Shagnasty's March 2001 Penis Owner Club
Issue Twelve (12)	Release Date: 1st March 2001		© PenisOwner.com 1996-2001
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A note from your Editor, Shagnasty:

Greetings once again my brothers and only friends, and its good news at least. British Telecom have got their finger out of wherever it was (I have a few ideas by the way!) and have finally installed my DSL line. Oh goodie. No more watching files creep into my PC for me, no sir. Anyway, enough of that. February, nothing specific or exciting to report really, lots of new friends join the PenisOwner club which is nice and I appear to have finally sorted out the mailer as well. Oh yeah, one thing, Britain is once again gripped by farm type disease, Foot & Mouth this time. As you read this The POC annual outing will be in progress, a nice trip to the seaside for myself, Demonic and The Tangent. A full report next month people. Right, lets go....

Your regular contributors, as always are: -

Shagnasty	Demonic Dave	Tangent Man
info	info	info

They await you!

Enjoy!

Shagnasty's Rant: Musical nostalgia, is it all that its cracked up to be?

Shagnasty's Perfect Moment: They don't come often, but I've had another.

Penis Stuff from around the world: Scotland this month, but never mind the sheep shaggers, what about the shagging sheep?

Demonic's Religious Comment: The world was not created by God for man, rather for the giant squid. God just let us live, that's all!

Tangent Man: Antelope show us the way, now start drinking people.

Shagnasty's Guide to the Terrifying English Countryside: I know that you think the UK is a nice safe haven, perhaps not though...

Penis File: Another song for you people. It's been a while since we had a sing-song together hasn't it.

Shagnasty appeals to the US: The US has everybody else's funk, give us some for God's sake.

So you want to be British eh?: Being one takes some effort, you'll have to learn to appreciate a few things.

Sponsors: Another name for advertisements people, well you can't blame me for trying can you?

This Space for rent!: Want to submit a section, then write in why don't ya?

Readers Feedback: Your comments in print.

Monthly thought: -

Duck when you hear gunfire!

Shagnasty's Righteous Rant

Sorry people but it's got to be done. "Musical Nostalgia"

I was having a lively debate with an officer of the law this month and for once the subject wasn't my lack of moral turpitude in a public place, no we were discussing music and he suggested that the bands of today were not as good as when we were younger. Whilst I would agree in many ways his arguments just didn't hold water, yet I hear them so often from young and old alike in the newspapers and on television.

He suggested that the boy bands like Westlife and Boysown (I refuse to spell it with a "Z") do nothing but stand there and sing with no discernable musical ability whatsoever. Ok, but what about The Temptations, a boy band by every measure surely, I don't recall seeing one of them pick up an instrument. "Ah yes", he said "but today they are all manufactured bands", "what like most of the Mowtown stuff I said", and lets not even mention The Monkeys now shall we." The fact that some chap has gathered them together doesn't make them better than some lads who met in a pub now does it?
He then went on to suggest that some of them couldn't even sing, well I think that the lack of a good singing voice didn't hold Jimmy Hendrix back now did it and much as I'm a fan I don't think that Mick Jagger would have lasted long in a barbers quartet either. Their appearance was his next target suggesting that they all looked like dressed up infants when he would surely not suggest that Ziggy Stardust or Marc Bolan were dressed for a Sunday church outing would he. I would be so bold as to suggest that even in their time they looked daft at best.

Exasperated by my retorts he finally exclaimed "but they're shit!"

"At last", I replied, "you've hit the nail on the head" for the truth of the matter isn't that the bands of today are really very different too those that I enjoyed, and continue to enjoy, but the one thing that does set them apart is indeed the fact they are shit.

Say it like it is people, don't compare the new with the old, the new will always lose. Nostalgia is a wonderful thing but don't lose sight of the fact that the new might just be, when all is said and done, shit.

So say it like it is.

Got a rant of your own? Back to Index

Poem Blast
13.02.2001
Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief
Taffy came in my home, Taffy stole some beef.

Shagnasty's Perfect Moment. They don't come very often, indeed this will be only the third published in The POC, but every now and again a moment arrives that can only be described as perfect. I share the most recent with you, my friends..
The Scene: - It's just gone nine thirty at night and I'm driving south on the M2, one of London's many crappy motorways. Its dark and I'm immersed in myself listening to some good sounds on the car stereo when the mood is suddenly and forever lost in the form of blue flashing lights in my rear view mirror. Oh hell, a quick glance down at the Speedo, the first for some time, and to my horror I'm doing well in excess of 90Mph.
Oh bugger! The penalty for such a speed is loss of licence for about 6 months, possibly longer with my record. Bugger! Nothing to do but pull over and take what's coming to me, the idea of making a run for it is not even an option, the last thing I want to become is 5 minutes of entertainment on TV in the form of "The UK's most pitiful car chases". So a gentle tug on the steering wheel and over to the hard shoulder I go, the car stopped, I get out to meet my nemesis on the verge. "Hello" I offer with a smile. "Good evening Sir" he states. The Sir doesn't offer respect when spoken by a copper as it would if said by a pupil or a doorman. The police man says "Sir", but your brain hears "you're screwed sonny". "Do you know how fast you were going?" The standard opening line of any traffic cop, a pointless question I always thought. Thankfully in this case an answer wasn't required as he immediately continued, "over 90Mph, why may I ask?" Wow, I thought, he's asking why, is this an opportunity to walk away with this one, is there something that I can say that will pass as a reasonable excuse for such excessive speed, I thought for just a moment. In that moment like a high powered chess computer my brain went through the many possible moves open to me, from my granny being on her death bed, to I'm a government spy running late in saving the word.	Yeah yeah, I know that these aren't the guys that stopped me, but come on now. A picture of some bald middle aged bloke in a stained white shirt wouldn't have been nearly so dramatic now would it.
Unfortunately, and despite being totally out of character and years of training my brain decided to tell the truth! Before I could stop it my brain had instructed my face to pull a stupid expression and my mouth uttered the words "I was listening to James Brown". Arrrgh, I thought, I've done it now, I'm well and truly stuffed. The policeman, taken aback by my answer, looked at me for a long second, then one more before asking "what song?". I nearly collapsed on the ground in front of him, -what song- what the hell difference does it make I thought, nick me and get me out of my misery man. However, my mouth swings into gear before I can think, saying "Too Funky, live at the Apollo". Again another long second passes and he smiles and says, "I see your point, perhaps a bit of Aretha Franklin for the rest of the night might keep you in a slower mood eh mate?" "Good idea" I say, and he turns and walks back to his car. Saved by James Brown, is there no end to the man's talents. "Perfect"
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Belief Blast
22.02.2001
I don't believe in reincarnation.
I didn't believe it when I was a duck, and I don't believe it now!

International Penises

It's the sperm, stupid.

A Scottish study shows that while larger sheep may mate more often, they don't sire more offspring than the little guys.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
By Jack Boulware

In any given social circle, you'll find certain men who are, for lack of a better term, complete pussy-hounds. These studs sling their seed all over town with a variety of women, as if following a primal urge to make as many babies as possible. And it may be that these studs have so many ejaculations that it decreases their sperm production. Their testosterone and libido levels drop, and before you know it, the little guy with thick glasses and moles starts getting all the action. According to a just-released study, this is exactly what happens in the world of feral sheep.

On the St. Kilda group of islands off the coast of Scotland, a flock of 1,400 Soay sheep runs wild and free of human exploitation. The sheep's testicles are extremely large for their body weight, which produces a swinger's orgy of frenzied sheep lust. During a two-day period of rutting, females might have sex with up to seven males, and males might mate up to 13 times a day. The biggest rams with largest testes get most of the girlies, as you might expect, but all the action leaves them exhausted, and drained of sperm. Initially, they might get their googlies off more often and father more lambs, but by the end of the orgy they don't sire any more offspring than smaller, wimpier rams. In other words, the little ram gets less action, but he shoots more bullets and therefore leaves a nice legacy.

Scottish ecologist Ian Stevenson of the University of Stirling is excited about the results of his team's study. "This is the first time that sperm depletion has been shown to undermine overt competition," Stevenson told the Nature news service. "It's not as bad to be a small male as you might think."

Matthew Gage, a behavioral ecologist at the University of Liverpool, agrees that the level of sperm in a male is more important than previously thought. "We're finding more and more that sperm production has a cost," Gage says. He suspects that these effects of sperm depletion may be common in other mammals, "but we need to look at it in more detail; this work is a good first step."

As school coaches so often tell their team members, it's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.

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Demonic Dave's Religious Comment.

"The world was not created for man by God, oh no!"
Even if there was a God involved (which I frankly doubt) he created it for the giant squid, he just allowed us to live that's all.

Demonic operates outside of the control of the POC, he alone is responsible for his comments.

For some years, some biologists have argued that there was a 7th day of creation, during which God thought about his prototypes and finally made the crowning glory of his creation here on Earth: the giant squid.

The basic problem with the idea that we humans are the peak of his creation was pointed out by none other than Charles Darwin. The problem is explaining the evolution of the vertebrate eye. He gave this as a very serious problem, because this organ doesn't fossilize at all, and it is difficult to explain how all the intermediate forms could have been sufficiently functional for Natural Selection to have selected them.
In recent years, Creationists have vociferously challenged the entire evolutionary paradigm, and some biologists have given serious thought to their criticisms, as well as Darwin's issue of the eye. Some have suggested the thought experiment: Suppose that the Creationists are right, and the world was built by some sort of Cosmic Engineer (which we may call "God" for short). What can we learn by studying the artefacts of the creation process?

One thing that we learn when we study the vertebrate eye is that it has a rather strange structure. The blood vessels and the nerves pass through the surface in a bundle (the "blind spot"), and spread out on the inside of the retina. This is a very bizarre way to lay out the "wiring". Why would any sensible engineer do it this way, rather than the much more sensible way of running the wiring along the back surface?

We might hypothesize that there is some obscure benefit to doing it this way, and we just aren't clever enough to figure it out. But this is shot down by a simple fact. The "camera" type of eye seems to have evolved (or been created, if you prefer) more than once. The cephalopods (a family of animals that include octopi, squid, and nautilus) have eyes that are superficially similar, but on close examination, we find that all the details are different. In particular, they have the "wiring" on the back of the retina, as you'd expect.

So, if there is a Creator, He seems to have done the job twice, once poorly (with vertebrates), and once well (with the cephalopods). This is very suspicious. It is especially suspicious when you consider that, while we humans claim that the planet was built for us, it is roughly 3/4 salt water. If you measure the areas that we humans actually inhabit in any significant numbers, we are talking about maybe 5% of the globe, whereas the giant squid is at the top of the food chain over roughly 70%. When you consider the actual volume of the inhabited space, the giant squid has a home range many thousands of times greater than ours.

So the evidence appears to be that humans were one of the experiments, good enough to let live but not good enough to be given a large range (or to rework things like the eyes so that they worked better).

If this isn't convincing enough, consider also that humans have quite a good record of wiping out all the large predators, on both land and at sea. We have devastated the cetacea and are busy wiping out the large sharks, tunas, and other major marine predators. There is one exception: Humans show little interest in interacting with the giant squid. Sure, we catch the little ones and eat them, but as for the biggest species, we almost totally ignore it, although it is a major predator in all the oceans. And if you are like most humans, you are probably thinking that this is silly. Who cares about a bunch of big squid?

This is very, very suspicious. We have a glaring blind spot here. Most large predators drive us crazy. We are terrified of wolves, bears, and sharks. Although very few humans have ever been injured by any of them, we hunt them down and kill them on sight, because they terrify us. But a several-ton squid that eats large sharks? That is a creature that we can't see, and we don't take it seriously. Other large sea creatures get tangled in our nets and die; by some mysterious process, those nets don't often catch giant squid. Nothing we do seems to affect this one major predator.

Very suspicious. Invoking Occams's razor together with our Creation hypothesis leaves us with only one reasonable explanation. The world was created as a habitat for the giant squid. Humans were put here to control the large predators that would otherwise bother the giant squid. We are programmed to ignore the giant squid, and to not take actions that would harm them.

... and on the eighth day, God rested, he did NOT go surfing.

Tangent Man
"Oh, wise all-knowing Tangent Man! Tell me why I get my best ideas after drinking?: The answer is simple: - "Consider the Lilly, err, sorry I mean antelope"
A herd of antelope can move only as fast as the slowest member of the heard, and when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of its weakest members. In much the same way the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, we all know, kills off brain cells, but naturally it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, constantly making the brain a faster and more efficient machine.
The results of this in-depth epidemiological study verify and validate the causal link between all-weekend parties and engineering performance. It also explains why, after a few short years of leaving university and getting married, most engineers cannot keep up with the performance of new graduates. Only those few who stick to the strict regimen of voracious alcoholic consumption can maintain the intellectual levels they achieved during their university years. So this is a call to arms. As our country is losing its technological edge we should not shudder in our homes. Get back into the bars! Quaff that pint! Your company and your country need you to be at your peak, and you shouldn't deny yourself the career you could have. Be all that you can be.
Got a question for the Tangent Man? - Click here to ask it. Click Here for "Tangent Wear"© range of clothing and merchandise.

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"The Terrifying English Countryside"

OK, so by now the rest of the world must be laughing itself silly at our feet and mouths, or to be more specific the Foot & Mouth that appears to be charging across the British Countryside in reckless abandon being rather forlornly chased my members of the agricultural community armed with "humane killing devices" (someone please explain?) and lighting the largest barbeques that the UK has ever seen. And you thought that the British Countryside was a nice safe place didn't you, well read on people, we have more horrors you know...
The day tripping American can scarcely move under the weight of the equipment he carries. If he ever hauls his lard-ridden body more then ten feet from the car my trans-Atlantic cousin will be packing a rifle, flares, emergency rations, bug juice and eagle repellent. That's because, as the yanks love to boast, they don't have countryside they have "wilderness" where violent death is just a bears breath away. Aussies are the same, blathering on about the "outback" and its man-eating reptiles, killer spiders and poisoned creeks. In fact, wherever you go ion the world you're told that merely straying off the path would be about as conducive to good health as a rummage through your doctor's wastebasket. But even little old Blighty (err, that's the UK people!), will kill you given half the chance. True with our density of pubs and teashops you're unlikely to dehydrate on a nature ramble. Buts that not to say we don't have our own share of hell on this green and pleasant land
TICKS Britain's photogenic badgers, otters, squirrels and livestock are crawling with ticks, in whose veins can be found literally dozens of species of deadly parasite. A friendly pat of a sheep could result in the bloodsuckers making their home on you - and passing on Rickettsiosis, royal farm virus or the fearsome Omsk Haemorrhagic fever. Sounds nasty eh. Most prevalent however, is Lyme's Disease. The bacteria behind the desiese is now found on ticks on more than 100 British mammals, birds and reptiles. A rash soon develops into cardiac and neurological complications, and several hundred cases were reported last year. [SN - Yeah OK, it isn't exactly the most fearsome thing to look at, but pretty nasty nevertheless]	Wild Boars Native across the British Isles until hunted to near extinction the 17th century, these killers of the pig world are making a comeback in Kent and East Sussex having escaped from farms and a date with the sausage factory. Aggressive, strong and with no fear of humans thanks to their farmyard upbringing (a bit like a Welshman), up to 300 hogs have established breeding colonies across the South-East, where they run in packs and sharpen their eight inch tusks against tree trunks. [SN - Getting better eh, look at that boy. You wouldn't want to meet him on a dark Kent night now would you?]
Farms Shotgun-ridden workplace for the farm hand, deadly adventure playground for the young, farmyards kill a person every week in the UK. Crushed by tractors, electrocuted by fences, drowned in slurry, and suffocated in grain silos, the causalities mount up. Even cattle can kill; last year a bull gored to death the 85-year-old farmer who'd raised it as a calf, while the bacteria which causes foul Weil's disease lurk in unpasteurised milk. Also found in streams, where its deposited in rats urine, Weil's disease affects several hundred people a year, causing jaundice fever and bleeding. One in ten victims never recover. [SN - and least we forget that you should you accidentally stray on to a farm the cry "Get orf moi laaaand" is normally followed by two quick shotgun blasts from the local Farmer Palmer]	Adders Shy and reclusive for most of the year, in spring Britain's only native poisonous snake is all too feisty, as it wakes from its winter slumber and looks for tasty mice, voles and snakes of the opposite sex. Quite how it tells the difference is beyond me, but I guess they kinda know! Adders take a lump out of more than 100 people each year, but ironically your real trouble will begin at the cottage hospital to which you lug your nausea ridden, aching body. Nursing staff rarely has experience of treating snakebites, and half the 12 fatalities in recent years have been caused by incorrectly administering anti-venom. Incidentally don't try and suck the poison out, it'll just make your lips fall off! [SN - I do have to admit that the fact that the nurses treating Adder bites kill more people than the snakes themselves does somewhat take the edge off this one, but I'm doing my best with what I have to work with]
Fungi A few days of rain and the woods are crawling with hippies and students, grubbing around for handfuls of mind-expanding mushrooms. But if any Amanita Phalloides should go into the soup, the only trip they will make is to the morgue. Our very own "death cap" first induces dizziness and difficulty in breathing, followed by violent vomiting and Cholera-like diarrhoea ("evil smelling and abundant" says my text book - mercy!). Deceptive remissions can occur, but cardiovascular collapse is likely within six days. Even many so-called "edible" fungi require prolonged boiling to prevent poisoning, while wild toadstools suck heavy metals and radioactive particles out of the air with frightening efficiency. [SN - Look at the picture, now doesn't that just have "eat me" written all over it?] So there you go, ok, ill admit that its not quite as scary out there as I first thought, indeed a night drinking down The Old Kent Road probably contains more horrors than the English Countryside. No! Wait. I'd forgotten what started this discussion haven't I, BSE and Foot & Mouth. Beat that my colonional friends if you can.
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Shagnasty's Penis File/Picture Of The Month

Oh its time for a song again people. don't you agree? The charming subject of pubic hair this month, all together now.

"Sing song time"
Warning! Whilst the files and images in this section are intended for amusement and cannot really be described as pornography, some contain, lets face it, a penis. If you think that you might be offended, “don’t look Ethel”. It’s that simple.

Previous months penis files are here.

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Another example where the UK fails to get the simple things right despite your ability to do so.

On behalf of the UK, Shagnasty appeals to the citizens of the US.

Funk, for funks sake

It has to be said that here in the UK we have a magnificent musical history, The Clash, Ian Dury, Beatles, etc etc. I could literally write the names of hundreds of world beaters. But, as I sit here writing this piece (literally) I'm listening to Isaac Hayes on BBC Radio 2 telling "The Funk Story" and frankly having trouble typing as Black Moses "lays it on me" (his words) and plays a track called "What's Funk?" My fingers wont do as they are told, because they have become damn funky. (He just said the words "funky bunch" by the way! Wow).

So, the UK has great music and even some great soul but I'm buggered if I can think of one funky man whatsoever, you have loads, far to many to mention, James alone has more than my entire nations production.....

[The management apologies for the incomplete nature of this section but the Shagnasty was overcome when the most seriously funky saxophone solo began emanating from his speakers in a full on funky style. This caused him to leap up from his chair gyrating around his home shouting that he apparently felt "unnecessary". This continued until a track by "The Oneness of Juju" and the "African Funky Rhythm" was played and the Shagnasty was removed for medical attention. We are advised that his doctor reported a funk overdose as being the cause for his condition. We are reassured that he will be fit to return later in the week after treatment, which involves his being locked in a room with U2 played on an endless looping tape. Serious cold turkey you will agree. The management again apologises for the loss of service.]
[We are on alert for next week as Isaac promised a "Primordial Fossil of Funk" in the next show, God have mercy on us all!]

Want to make your own appeal, do it here.
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Shagnasty's Guide to all that's British Part One! There are a few things that are uniquely and forever British, and we love em. To aid you in your quest to be one of the elite, bone up on the following, learn to appreciate the finer qualities of British life, just like we do. Read the first instalment now! (Warning: The following contains very British things described in a very British language. For those of you who don't have English as a first language (i.e. Americans) I offer an e-mail service at the bottom for your questions.)
English Grub Chips, pork pies - or any pies for that matter, chips, black pudding, curry, custard creams, Yorkshire pudding, fish'n'chips, faggots, baked beans, chips, haggis, jellied eels, and curly wurly. The roast dinner, the best reason to go home and see ya' old mum. The fry-up, we are the most health conscious nation in the world - a breakfast consisting of grease, tea and five Bensons & Hedges eases our nation into another healthy day. Ketchup goes with everything, especially chips.		Our Warmongering We tend not to loose wars, and as such, have developed a deep national pride in our obsession with World War II, the only decent scrap in recent history. It is in fact the law to mention the war (which we won single-handedly) to anyone who has even the remotest tenuous link with Germany. They love it and constantly praise us on our wacky sense of humour, even though they pretend not to.
Clean Tap Water Practically strawberry flavoured goodness bursting from taps with proud aggressive force.	We can’t behave abroad We’d be letting down our hosts if we were any different. The Spaniards have a police force specifically designed to provide entertainment for British holidaymakers.	Sarcasm Didn’t you know that?	Willingness to have a scrap at the drop of a hat. Poll Tax riots/reclaim the streets/impromptu town centre scuffles/Waterloo.
		British Fathers Best for discipline – slippers, shoes and rolled up newspapers used as a form of punishment. Didn't do me any harm.
Our Weather Fantastic hourly variations mean that we can have four seasons before midday. Traditionally, winter is ten months, bleak autumn one-and-a-half months, and nippy spring half a month. Blisteringly hot summer scorcher – three days. Remainder – no weather. Southerly winds send all our pollution to Sweden.		Regionalism So as to make our domestic sport more exciting, each British citizen develops, probably at birth, a superiority complex and an absolute hatred of anyone who happens to live more than four miles away.
Our Country is surrounded by water. No one skims stones like British seven year olds.		All Great Sports They were all invented here; Conkers, British Bulldog, Tunnel of Death, even Cricket. A game that takes four days to play and then if it rains you call it a draw – fantastic.
Inventions All the great inventions are British, most notably, Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, wooden chip forks, the man’s suit and the package holiday. We invented the industrial revolution and hence modern society. Also the computer and hence the information revolution. But surely our finest invention, which is still exported to this day, is the dead-leg – a design classic.		Native Language We invented the worlds most popular language. German’s full of harsh sounds that scientists say makes them unhappy, while English is full of nice sounding words like beer, pub and buttock. Even “I love you” in German sounds like something being barked by a Gestapo officer with an in-growing toenail and ill fitting shoes.
Pubs The envy of the world often copied but never bettered. A British pub can be, at any given time, a marriage guidance office, doctor’s surgery, boxing ring, dating agency and educational centre. And a sports complex as well, with pool, shove ha’penny, darts, fruit machines, singing, fighting and pub football teams. Add to this pub landlords – who often train third world dictators – and cleavage laden barmaids and there really is no reason ever to go home.		Wildlife Sensibly coloured animals and birds. Virtually any other country you care to mention is guilty of blatant showboating in one or all of these departments. British animals, be they fish or fowl are generally of a restrained sombre hue. Not for us some gaudy tropical grub. Greys, brown and greys are the order of the day, and rightly so.
Little Places with Funny Names Like Pratts Bottom, Western-Under-Lizard, Middle Wallop, Upper Slaughter, Badgers Mount and Soapytitfuck.		Trains They were our idea, but unlike every other country we can't get em running on time.	Prince Phillip Master diplomat. A walking talking cartoon character. Top Greek bloke.
No-Nonsense Haircuts We are a nation of sensible hair. The most outlandish hairstyle being the side parting.		Driving on the left Is there any other way, the rest of the world are twats in this respect, driving on the right can only result in head on collisions with sensible drivers doing it properly.
Cars We made some brilliant cars. Not now of course, but there’s Rolls, Jaguar, Aston Martin, Bristol, MG, Hillman Imp and the Robin Reliant. It doesn’t matter now though as we will all have jet packs by the end of the year.		British Reserve On public transport we would rather burn to death than speak up and ask someone to put out the flames. This is a commendable attitude actually as the alternative is smiling at everyone and bidding them to “have a nice day” – fatuous nonsense and best avoided.
Two World Wars and One World Cup As football chants go, this little beauty is priceless. Having said that, what a price to pay. The World Cup was by no means easy but the first and second world wars were perhaps the finest results the nation ever achieved. At stake was the future of Britain itself and spurred on by that, young British men selflessly gave their lives so that we may be free today. We owe them a debt of gratitude that we will never be able to repay. R.I.P.		Our Self-Belief Despite huge dossiers of evidence to the contrary, Britain still believes that we are the greatest sporting nation on the Earth, and we will not be told otherwise. Hence at the start of every sporting tournament there is plenty of talk along the lines of “we can go all the way” hell we even record songs with lyrics containing little more than that solitary sentence.
Pets We love em, far more than our mammal-chomping European cousins who will eat anything with a flash sauce on it. There're mans best friend, and Rolf Harris’ pension.		Union Jack By far the best-designed flag in the world, and the one with the most inferred meaning i.e. were about to invade and kill everyone – Look Out!
Olympic Excellence We excel only at the sports other countries can’t be arsed to do. Because they’re concentrating on less-important pastimes like running up and down, throwing things, kicking things and hitting balls. Meanwhile we have gold medals in rowing, fishing, walking, and horse posing.		Milkmen These randy little buggers shag their way from house to house, relentlessly impregnating sex-starved housewives – they are the envy of the world.
Our Character Down-to-Earth, fair, democratic, defenders of free speech, common sense, and good manners. And lovers of indiscriminate violence.	Allotments An abundance of inner-city home-grown produce in a field the size of a pool table.	Posh Birds On the outside – well groomed, cultured, beautiful. Underneath – total chucking-out time car-park slappers. Great!	The Class System Gives everyone a reason to judge and hate people they’ve never met.
Warm Beer It’s supposed to be like that; it’s not a glass of fizzy pop you know, now drink it like a man, cold, damn cold in fact.		Ghosts Britain is positively teeming with tortured spirits.	Public Urination Often exported but started here. Friday night Britain is awash with freestyle wazzing.
The Roll-Up Fag Spans age, class and social standing. The British rolly proudly hangs from the nations lower lip, soggy and limp in perfect contrast to its owner.		Actors Who Don’t Need To Act. Lets just play ourselves again shall we? Arise Sir Michael Cain, Hugh Grant, Ollie Reed and Stephen Fry.
Scary Women From Boudicca to Margaret Thatcher to our Monarch to Ann Robinson. “You are the weakest link, please kill yourself”If you think Maggie looks scary, you should have seen what she did to the nation.		Page 3 Lovelies You read of a massacre in a children’s hospital on the front page, then as the tears start to flow, you turn to page three. Waheey! Instant counselling.
Knock Down Ginger Why is this not an Olympic sport? We’d piss it.	11 O’clock Pub Closing Spilling combatants into chip shops with startling efficiency.	Bingo You can’t beat a good shake of the balls and eyes down for a full house. Even the smell of urine wafting from the 2,000 odd old biddies crammed into the hall doesn’t dampen the enjoyment.
Accents Our inability to understand the fellow Britain’s who live more then 10 miles way, “what the chuffin hell is he on about?”	Time We invented it; everybody sets his or her clocks by ours. Nobody finishes work until we say so.	Underdogs We will always support the underdog, WWII springs to mind with the ruddy French, we love em! Losers comprise most of our heroes, usually because they’re us. The very fact that you are reading this page proves it!
Ice-Cream Vans These fearless adventurers bravely venture into the most frightening of housing estates, only to flog a couple of screwballs, and the odd 99 – if they’re lucky. They don’t even mind being responsible for the occasional child road-kill in the melee that their child-rousing jingle induces. On the van pictured it says "don't be dippy, lick a whippy" Aw come on, they don't come more British than that people. ...and on that note ill leave you to ponder what Part Two will bring... See ya, and remember, "Stay British"
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