APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And last time, you’ll remember, Jason Pink was nursing a sore groin because two hot cups of tea ended up in it.

And one of those cups of tea were flung there by his client who may or may not have killed her cat and years ago may or may not have murdered her headmaster, by stabbing him through the eye with a compass.

And his client’s ex-husband, who is also nursing a sore groin because Jason Pink kneed him in it, may or may not have killed the cat and years ago may or may not have murdered a girl in his flat, by slitting her throat from ear to ear from behind in the bathroom while holding the body of the toilet bowl and flushing the blood down the loo.

When Jason Pink started telling us this story we had no idea it was going to get so gooey.

Although Jason Pink did manage to have a very balanced story to tell us.  For the sake of equality a woman has killed a man and a man has killed a woman, or maybe no-one has killed anyone.  Who knows anymore?

Confused?

You will be!

Jason Pink called on his client’s ex-husband again.He didn’t run for it this time.

Just as well because Jason Pink was still a bit red in the nether regions, despite Nigel administering first aid.

They sat down.

“What did she tell you?”

“She said you could have killed her cat after all because you killed a girl you brought back to your flat.”

“I’ve never killed anyone in my life.”

“She said you slit her throat from ear to ear.”

“From here to where?”

“From ear to ear in there” he said, pointing at the bathroom.

“In there?”

“In there or in a flat you lived in at the time.”

“I can’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t stand the sight of blood.  I’m feeling queezy just at the thought of it.”

“We’ll see” and Jason Pink very bravely cut his index finger with a penknife.

There was one drop of blood on the carpet and he was out like a light.

He checked and it was definitely for real.  He was unconscious.

Jason Pink brought him round.

“I take your point.”

“What point?”

“That you can’t stand the sight of blood” and showed him his bloody finger and he passed out again.

There seemed no denying that his client’s ex-husband was incapable of bloody murder, even of poisoning the cat.

Jason Pink waited for him to come round and took the opportunity to think things over.

It was at that point that he heard movement coming from the bedroom upstairs.

“Who’s there?  Come out, I know you’re there.”

“He heard footsteps coming downstairs.

And we’ll tell you what happened next in the final instalment of Jason Pink – The Pink Detective, same pink time, same pink channel.

Be there!

O.K.  goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Dear all Applers & Gingerites, two episodes for you this week because we’re off next week on a religious pilgrimage visiting the Pope, the Dali Lama and Donald Trump.  Back to normal on October 13th.  Be there!

(Don’t forget to scroll down first!)

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And last week Jason Pink – The Pink Detective was about to hear why the woman who clutched his card so tightly to her ample bosom wanted to hire him.

She gazed down into her lap, looked around the office, sobbed, looked down into her lap again and said “my pussy’s dead.”

Without going for the obvious jokes Jason Pink said “what was your pussy’s name?”

“Beaver.”

“You want me to find out who killed your Beaver?”

“Yes.”

“When did you find out that your Beaver was dead?”

“I got up one morning, got out of bed, went to the bathroom, got dressed, put my makeup on, rang my mother, answered my e-mails, went to the bathroom again and then I noticed my Beaver sprawled on the kitchen floor.”

“How did your Beaver die?”

They did an autopsy at Big Joe’s Pet Cemetery.”

“What did Big Joe say?”

“He said my Beaver died of dehydration.”

“Your Beaver was interfered with.”

“Yes.”

“You think your Beaver was murdered?”

“Poisoned.”

“Do you know anyone who would want your Beaver dead?”

“Only my ex-husband.”

“You want me to pay your ex-husband a visit?”

“There is another possibility.”

“Which is?”

“A professional hitman.”

“Or a kitman.”

“Will you take the case?”

“Yes.”

Jason Pink had never had a murder case before.

Even if it was a cat.

He told her “I promise you I’ll treat this case as if it was the only case I had at the moment.”

Which shouldn’t be too difficult because it was the only case he had at the moment.

He asked her for the contact details of her ex-husband.

Thankfully he still lived locally.  He was concerned for a moment he might have moved to Alaska, where you can see Russia from your house.

She confessed that they weren’t actually divorced, but didn’t think they’d get back together again.

And so Jason Pink said he would go and see him tomorrow, that she was not to worry about her Beaver and that he would delve into the death of her Beaver and get to the bottom of it.

That evening Jason Pink was discussing the case with Nigel.

“Strange business, poisoning a cat because you might be getting a divorce.”

“If it was poison.”

“You don’t think the cat committed suicide?”

“Depends if the cat might have been depressed about something.”

“Like what?”

“Like her cooking.”

“I’ll find out tomorrow, perhaps, when I pay her husband, or ex-husband a visit.”

And we’ll tell you what happened next time.

Be there!

O.K.  goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW  

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And last time we were telling you how Jason Pink sometimes gets his clients.

Before he became a private detective, Jason Pink was an Actor.

He was having a particularly bad time with his shyster of an agent and hired a private detective to sort him out.

He says “Remington Steele was his name and I was so impressed with Remington, I bought the company.  Now I am the company.”

Now, as we told you last week a woman was given his card at the Brighton Blood Club the night before and she was still clutching it close to her ample bosom when she looked up at the sign outside the greengrocer’s that read ‘The Pink Detective Agency – The World’s First Openly Gay Private Detective!

She went up the stairs to the side of the greengrocer’s, noticing that bananas were 3 for the price of 2 this week.

The door was open and she found herself in an anteroom.

There was a door at the other end of the anteroom with a handwritten sign pinned to it saying ‘start here’ and an arrow pointing at the door handle.

Inside was Jason Pink pretending to finish ‘The Times’ crossword puzzle in twenty minutes.

He said “rather easy this morning” not altogether truthfully.

“Are you really the world’s first openly gay private detective?”

“I don’t know for sure.  Probably not.  I had to come up with something to get the crowds in.”

“Do you get crowds in?”

“All the time.”

“And today?”

“It’s early yet.”

“Can I sit down?”

“Of course.”

“I thought you could help me because I find all the macho detectives are hopeless.  They look down my cleavage, up my dress and make passes at me.”

“I know, they do the same to me.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.  They’re almost all gay.  Repressed.  I’m open.  That’s why I get the results and they just get frustrated.”

“Are we still talking about cases?”

“Of course.  I mean most fictional detectives are gay too, you know.”

“Such as?”

“Holmes and Watson.”

“Oh yes, they’re very gay, aren’t they.  Anyone can see that a mile off.  Who else?”

“Practically all of them.  Miss Marple was a lesbian, Hercules Poirot was gay, Sexton Blake was bisexual on his mother’s side.  Dick Barton, clue in the name.  Ellery Queen, clue in the name there too.”

“You’re having me on.”

“I’m not.  Even Charlie Chan was gay.”

“What about his Number One Son?”

“All a cover.  Really his Number One Love.”

Well, you’ve convinced me.”

“Good.  Another case solved.  Thank you for coming.”

“Wait a minute, I haven’t told you why I’m here yet.”

And we’ll tell you what she said next at the same time next week.

Be there!

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And we’ve just been chatting to Walter Gate.

His latest conspiracy theory is that lotteries must be faked above a certain amount of jackpots.

He backs this up by saying that members of the public are approached and offered a decent amount, if they’ll agree to say they’ve won millions.

Walter Gate says that if any national lotteries were really giving away millions in jackpots several times a week then money would no longer be circulating.

He’s worked out that if you gave away several millions twice a week for 20 years, the amount given away would be greater than the national debt and therefore, the country would be bankrupt.

He also points out that ticket sales need to stay at a certain level, otherwise people would lose their jobs and even more importantly, all sorts of worthy causes would stop getting financial help.

Therefore, Walter Gate theorises that, whenever ticket sales look like flagging, they approach members of the public to pose as winners.

He suggests that they are offered a substantial sum, say 50,000, in order to pose for photographs with a huge cheque for several millions.

He suggests that they are persuaded to play along by being told about all the worthy causes that will be forced to close if they don’t.

Walter Gate further backs up this conspiracy theory by pointing that no-one has ever won any national lotteries who is an illegal immigrant, or is on holiday at the time, or in Parkhurst doing a score for grievious bodily, or who is a member of parliament, or is a well known celebrity, or is an old age pensioner living in a care home.

And you can’t argue with that, can you!

All of this conspiracy theory came crashing down when Walter Gate learned that he had won 5 million, by doing the pools.

He was slightly taken aback because he was not aware he was doing the pools, but he didn’t want to say no to 5 million, so he didn’t.

He went along to the address they gave him.

He took 3 forms of identification with him.

They asked for 2, but he brought an extra one along.

He showed them the coupon.

They confirmed he had won 5 million.

He said “whoopee,” or words to that effect.

And they asked whether he wanted his winnings now, or whether he wanted them delivered.

He thought long and hard for 4 and a half seconds precisely and then told them he thought it would be best if the 5 million was delivered, in case he was attacked by any burly people with stockings on their heads who saw him leave with a smile on his face.

He went home all calm, saying nothing, giving nothing away.

Then, 3 days later, an articulated lorry arrived outside his house, which was very clever because he lives in a lighthouse.

The delivery man rang the doorbell.

Yes, lighthouses do have doorbells.

He asked if he was Walter Gate.

He said that he was and showed him 3 forms of identification, just in case.

He asked Walter Gate to sign for the 5 million.

Walter Gate signed for the 5 million.

And that’s when Walter Gate realised he’d won 5 million pools.

Paddling pools to be precise.

Bright red blow up jobs.

And they were all his, all 5 million of them.

He didn’t even want one paddling pool.  He lives in a lighthouse right next to the sea.

So, if you want a bright red blow up paddling pool going cheap, or going hiss if it’s got a hole in it, Walter Gate is the man to go to.

He’s currently selling them on that’s-the-last-time-I-enter-a-sodding-competition.com if you’re interested.

And it’s time for us to go now, but we’ll be back again here at the same time next week.

Say goodnight to all the nice people around the world.

O.K, goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And there was a lot of hysteria in the awful village of Upton Fled this week.

We heard about it on Radio Upton.

Thankfully it didn’t spread to our lovely little village of Upton Went.

No, people have more sense in our lovely little village of Upton Went.

It all started when Enid Tupee said she’d heard an explosion.

Enid Tupee got all historical.

Don’t you mean hysterical?

No, she’s been like it before.

Enid Tupee went off screaming down the high street in panic.

And she ran into Poupee Plops.

And she told Poupee Plops about the explosion she’d heard.

And Poupee Plops asked Enid Tupee what this alleged explosion sounded like.

And Enid Tupee told Poupee Plops the explosion went snap, crackle and pop, like Rice Crispies.

And Poupee Plops thought it might be a cereal killer and she ran off down the high street screaming.

And Enid Tupee ran after Poupee Plops down the high street screaming hysterically because Poupee Plops had run off down the high street screaming hysterically.

And Enid Tupee and Poupee Plops ran into Sockit Toomey.

And Sockit Toomey asked Enid Tupee and Poupee Plops what all the hysteria was about.

And Poupee Plops told Sockit Toomey that Enid Tupee had heard an explosion.

And Sockit Toomey asked Poupee Plops and Enid Tupee what it sounded like.

And Poupee Plops told Sockit Toomey that Enid Tupee said the alleged explosion went, snap, crackle and pop, like Rice Crispies.

And Sockit Toomey said it might be a cereal killer.

And Poupee Plops and Enid Tupee said they’d already done that one and that he should get his own jokes.

And then Sockit Toomey ran off hysterically in the opposite direction.

And Enid Tupee and Poupee Plops ran after Sockit Toomey screaming hysterically because Sockit Toomey had run off hysterically in the direction of the alleged explosion.

And then Socket Toomey, Enid Tupee and Poupee Plops ran into Fanny Fairbotham.

And Fanny Fairbotham asked Enid Toupee, Poupee Plops and Sockit Toomey what all the hysteria was about.

And Sockit Toomey told Fanny Fairbotham that Poupee Plops had heard from Enid Tupee that there had been an explosion.

And Fanny Fairbotham asked what it sounded like.

And Sockit Toomey said that Poupee Plops said that Enid Tupee said it went snap, crackle and pop, like Rice Crispies.

And Fanny Fairbotham said “did it sound like this?”

And Enid Tupee, Poupee Plops and Sockit Toomey hear an identical sound, going snap, crackle and pop, like Rice Crispies.

And they all looked at Enid Tupee and she said, “yes, that exactly how it sounded.”

And Sockit Toomey asked Fanny Fairbotham did she know what it was?”

And Fanny Fairbotham said “of course I know what it was.”

And they all asked what it was.

And Fanny Fairbotham said “that was my reinforced knicker elastic going snap, my heavy duty corset going crackle as I bent down and my bra going pop as I bent down to adjust my reinforced knickers.”

And Sockit Toomey, Poupee Plops and Enid Tupee ran off screaming hysterically down the high street.

And that’s what we heard on Radio Upton had happened in the awful village of Upton Fled this week.

Thankfully, we’re far more sensible in our lovely little village of Upton Went.

Yes, we’re off now to have dinner with Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Walter Gate, Botox Betty and Silly Sausage.

Say goodnight to all the nice people around the world.

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And we were examining each other the other day.

Always a good idea.

Name?

Henry O’Shaunnessy.

Address?

Number 17, the third toadstool from the left, Gallifrey, Southern Ireland, Eire.

Age?

327 and a half, next birthday.

What is your religion?

I’m the King of the Fairies.

And I’m the Queen of the May.

But if anyone gets nosey, it’s none of their business your gay.

What seems to be the trouble?

I’ve got a strange hollow feeling in my breast.

In your chest.

No, in my breast.

How would you describe it?

It’s large, round, pink, with a nipple on top.

No, the hollow feeling.

Well, you know that feeling you have when you feel hungry?

Yes.

Well, it’s like that.

Without the grumbling.

Of course without the grumbling!  How can my breast be grumbling?  It’s like my stomach.

Your stomach’s not up there.

I know my stomach’s not up there!  Of course my stomach’s not up there!

Turn round and let me have a look at it.

You won’t be able to see my breast from behind!

What are you doing here?

I’m stood here in the middle of this sketch talking to you.

When did this sketch first appear?

Well, it started when I first said hello, I had a couple of good lines and now I’m unable to find the end.

The end of what?

This sketch.

How do you know this is a sketch?  We’re in the bedroom.

Because that’s what this is.  This is the Bedroom Sketch.  That’s why they’re all here.

Who?

The audience.

I can’t see the audience.

Then you need your eyes testing.  How you expect to be a GP I don’t know.

But I’m not a GP.

Then I need my eyes testing.

Perhaps you’d see better if you found the end.  Why not find the start and work back.

I don’t know where to start.

Start at the beginning.  It’s a very good place to start.

That’s what Julie Andrews said.

But she doesn’t have breasts that grumble.

I wouldn’t know.

Perhaps if you went to the bathroom.

I’ve been.  Where d’you think I get my material from?  Perhaps if we brought sex into the sketch we could find the end?

Sex?

Yes, one less than seven.

I wouldn’t mind some more.

We’d better say goodnight to all the nice people around the world.

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And we’ve just been chatting to John and Dave.

They’ve just been on holiday because John got a job at a supermarket.

And Dave found that, in common with many things in shops lately, he was getting smaller portions.

And Dave told John that he’d noticed, since he started working at the supermarket, that his personal individual portions were getting smaller, especially in the bedroom.

So, Dave suggested they went on holiday to reinvigorate things that needed reinvigorating.

John claimed it was a side effect of working on the cold meat counter.

And Dave told him it was time his cold meat got taken out of the freezer and warmed up.

So, they booked a week’s holiday at this guest house they knew in Ireland.

They set off, planning on driving and then using the ferry, but unfortunately John was navigating.

They ended up lost, somewhere in Scotland.

John admitted they were lost and Dave said it would’ve helped if he was holding the map the right way up.

And John said at least it was only the map he was holding the wrong way up.

Anyway, Dave noticed a guest house within sight and suggested they stay there instead, if they had a room.

And John said it looked like something out of a Hammer horror film.  He once saw a film where this couple were all bitten on the neck during the night.

And Dave said the chance would be a find thing.

So, in they went.

To the guest house.

And John went up to the person on the reception desk and said “are you religious?”

He said he wasn’t.

And John said “do you belong to any church congregation?”

He said he didn’t.

And John said “good, in that case my partner and I would like a single room with one double bed, please and before you ask, no, we won’t be needing a birthday cake with any “Sesame Street” characters on it.”

After they’d seen the room they arranged for a meal.  They ordered the fish.

And John said his was hanging off the side of the plate.

And Dave said “good, I knew you’d get back to normal as soon as you got away from that awful supermarket.”

They had a marvellous week and when they got back home to our lovely little village of Upton Went they found an invitation to a wedding on their doorstep.

It was the invitation that was on their doorstep, not the wedding and guess where it was.

Scotland.

And John said “I hate gay weddings.”

And Dave said “what d’you mean, you hate gay weddings, you were at ours?”

and John said “I know, so were you.”

And Dave said “I noticed, so what’s the problem?”

And John said “well, the joke’s wearing a bit thin, serving cucumber sandwiches, banana horses duvets and tofu on the buffet, waiting to see who picks what and saying ‘so that’s what your love life’s like!’ ”

And Dave said “we’ll go, but we won’t eat anything.”

So they went and every time someone picked something from the buffet they said “aye aye, so that’s what your love life’s like!”

Anyway, it’s time for us to go now, but we’ll see  you again next time.  Be good.

O.K., goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And we’ve just been chatting to our new MP, Smith John.

He had a constituent call on him the other day at his surgery.

It was all confidential, so be careful who you tell.

This constituent was calling on him to table a motion because a seagull’s motion had set fire to her garden.

She wanted him to call for a seagull cull.

He said he’d let her know, but he thought a seagull cull would be against EU regulations.

It was a null seagull cull because the EU say FU.

All this jollity was because a seagull had been struck by lightning as it flew off from a nearby tree and it passed over as it passed over her garden.

As the seagull was struck by lightning it defecated.

And the defecation was alight as it alighted the seagull’s hindquarters.

As the hot defecation hit the ground still smouldering it set fire to her grass.

And her whole garden burnt to the ground within half an hour.

She knew it was half an hour because she stood on her patio in shocked silence and watched it happen.

She was going to get a piece of paper, but the seagull was miles away by then.

Smith John told her people say being plopped on from a great height by a seagull is lucky.

But it wasn’t very lucky for her, was it?

She was so unlucky her mother must have upset a gypsy and been cursed.

It didn’t do the seagull much good either.

She said it wasn’t a laughing matter and she hadn’t seen hot shit like that since disco night finished at the Silly Cow in 1983.

She hadn’t seen so much grass go up in flames since she worked for the drugs section of customs.

And, of course, she wanted to know what he was going to do about it.

He offered her a gift voucher for the garden centre, so she could get some grass seed.

But she didn’t think that was good enough.

He said he didn’t see what else he could do.

She said he could lobby the government to make it rain more often.

He said he couldn’t do that because there was an EU maximum for rainfall and Britain had already exceeded that.

She said that wasn’t good enough and she would be voting in the EU referendum to kick the French up the derriere.

He said it wasn’t the fault of the French, it was an act of God.

She said she was an atheist.

He said just because she didn’t believe in God it didn’t mean He didn’t exist.

She said that was typical of public schoolboys sticking up for each other.

He said he wasn’t aware God went to a public school.

She asked why, then, were they always singing ‘Jerusalem.’

He said that had nothing to do with the middle east, it was all about God’s green and pleasant land.

She said her land was anything but green and pleasant at the moment.

And so it went on until she eventually feel asleep after the seventh cuppa tea and he put a sheet over her, slipped out and went home, leaving a note on the sheet saying “Please Clean This Up.”

Anyway, time for us to go now.   Have a good week and watch the skies if you’re doing anything in the garden.

Say goodnight to all the nice people around the world.

O.K. goodnight folks. See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

Why are people always so nervous at weddings?

I think it’s going to that place.

Well, they should try it out beforehand.

And I think it’s because they haven’t been to that place before.

That’s what I said, try it out beforehand.

And I think it’s all those people who might be looking at them.

Well, draw the curtains and put the light out.

It’s because they stand there exposed with all those strange clothes on.

Well, they don’t have to wear clothes, do they?

The bride has to remember what to do.

I should hope so.

And the groom has to remember what to do.

It would help.

And all the bridesmaids need to remember what to do.

Well, they shouldn’t be there, should they?

And the best man needs to remember what to do.

Well, I thought he was supposed to look after all the bridesmaids, or so they say.

And they’re probably wondering if they’re up to it.

That’s what I said, try it out beforehand.

And I expect the bride’s father’s got his beady eye on the groom.

Does he fancy him or has he only got the one?

And I expect the bride’s mother’s got her beady eye on the groom as well.

Does she fancy him too?  Strange family he’s marrying into.

I expect what it all boils down to is feeling your destiny in your hands.

That’s what I said.

And grasping your destiny firmly between both hands.

If that’s what bangs your gong.

And gripping it tightly.

Not too tightly, you’ll do yourself damage.

I suppose what I’m saying is that men feel nervous at weddings because everything’s done for them.

They don’t feel in control.

They have a fetish about keeping in control.

They feel like a spare lemon in a squeezer.

Can be painful if you miss.

They feel impotent.

In that case they could’ve saved a packet the honeymoon.

And I suppose what I’m also saying is that women feel nervous at weddings because all eyes are on them.

I said it was a funny dressmaker.

They don’t feel relaxed.

It’s important to relax.

They feel like the favourite at the Grand National.

Never seen a horse with a veil on before.

They feel impotent too.

There’s a first.  Why are you thinking like this?

I don’t know.  We were never nervous, were we?

We were not.

We kept in control, didn’t we?

We did.

We paid for it all ourselves, so no-one could make decisions for us, didn’t we?

Good point.

And we never invited anyone we couldn’t stand, did we?

We did not.

So, that’s the secret.  Take control from the start, grab it firmly in your hands and go for it.

Are we talking about the honeymoon now?

I think it’s time we said goodnight to all the nice people around the world.

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And we’ve just been chatting with Beryl’s mum at the Gossip Shop.

And Beryl is in peril.

From her mum!

It all started when Beryl answered an advertisement for “acting & modelling work.”  There was a lot of night work and Beryl’s mum was happy to trust her to look after herself, until one night last week when Beryl’s mum couldn’t sleep and was looking through various digital channels on television and came across many channels she’d never realised where there.

She had no idea there were so many adult channel throughout the night and it was then that Beryl’s mum saw Beryl on one of these adult channels, enticing young men to phone in to a sex chat line.

Beryl’s mum was so shocked she got Beryl’s dad out of bed and got him to ring the number on the screen and when he got through Beryl’s mum grabbed the phone and the conversation went something like this.

“Beryl, this is your mother.  Put those away at once.”

“Don’t embarrass me, mum, I’m working.”

“What sort of work d’you call this?”

“I’m acting and modelling.”

“Yes and I can see what you’re modelling.  Your father is stood next to me lying down.  He’s apoplexic.  He’s had an apoplexic fit.  Haven’t you?”

“I have.”

“He has.”

“Mum, what do you want?”

“I want you to put your knickers, knackers and knockers away.  Your father’s seen parts of you tonight he hasn’t seen since you were a baby.”

“But I’m working until 5am.”

“You’ll catch pneumonia by 5am.  You know you always suffer with your chest this time of year with hayfever.”

“That’s why I work nights.”

“Don’t you cheek me.  Where are you?  I’m coming round to smack your bum!”

“Not now, mum.  We only do spanking on subscription channels.”

“What would your boyfriend say, Beryl?”

“Who d’you think’s behind the camera, Mum?”

“You’ve changed, Beryl.  You never learnt this at Brownies.”

“Wanna bet?”

“What about that nice girlfriend of yours, what would she think?”

“You can ask her yourself, she’s in the other side of the studio.  We do double acts sometimes.”

“Beryl, for the last time, will you put your pants back on, pull your bra back down and get off that exercise bike?  You’ll give yourself piles.

“Mum, your making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Beryl, you’re a big girl, they’re not molehills anymore, I can assure you.”

“But I’m providing a service, Mum.”

“So do the Samaritans, Beryl, but they manage to do it without taking their clothes off.”

“If they did perhaps the suicide rate would go down.”

“Beryl, that’s a terrible, terrible thing to say in front of your parents.”

“I didn’t know it was your turn.  Look, I finish at 5am.  I’ll be back for breakfast and we can talk it over, alright.?”

“You’re a good girl, Beryl.  What d’you want?”

“Two large buns, two melons and spotted dick!.

And she hung up.

But it all got sorted out, eventually.

Anyway, it’s time for us to go now and unwind.  Say goodnight to all the nice people around the world.

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

Well, so much for the general election.

They say the people get the government they deserve.

I didn’t think the British were that bad.

Anyway, Brenda and Dafne were saying at the Gossip Shop about one customer who came in asking for a blow job.

They explained they were a hairdresser’s and she said she knew that and she wanted a wash and blow job.

There were also these ladies sat next to each other, having a wash and blow job and one pulled out of her shopping bag these inner soles in a plastic covering.

And she tapped the plastic covering several times to get the other one’s attention and said “these pantie liners you’ve got are a bit hard.”

And she turned to Brenda and Dafne for moral support and said “they’ll be far too uncomfortable.”

And she tapped them again and said “you’ll hear her coming a mile off with these in her knickknacks.”

At this point the other lady piped up and said “they’re not pantie liners, they’re inner soles for shoes, you silly bitch.”

Then she pointed at her shoe and said “they’re for these soles, not for arseoles.”

Then the other lady thought about it for a second and then said “well in that case what the hell have I got in my shoes?”

At which point Brenda and Dafne thought it best to beat a hasty retreat and have a tea break.

But it was not good, they could still hear them from the kitchen.

One was saying to the other “I don’t know why you bother keeping that television.  There are only two programmes you ever watch, ‘This Is Your Life’ and ‘The 9 o’clock News.’  You don’t know half the people on the one and you don’t know any of the people on the other.”

And the other lady said ” ‘This Is Your Life’ isn’t on anymore and the 9 o’clock news is on at 10 o’clock.

And she said “well in that case there’s only the one programme you watch and you still don’t know any of the people on it.”

Then they started arguing about last Christmas.

One said “what about when I choked on that Christmas pudding of yours?”

And the other said “that was the sixpence, it’s supposed to be lucky.”

At which point Brenda and Dafne came out of hiding with their cups of tea and asked what she used for a sixpence, as they hadn’t been in circulation for years.

And then Brenda and Dafne found out it wasn’t last Christmas they were arguing about.  It was Christmas 1961.

And the lady said “it was a real sixpence and they were certainly in circulation then.  That one was busy circulating round my major intestine.”

And the other lady repeated that “t’s supposed to be lucky.”

And she said “oh yes, very lucky it was for me.  ‘Come round to my place this Christmas’ you said.  When I agreed I didn’t know I’d be spending all day Boxing Day at the Infirmary.”

And the other lady said “oh Cissy, what a thing to say!”

At which point Brenda and Dafne went to get them a cuppa tea before they started reliving World War II as well.

And that was the other day at the Gossip Shop.

Time for us to leave Brenda and Dafne to sweep up the hair cuttings off the floor and to mop up all the blood.

All the blood wasn’t from the two old ladies, it was from the trainee.  He’s learning, bless him, but he’s had more victims that Sweeney Todd.

Anyway, have a marvellous week and we’ll see you again next week.

Yes, say goodnight to all the nice people around the world.

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And here were are, poised on the verge of a brave new world, a new frontier, a bright new start.

Who are you trying to kid?

Myself chiefly.

I beg your ever-so pudding!

Well, this general election is the biggest carve up since Jack the Ripper went campaigning as an independent candidate for the Less Prostitutes of the Streets of Whitechapel Party.

I agree.  It’s the biggest load of codswallop since the Cod Wars.

The biggest cock-up since Tom Jones had an erection, of a garden shed in his back garden.

The biggest non-event since Bruce Forsythe claimed to have a new joke.

Since Jeremy Clarkson joined the Samaritans.

Since Vanessa Feltz joined the Andrew Murray Fan Club.

And there are only two days to go.

So, let’s look at the clues as we go ‘Through to Cakehole.’

Labour or the Conservatives may not have an overall majority of 326 seats.

The third largest party could be the Scottish National Party, but they are not a national party, have no seats outside Scotland and are committed to Scottish independence.

Any coalition or agreement between Labour or the Conservatives and the Scottish will be unacceptable, as it would discriminate against Wales and Northern Ireland, unless they were included as well.

The problem is not just the result of the election, but the inability to form a coalition afterwards.

If no-one can form a coalition or agreement for a stable government by Monday, the London Stock Exchange will go kablooey.

The Queen can’t help.  She’s got to stay impartial and she’s got the 70th Anniversary of VE Day from Friday.

If the conservatives can’t get an overall majority the David Camerason will probably have to resign on Friday so a replacement Conservative leader can form a coalition, like Theresa Mayday, George Wasborn or Boris Winston Spencer Churchill.

If Labour can’t get an overall majority the same applies.

In other words Ed Rubberband will probably have to resign on Friday as well.

And he won’t be bouncing back again either.

Nick Clogdancer has already said he’ll resign if he’s not involved in any coalition.

Translation, he’s so used to being a cabinet minister he won’t lower himself to going back to the backbenches and he’ll go off and sulk somewhere until someone nominates him for the House of Lords, the retirement home for all failed party leaders.

Nick Clogdancer may not even win his own seat in Sheffield anyway and if the Liberals lose seats he’ll probably have to resign on Friday as well.

There could be a long queue outside the Jobcentre in Westminster on Monday morning.

The Greens may double their seats, to two!

Whatever happens on Thursday one thing is for certain, the political landscape will look a lot different from Monday.

It is not a good thing for a democracy to be in this state, with not much confidence in any of the major parties and all the minor parties being divisive.

All voters want is someone they can believe in.

No-one wants a Conservative landslide, like we had from 1979 to 1997.

And no-one wants a Labour landslide, like we had from 1997 to 2010.

It’s because of all that the idea of a coalition with the Liberals seemed the answer in 2010.

It wasn’t.  Now voters have run out of alternatives and the major parties seem to have run out of ideas.

They even seem to think they own a time machine.  Labour say the Conservatives will take us back to the ’80s and the Conservatives say Labour will take us back to the ’70s.

Time travel doesn’t seem such a bad idea at the moment.  Forwards or back? I’m not sure.

George Orwell said the trouble with British establishment people was that it was always 1910.

And it’s true they are so out-of-touch and old-fashioned they do behave as if it’s 1910, that Labour is new and the Conservatives defend the empire.  Food for thought.

And I’ve got thoughts of food, so let’s go to Katarina’s World Famous Greek Restaurant where it’s 2015.

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And we’ve just come back from The Gossip Shop in our lovely little village of Upton Went.

The Gossip Shop is the name we give to the hairdressers run by Brenda and Dafne.

And we were all chatting about this general election and saying that even the candidates don’t seem to have any passion or any life in them.

David Camerason hasn’t gone up in five years.

Fancy.

And Ed Rubberband hasn’t gone up either.

Fancy.

Whereas Nick Clogdancer has gone down to single figures.

And Nigel Mirage has gone up, but that makes the other little boys in the school playground jealous.

Meanwhile, of the little girls in the school playground, Nicola Surgeon would like to carve up the United Kingdom by seceding Scotland from the union.

And we got to thinking, if they were animals, what animals would they be?

What about David Camerason?

Brenda thought he’d be a chameleon because he’s forever changing.

Dafne thought he’d be a seagull, desperate to pick up scraps wherever possible, scavenging for floating voters.

What about Ed Rubberband?

Brenda thought he’d be a lump of plasticine, but we had to disqualify that because a lump of plasticine isn’t an animal.

So she called him a leopard because he can’t change his spots.

Dafne called him a lesser-spotted shitehawk, but we had to disqualify that as well because we’d never actually seen one.

So she called him a sheep because he always moves about in unison.

What about Nick Clogdancer?

Exactly.

Brenda thought he’d be a white elephant because you don’t really know what he is or where to put him.

Dafne thought he’d be a cuckoo because he was always trying to push Labour or Conservatives out of their nests.

Clever.

What about Nicola Surgeon?

Brenda thought she’d be a grouse because grouse is all she ever does.

Dafne thought she’d be a homing pigeon because it doesn’t matter how far she flies, she’ll always fly straight back home again.

And then there’s Nigel Mirage.

Brenda thought he’d be a fox, always one step ahead of the hunt because he knows if he isn’t ahead of them they’ll tear him to shreds.

Dafne thought he’d be an old English Sheepdog, trying to give the United Kingdom a new coat of paint.

She’s thinking of Durex there.

No.  She’s thinking of Dulux, who make paint.

Dopey me.

Anyway, by next week there’ll only be two more days to go, so someone had better pull their political finger out of their focus group backside and get a wiggle on.

So, what will be the outcome?

Will Dave rave?

Will Ed be dead?

Will Nick feel sick?

Will Nige be obliged?

And will Nicola be perpendicular?

We’ll all find out, when we have our say.

For better or worse, on the seventh of May.

Have a good week and we’ll see you next week.  Say goodnight to all the nice people around the world.

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And we were chatting to the Four Skins about their new album to coincide with the general election, ‘Music to Put Your Cross By.’

And they were saying they engaged session musicians for the album.

Yes, there’s the best female drummer in the business, Billie Jean Krupa.

And a female guitarist, Joanie Cash, the woman in black.

They’ve got a track for Ed Rubberband, Scotland and the Scottish Nationalist Party ‘You Take the High Road and I’ll Take the Low Road and I’ll Get Votes in Scotland Before You.’

They’ve got a track for David Camerason, Nigel Mirage and the United Kingdom Independence Party, ‘There’ll Always Be an England, But Maybe Not For You.’

They’ve got a track for Nick Clogdancer, ‘Follow the Yellow Brick Road.’

And a track for the Welsh Nationalists, ‘There’ll Be a Welcome in the Hillside, Especially If You Need Our Votes.’

The Four Skins were telling us they believe William Shakespeare invented the word ‘autograph.’

Apparently someone told them that a fan came up to William Shakespeare and said “Fair Will Shakespeare, may I have your mark upon this sketched likeness of your aspect?”

And William Shakespeare said “you mean you want a signed picture? An autograph?”

And the fan said “what a good word, autograph!”

And so William Shakespeare invented the autographed picture.

The Four Skins said they heard this from their butcher.

They got talking to this butcher and they said “I expect you need qualifications to be a butcher, being as you handle people’s meat.”

And he said he did have a certificate, which he called a “stiff ticket.”

And the Four Skins said “well, of course you need a stiff ticket to handle your meat, but only your own.”

And the butcher said “it wouldn’t be right to handle other people’s meat.”

And the Four Skins said “unless you wear gloves, or it’s properly wrapped.”

And the butcher said “it’s safer that way.”

All of which helped the Four Skins write another of the tracks for their new album, ‘Always Practice Safe Politics, Always Use a Nondom.’

The Four Skins have promised to sing all the tracks of their new album at an election night party Miserable Les is having at the Silly Cow.

We promised to think about going, but I think we might have a headache that night and not be able to go out.

And the way things are going so will the country.

David Camerason just isn’t going up.

In the polls.

Of course.

Ed Rubberband just isn’t going up either.

In the polls.

Probably.

And he’s going down in Scotland.

Nick Clogdancer is just above the margin for error in the polls, so maybe he won’t even win his own seat.

We shall see.

We certainly will.

And Nigel Mirage is going up in the polls, but the others don’t seem to want to make friends with him.

Anyway, it’s time for us to go now. We’ll see you again next time. Have a good week.

O.K., goodnight folks. See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And in just over a month, on May 7th, we’re going to have a general election in our lovely little village of Upton Went.

As you may have noticed no-one has a clear lead in the polls because none of the main parties have made any impact over the past 5 years.

Remember the 2010 election, or come on down and form a coalition, the price is right?

Gordon Browntrousers lost.

And everyone knew it, except Gordon Browntrousers.

David Camerason won the most seats and started forming a coalition with Nick Clogdancer.

Meanwhile, Gordon Browntrousers wouldn’t shift because he thought he wasn’t beaten outright.

And the whole shebang had to be sorted out by Sunday night, otherwise the London Stock Exchange would go kablooey on Monday morning.

So, the men in grey suits went and told Gordon Browntrousers “hey, you lost you idiot.  Get packed and get out.”

So he resigned as party leader, so that Nick Clogdancer could form a coalition with the leader of his choice, but still wouldn’t resign as Prime Minister.

So, Nick Clogdancer went and told Gordon Browntrousers and all his friends “look, I just don’t love you the way I love David” and finally Gordon Browntrousers got the point and got packed and left 10 Downing Street.

David Camerason went to see the Queen, got back to Downing Street after dark, made a speech and then the coalition was hammered out and finalised after midnight.

So, the London Stock Exchange didn’t go kablooey.  This time.

Now, here we are again.  In 5 years David Camerason hasn’t got himself a clear lead in the polls.

That’s because Nick Clogdancer has taken credit for anything good over the past 5 years and pointed to himself and said “look at that, I did that!”

Meanwhile, Gordon Browntrousers was replaced by Ed Rubberband, who everyone thought looked like Wallace & Gromit and who couldn’t eat a bacon sandwich without needing vacuuming afterwards.

Therefore, Ed Rubberband hasn’t made any headway in the polls either.

This election is like trying to decide which lunatic should run the asylum.

It’s like the country has invented talking pictures, while the politicians are still in silent movies.

It’s the None of the Above election.

You’ve also got the Greens saying “never mind about the state of the economy, let’s save the planet.”  Idiotic if you’ve got no job, no money and no future!

You’ve got the Scottish Nationalists out for everything they can get at the expense of the rest of the country and the Welsh Nationalists the same to a lesser extent.

And then there’s Nigel Mirage and the United Kingdom Independence Party.  The only party leader to have made real progress nationally over the past 5 years.

But here’s the problem.  Labour won’t get an overall majority and the Conservatives might not either.

That means another coalition.  The third largest party nationally looks like being Nigel Mirage, but the United Kingdom Independence Party probably won’t have enough seats to make an overall majority, even with the Green Party and the Ulster Unionists.

On the other hand the Scottish Nationalists might have the third largest number of seats, but that’s irrelevant outside Scotland and no-one would stomach a coalition with the Scottish, unless it included the Welsh and Northern Irish as well.  That way it would be a truly national English, Welsh, Scottish and Irish coalition, but would they all agree?

Not likely!

If a coalition can’t be agreed, David Camerason and Ed Rubberband would have to resign, as well as Nick Clogdancer, assuming he even has a seat left and another date can be set for another general election and we keep on doing it until someone can get an overall majority.

And you thought the Eurovision Song Contest was complicated.

Anyway, that’s the way things look at the moment.  We’ll be having our own independent candidates in our lovely little village of Upton Went.  We don’t get affected by outside politics here.

As for the rest of the country, don’t buy or sell any stock until after Monday May 11th.  Between now and then, watch this space.

We’ll see you again next time.  Have a good week.  Say goodnight to the nice people.

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

Did you have a thoughtful Easter?

The time when we remember the crucifixion of JC.

Jeremy Clarkson?

No!

Jasper Carrott?

No!

Then who?

Jesus Christ!

Language.

I’m not swearing.

Oh, you mean that Jesus Christ.

There’s only one.

Then who am I thinking of?

I have no idea.

Yes, I remember.  He used to spend a lot of time in our bathroom when I was growing up.

The Son of God was in your bathroom?

That’s right.

How d’you know?

Every morning my mum used to shout up the stairs “Jesus Christ, are you going to be in there all day?”

Anyway, we gave the Reverend Archie Farcnad a special Easter egg.

That’s right.  It was brown chocolate on the outside in the shape of Christ’s tomb.

You open it by rolling away the entrance to the tomb and inside are Christ’s burial clothes, all done in white chocolate, with “He is risen” written on them.

We thought he’d be delighted, but he looked disappointed.

When we asked him what was wrong, he said he was looking forward to a small bag of Smarties.

But we told him “Christ has risen.”

And he said “I know, but I like Smarties.”

There’s no pleasing some people.

I’ve just thought of another JC.

Surprise me.

Joan Collins.

She’s just been knighted by being made a dame by the Queen.

For what?

Services for acting, I think.

What services has Joan Collins done to acting?

She stopped.

I wasn’t aware she ever started.

I know.  All those years in ‘Die Nasty’ fighting with Linda Evans on the stairs, fighting with Linda Evans in the swimming pool, fighting with Linda Evans about who gets to the bathroom first in the morning.

What was the last bit of acting Joan Collins did?

Those Snickers commercials, I think.

Well worth a dame-thingy.

I think she does some charity work.

The most charitable thing Joan Collins could do would be to buy up all the episodes of ‘Die Nasty’ and burn them.

If they’d burn.

I never liked ‘Die Nasty’ or the spin-off,’ The Clobys.’

Neither did I.  ‘Dull Arse’ was much better.

My favourite was ‘Falcon Pest’ with Jane Why Man.

I never thought much of that spin-off of ‘Dull Arse,’ ‘Not Landing.’

Neither did I, but they were all better than the British stuff, ‘Constipation Street,’ ‘East Benders’ and ‘Haemorroidal Farm.’

We did like ‘Crossroads’ didn’t we?

Yes, but we never liked the Australian stuff, did we?

No, we liked ‘The Silly Vans,’ but ‘Nay Bones’ and ‘Throw It Away’ are rubbish.

Speaking of rubbish we’ve got to go and put the bins out.  We’ll see you again next time.

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

Have you ever heard some idiot say things are different now and then say what century or decade it is?

“It’s different now, it’s the 21st century.

Rubbish!  They were saying that centuries ago and every decade inbetween.

Ever noticed you see a film from the ’80’s and someone says “it’s not like that today, this is the 1980s.”

Then you read in the papers about all the sexism and racism and phobic behaviour that shows the reality.

So, when someone says “it’s not like that today” in relation to gender, race and sexuality, can you believe them?

Yes and no.  There are improvements.  It’s illegal to hate someone because of their sexuality or gender.

But, if a man can be pushed off a train by drunken fools because of the colour of his skin, if people can be targeted in terrorist attacks because of their religion and if a politician can still be forced to resign because of his sexuality, I don’t think much has changed, not below the surface veneer of acceptance.

This is what we were talking about last night over dinner at John and Dave’s place.

This is what we were wondering.

If attitudes towards a person’s sexuality have changed and it no longer matters to people, what if the British Prime Minister came  out of 10 Downing Street tomorrow morning and said “I want you to know I’m gay, I was always gay, my marriage has been a sham, my wife will be leaving Downing Street tonight, my partner will be moving in and I will be sleeping with my partner in Downing Street tonight” do you think that person would still be Prime Minister by the weekend?

I very much doubt it.

Would they support his honesty?

No.

Would they refer to him as the first gay Prime Minister?

No.

Would the papers, at least those who support that political party, stand by him?

No.

And we saw the evidence of that when a minister was hounded out of office because of his private life.  Was that in the Dark Ages?  No, it was in 2010.

We wrote to that minister and supported him and he wrote back and the emotion was palpable.  He was a good man.  He should not have been made to resign.  A person’s sexuality isn’t supposed to matter anymore, is it?

Then we were talking about President Obama.

How many people have you noticed who cannot get past his skin colour.

We don’t see a black man.  We see the President of the United States.  Do you?

Then we were talking about the hypocrisy of women still being photographed as sex objects.

If stereotypical gender roles no longer matter, how come people still enjoy pornography and sexualised images and behaviour?

If racism still happens just because some idiot has too much to drink, then nothing has changed.  A person’s attitudes don’t change just because they drink.  they show their true colours when they drink because it breaks down their inhibitions.

If attitudes towards gay individuals and couples still shows hatred if someone has been drinking, their attitudes towards gay people have not evolved.

Most people still don’t understand the difference between gay, transgender or hermaphrodites.  It’s high time they did.

So, what John and Dave would like you to join us in doing is have zero tolerance towards any hatred, abuse or discrimination you experience or you witness, be it because of sexuality, gender, age, colour, beliefs, or anything else.

You must not allow yourself to be intimidated.

And you must not allow others to feel intimidated either.

What matters to us is being thoughtful, sensitive, gentle, kind, loving and non-judgemental.  It has to be said that increasingly we find that amongst gay individuals and couples and we find hate, abuse and discrimination amongst people who refer to themselves as “normal.”

There is nothing “normal” about hating someone, abusing someone or discriminating against someone.  It’s time it was stamped out.  It’s time the human race evolved and left the laws of the jungle where they belong.

Anyway, we hope you have a good week and we ask you to do something kind and thoughtful before we see you again next time.

Make it so.  Say goodnight to all the lovely people.

O.K., goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

Today is St. Patrick’s Day and we wish everyone a happy day, wherever they are, especially in Ireland itself.

Speaking of Ireland, Hildegarde Withers and her husband, Percy, have just got back from Ireland and they were telling us about the inequality in public conveniences, not just in Ireland, but anywhere.

Why Hildegarde Withers should worry about Percy’s facilities only when they went to Ireland I have no idea, but this was what they were telling us.

You can use the public conveniences for several purposes, number ones, number twos, number threes and changing the baby.

What’s a number three?

A number one and a number two simultaneously.  It can happen.

I’m sure it can.

And, depending on whether you can find the public convenience quick enough, it’s a race whether the baby needs a new nappy, or you do.

Very true, very true.

Now, let’s get back to the bottom line.  Well, men have two separate facilities that facilitate them using the facilities, but women only have one.

Not only that, but generally the women’s facilities seem further away.

In fact, going to the lavatory still remains one thing you cannot now do with an app on your mobile phone and I think I can speak with confidence when I say that this is very unlikely to change anytime in the future.  There are some things technology can’t help you with and which you have to do for yourselves and that’s one of them.

While Hildegarde Withers was sat down, not on the public convenience I hasten to add, she said to Percy about the facilities in the facilities for facilitating the changing of babies.  After he said that everyone seemed to be leaving with the same baby they went in with, so what did it matter, she got back to the point and pointed out to Percy that there aren’t any baby changing facilities in the gents, are there?

And Percy said that was true.

And she pointed out that this discriminated against all gay men and straight men wanting to change the baby.  They either have to use the disabled toilet, which doesn’t leave it free for disabled use, or not use the facilities at all.

Which is discriminatory and inequality.

So, in fact, the reality would appear to be that men have less facilities than women, not more.

And Percy was saying he never uses them anyway.  He always uses a cubicle and if you got rid of the urinals there would be more cubicles.  Besides which, why should anyone in their right mind want to stand next to two complete strangers and see who can finish first?

Using a public convenience should be like using your car, private.  Not that either Hildegarde Withers or her husband, Percy, ever use their car as a public convenience, of course.

Now, we’ve only just touched the surface.  This is just a drop in the ocean.  We can’t turn our backs on toilets, or just stand there and use the facilities willy-nilly, or indeed nilly-willy.  We must grasp our inequalities firmly in both hands, stand up and be counted and sit down in the knowledge of a job well done.

The point is that you should be able to answer nature’s call, no matter who you are, without seeming out of place because everyone uses them, therefore, no-one should feel out of place.

Just as if someone using the facilities at the same time recognises you and tells you they’re your greatest fan.

Can you imagine coming out of a cubicle and someone comes up to you while you’re washing your hands and says “it’s you, isn’t it?  I love you!  I’ve followed you for years!”

Then they press a sheet of toilet paper in your hand, used probably, and say “can you do the business?”  By saying “do the business” they mean “can I have your autograph?

Then they whip out their mobile phone in the middle of the toilets and say “can I have a selfie?” and before you can say “not here, not now” they’ve done it and pranced off pleased with themselves.

And when you leave the toilets the fan’s outside showing all their friends the picture.  It has happened!

Remember, actors and all other recognisable people are not your personal property.  They are not commodities for you to exploit.  They are people!  Some celebrities who shall remain namelss, but they know who they are, milk it for all it’s worth, but most do not and those who do make it harder for all the rest to keep their privacy private.

Anyway, it’s time for us to go now.  Have a good week.

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

And welcome to another week in the life of our lovely little village of Upton Went.

Of course, other lovely little villages are available, but we feel ours is unique. Everyone is welcome and they can always fit in and never find anyone judgemental, otherwise they go to the awful little village of Upton Fled.

In fact, Bernard Braden told us a story about a lovely little village called Thame, like Thames without an ‘s’ and pronounced like it rhymes with same.

He was appearing with Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh in ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ in London at the time and they were staying in Thame.

No-one could find this place. It was past midnight and there was no sign of Thame, or anywhere else to stay for the night. There was more nightlife in a Hammer horror film.

Eventually a ‘Dixon of Dock Green’ bobby on a bike appears in the opposite direction.

They flag him down, wind the window down and ask “Thame.”

He looked at his watch and said “five and twenty past one, sir!”

As Spike Milligan said “you can’t make them up. You have to wait for them to happen and then remember them.”

Anyway, we were having a debate at the Silly Cow and the landlord, Miserable Les, posed the question “what is a politician?”

So, with the general election coming in May and no-one having a clue who to vote for, or whether to vote at all, here are some of the repeatable answers.

We said “a politician is someone who asks to come to your birthday party, arrives first, drinks all the booze, eats your birthday cake, is the last to leave and turns to you at the door and says “you will ask me back again next year, won’t you!”

Botox Betty said “a politician is a prostitute who walks the streets with no clients, gets offered a place to stay for 4 or 5 years, tax-free, does so and then walks the streets again looking for another mug!”

Walter Gate said “a politician is a puppet and mouthpiece of those who are really in control.”

Katarina, from Katarina’s World Famous Greek Restaurant, said “a politician is someone who is so grateful for the funding by donors that they spend 4 or 5 years lobbying on their behalf for their own selfish interests, like a railway line destroying homes in order to save minutes, while shareholders cash in, then drop the idea as soon as someone else bankrolls their election campaign.”

Whisky Tango Foxtrot said “a politician is someone who looks for a war to start a year before the general election, so the voters dare not have a change of government. Remember the Falklands!” His pet tiger, Fango, agreed and weed on the floor.

The Four Skins said “a politician is someone who goes looking for celebrity endorsements in the hope the fans will vote for the celebrity endorsement if not the politician and celebrities shouldn’t do it as celebrities, only as ordinary voters, the same as everyone else. It’s one person, one vote and everyone is equal!” They then sang their latest single ‘My Wife’s Run Off With My Best Friend and I Sure Do Miss Him.’

Suitcase Same said “a politician is a failed stand-up comedian and many stand-up comedians are failed politicians who refuse to put their money where their mouth is because they know they will lose.”

And finally, Kiri de Canopener said “a politician is someone who makes unrealistic promises that could never be kept, even if they wanted to, makes empty, shallow and transparent promises to various groups of any age, race or sexuality, in the hope they’ll fall for it, which they won’t because they’re not daft and then fail to keep all their promises to voters anyway.”

That got a “hear, hear” from John and Dave, who added that “politicians should be leaders, not followers, forming opinion, not trying to catch up with it, which they could if they were any good, which they’re not!”

That brought the debate to a rousing close, we then had a marvellous evening with a performance by The Four Skins to sing the night away.

And when all good politicians were tucked up safely in their beds, or all bad politicians were tucked up safely in someone-else’s beds, or all deeply unpopular politicians were tucked up safely in each other’s beds, the Silly Cow was where it was all happening well into the night, with the only light showing to any envious passers-by.

And that was our week this week, have a good week and we’ll see you next week. Say goodnight to all the nice people.

O.K. goodnight folks. See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

Now, last week we promised you we’d tell you all about Derek’s election manifesto, as he’s standing as an independent candidate with his Abigails Party.

On the economy Derek wants a reversal of all austerity measures and for the government to “spend in order to make money,” especially since the result of the general election in Greece last month.

He wants a cap on election spending, so money isn’t wasted and that finite sum determined by the House of Lords “so they do something useful for a change.”

Derek wants “World War I and World War II renamed the First European Civil War and the Second European Civil War, in order to promote greater trust and solidarity amongst Western Allied Powers in fighting against terrorism.”

He also wants “the European Union to compete in the Olympics as one entity, so that they win more medals and so that it promotes more closeness and trust amongst European countries” in a manner more like the United States and the Russian Federation. This would also “promote stronger relations between England, Wales, Scotland and Northern & Southern Ireland.”

He also wants all Prime Minister’s to have any family of voting age.

This is for two important reasons.

Firstly, if your own children can’t vote for you, why the hell should anyone else?

And secondly, because if a Prime Minister has a family while in office it shows he hasn’t got his priorities straight. Derek says “if a Prime Minister can still shag his wife, he can shag the country as well.” Besides which, if he was taking his job properly seriously as Prime Minister, “he wouldn’t have the time to shag his wife, or the inclination.”

Derek said “if I’d been busy bombing Iraq every night I wouldn’t be doing the same to my wife at the same time.”

On health care, Derek wants false teeth available on the NHS for all babies.

Everyone using the NHS because of drunken behaviour at weekends made to pay up front.

All health staff to be deunionised, so that “all necessary reforms can take place without the threat of strike action held over them.”

All patients treated at home instead of hospitals wherever possible, in order to speed recovery and prevent infections.

This also includes as many operations as possible undertaken in vehicles outside the patient’s home, rather than in hospital.

He bases this policy on the high success rate of cataract operations in the back of Land Rovers in Africa.

Speaking of Africa, Derek wants all governments to work with the United Nations to put an end to famine in Africa by working with NASA to use the same “terraforming” technology that would be used on Mars to be used on Earth in Africa now.

Bloody brilliant!

This would have two major achievements.

Firstly, “no more deaths by famine across Africa.”

And secondly, “no more bloody awful charity singles by pop stars after a Knighthood.”

On education Derek would make all education voluntary after the age of eleven. This would mean that all teenagers would feel they were in high school because they wanted to be and thus prevent a lot of antagonism by teachers against pupils.

Derek wants all teachers of children from eleven onwards to be voted on by secret ballot by all children and parents, or adult guardians, in order to forcibly remove all bad teachers through these annual re-elections. “Bad pupils can be kicked out of their school. Why not bad teachers too?”

Derek also wants English Literature updated.

He wants “all that Jane Austin and Emily Bronte bollocks removed because it’s all about greedy young women looking for the richest husband possible and that’s sexist, outdated, elitist and socially damaging.”

He wants technology to play a drastically smaller part in education, so that children learn social skills much better.

Derek also wants all school children to spend a year of “social national service” in the community in order to understand the needs of the elderly, special needs and everyone unlike themselves before starting work.

Also bloody brilliant!

Derek also wants as many workers to be encouraged to work from home via the internet, so that “as much land can be reclaimed either for renovation into affordable housing or for parkland in our towns and cities instead of office buildings standing empty or being full when they could all e-mail each other from home rather than across the office.”

Even more bloody brilliance from Derek.

That’s Derek’s election manifesto and that’s the Abigails Party.

As we go to wish Derek all the best for May, cheerio.

O.K. goodnight folks. See you next Tuesday.

APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

Now, last week we were telling you all about John and Dave, but we didn’t get round to telling you anything about Derek, who married John’s ex-wife Joan and Dave’s ex-wife, Davina.

Not both at once, obviously.

Now, Derek has a brother, Eric.

And Derek and Eric grew up in Berwick-on-Tweed.

And Eric used to be a vicar, so he was Eric the cleric from Berwick.

So, Eric became an actor instead and toured around the country in a play about John Merrick, commonly known in some circles as the Elephant Man.

Eric played Merrick in Berwick, so he became known as Merrick Eric from Berwick.

Meanwhile, Derek worked in a travelling funfair on the Ferris Wheel, so he became known as Ferrick Derek from Berwick.

And it’s while Derek was travelling with the funfair that he met Joan and Davina.

When Derek got married the first time Eric was still a cleric, so Eric married Derek, so to speak.

When Derek got married the second time Eric was no longer a cleric, so he was Derek’s Best Man instead.

Eric was an actor by then and he had to fit in being Derek’s Best Man on a Saturday between the matinee and evening performances of the play of Elephant Man, John Merrick.

So, Derek has John Merrick, the Elephant Man in all his wedding photographs.

And the organist at the wedding had to play a longer-than-usual rendition of the Wedding March because Eric took so long to walk down the aisle in character.

On top of that his bride hadn’t been told that Eric was coming in full make-up as John Merrick, the Elephant Man, so when she took her veil off she screamed the place down until he said it’s alright, it’s me, Eric.”

As Eric was something of a method actor he never quite got out of the part of John Merrick, the Elephant Man, after that.

And, during his Best Man’s speech at the reception, he got his memorised speech mixed up with his memorised lines and declared proudly at the top of his voice “I am not an animal, I am not an Elephant, I am a human being!”

Which got a round of applause, by the way.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only awkward moment during the wedding.

Derek’s three cousins, Huwey, Dewey & Louis, were in a ‘Dr. Who’ at the same time and they couldn’t get out of costume either.

And so all the wedding photographs have three Cybermen in the background as well, smiling!”

Now, Derek was on the phone chatting to John and Dave the other night and he was bemoaning the fact that Britain has a general election coming up in May and he doesn’t want to vote for any of them because, as he so eloquently put, “they’re all a bunch of fecking gobshites,” to put it mildly.

So, John and Dave said “if that’s how you feel, why don’t you stand as an independent candidate and show them how it’s done?”

He had a long, hard think about it for five seconds and then said “I will.”

And off he went to write an election manifesto.

Derek has now filled out all the forms and written his election manifesto and is prepared to enter into negotiations to form “a coalition of the willing and able” if he holds the balance of power at the next election.

He’s called his party Abigail’s Party, partly in tribute to Demis Roussos, but also because Abigail was an old phrase meaning slave and Derek believes, as do we all in the lovely little village of Upton Went, that we should be freed from the dictates of allegedly democratic governments who, nevertheless suppress freedom of speech when they see it in their best interests to do so.

We’ll be having a copy of Derek’s manifesto by next week, so we’ll tell you all about the Abigail’s Party next week.

Until then, have a good week and we’ll see you next time.

O.K. goodnight folks. See you next Tuesday.