Monthly Archives: February 2014

Self-Published Erotic Fiction Writers Crush Rebellion In Crimea


An erotic fiction writer pictured having a crafty self-publish last night.


Reports are coming in from the embattled city of Sebastopol, in the Crimean region of The Ukraine, that an uprising among anti-government supporters has been quelled by around 200 writers of third rate erotica, reportedly hired by the beleaguered Ukranian president, Viktor Yankovych, in a last-gasp bid to seize back power from the rebel forces that forced him into exile in Russia earlier this week..

The writers, all self-published, and with an abysmal grasp of syntax and narrative construction, reportedly entered the city under cover of darkness on Tuesday night and are now believed to have seized control of the local TV station and the town hall.

An eye witness who was in the town square when the writers entered told us.

“It was quick, brutal and very effective. The anti-government rebels seemed to have total control and were celebrating in the square when the writers entered. They were all wearing black velvet eye masks and were dressed in flimsy negligees and peep-toed, kitten heeled shoes. Some appeared to be carrying pink fluffy handcuffs and spanking paddles. I knew almost at once that they were self-published writers of appallingly bad erotica. They were each carrying a copy of their latest novel, some of which had a picture of a scantily clad young woman with long hair on the front cover. One seemed to depict a willowy brunette, emerging from the ocean dressed in a flimsy chiffon robe which displayed her arse crack and a side view of her tits. I’ve never been more scared in all my life. At one point I took shelter in a bombed out house as it looked for a moment as if a few of them were going to start reading out passages of their books through megaphones. All I want now is for them to take their laughably dull, poorly-written grumble novels and leave us in peace”

The situation appeared calm last night, although the local hospital have reported a number of injuries, including a young woman who, according to doctors, had swooned to the pavement, striking her head on the ground after one of the writers had wrapped his muscular, bronzed arms around her softly yielding body. Other victims were being treated for intense boredom and hysterical laughter-related injuries.

Associated Press.

For more utter drivel of a similarly appalling standard please visit


Filed under Satire

Conan The Aryan Barber. A One Act Play For Voices And White Supremacists.

“Anything for the weekend sir?”

Scene One. A small gentleman’s barbers shop in London’s East End. A slightly built, bespectacled, middle-aged man enters and is approached by a heavily muscled figure in a loin cloth, gripping a double-sided axe in his right hand.

Conan – Greetings stranger, on what business do you enter these portals?

Man –  I’d like a short back and sides with not too much off the top please. Oh and do you stock Jamaican Bay Rum scalp rub at all? It’s so difficult to get hold of these days.


Man –  Look I really am most dreadfully sorry! I didn’t mean to cause any offence sir. I just wondered if…UNH! *thud*

Conan –  So dies another sworn enemy of the noble Aryan race!  Let all who enter here bear witness to this deed and behold his stricken body so that they too may learn the folly of darkie idolatry. I swear by the beard of great Odin himself that I will not rest until I, Conan, have spilled the last drop of their racially tolerant blood and heard in the distance the cries and lamentation of their women!

Curtain Falls.

Next Week:

Conan extends his murderous quest to include dwarves of colour. “Short blacks, they hide!”


Filed under Humor, Humour, Satire, Spoof

The Soz Satire Mint Proudly Presents: The Cheryl Cole Commemorative Nose Groomer Of Hope.


Cheryl Says: “Way aye man! It’s a reet canny bit kit that cooms in reet handy when you gan doon the toon looking for nice bit cock and that”


To celebrate Cheryl’s 52nd glorious year in show business, The Soz Satire Mint are delighted to announce that we have produced a limited edition of superbly crafted nasal hair clippers complete with ear grooming attachment and handy carrying case.

Lovingly fashioned from purest plastic, each exquisite little groomer has been painstakingly mass produced in Dar Es Salaam by our dedicated team of 10 year old, orphan craftsmen and comes with a  rock-solid 2 hour guarantee. What’s more we pledge that if you send us double our asking price we will send you a second groomer ABSOLUTELY FREE!

We also personally guarantee that every item will come complete with a precarious looking, short piece of electrical flex, plus a handy 24 volt, heavy goods vehicle battery option for the busy girl about town.

Here’s a testimonial from just one of our many satisfied customers:

“I used to be so shy and self conscious about my unsightly nose and ear hair that I hardly ever left my house, let alone made any attempt to get a boyfriend. Now, thanks to my wonderful little groomer I’m literally inundated with handsome young men wanting to buy me dinner and take me to West End shows. I even had that Robbie Williams trying to slip me a crafty length once. Thanks Soz Satire Mint!” – Kylie Minogue.

If you’d like to receive one of these superb, life-changing items send a banker’s draft for £3,589.89p, or better still, cash, to:

The Soz Satire Mint

C/O Alfie The Barman, The Boleyn Arms

Green Street

Upton Park

East London

Disclaimer:  I’m a hideous looking tugboat who will basically shell out any amount of cash in a desperate bid to get a man. I fully understand that after my money has been trousered I will never receive any goods by return of post from The Soz Satire Mint and that if I make a fuss over it my windows will be bricked in and my car set ablaze in my driveway.


For more utter drivel of a similarly appalling standard please visit


Filed under Satire, Uncategorized

Archie Pampers. Adult Baby And Clutch Guru To The Stars


“gloop, glop, gurgle burp”

Dear Archie

I own a 2002 Honda Civic Sport 1.4 and have recently experienced quite severe clutch judder when moving away from lights etc. The problem seems even more acute when the vehicle is cold after being left in the garage overnight.

What do you think might be causing this and will it be expensive to repair as I’m pretty strapped for cash at the moment?

Thanks Archie

Richard Branson



Dear Richard

Goo goo ga ga goo ga goo goo goo ga ga glop gloop ga ga blubberlubberlubber gloop ga ga… UNNNNNNNNNNNNNH!

WAAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAAH!… I done poopy plops mummy! I need a clean bum bum WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!

PS. Sounds like your pressure plate may be warped or out of alignment Richard. Take it to your local clutch specialist and get them to check it out for you.

All the very best


For more utter drivel of a similarly appalling standard please visit


Filed under Humour

Posh Spice Kicked Me Up The Arse Claims Oprah Winfrey


Oprah pictured in happier times before getting kicked up the arse by Posh.

American actress and talk show queen, Oprah Winfrey, has made the startling claim that she was kicked up the arse by Victoria Beckham, the wife of soccer legend, David, and former member of The Spice Girls pop group.

Miss Winfrey, 103, told a press conference last night

“I was out front doing a little gardening when I heard the sound of running feet on my driveway. I turned round and saw Posh Spice out of The Spice Girls coming full pelt towards me.

“Before I could even straighten up, she kicked me right up the arse. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. She then shouted out “Pick the bones out of that one Fatty” and just ran away. She may only be a slip of a girl but I have to tell you she has a kick like a pack mule. I expect she gets it from her husband. I don’t mind admitting I’ve got one hell of a bruise as a result. Talk about the colour purple!”

When one of our reporters called at the Beckham’s palatial home in Beverly Hills, the door was answered by Mr Beckham himself who claimed that his wife had gone back to England to see her mum. He appeared agitated and became flustered when questioned about the incident.

“Look this is absolute rubbish!” he said “Victoria’s never kicked anyone up the arse in her life as far as I’m aware. She actually loves Oprah and watches her show religiously. It must have been someone pretending to be her. Yes that’ll be it”

When questioned about similar allegations involving his wife made by other celebrities, including Clint Eastwood, who claimed Mrs Beckham had kneed him in the balls while he was shopping in the supermarket, and Mariah Carey who reported her to the police for punching her in the tits at The Oscars last month, Beckham slammed the door and refused to come out again.

A spokesperson for Ms Beckham’s PR company refused to be drawn on the incident at first but then admitted “I wouldn’t be at all surprised to be honest with you, she’s always been a surly, po-faced little cow”

For more utter drivel of a similarly appalling standard please visit


Filed under Humor, Humour, Satire, Showbiz

Vladimir Putin Cyber Bullied My Cat Claims London Man


Mr Terry’s cat pictured looking shaken last night.

A 43 year old cat owner from East London, last night made the claim that his cat had received a number of sickening messages via the social media website, Twitter, from Russian president, Vladimir Putin.

Mr Terry Carter, a painter and decorator from Tower Hamlets, told reporters that the alleged abuse began after he posted a photograph of his cat on the site 3 weeks ago. Looking shaken and with the cat nestling on his lap, Mr Terry said.

“It started innocuously enough I suppose. Mr Putin sent me a tweet saying “Is that your cat? It’s not as nice as some of the cats we have here in Moscow”

“Then his messages became more abusive. He sent one saying “Your cat is in shit state my friend. I would like to imprison it” He then sent a series of tweets telling me how he’d like to beat my cat around the head and body with a stick.

“Things finally came to a head last Tuesday when he tweeted “Your cat is a little turd. I am going to send a KGB man to kill it with a poisoned umbrella

“I’ve now blocked Mr Putin on Twitter and have also removed him from my Facebook friends list, but his words still haunt me. To the extent that I have now locked my cat in the basement to be on the safe side. I’ll probably keep him there until Putin either dies or is removed from office by The Politburo”

This latest revelation comes just 2 weeks after a woman from Lambeth in South London, made the claim that Zimbabwean leader, President Robert Mugabe, had called her dog “A fat fuck” on Instagram.

For more utter drivel of a similarly appalling standard please visit


Filed under Politics, Satire

Situations Vacant: UKIP Parliamentary Candidate Required

Following the tragic suicide of one of our members last night, who appears to have taken his own life after being ritually humiliated before millions of listeners, by glib-tongued, commie agitator and broadcaster, James O’ Brien, on LBC 97.3FM yesterday morning, the United Kingdom Independence Party are delighted to announce that we are now actively seeking a candidate to stand in the next general election.

The unpleasant, beetle-browed bigot we are looking for should be aged between 21 and 70, married (to a member of the opposite sex), gainfully employed, preferably in the commodities broking sphere, and able to demonstrate a breathtakingly ill-informed grasp of politics and a risible take on life in general, particularly when being held up to ridicule by socialist, closet bum boys on radio phone-ins.

The ability to produce genealogy records, showing an extremely remote ancestral connection to a foreign country, preferably somewhere benign like Belgium or one of the Scandinavian countries, would be advantageous, particularly when trotting out duplicitous platitudes such as “I come from a family of immigrants myself you know” to slavering, bed-wetting, pinko broadcasters who have you cornered in a debate like a rat in a trap.

If you think you fulfil all, or most, of the above criteria, are well below average intelligence, have a rabid dislike of foreigners and deviants, and can produce documentary evidence that you were repeatedly censured at school for exhibiting neo-nazi tendencies, ask your bonded Filipina maid or gay lover to contact our central office on your behalf to arrange an interview.

No dogs, kykes, Irish, coons, poofs or seaside landladies.

For more utter drivel of a similarly appalling standard please visit


Filed under Satire

London Man Made Love To Himself While He Watched


Another man with an extremely high opinion of himself pictured last night.

A 35 year old married man, from Spitalfields in East London, has revealed that in December of last year he became embroiled in a steamy affair with himself which culminated in a series of sordid one-in-a-bed sex romps.

Lenny Irons, a motor vehicle technician for Honda, told our reporter.

“It all began one night shortly before Christmas. I came home from work to find a note from my wife telling me that her mum was unwell and that she’d gone to visit her for a few hours.

“I made myself a quick sandwich to tide me over and settled down to watch TV for a while. I was about to switch the set on when I caught sight of my reflection in the screen. It was then that I noticed how damnably attractive I was. I knew instantly, that no matter what, I had to make myself mine.

I wanted to approach myself, to make the first move, but I felt shy and awkward, like a love-struck teenager. I just knew deep down that I was out of my league and probably wouldn’t even give myself a second glance.

“To my shame I began to ply myself with alcohol. It was a desperate  bid to summon up the courage to approach myself and to somehow get to know myself a little better. It was after my fifth or sixth drink that I finally made my move.

“I kept it pretty low key at first for fear of coming on too strong and maybe scaring myself off. I sidled over to myself and asked if I’d like a drink, To my delight I accepted.

“After some innocent small talk, I put on a Barry White record and asked myself if I’d like to dance. As I moved around the room with myself I could scarcely breath. My senses were on fire and I knew that there was only one way this could end.

I gently put my own hand on my shoulder and slowly eased down my overalls until they were nestling around my hips. Before I knew it I was rolling around with myself in front of a roaring log fire. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

“The following weeks were a heady mix of passion and guilt. I’d find excuses to stop work on a car so I could go to the toilet and romp with myself in one of the cubicles. I’d spend every spare moment with myself, exploring my body while kissing myself in the mirror.

“My marriage suffered badly and my wife began to ask questions after she spotted my hand prints on my buttocks as I got undressed for bed one night.

“I knew I had to end it for the sake of my own sanity and to save my marriage. I tried to break up with myself numerous times but it would always end up with floods of tears, bitter recriminations and desperate pleas to give myself another chance.

“It finally ended one night when I found myself watching inappropriate material on an adult TV channel. It was only then that I realised I just wasn’t worth it and that I could never be true.

“I’m over the worst now and my marriage is back on track, but even now, whenever I pass a mirror or catch a glimpse of myself in a shop window, I feel those old familiar stirrings and the memories of those magical nights spent in my own arms come flooding back.

“I’m just taking it one day at a time right now. I’m not taking my calls and have blocked myself on Facebook. My wife has suggested wearing boxing gloves in bed at night in case I’m tempted to stray and I’m going to take her advice.

“My advice to anyone out there tempted to fall in love with themselves is don’t go there. My naked lust for myself almost cost me my sanity and my marriage. So if you find yourself admiring the curve of your own thighs or feel tempted to buy yourself a drink in a bar, just cover the  mirror with a piece of sacking or go home and watch Match Of The Day”

Mr Irons has asked that his fee for this interview be donated in full to The Simon Cowell “If I Was Chocolate I’d Eat My Fucking Self” Institute For Recovering Self Abusers.

For more utter drivel of a similarly appalling standard please visit


Filed under Satire

Soz Satire’s Heavily Edited Children’s Classics #23,987. The Famous Five by Enid Blighton


Three normal children pictured with a dog-carrying lesbian last night.


Five Go Off To Smuggler’s Cove.

Scene 1 -Great Uncle Quentin’s Remote Clifftop House

“I say you lot. Isn’t it absolutely spiffing that it’s the summer hols and we’re spending the time with Great Uncle Quentin at his remote house on a cliff, which rather handily, overlooks the mysterious Smuggler’s Cove which nobody in the village will talk about?”

“I’ll say it is Julian! You really are an absolute brick for bringing us here. HUZZAH!”

“Yes he jolly well is and as I’m the tomboy in the group who will no doubt become a complete lesbian before I’m very much older, I’m hoping that we’ll become embroiled in an absolutely wizard adventure involving smugglers and the like. HUZZAH!”


“I say everybody, what are those mysterious lights out at sea about a mile offshore from Smuggler’s Cove? I wonder if it’s some criminal types up to no good!”

“Yes I do believe it’s a gang of ruthless smugglers Dick. Probably a bunch of blackies from Africa or suchlike. I’m going to jolly well call the police!”


Scene 2 – At the police station

“Thanks to you kids we’ve managed to foil a ruthless plot to smuggle diamond watches into England and we’ve got 5 darkies safely behind bars. Sgt Wilkins will take you to the canteen for that and what’s more the food’s on us”

“HUZZAH! Do they serve cold ham and tongue sandwiches and lashings of ginger beer/”

“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous! You’ll have egg, chips and beans and bloody well like it!


The End.


Filed under Satire, Soz Satire, Spoof, Uncategorized

“Semtex” Sid Saleem. The House Painter And Murderous Jihadist You Can Trust.


“God is great and so is my wallpapering.”

Dear Sid.

I have a polystyrene-tiled ceiling in my lounge which is looking a little tired and shabby lately so I’m thinking of giving it a lick of paint before starting on the walls and woodwork.

Is there a special paint or primer on the market that will fit the bill, as I well remember the trouble I had last time, when I had to apply 4 coats of a good quality emulsion just to achieve a half decent finish.

Thanks in anticipation Sid

Terry Carter

South London

Dear Terry

By the beard of Almighty Allah The Merciful! What’s this blasphemous outrage you snivelling Western wretch! I’ll have your accursed eyes for this you infidel dog!

I call upon all my Muslim brothers to rise up and crush the infidel. Let none be spared! Let the gutters of every Western city run free with the vile blood of our enemies!

Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!!!

PS. It’s a bit of a chore admittedly Terry, but if I were you I’d remove the tiles and traces of fixative with a sharp scraper and then give the ceiling a light skim with some good quality plaster before painting. Polystyrene ceiling tiles are a known fire hazard and pretty toxic when burning too!

At the end of the day it’s better to be safe than sorry my friend.

All the very best


For more utter drivel of a similarly appalling standard please visit


Filed under Satire