Pogo A No-Go So He Go

Firstly, an apology. To those of you whose spirits were raised yesterday by the thought of Pither lying on a slab somewhere being butchered by a Youth Opportunities Programme surgeon - it didn't happen. They phoned mid-morning to say that their one and only K-Tel surgery set (including a hammer, gag, genuine, plastic knives, a mop, four sponges and a jetwash, all packaged in an attractive polypropylene carrying case) was out on loan to the local abattoir. The news was broken to me by the consultant surgeon and he seemed to be as relieved as I was. His precise words, if I remember correctly, were "Me and the lads from patient transport found some ethanol in the back of one of the ambulances last night and this morning I've got the shakes worse than a shitting dog!"
The upshot of all this is that, this morning, I am again awaiting a phone call to tell me whether or not I'm "on" this time. If it's another no-no I have been assured that they will slice me open by Sunday - well, it gives you something to look forward to, doesn't it!
In the meantime and seeing as I may never get the chance to write again, I thought I had to bring to your attention Mr Ashrita Furman and get him packed off to Grantham while there is still time.
Old Ash, predictably enough from New York, has just set a world record for "underwater pogo sticking".
Yes, this complete and utter waste of carbon got into his local swimming pool and pogoed the equivalent of 1,680ft underwater! Not content with that, he then jiggled a hula hoop around his waist, again submerged, for 2 minutes 38 seconds - breaking his own, previous record! I bet it really fucked up the school swimming classes that morning and, no doubt, the water babies session had to be scrapped!
He is now not only in the Guinness Book of Records for these two fabulous feats, he is also in as the person who holds the most records (get your mind round that "looking-into-a-mirror-through-a-mirror" situation) - 63, I believe, at the last count. Yes, instead of going out and discovering a cure for cancer, feeding the starving or pushing the boundaries of mankind's knowledge of the miracle of creation, Ash has opted to spend his time, among other things, pushing an egg along the ground with his nose, riding on the back of a tiger and balancing things on his hand while strolling around Egypt. Hasn't he cottoned on yet as to why these records are there for the taking? No? Well, here's a message for you Ash..........IT'S BECAUSE NO OTHER FUCKER WANTS TO DO THEM BECAUSE THEY ARE A COMPLETE AND UTTER WASTE OF FUCKING TIME!!!!!




I have mentioned this before but I will say it again.............what use in the whole of fucking Christendom is any of that to anyone???!!!??
This pile of donkey's doo-dahs puts his desire to be fucking ridiculous down to the day he discovered meditation through some mystic guru. Picture the scene:
Mystic guru: "Well, Grasshopper nee-Furman, I have endowed you with truly magical powers, gifts from the Gods of the universe. You now know the secrets of those higher beings, your sway upon this earth shall henceforth be all-powerful and you must use these cosmic forces to do good for all mankind. What will you do, oh lord of lords?"
Furman: "I think I'll go and shove an egg around town with my nose."
Mystic Guru (a tad disappointed): "Hmmm. It's certainly an option."
No, I may not pull through this operation and so I feel it is my duty to fuck Furman off to somewhere he can balance an egg on the end of his knob for the rest of his days and not get on the tits of right thinking people. It's off to Grantham, chummy!
SURGICAL STOP PRESS: They have just phoned to say "Stand down, Pither, we'll try again tomorrow". Great days!