Your ideal car.

I received a telephone call from Humphrey earlier, and he appeared in a very excitable mood.

“Guess what I’ve just bought!” he asked, then continued “No. No. I can’t tell you. Just go outside and I’ll be round in five minutes.”

Obviously this would turn out to be some unimportant piece of nonsense. Suddenly, a car sped round the corner, skidded a little, screeched to a halt and out jumped Humph.

“Do you like it!!!” he shouted.

“Like what?” I replied.

“The car you fool. Can’t you see? It is an almost pristine turbo-charged 1967 Ford Scrotum. Very few ever made it to this country. Several thousand were sold in the Benelux and Germany, but they realised too late that the name was an obvious disadvantage to marketing such a high end car in this country. However, that does not put me off. I’m quite happy to tell people that I drive around in a Scrotum, and am not ashamed to admit it!!!”

I put my head in my hands, and Humph jumped back into the car, starting revving the accelerator like a lunatic, then sped off down the street.

Eat Tripe!!!

Yet more obscure posters have been appearing, often in bus shelters or railway stations.

Eat Tripe

Maybe this really is part of some obscure healthy eating campaign, or possibly a campaign to promote greater understanding of offal in a wider sense.

I myself will be tucking into a bowl of spicy fried tripe this evening.

Facts, Figures and Talking Calculators…

What a day!!! I was roused from my sleep at 7am by a telephone call. I tried to ignore it, but it kept ringing and ringing and became hard to ignore. When I answered, I realised it was my old school chum Tarquin. He was rambling and shouting down the line and sounded like he was in a very distressed state. “Come round Nigel,” he begged, “I really need your help.”

I really meant to hurry on over there, but decided there was time to breakfast upon some kippers, smoke my pipe and read The Telegraph. By the time I left the flat, hopped in a taxi and got round to Tarquin’s place, it was nearly 1pm in the afternoon. The door was ajar, and I could sense there was a strange atmosphere in the air. I peeped round the door of the drawing room and was astonished to see Tarquin huddled in a heap on the floor wearing a dress. “What?…Why?… What on earth is going on Tarquin?” I managed to splutter out.

“That is not the worst of it Nigel” he whimpered. He stood up, hiked his dress up and I was astonished to see the words ‘BOUNCY BOUNCY‘ tattooed across his buttocks!!! I was totally speechless. “Nigel”, he whimpered, “I don’t know what has happened. I don’t know what has come over me. I don’t know why I did this. I don’t understand anything any more…It all seems meaningless…I feel very confused…”

I quickly composed myself and responded “Cheer up old chap! It could be worse. I’m going to make you a cup of tea, and we’ll sort this bit of nonsense out like it never happened!!!” I went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea, then suddenly remembered that I had a meeting with my new accountant. I quickly poured Tarquin a cup of tea, walked over and said “Hey Ho Tarkers. I’ve left some tea on the table. Drink it up old man! I’ve got to pop out. I’ll be back later…Hang in there…”

I left the house quickly, jumped in a cab, and headed across town as I had a meeting at 3pm with Robert Silverman, the famous “Accountant Who Can’t Count”. He comes highly recommended to me. After arriving at his offices and receiving a hearty greeting we went into his private office to talk business. “Robert,” I said, “is it true what people say? You are an accountant, but you cannot count?”

“Yes, that is true” he replied and gave me a wink. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man strolling past the door, and Robert gestured to beckon him in. A burly man dressed in an expensive suit walked into the room and Robert said “This is my brother James. He is a Financial Advisor who can’t advise.” James started to grin like a buffoon and stated “Yes, that is true!!! In fact, I’m a total fucking idiot. I can barely tie my own shoelaces without assistance!!!”

“Well,” I announced, “I know you come highly recommended, but I have one or two very trivial questions. Firstly, if you can’t count, and your brother can’t advise, how are going to handle my affairs. Not that I doubt your competence or integrity, you understand?”

Robert tapped his nose, winked and said “Ah Ha! I thought you may ask that. Come with me!!!” He stood erect, strode out the room, and beckoned me onwards. He walked into another room which was dimly lit and Robert announced “I’ll let you into a little secret. This is the little fellow who does all the complicated work. He is a total genius!!!” He then pointed at a pocket calculator that lay on the desk.

“This is no ordinary calculator. This is Barnaby. He can talk and think for himself. We don’t even need to pay him. How good is that!!!”

I thought that for the second time in one day I was talking to someone who had totally lost their sanity. However, I got a sudden shock when the calculator started flashing and announced in a slightly robotic voice “That is correct. I am a calculator. My name is Barnaby. I can talk. You might find that surprising. People often do. However, get over it and we will get along just fine.”

Robert stood there beaming and said to me “Ask him anything you want!!!”

I thought for a minute and asked Barnaby “How much tax will I have to pay this year?”

“You owe £25,723, but if we deduct your capital expenditure and bring some losses from previous years into the equation, it will be reduced to £7,823. However, I can show you ways and means to reduce this even further.”

Robert stood there with an even wider grin and said to me “I told you! Let’s go into my office and discuss this in more detail.” However, I don’t think he could resist showing off a bit, because he walked over to the calculator and said “Barnaby. Can you make us a jug of coffee?”

“You know I cannot do that.” the calculator retorted.

Anyways, to cut a long story short, I left his office later in the afternoon and remembered that I needed to go back and see Tarquin. However, it had been such a long tiresome day that I decided to head over to my club to see the chaps and have a cigar and a couple of whiskies. I guess Tarquin will be regain his bearings by tomorrow morning. I may go and see him tomorrow, although I do need to attend a meeting at the offices of “Le Noveau Moderne Edwardian” to discuss what sort of tweeds are in fashion this season…

Eat Cabbage!!!

More strange posters have been appearing all over the city. This is but one example:


Obviously this could be part of a Healthy Eating campaign. But where does this PLONK character fit into the equation?

I have been making extensive enquiries, but nobody seems to know exactly who he is, and lots of the information I have received has been contradictory in nature. Some claim that he is a local businessman who is trying to break into politics. Others claim that he runs a local cult whose practices include eating nothing but lentils and pulses, bathing seven times a day, and worship of mystical numbers and PLONK. The most outlandish story is that he is the son of a Mexican peon who skipped bail in Mexico several years ago for stealing some carrots from a powerful landowner and came to England to hide out and assume a new identity.

I am going to have to dig a little deeper and see if I can unravel this mystery.

Vote for PLONK!!!

I must admit that I have become rather intrigued because I keep seeing the poster shown below plastered all over buildings in the city.

Plonk for Mayor

Just who is this Plonk character? What is he about? What are his policies? Can we trust him?

I have asked several people, and they appear to be as ignorant as I am. Who is this “PLONK” character, and what exactly is he up to?

If you have any ideas or knowledge, please let us know….


Earlier this evening I popped out to buy a jar of coffee from the corner shop. Upon entering the shop, who did I see standing in the queue? None other than ex-Big Brother fruit-loop Jade Goody and several other Z-List Celebrities who were engaged in a very loud and continuous stream of twit-talk.

I soon noticed that they were giving me icy stares. Maybe I am just too unimportant to be in a corner shop frequented by such luminaries. Suddenly I yelled “HEY JADE!!!” before I picked up a Pot Noodle and threw it at her head.

I then calmly walked out the shop and went home.

Milky Turnips

Last night I dreamt that the next President of the United States of America will be Mr Mungbean Johnson.

I could dismiss this as the by-product of an overworked mind, but I have been thinking about this all day. The name Mungbean Johnson is somehow familiar, and I am sure that I have heard this name several times before. Just who is this mysterious person? Just who is Mungbean Johnson? Answers on a postcard please…

When Fish Can Kill!!!

I recently watched a television programme entitled “When Fish Can Kill!!!î I was expecting to spend an hour watching individuals being savaged by piranhas and sharks, but was disappointed when all I saw was a procession of boring individuals who sat moaning about their experiences of suffering food poisoning or contracting e-coli after visiting their local chip shop! However, it did bring back memories of my childhood when my friend Tarquin and I found a barrel of stale whelks on a beach. We rolled the barrel home and tucked in heartily, only to spend the next two days lying in bed and vomiting our guts out! Such happy days! Also, I can’t seem to get the tune “e-coli” by Throbbing Gristle out of my head…

However, I am looking forward to watching the new series of “Poodle Attack!” on Channel 4. If you remember the last series, one soppy-looking poodle was transformed into vicious and slobbering guard dog, whilst another, who was a point of ridicule by neighbours and local children, soon became the terror the estate! This series promises to go even further, so watch out for “Poodle Attack!”

The most common complaint

Being a famous Child Barrister, I hear lots of complaints from my clients on a daily basis.

You may assume that the most common complaints relate to the unfairness of the Legal System or the size of my fees.

However, you may be surprised to hear the most common compliant I hear (and I must hear this at least once a week) is how the cartoon Scooby Doo went downhill after the introduction of Scrappy Doo.

“That dog is very irritating,” my clients will complain. “Why did they ever introduce him. What were they thinking of?” Sometimes they will launch off into a further rant about the latest incarnation of Scooby Doo, comparing it unfavourably to classic “Scooby” that they watched when they were kids.

Well, as they are paying me for my time, I don’t really care. They can talk about whatever they want to… Let me at him !!!

National Top Hat Day

All readers of horseMEAT are probably aware by now that 1 November is “National Top-Hat Day”.

We have been rather disappointed in recent years about the lack of attention given to this important and symbolic day, and the absence of Top-Hat wearing gentlemen on Britain’s streets.

However, we were heartened by David Cameron’s rousing speech at the Conservative Party conference in which he declared:

“For too long we have been witnessing a decline in moral standards and a lack of respect for authority in this country. A perfect example is the decline in the wearing of Top Hats. I dare to think what Winston Churchill would have thought if he were alive today…(pause, whilst audience cheers). Before this morally bankrupt Labour Government came to power in 1997, every child wore a Top Hat as part of its school uniform. This encouraged discipline in our schools and respect for ones elders…(pause)… However, the decision in 1997 to let schoolchildren decide for themselves whether or not to wear a Top Hat has been an absolute disaster for this country. From that point onwards, we have seen a rapid decline into a society plagued by guns, drugs and knife crime… And what is the reason? I think this can be directly linked to the decline in the wearing of Top Hats in this country… (audience cheers wildly, and David Cameron puts on a Top Hat)… When we win the next election, every man and boy over the age of five will be forced to wear a Top Hat when attending school, their place of work or place of worship. We will lead by example and foster a level of respect and discipline that has been lacking in this country for too long… I challenge Gordon Brown to wear a Top Hat on the first of November and announce to the British people that he is proud to do so!!!” (Audience breaks into ever-wilder applause, then combusts into combined spontaneous orgasm).

Therefore, dust down your Top Hats, and get ready to wear them with pride on 1 November.

What if your children complain about having to wear Top Hats? horseMEAT Enterprises will shortly be launching a range of tie-dye psychedelic Top Hats, Denim Coated Top Hats and even Leather Top Hats. Get them while stocks last !!!

What the Toys really get up to when you are not about…

I’m sure that most people have watched movies such as Toy Story or Small Soldiers where the whole plot revolves around children’s toys springing to life when the humans are not about and getting into various scrapes.

I guess certain people will remember programs such as Bagpuss, which followed the same principle.

However, as entertaining as all this may be, at the end of the day it is just fiction. A nice entertaining film or story. But have you ever considered what toys REALLY get up when you turn your back.

Well, I have never given this a moments thought… until yesterday. Due to burglary at one of the local offices of horseMEAT Enterprises where a significant amount of equipment was stolen, some of the security staff were spending the day flicking through CCTV footage in order to look for evidence. Early in the afternoon I received a phone call and was told “Humph! You’ve got to get over here and see this!!!”

I speeded over there, fully expecting them to present me with incriminating evidence that would pinpoint to the thieves. However, when I entered the Security Control Room, all I could hear was raucous laughter. Once my presence was noted, the Chief Security Officer said “Look at this Mr Bumphry. You won’t believe your eyes!”

And he was good to his word. Here are a couple of stills from the Video Footage.



Soft Toys FORNICATING in my business premises!!! That was truly the last thing I had expected to see…

Parrot of Attorney

As I may be leaving the United Kingdom for a considerable amount of time, I needed to give some thought to the problem of whom I can trust to oversee my legal affairs whilst I am away.

Some of my affairs are of so delicate a nature that I decided not to entrust them to my usual lawyers (and certainly not to the growing band of “Child Barristers” who seem to be setting up in practice). Instead I hit upon the novel idea of appointing a “Parrot of Attorney”.

My reasons are simple:

  • Money. It is more cost effective to feed a Parrot than to retain an expensive lawyer who needs to maintain an expensive office and staff.
  • Plus the fact that I can’t be contradicted by a Parrot.

Earlier in the day I visited an exotic Pet Shop and bought a splendid African Parrot whom I named “Roderick”. Therefore, should anybody require any decisions to be made or legal papers signed in my absence, they need to visit Roderick. A squawk or a footprint on a document should suffice.


It occurred to me today that I have never owned a pair of shoes that contains any pockets.

When you consider that most items of clothing can be bought with pockets, why not shoes? It would make practical sense to create extra storage space within your footwear.

Therefore, I sewed a couple of pockets to the outside of my patent leather brogues and proudly marched off down the street whilst thinking to myself “God! You are clever. Why has nobody ever thought of this before…”


I must admit that I rarely watch television these days, not overtly due to lack of time, but mainly due to the poor quality of most programmes.

Instead, I watch this.

It’s better than Eastenders….

Microcosm or Macrocosm?

Apologies for the lack of activity on horseMEAT over recent weeks. This is simply due to the fact that our contributors have been extremely busy with other matters.

Our editor and chief contributor, Nigel Bookbinder has been rather downcast after failing to get his new periodical, “Le Noveaue Moderne Edwardian” off the ground. As you may recall from previous posts, Nigel broke his ties with “Le Moderne Edwardian” after they decided that instead of covering aspects of retro-Edwardian culture, they would take on a more modern angle and cover topics such as Japanese Noise music and Alternative Arts.

Depressed by the lack of interest in his spin-off publication, Nigel has spent the last six weeks attending a porridge-making course. In fact, I met him the other day and was served up a choice of porridges, including chocolate, yoghurt and black bean flavoured oat dishes. He proclaimed that he has reached a point where he may just turn his back on the literary scene and open up a restaurant dedicated to serving different kinds of porridge.

I sincerely hope that he comes to his senses and forgets about this mad idea.

As for our other main contributor, Humphrey J. Bumphrey, he has been languishing in a Thai prison after getting into a spot of trouble. He called me last week on a very bad line, mentioning something about “Offences with Tea Towels” and then went off into a long-rambling conversation about how he has ended up sharing a cell with eighties children TV star Timmy Mallet. He wouldn’t explain how he ended up in a cell with Mallet, but the whole business smells rather fishy to me.

Anyway, he asked me to make some calls on his behalf, which I duly did. I expect his family will spring him or buy his way out, and he will be back in circulation in no time at all.

Our resident child genius, Paul Holt (the famous “Child Barrister”) has been busy acting as the defence barrister in some high profile cases, including the notorious “Cod Liver Oil VAT Fraud” and “Parallax” trials.

All in all, I plan to get all these people together very shortly and remind them to get back to the most important business of all – posting new content to horseMEAT!!!

And what have I been doing you may ask? Well, as my wife has vanished for the last two weeks and seems to have been running up huge bills on a credit card, I’ve been sitting in a dark room drinking cheap cider and wondering where it all went wrong…