302. Joke number 302 “Up Ship Creek Without A Paddle” has been transferred to joke number 306 for reasons which will be explained in joke number 303.
303. Sir Chondriac wishes to apolgise to his loyal readers for delays in the posting of joke number 302 but as this was a requirement of Senator Soreship and is currently being reviewed by his trusty assistant Mr. D. Stanzard, it could not be helped. Apparantly it has previously been quite acceptable for every man and his dog to refer to hypochondriacs as lazy, stupid, cowardly, crazy, whinging scumbags, nevertheless it has not been acceptable for hypochondriacs to return this heartfelt courtesy in kind. In conjunction with the review of “Up Ship Creek Without A Paddle”, a survey has been implemented to compare skin thicknesses. Meanwhile Sir Chondriac is pleased to announce that next Saturdays posting will be replaced by a report by his buddy and yours, Pesky the journalist. This will cover a footy match between The Mighty Quacks and The Ruddy Hypochondriacs, the game that was played at Ship Hill, the really really steep hill; the one at the top of Ship Creek. Who won this exciting match, and how, and did the ship hit the fans, or was it something else. Find out in next Saturdays sports report, joke number 304 “Massacre At Ship Hill”.
Here it is as scheduled; Joke number 304.
MASSACRE AT SHIP HILL
A Ha Ha production
(of the Honorable Association of Hypochondriacs of Australia)
Starring; Sir Chondriac
With a special guest appearance by Pesky; the journalist from old fangled printing land
Also featuring; The Doc
and Sleepy; cyberworld’s most famous tortoise, and Speedy; cyberworld’s funniest bunnyOne day the crafty and skeptical doctor decided to test if the hypochondriac had real problems with exercise or if he was just imagining things or faking, so he goaded him into a physical contest. . . . “I’ll bet you and your mates couldn’t beat us doctors in a footy match, you silly galah” said the doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “I’ll betcha we could Doc, you silly galah” . . . “Prove it!” said the sneaky doctor . . . and the hypochondriac said “Okey dokey” . . . The very next day the hypochondriac drove to the farm near Ship Creek and dug up the biggest pile of bullshit he could find, and then he sifted out the heaviest shit of all and stuffed it into two footies until they were almost bursting at the stitches . . . He then staggered up to Ship Hill and arrived just in time for the start of the game and said to the referee “Let’s make this fair by making those tough doctors kick the footy up the hill and we’ll kick it down” . . . “Okey dokey” said the referee “That sounds fair” . . . “and by the way” said the hypochondriac “just one more thing” . . . “and what is that?” said the puzzled referee . . . and the hypochondriac whispered something in his ear . . . “Okey dokey” said the referee. The game was being watched by only three invited guests; firstly, Pesky the journalist; who was delegated to write the sports report for his newspaper for all and sundry to read, and then there was Sleepy the tortoise who watched from one end of the oval, and Speedy the rabbit who watched from the other end. The referee blew the whistle to start the game . . . Halfway through the game one of the doctors kicked the footy an impressive 75 yards right through the middle of the goal posts and it landed on Sleepies tough shell and bounced off all the way back through the goal posts at the other end of the ground where it hit Speedy the rabbit on the head and split completely in two; poor Speedy nearly drowned in it. The damaged footy was replaced by the other one; the one which had some real heavy shit in it, so much so that it was thought to be too dangerous to be used except as a last resort. An hour later the doctors were reeling around on the ground exhausted and trying to catch their breath, and the hypochondriacs were all rolling around the ground laughing their silly heads off . . . “then, Pesky the journalist, who had been watching the proceedings very carefully was shocked to hear the referee announce that the hypochondriacs had won in a massacre of 100 goals to nil. While staggering about in a confused and troubled frame of mind Pesky approached the ref to find out why he declared the hypochondriacs to be the winners when it was clearly observable that the doctors had kicked all the goals. “Oh there is a very good reason for that” said the referee, but go and ask Sir Chondriac, captain of the hypochondriacs . . . “Okay” replied Pesky, and then he said to Sir Chondriac, “What did your team do that I couldn’t see that made you the winners of the game?” . . . “Oh that can be easily explained” said the hypochondriac “We just copied an old medical trick and played dumb by pretending not to know that our opponents were kicking shit up hill all day right through the middle of our goal posts.
The moral of this story is “When you get too weary to run or fight, stop using your feet and start using your brains, and make some other silly galah wear themselves out by kicking shit up hill.
305. News scoop; a really really big scoop; Joke number 303 has finally been released by Sen. Soreship; be watching next Saturday for “UP SHIP CREEK WITHOUT A PADDLE”. Also be watching for joke number 309 about the Doc, the ruddy hypochondriac, and the pesky journalist and their holiday together; how do they end up in the Sahara desert, and will they see a mirage or what; and will Sleepy the tortoise save the day?
305a. Sir Chondriac wishes to apologise once again for another delay in the posting of Ship Creek. Last week a heated debate between Senator Soreships assistants Mr. D.Stanzard and Mr. Fairforall was determined in favour of Fairforall, allowing the release of cyberworld’s most anticipated gutbuster. However Sen. Soreship has had further reservations and has therefore brought in the army, with the famous General Custard being delegated the task of stopping Ship Creek until further notice. This has understandably created furious uproar in the old fashioned printing things called newspapers with the following front page headlines indicating the level of concern:
DOUBT LOOMS OVER GUTBUSTER AS CUSTARD BLOCKS SHIP CREEK
JOKE BUSTED BY CUSTARD SENDING SHIP CREEK INTO TROUBLED WATERS
FANS HIT BACK AT RIPPLE IN CYBERWORLD EPIC GIVING GOLDILOCKS BAD HAIR DAYFurther protests have come from wealthy sponsors who have paid up to $500 each for front row seats at Ship Creek, and from the celebrities who will have to reschedule their programmes to accommodate this delay in the red carpet arrival preceding the opening. Snack Jickleson in particular was expressing his thoughts with the usual aplomb “Day carnt handle da twoof”. Other complaints have come from Pritney Shoeston rumoured to be reeling from a recent break up with Speedy the rabbit, and gossip colums are rife with speculation that he may be accompanying Kinole Nidman, if and when Ship Creek is ever released. Meanwhile Sharnold Whosamejigger is involved in behind the scenes attempts to resolve the issues once and for all.
WATCH THIS SPACE NEXT SATURDAY April 30th 2005 FOR FURTHER DEVELOPMENTS IN THIS GUTBUSTING SAGA
305b. The attempts of the army to block Ship Creek were thwarted early last week due to escalating protests from an infuriated general public. The headlines emanating from the front pages continued to reflect this disquiet which ultimately brought the controversy to a close as can be seen from the following examples.GENERAL DROWNS IN FLOOD OF COMPLAINTS OVER ATTACKS ON SHIP CREEK
SHIPPING BULL BRINGS CUSTARD TO KNEES
GOLDILOCKS LOSES PADDLE IN SHIP FIGHT
and finally:
VICTORY FOR TWOOF; SHIP SET TO FLY MAY 7THWhen the dust settled everything was ready to go when one of the stars of the show threw another spanner in the works before, barring any further disruptions, all problems were overcome. Again, this battle was reflected in the following headlines of recent days.CELEBRITY RABBIT THROWS HISSY FIT DEMANDING BONUS PAYMENT FOR RED CARPET CAT WALK
BUNNY NOT JOKING CLAIMS AGENT
HA HA PRODUCTIONS IN URGENT NEGOTIATIONS WITH FUNNY BUNNY AS SHIP STALLS AGAIN
News Flash; Negotiations with prima donna rabbit successful; opening of Ship Creek will proceed as arranged Saturday May 7th.
*********
Despite numerous disruptions to the scheduled programming by Sen. Soreship, and the army – led by the famous General Custard, and then by some silly rabbit, finally, here it is; the most anticipated gutbuster in cyberworld history.
The wealthy patrons have already arrived and are seated in the front stalls at the very edge of Ship Creek and the celebrities have made their way along the red carpet amid the large crowd of onlookers; Snack Jickleson and Pritney Shoeston have made their entrance followed by Sharnold Whosamejigger and Speedy the celebrity rabbit as expected, but no-one quite knows how he managed to get here at all, and yes, just getting out of her limousine now is the last of the special guests Kinole Nidman who is slowly making her way past the cameras . . . The lights are dimming, the excited audience is hushed, and the curtain is rising on Joke number 306.____________
Joke number 306
UP SHIP CREEK WITHOUT A PADDLE
A HA HA PRODUCTION
In wide screen black and white printomatography
starring SIR CHONDRIAC
co-starring SLEEPY THE TORTOISE
also featuring DOC JUNIOR and SPEEDY JUNIOR
This is the story of Sir Chondriac; the disease fighting superhero of the 21st century.
One day a mild mannered hypochondriac named Sir Chondriac woke up, and, as it was a sunny day, he put his pet tortoise Sleepy in his car and drove away to go somewhere interesting for a stroll. As he drove past a long row of glasshouses and a big pile of stones he saw the local cemetery and decided to go for a walk up its garden path. (he could remember going up some garden paths before, especially the one which wound around the edge of Ship Creek; the creek with a boat in it; the one without a paddle; the boat that they fell out of once, but they didn’t drown in it because they were both good enough swimmers).
When Sir Chondriac got out of the car he put Sleepy on his leash as usual, to stop him from racing ahead, and then as he passed through the tall archway at the entrance of the cemetery he soon noticed the writing on the wall, sort of, well, really it was the writing on the tombstones.The first description was on a former doctor’s tombstone, and the epitaph described how he had promoted the idea, based on scientific statistics, that the average Australian diet was perfectly healthy, so he had bacon and eggs as his main course for breakfast, followed by jam and cream on toast washed down with a large glass of cordial every morning, and a meat pie with lots of tomato sauce, and a cream bun, and a can of soft drink for lunch, and fish and chips for tea followed by jelly and icecream for desert, all washed down with 6 glasses of beer. He died of a heart attack when he was still a young fellow.
A small wooden cross was beside this tombstone. Apparently it was the burial place of a bunny. One day someone shone a very bright light in his eyes and he just stood there. Sleepy was there at the time and he said ‘get out of the way, get out of the way!!!’ but the bunny ignored him. In fact Sleepy could only remember one bunny who ever listened and bolted.The second tombstone commemorated the life of a psychiatrist who specialised in treating the pain of whiplash injury which he said was psychological and not physical in nature. He told his patients that he could teach them his method of using the power of the mind to walk on a path of hot coals without feeling pain, and that they would then be able to use their new found mental strength to overcome their chronic whiplash pain. He never actually cured anyone but he became a very wealthy man because insurance companies sent him an awful lot of whiplash patients. Those companies then saved an awful lot of money because they didn’t have to give payouts to accident victims who were diagnosed with pain that was ‘all in the mind’. One day the psychiatrist walked too slow on a path of hot coals which was too long and he was cremated against his will in which he specified that he wanted to be buried in a mahogany coffin.The third tombstone commemorated the life of a very famous journalist. He started his working life writing newspaper articles on his typewriter, but one day the old fashioned thingamejig was replaced by a computer which enabled him to type twice as fast. It was not long before his whole arm became very sore and began to cramp severely so he went to his doctor. His doctor said that he had never seen such a problem before in his entire medical career, but just to be certain that there was nothing wrong he sent him for an x-ray. As there was no evidence of an injury he was told that the problem must have been imaginary so he was advised to ignore the pain and return to work and use the power of his mind to keep typing. He typed and he typed and he typed until the pain was so excruciating that he couldn’t type no more. Soon after that his boss accused him of being a lazy bludger and sacked him, and he sank into a life of unemployment. He desperately wanted to claim compensation so that he could still lead a reasonable life but he was in so much pain that he wasn’t able to type out the application form for the court case, so then he slipped inevitably into poverty and despair. His sadness impelled him to consult a psychiatrist but then, to his surprise, the long talks about his early childhood experiences didn’t cure his depression so he drowned his sorrows in booze. As alcoholism set in he wandered through the streets in rags looking for scraps of food in rubbish bins. One night he laid down to rest in a dumpster where, amongst all the rubbish, he found an old medical book called ‘The Modern Family Doctor – A Guide To Perfect Health’ which was published in London and dated 1928. On one of the brittle dog-eared pages, number 384, he found that repetitive work could cause severe arm cramps where drugs were completely useless at providing relief and the only effective treatment was to change one’s occupation. On page number 430 he learned that patients who are concerned about their health should be judiciously deceived into believing that there is nothing physically wrong with them and discouraged from reading medical books. After reading that pathetic scrap of decaying garbage he fell asleep. The disposable commodity who had no value to anyone, not even himself, was found dead the next morning by the driver of the rubbish truck as he was doing his rounds, and an autopsy revealed evidence of a fatal case of cirrhosis of the liver, but the actual cause of death was exposure to the elements.
After reading these details Sleepy jumped up onto Sir Chondriacs shoulder and parroted in his ear “That was Pesky the journalist; you knew Pesky; why didn’t you warn him; why, why, why???”, and Sir Chondriac, with a little tear in one eye said “I tried I tells ya; I tried I tells ya; over and over again I tried I tells ya; honest I did I tells ya.”
To be continued Saturday May 14th 2005
The next tombstone was dedicated to a famous Pop Singer who ate too many fatty hamburgers and took too many prescription only sleeping pills and died of a heart attack in his early forties. He was buried next to a couple of his friends who wrote their songs while smoking dope and taking one too many of those psychedelic tablets.
The next one was of a famous macho movie star who was always photographed with an attractive woman by his side, but in real life he had a lot of very close male acquaintances. He died of AIDs and was buried alongside of an FBI chief, and a couple of randy politicians, a couple of poofy priests, and a couple of partridges were in the pear tree growing on top.
At this event filled place in the garden path Sleepy hesitated in his stroll and, after contemplating the stony writing for awhile he said “and why didn’t you warn those fellas Sir Chondriac; why, why, why???”, and Sir Chondriac, with a little tear in one eye said “I tried I tells ya; I tried I tells ya; over and over again I tried I tells ya; honest I did I tells ya, but those type doesn’t listen to a normal bloke like me I tells ya, they only pays attention when one of their own puts up a mighty struggle against one little disease on the front page of one of them old fangled things called newspapers I tells ya.”The next one was the tombstone of a radio announcer who became a millionaire by doing adverts for tobacco companies. He also got free cigarettes delivered in brown paper bags under his table in exchange for persuading his listeners to smoke as he spoke, and he dictated sternly that there was no scientific proof that tobacco smoke was a cause of lung diseases and cancers, and that only fools thought it was. He was a tough and fearful man who actually believed that silly tripe and said “I have a right to smoke if I want to, and nobody has the right to stop me, not even the government, and if anyone tries I’ll puff in their face”. He huffed and he puffed and coughed and coughed and spluttered in his raspy authoritarian voice, and rarely did a sole dare to argue on his chitter and chatter show. One day he noticed a sore on his lips, and then his tongue began to swell, and soon his throat became too choked to talk so he had to retire 10 years early from his job, and then he couldn’t breath properly so he had to drag a long tube between his nose and an oxygen tank for many more years, and his incessant moans and his groans and his whinging and wailing could be heard 10,000 miles away. After this pitiful broken man died a miserable ruined wreck from emphysema, autopsy scientists who moonlighted for a tobacco company to get extra money declared the cause of his horrible diseases to be a complete mystery.
Sleepy jumped up onto Sir Chondriacs shoulder once again and parroted in his ear “You knew that chat chap; and his gruff growls didn’t bother you; why didn’t you warn him; why, why, why???”, and Sir Chondriac, with a little tear in one eye said “I tried I tells ya; I tried I tells ya; over and over again I tried I tells ya; honest I did I tells ya, I yelled and I screamed, and I ranted and raved; but he woodn’t listen I tells ya.”The next tombstone was for a very conservative fellow who topped his class in English at high school but failed maths and physics. He also became a radio announcer and although he had sufficient command of the king’s English to speak in a very articulate and convincing way, he could never actually tell the difference between bullshit and sense without help, so he would only interview highly expert professional spin doctors. They told his listeners that every occupational illness was ‘all in the mind’ and they said that Agent Orange and Chernobyl Fallout were not causes of cancer or birth defects. Whenever ordinary people rang his talk back show to dispute these truly astonishing claims he would treat them as if they were all stupid, complaining, whinging, greedy, compo bludging mental cases who didn’t know their own minds and didn’t have enough intelligence to know the cause of their own ailments. He lived his whole life on the inside of his comfortable studio and never ever visited the homes of the poor, or the villages of blistered men, or the hospitals that were full of babies with 3 fingers and 6 toes, or brains which grew on the outside of their deformed skulls. One day he accidentally walked out into the real world and when he suddenly noticed that he was talking to a small group of real people he panicked and died of stage fright.
Twice again Sleepy jumped up onto Sir Chondriacs shoulder and parroted in his ear “You knew that nice conservative fellow and you were a match for his polly polly syllogistic words; why didn’t you warn him; why, why, why???”, and Sir Chondriac, with a little tear in one eye said “I tried I tells ya; I tried I tells ya; over and over again I tried I tells ya; honest I did I tells ya, I supercalofragolisticogistically did I tells ya.”The next tombstone was for another man who became talk back host. He was a moralising chap who promoted family loyalty, and respectable community values, and told workers not to be greedy by asking for $5 per week wage rises, because, he warned, they would bankrupt the whole country. In the meantime he secretly received millions of dollars in undeclared funny money from companies who wanted him to make the public believe that it was a good idea to sell off all of the two century old public banks and utilities for peanuts, and he argued that private companies could run those organisations more efficiently and bring down the cost of basic necessities such as heating and cooling for the poor and elderly. He specialised in using the panic button to stop his talk back callers in mid conversation if any of them ever had the courage to challenge his opinion, and he would then spend 10 minutes using carefully crafted words to discredit them. After having 16 children to 5 different wives and 11 known mistresses he retired early and was playing golf on Paradise Island when he was suddenly struck with guilt and then drowned himself in his own slush pond.
INTERVAL
At this stage the screen dimmed, and the lights came on as the curtain rose, and the thoroughly absorbed patrons got out of their seats and made their way up the aisles to the foyer where there was much chitter and chatter and clutter and one wag was overheard to remark; “What do you mean; interval? Is this just a big joke ???” . . . For some patrons the partying went on all through the night, while others went outside and slept under the stars, and some in the vast number of cosy tents on the banks of the creek where they were strung along.
Be watching tomorrow Sunday May 15th when everyone has returned to the theatre and the Ship starts to roll again.*********
Sunday May 15th at Ship Creek
The crowd has assembled again inside the theatre and the lights have dimmed, the viewers are hushed, and the curtain is rising as Sir Chondriac and Sleepy continue their stroll up the garden path.
The last tombstone was dedicated to yet another radio announcer; the one from radio station Hatemaker P.I.G., the famous ‘kick-em-when-they’re-down’ jock, the one with the world’s biggest mouth; the one who made his listeners hate all greenies, the unemployed, the unions, the poor, the homeless, the sick, and all protesting uni-students, and any and every voiceless and defenceless minority group. He said that they were a burden to us all, a pox on the earth, the cause of all our ills, the scumbags who kept us poor; throw the lot of em to da wolves he said, and he always showed his way to improve his listeners lives by saying that we need more role models like Salan Zond, the honourable man who we should respect and pity because he committed his zillion dollar crime, but like the wonderful man he was, he zid his twelve muns time. One day this rather arrogant chat guru, the self-centred, self opinionated, self delusional and very very all round selfish man attended one too many smorgasbords, and he kept eating everything on the menu until his enormous stomach exploded and blew his tiny brain right through the centre of his three inch diameter arsehole; the one that he used to talk out of all the time. The best medicine and surgery that money could buy couldn’t help this ruthless man; the one who had brutal disregard for everyone else’s misfortunes and emotions, when he uttered his final pitiful words “Why me; what did I do to deserve this???”.
Thrice again, and for the very last time Sleepy jumped up onto Sir Chondriacs shoulder and parroted in his ear “You knew that crude, rude, and obnoxious man; why didn’t you warn him; why, why, why???”, and Sir Chondriac, with a little tear in one eye said “I tried I tells ya; I tried I tells ya; over and over again I tried I tells ya; honest I did I tells ya, can you get me a bucket?” . . . “Okey dokey” said Sleepy who found one nearby with a boot mark in it that presumably had been kicked there by some one or other, and then he handed it to Sir Chondriac. “Thankyou Sleepy” said Sir Chondriac. After filling it with tears he said “Can you get me another bucket please?” . . . “Okey dokey” said Sleepy who found it very easy to find another one. Apparently a lot of people had kicked their own buckets and left them behind filled with really, really good fertiliser, so Sleepy emptied them between the flowers growing next to their graves. After filling the second bucket with more tears Sir Chondriac said “I feel better now; it must be the chemicals released in those tears that eases my feeling of sorrow” and then he poured the two buckets over the really really big pile of fertiliser between the huge rows of flowers growing around the pitiful loud mouthed schmucks humoungous grave.
After reaching the end of the garden path Sleepy the tortoise looked back and noticed that all of the tombstones had a row hoed between them except for the last ones which were different because they had been rowed with two ho’s. He noticed that a lot of people seemed to be digging their own graves on one side of that two ho row so he yelled out and told them to stop, but they just kept digging deeper and deeper, and then he noticed that the other side was a vacant lot.
Sir Chondriac then looked straight ahead and saw a clearing with a hurdy girdy in the middle which goes around and comes around again and it looked like a merry-go-round but it wasn’t. On the far side of the well mown lawn was a park bench under a large shady oak tree so he walked over and sat down on the seat and ate his sandwich of wholemeal bread and salad, and gave Sleepy a little piece of crisp lettuce and a sip of his red wine.
They hadn’t been relaxing for long when they heard a rustling sound nearby and when they turned around they could see some bushes around a small pond with a very large and a very very old wooden sign with the words “Broken Springs” etched into it. There were some ducks quacking and quacking about, and a tiny little bird a flapping, and they could see some red herrings swimming just below the surface, and there seemed to be something deeper but the pond was rippling and the water was murky. When Sleepy looked closer he could see that the tiny bird was a little canary close to drowning so he bolted like a flash of lightening and tripped over a rock and summersaulted three times before bellyflopping into the pond with a splash which nearly emptied it. He swam as fast as he ever had before, come hell or high water, until he reached the wretched critter and said “hop onto my shell and I’ll rescue you buddy”. At the brink of exhaustion he becalmed and flippered and slowly but surely flippered until they reached the shore. The canary said “thanks Sleepy” I might not look tough, but some time soon I might be able to save you too”. “I know, I know” said Sleepy and then his truly valued feathered friend flew and flew away to live another day. While waving goodbye Sleepy turned and saw Dr. Juniors pet rabbit Speedy Junior. One end of his leash was wrapped around the trunk of the oak tree and the other end was attached to his neck of course, and he was struggling furiously to free himself so Sleepy went over to see if he could help. The bunny said that Dr. Junior had told him to think positive and try to run and run until he broke the leash, but each time he tried he choked until his eyes nearly popped out, and then he ran so fast that his feet flung forward and he fell onto his back with the unboken leash nearly strangling him, but with gritty determination he kept on trying over and over again until he was thoroughly exhausted. Dr. Junior had left him some sugar tablets to give him an extra boost of energy, and then gone back to his car to get some surgical scissors to cut him loose. Sleepy said “Follow me sport” . . . “Okey dokey” said Speedy, and then he added “but why are we going backwards?” . . . and Sleepy replied “because this is one of those times when you haven’t got any choice; you silly galah” . . . After unwinding the leash Speedy said “thank you Sleepy” and then bounded off to find Dr. Junior.
“Let’s go up some more garden paths” said Sleepy to Sir Chondriac who then asked, “How can you have all that energy Sleepy???” and Sleepy replied “its because I’m only 126 years old you silly galah” . . . “Okey dokey” said Sir Chondriac “we’ll keep walking until dusk”.
They could see a large gum tree way off in the distance which had been burnt out during a bush fire the previous year, and after going beyond the black stump, they reached the very edge of Ship Creek where they found their old boat; the one without a paddle, and just as they got on board lightning struck all round and rain began to pour, and the creek began to flow real fast and really really rough, and there were a lot of holes in the boat which began to leak. “Lets get out of here” said Sleepy, remembering how difficult the ride was in calm weather, so they jumped out straight away, and then Ship Creek burst its banks and began to flood all over everything.
Sleepy quickly leapt up onto his hind feet and led the way at a very brisk 4 km per hour with the leash straining at his neck as Sir Chondriac held on tight and stumbled and tumbled behind with the raging torrent of the overflowing Ship furiously lapping at his feet. Fortunately they reached the car still dry and safe and got into the seats with the head rests and put on their seat belts. Then, of course, as befits all illustrious stories, they drove off toward the setting sun and lived happily ever after.
*********The moral of this story is; if you want your life to be like a happy stroll up a garden path and not a hopeless struggle, you might have to learn how to swim through shit and walk backwards, and if ever you find yourself up Ship Creek without a paddle in stormy weather and the boat has lots of holes in the side, get out quick and let some other silly galah drown in it.*********In some late breaking news the launch of Ship Creek has triggered a deluge of phone calls from angry radio announcers threatening to sue the producers for identity theft and breech of copyright. 3,725 announcers from 116 different countries, 5 concrete jungles, and a stony desert have contested the rights including 2109 talk back hosts, 510 disc jockeys, 217 sports casters, 106 weathermen, 3 circus clowns, 2 more partridges in a pear tree, and 1 particularly agitated village idiot. The production team have gone to ground and are therefore unavailable for comment at this stage as their whereabouts are unknown, although in an unconfirmed report just in from an unidentified source, a man and a tortoise were recently seen speeding across the Nullarbor Plain on motorised roller skates.
News flash; Sir Chondriac found in secret interstate hiding place; says ‘I didn’t do it, It’s not my fault, I wasn’t even there; what was the name of that creek again???’
*********to be continued
Continued??? continued??? What is this rubbish??? How can something which is undeniably UP SHIP CREEK WITHOUT A PADDLE in bold capital letters continue after it has unmistakably and completely and utterly finished. What I mean to say is, when all has been said and done, and even dead and buried, it’s just common sense; and who is trying to fool who, and why would they bother, and what kind of joke is this anyway??? and will the Ship ever end??? Find out next Saturday May 21st 2005*********Controversy continues since the dramatic opening of Ship Creek with some misunderstanding being evident. On one side the radio community feels that they have been duped into thinking that the show was going to be funny, however this was never the case. The newspapers have been reviewing events as evident from alarming headlines in the international press.JOKE SCAM AN INTERNATIONAL SCANDAL ACCORDING TO ENTERTAINMENT EDITOR
CRITICS SLAM GUTBUSTER; ITS NOT FUNNY
LED INTO HOPELESS TRAP BY FALSE REASSURANCES WEEPS WHINGING CHAT GURU
JOKE LAUNCH TRIGGERS HISSY FIT EPIDEMIC IN RADIO LAND
LOUD MOUTH SCHMUCK SPITS DUMMY AT JOKE LAUNCH AND SULKS: DISHING IT OUT IS BIG LAUGH; TAKING IT NOT FAIR
JOKE PUTS BAD TASTE IN MOUTH SAYS DISGRUNTLED SOUR PUSS
*********NO OFFICIAL COMMENT ON JOKE EPIC AS PROMINENT HYPOCHONDRIAC GOES TO GROUND
MISUNDERSTOOD SHIP EDITOR ON DEFENSIVE; INSISTS FUNNY STUFF NOT PROMISED
DON’T UNDERSTAND ALL THE FUSS; ITS JUST A JOKE SAYS FUNNY BUSINESS BUNNY
JOKE CRITICS LOST PLOT IN GRAVEYARD PROTESTS INDIGNANT TORTOISE
*********MAYHEM IN RADIO LAND AS ONE WAY STREET PRIVILEGES AND PANIC BUTTON RIGHTS SMASHED BY SHIP JOKE
RADIO HEAVYWEIGHTS SET TO PUNISH SIR CHONDRIAC FOR GARDEN PATH BUT ANONYMOUS HERO SAYS; ALL THIS FUSS ABOUT NOTHING; JUST A CAKE WALK ON THIS SIDE OF FENCE
*********MULTINATIONAL SCANDAL ESCALATES THIS WEEK WITH THREATS MADE ON CAST AND CREW OF SHIP CREEK
SHIP EDITOR WARNED; BEHIND THE SCENES SKULDUGGERY AFOOT
NOT WORRIED A JOT ABOUT JOKE PLOT RESPONSE SAYS FEARLESS SUPER HERO FROM SECRET HIDEAWAY
*********HIGHLY RESPECTED CYBERWORLD PRODUCTION TEAM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR OLD FANGLED RADIO WOES; NO-ONE ELSE TO BLAME BUT THEMSELVES ACCORDING TO WRITING ON GRAVEYARD WALL
THE DAMAGE HAS BEEN DONE; FORGET ABOUT PAST AND GET ON WITH FUTURE QUOTH THE BUNNY
*********As predicted the launch of such a controversial production as Ship Creek would ultimately result in attempts to suppress its socially important message by banning it. The newspapers reported this inevitability with the usual swiftness.RADIO LAND IN STREET PROTESTS AS ESCALATING HISSY FIT EPIDEMIC COSTS GOVERNMENT MORE THAN BIRD FLU
CALLS FOR BANNING OF SHIP JOKE
IT HITS FANS AS BUNNY HITS BACK IN SHIP TRIAL
CLAIMS OF COLLUSION FALL ON BIG DEAF EARS IN CONTROVERSIAL BUNNY CASE
HOW DID A SILLY RABBIT SURVIVE IN THIS SPOTLIGHT ANYWAY; AND HOW WILL SIR CHONDRIAC EVER SURVIVE ASKS HOPELESSLY PUZZLED INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALIST; “DUCK” QUOTH THE BUNNYThe end
cast
Sir Chondriac
Sleepy the tortoise
Dr. Junior
Speedy junior
some supporting movie stars
dozens of corpses
14 ducks, a few red herrings, something deeper in the pond, a really really tiny canary, and 4 partridges from a couple of pear trees.********After being led up his first garden path Sir Chondriac kept a diary of notes on proceeding events. (While they were watching him, he was watching them with his 20/21C vision)
Since then:The government has passed laws to control the dosage of addictive drugs which a doctor is permitted to prescribe, as many patients became seriously ill, more ill by the drugs than by the original ailment, and some committed suicide while others died of fatal medically prescribed overdose.Laws were passed to make it illegal to manufacture motor vehicles without crumple zones, head rests, and seat belts, which reduced the incidence of injuries and death, including whiplash injuries.Some multimillionaire executives of previously trusted and respected multibillion dollar insurance companies have been found guilty of white collar crimes including misleading advertising, and fraud against their customers, and their shareholders.Typing pools have been banned after tens of thousands of typists developed repetitive stain injuries following the replacement of typewriters with computers, and the task of typing was distributed more equally amongst all office staff, and workers were instructed on how to prevent the injury, and office equipment was ergometrically redesigned to minimize the problem.Tobacco company executives were brought to trial where it became evident that none of them smoked and regarded their industry as a way of making money from the poor, the uneducated, the black, and the female. They were found guilty of deliberately concealing evidence of the harmful effects of tobacco smoke, including addiction, lung cancer, and emphysema, and they have been found guilty of using various types of false and misleading advertising, with their advertising now having to meet standards of honesty which are legally monitored and enforced.Medical associations have officially recognised the chronic fatigue syndrome as a real illness.Time has lapsed on many official government secrets which revealed that the government has been concealing evidence about the harmful effects of Maralinga fallout, which it previously denied in official media releases. They also concealed evidence of the serious harmful effects of Agent orange which is now a widely recognised and proven cause of 16 different types of cancer, and birth defects.Major pharmaceutical companies have been sued for billions of dollars after being found guilty of concealing the harmful effects of their drugs and products. Some of these cases were brought to trial by class action from tens of thousands of victims, who would have otherwise been ignored.Prominent and highly respected radio announcers have been found guilty of misleading their listeners with major advertising frauds which included accepting undeclared money (millions of dollars) for changing their opinions to the exact opposite of their original arguments about the products being promoted by the companies paying the furtive fees. (They were also paid to discredit the talk back callers who criticised those companies). None of them have been jailed.At the end of the big flood in the big joke Up Ship Creek, everything was left to wrack and ruin as a pile of sticks and rubble. The only monument remaining as a permanent memorial was The Tomb of The Unknown Patient; Set into the side of the massive concrete block were the famous words; “It wasn’t me; I didn’t do it whatever it was; I wasn’t even there at the time; I officially deny everything, and I mean everything; I didn’t even laugh, honest I didn’t; I’m not even dead yet: what funeral?”The price of health is eternal vigilanceto be continued
Oh no? give me a break . . . not a broken leg; a tea break . . . no, not a cup of tea; a rest from all this Ship . . . Have you ever noticed how people will twist the meaning of words to suit their own ends, not yours, and even invent words for the same crifty crafty purpose; Now that is a trick or two to come from all this Ship . . . and so it hasn’t ended yet, no, not yet . . . yes, but don’t blame me, I’m only the narrator of all this Ship, and I don’t know which way to finally end it. There are so many choices. Maybe I’ll throw up the whole lot . . . but how? it could be messy; find out next Saturday May 28th 2005
*********As you know, every famous story has its twists and turns, and just when you think it will end it keeps on going until the very end, so to say, to clean up a few loose ends, and the Ship is, as forewarned, the same. About 3 years after it was completely finished a couple of times Sir Chondriac decided to revisit Ship Creek one more time, but he couldn’t remember where the place was, honest he couldn’t, so he went to the city map shop. The manager tried to look it up on all of his maps but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t find it, so he got out one of those scientific things called a microscope and looked at every micromillimetre of every page, and then his brand new pet kitten scampered across the table and ran his whiskers over the map but not even the latest CAT scan could shed light on the picture, so he said “I’m sorry to say, Sir Chondriac, but I can’t find any evidence that it ever existed; you must have just imagined it.”
So now I have to admit, ladies and gentlemen, that isn’t where all this Ship ends, that was where it started, so please accept my most sincere and humble apologies for putting you into it, but you will just have to end it yourself, or so to speak, draw your own conclusion.*********
Well well well well well well, you mean that I had to read all of that Ship just to learn something that I will have to figure out for myself anyway; and I’m supposed to wait until then“YOU’VE GOTTA BE JOKING” QUOTHE THE BUNNYSee; proof; I told you that this Ship was a joke; and it’s not just my opinion!!!*********
So that was the very very end of Sir Chondriacs story, and in the end you have heard their story, and hisstory, and it really really will be up to you, I mean to say, not them, and not him, and not some silly rabbit, but you, yes you, the one who is reading this Ship, to determine whether or not it ever existed, or if you just imagined it, and whether or not hisstory repeats itself if you ever find yourself
Up Ship Creek Without A Paddle,AT THE BEGINNING*********Tune in for another entertaining production by the Ha Ha team as the cast go on their Desert Holiday together next Saturday June 4th*********Click here to return to go to the next hypochondria joke number 307 (the Desert Holiday is joke number 309) |
