reader, back-issues at little or NO(*) cost to you! This is a no obligation bloody bargain! Just email tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (*) At our option. $500,000 surcharge applies to every fifth request received. Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without profit provided no modifications are made. -- Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| Telecom Australia are not Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| responsible for any of this. Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| I, on the other hand, don't TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| have that excuse. I guess now they've got democracy in South Africa, they'll be getting rid of all those license plates that say "Transvaal - State of Emergency". ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Pirate Toxic Custard" .--+--. ,--- ,---- -. ,---. ,---. Toxic Custard | / \\ // |__ | |___| |___| Workshop Files | \ \\//\\// | | | | #199, 16th May 1994 .|. `--- \/ \/ -' - `---' `---' by Daniel Bowen The whole thing about pirates seems to be a bit doubtful to me. Who would go for a career as a pirate? Imagine you're in the Job Centre and they say "well, with your skills, you'd do best to chop off one leg, find a cooperative parrot, and strut about on sailing ships telling people to walk to the plank and saying 'Arr Jim Lad'". I wouldn't fall for it. Especially not on a training wage. "Well, here's the deal, as a trainee pirate, you'll get all the potatoes you can eat, along with a weekly 100 silver pieces. Less parrot food, less scurvy fee." So you find yourself out on the oceans. With one leg missing, presumed green, and a bird that keeps impersonating you on your shoulder. And for what? A few measly silver pieces to spend at the ship's casino? Doesn't sound all that great to me. Not even much chance of promotion. Even if you do rise to the top, and get to be Captain, you'll probably find yourself the subject of a mutiny. Not a great deal of fun. Okay, after a few laughs over shouting "Yo ho ho!" in the silly voice, and a few bottles of rum down the hatch, you might think that staggering around on one knee cleaning the decks is fun, but I doubt it. That's why pirate ships fly the skull and crossbones. It means "for God's sake don't get stuck in a dead-end job like this one." And all this on a ship that needs fifty people to keep the sails in the right place to stop the whole thing falling over and sinking. I've seen sail boats on the telly. Hopeless. They can't even get from Sydney to Hobart without getting lost. And all that bloody winding ropes up and leaning off the side to stop the wind blowing it over. No wonder people gave up and invented aeroplanes instead. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - It always seems to be drunks who think they have accumulated all the knowledge of the world. Whenever you hear the words "let me give you a bit of advice", you can tell that whoever says them is pissed. And that they are about to impart upon you some immortal words of wisdom that you should take care to memorise and keep as guides to follow for the rest of your life. "Listen mate. Collingwood sucks. They couldn't kick a goal to save wassname. That coach of theirs, wassisname... should piss off... but Ablett... he's a God!" Words to remember. Words to live by. Words to pass on to your children when they have reached the right age. That age when they are ready to go into the world and earn their own living. "Johnny. You're going into Uni this year. You've got your own job. It's time for you to have a bit of advice. Someone told me this many years ago, and... these words have stood by me... Johnny... Collingwood sucks..." There will always be hope in the world, as long as people continue to impart and pass on the good advice spoken by the drunk on the 6:47 to Broadmeadows. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Since it's Norwegian Constitution Day on Tuesday, let's have this bit of trivia: The Vikings had an early long distance communications technique involving dots and dashes.. called Norse Code. Actually, wouldn't it be a bit of a bummer if you were busy money laundering, and you went all the way to Europe to open your Swiss bank account, with the police hot on your trail... and it turned out to be a bank holiday. There's a new international chain of shops opening up. Their service is preparing and sending animals all over the world. Their name: Interfauna. I caught the tram down to the beach. Guest conductor was Iyoshi Hitachi from the Japan Symphony Orchestra. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THING PART 7 ==================== (Ron and Jeff are looking for a taxi) RON: There's one! JEFF: Where? RON: There! Look. Coming towards us. JEFF: Ron, that's a truck. RON: But it says taxi. JEFF: Trucks. "Taxi Trucks". It then goes on to elaborate about how cheap and reliable Al's Taxi Trucks are to hire. RON: Shall I hail him anyway? JEFF: I don't think so. We just need to get home, we don't need to take a load of furniture with us. At least, not on this occasion. Ah look, here's one. No, damn, it's hired. RON: Now why is that? JEFF: Because I think you'll find that there are several thousand taxis in this city... but they don't all cruise around looking for just us. They don't pull up to some couple on the curb and say "sorry mate, can't take you. We're all looking out for Ron and Jeff". RON: There's one! JEFF: Ah, well done. Hail him. C'mon, stick your hand up. He can't see you. Over here!! Quick Ron, jump in front of him. (Ron does so. The taxi screeches to a halt. Ron ends up on the bonnet. Ron and Jeff get in.) JEFF: Puke Road please. Corner of Scum Street. DRIVER: Okay. You'll forgive me if I don't get into a conversation about the traffic with you -- I haven't gone on my traffic jam whingeing course yet. JEFF: But surely you must have some views on life that you're just dying to talk to us about? RON: Yeah, some kind of token discussion before we all stop talking and feel uncomfortable for the rest of the trip. DRIVER: Well, I'll tell you what, I'll go on about youth. Ahem. I don't know about the youth of today. I see them in the streets and I really don't know what there is for them. There must be some kind of goal for them to work for... RON: Yeah. JEFF: Erm, excuse me, but there may be a misunderstanding here. When I said you must have something to talk to us about... I didn't mean I wanted you to. DRIVER: Oh? JEFF: No. So please just shut up and drive the cab while we make conspiratorial noises in the back. DRIVER: Right you are, guv. JEFF: And don't call me "guv". This isn't a London black cab, this is a Silver-Top Falcon. And you're not some cockney git of a taxi driver wot's learned The Knowledge, you're just some Aussie git who probably barely knows his way around a Melways. So just shut up and drive. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Be watching next week for the Toxic Custard Celebrity Bicentennial Bash. Featuring an all star line-up, including Adam Cohen! Mr Popsicle! Calendiar! Inspector Unnecessary-Violence! Yes, all your favourite TCWF characters, and a whole bunch of the ones you don't like, too! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without profit provided no modifications are made. -- Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| Yes, I work at Telecom Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| Australia. But that doesn't Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| mean that they are in any way TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| responsible for this posting. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Bicentennial Nostalgic Toxic Custard" ***** *** * * ***** * * * * * * ####### * ######## * * * ######## *** *#### #### * #### #### * * * * #### #### * * #### ***#### ####* *#### ####* #### #### #### #### #### 24/5/94 #### #### ####W #### #### T ####### #### ####o #### ####Number 200 o ###### #### ####r s#### #### x #### Custard #### #### k h #### Files#### i ############# #### #### o #### #### c ############# ######## p ######## by Daniel Bowen Wow. The two-hundredth Toxic Custard. It's spreading across the world like some horrible disease or something. DOC WEDGE commented on it: Yes, the Toxic Custard Virus, or TCV, ve have been tracking for many years now. It originated in Africa, or Australia, or vone of zose out of ze vay places. Amongst itz effects, it makes your woice grow ever more accented. Almost five hundred victims have contracted ze full blown "subscribed" TCV, with countless thousands of others exposed to it in ze Newsgroups. While we were at it, we caught up with some of the others involved in the fight against the virus. Where are they now? And all that usual nostalgia stuff. INSPECTOR UNNECESSARY-VIOLENCE has been training the Victorian Police for raids, with, he says, much success: Fuck yeah, these fuckers are getting really good at smashing the fucking door in, fuckin' storming through the house firing, and then fuckin' saying 'Police, get ya fucking hands up'! IRENE BUSYBODY also spoke out on the recent police shootings: I think it's good to know that we live in such a safe city here in Melbourne that you're most likely to get shot by the Police. Mind you, you'd have to wonder what's gone through the minds of the last few people they've shot. Apart from the bullets, I mean. It's like: "Drop the gun/crossbow/whatever!" "Gee, do I drop it? Will they shoot me if I don't? Hell, they've only shot seven people this year..." Remember a few years ago when it was the NSW Police that kept shooting people? My guess is they fired all the incompetents. Who came to Victoria and joined up here. "Welcome to the Vic Police! You shot who? Ahhh... don't worry about it!" The NSW Police are useless now... they arrested that bloke about the Belango State Forest murders yesterday, and they didn't even shoot him! Waste of time and taxpayers money! MR POPSICLE of the Australian Royal Security Establishment, took us a while to track down, but we eventually found him on surveillance in a garbage bin. Watching some garbos, apparently. It turned out that DOC WEDGE was further down in the same bin. We're not quite sure what the two of them were up to, though Mr Popsicle was wincing a bit. Mr Popsicle refused to talk to us, though he hoped that this edition of Toxic Custard would be made out of balsa wood, so he could burst through it in the traditional fashion. But by far the hardest to find was ADAM COHEN. The very first character from Toxic Custard (apart from God) was last seen turned into a frog and squashed flat on a road, then buried in what can only be described as a very thin coffin. But when we spoke to him, his spirits were high. Oh yes, I'm enjoying myself immensely in this coffin. The view's not terribly good... well, I've heard it's not terribly good. I can't actually see the view, because of the wood not being transparent. But at least it's comfortable. Well, about as comfortable as you can be in a small box six feet under the ground. With an itch in the middle of your back. CALENDIAR scanned the horizon for any signs of life. There should be some, he thought, he was in the middle of the suburbs. The suburbs of some godforsaken city. He thought he spied a distant sign, and tried to make out the caption. "Really bad joke coming", it said. He shrugged his knees, because he was too tired to shrug his shoulders. He had been wandering in the desert for 140 weeks. Stuck in the desert with no entree. Stuck in the desert with no main course. And, though we hate to say it, stuck in the desert with no dessert. MEGABOGUE are still in jail after demolishing a hotel in San Francisco during their "Touring the USA" tour two years ago. Rhythm guitarist Vimmy "The Thorn" spoke to us by phone: Fucking get us out of here! Bonk Mee, bass guitarist: Yeah man, Jailhouse Rock is really uncool. It doesn't have enough fuckin' power chords. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Good evening and welcome to the Inquisitors. Tonight, we profile a suburban heretic. He could be your neighbour or mine. Actually, he's mine. Mr Ron Smith! It's the Inquisitors, Mr Smith! Mr Smith, we have reason to believe you are a heretic! I have nothing to say! Go away. We have taken secret footage of you claiming that the Pope is a big fat prick! Mr Smith, open the door! Why won't you talk to us? We also have confessions from your family that you yelled Jesus Christ when you burnt your fingers!! Come back! You'll burn for this! Mr Smith later made a statement through his lawyer refusing to speak with us on camera and denying the claims. Oh yeah, sure Mr Smith. Well, we'll see who goes up and who goes down come the apocalypse, won't we Mr Smith! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without profit provided no modifications are made. -- Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| I just work at Telecom. Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| They have no control over Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| the crap I write in my spare TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| time. Like this. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ the Toxic Custard Workshop Files by Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without profit provided this notice remains intact. For subscription information, contact tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu