Hitler’s Last Day: An Everyday Story Of Defeated, Suicidal Folk

“Donner und shitzen!”

The Last Day Of Adolf Hitler by Gary Hoadley

 

The Bunker. Berlin 1945.
Hitler is in his war office. The door flies open.
“Fuhrer! The Russians are at the city limits!”
“Tell the toll booths to up the price to ten marks”.
“But Fuhrer, they have tanks and artillery!”
“Put the toll booths up to twenty marks!”
“They are invading!”
“Get down the high street and buy up as much toilet paper as you can”.
“Fuhrer, what about our soldiers?”
“Let them get there own bludy toilet paper!”.
“Sir, may I go now?”
“We haven’t got any toilet paper, are you not listening?”
“No Fuhrer, I mean to organise the troops into a defensive line”.
“Good idea, I don’t want those Russians nicking the toilet paper”.
Eva Braun enters the room;
“Darlinks, you look zo hot unt bothered”.
“Don’t talk to my misses like that! Get out…”
“Sorry my Fuhrer, I forgot myself”.
“He’s a bit forward Addie”.
“How many times have I told you, Eva, not to call me Addie?”
“Oh shut up, no one heard me, what you so grumpy about?”
“Looks like that holiday in the South of France will have to be cancelled”
“Why?”
“They’ve invaded the hotel”.
“The Allied troops?”
“No, bludy cockroaches, I’ve just had Michele on the blower”.
“I always said that place was never cleaned properly”.
“If Rommel had got his finger out, we could have gone on safari in Africa”.
“I’m going shopping”.
“Have you got a tin helmet?”
“No, why?”
“Just asking…”
Eva Braun leaves and Admiral Von Bismark enters;
“My Fuhrer, I have bad news”.
“I had a battle ship named after you, didn’t I?”
“Yes Fuhrer…Eric”.
“No wonder they sunk it, what’s up now?”
“We have no naval power”.
“We’ve lost all our ships?”
“No Fuhrer, they’ve run out of fuel”
“Cant they row?”
“Two hundred ton ships Fuhrer?”
“Cleopatra did it”.
“I will try and see what I can do Fuhrer”.
Bismarck leaves. The phone rings;
“Hello, Hitler speaking…No mate, But thanks for the offer”.
Baron Von Riechthoven enters the room;
“Cheeky sod, Old soppy bollocks from across the water asked me
if I wanted to surrender! Is he having a laugh?”
“Shweine! How dare Churchill insult you like that!”
“Not Churchill, the Mayor of Dorking”.
“Fuhrer, I…”
“I know, you’ve got bad news”.
“No Sir, I’ve got good news!”
“Blimey, what is it?”
“It’s a mild colloquial outburst Sir”.
“What?”
“Blimey Sir”
“No, what is the good news?”
“Oh!…We have aircraft on the ground”
“Shouldn’t they be in the air?”
“Fuhrer?”
“My aircraft, shouldn’t they be in the air?”
“Brilliant idea Fuhrer, I will get to it straight away”.
“For fucks sake…”
“Sir?”
“Nothing”.
Hitler makes his way to the communications office;
“Fuhrer!”
“Sit down soldier, I want you to send a message to Winston Churchill”.
“Sir, what is your message?”
“Ignore last telegram”.
“Sir?”
“That should get him going”.
“Anything else my Fuhrer?”
“Don’t know a good taxi firm do you?”
“Fuhrer?”
“Never mind”.
The Fuhrer now goes to his private rooms;
“Lovely, I will have a kip, then a bit of dinner then…”
A flunky crashes through the door;
“Fuhrer! The Russians are in Berlin”.
“Up the price of the parking meters”.
“But Sir, you must escape”.
“With a face like this? Where do you think I could hide?”
“South America Sir”.
“Don’t like the food”.
“Africa”.
“Too hot”.
“Butlins”.
“Too boring”.
“Mrs Bunions lodging house, Clacton on Sea”.
“That will do, get me a plane”.
“Yes my Fuhrer!”
Colonel Brinthoffen enters the room;
“My Fuhrer, you must not leave without arming yourself”.
“Why?”
“They will try and shoot you!”.
“Why?”
“They think you started the war”.
“Me! I was all for a commune in Bavaria”.
“Here, take my handgun”.
“Thank you”.
“Sir, don’t point it at your head like that”.
“I have had one of these, I do know what I am doi…
Mrs Bunions lodging house. 30 years later;
“It was a close thing Mrs B, the gun went off and nearly done for me”…

Das End!

Letters To LOMM

Dear League Of Mental Men

With the festive season just 6 months away why not recreate a Christmas winter wonderland for your pet hamster by sprinkling the bottom of it’s cage with talcum powder instead of sawdust. For added authenticity build it a small igloo from sugar lumps before blasting it with cold air from a powerful hairdryer.

Dave Disorderly-Conduct

Uruguay

Clivey

The Facebooker’s Guide To Dealing With Outages Or Device Crashes

A 75 year old trawlerman from Lowestoft displaying his latest FB avatar last night.

 

Avatar Simulation: Enlarge a particularly flattering picture of yourself taken a least two decades ago and walk around the streets with it glued to your face. Singularly unattractive people may prefer to use their favourite celebrity such as George Clooney or Rachel Weiss. You’ll be fooling nobody mind you.

Friending: Approach a complete stranger in the street, ask them for directions and then, over the next few weeks, gently probe them for intimate details of their private life before discussing them down the pub.

Unfriending: Approach the same person a few weeks later and kick them up the arse

Liking: Sidle up to somebody who’s engaged in a private conversation, nudge them in the ribs and give them a thumbs up sign.

Sharing: Break into somebody’s house and steal a painting or photograph from their wall before parading around the streets holding it aloft. Thick people who would rather others didn’t realise how utterly cretinous they were could walk the streets wearing a sandwich board bearing a quotation from Plato or similar.

Commenting: Eavesdrop on somebody’s private conversation and then chime in by saying “So true!” Advanced Facebookers may wish to then smother the speaker with kisses before referring to them as “babes”,” hun”, “girlfriend” or “bro”

Private Messaging: Approach somebody you vaguely know in a conspiratorial manner and whisper to them that somebody else you both vaguely know is a cunt. Pig ugly men with small penises and no prospect of getting a girlfriend could also take this opportunity to make an inappropriate remark to a female with their miserable little cock hanging out.

Blocking: Use the electoral roll to find the address of somebody who gets on your nerves and then shoot them in the face on their doorstep.

Deactivating Account: Swallow a few handfuls of Paracetemol and drink a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Clivey “No I have no interest in looking at your fucking dog/cat, hideous children, house, garden, wallpaper or sexual organs so kindly fuck off”

 

 

Michael Schumacher’s Stolen Medical Files Found Blocking Fernando Alonso’s Driveway

Alonso pictured last night after getting a lift to the off-licence from a neighbour

Boxes containing the stolen medical records of stricken Formula One legend, Michael Schumacher, have been discovered strewn across the driveway of his erstwhile Spanish rival, Fernando Alonso, in a bizarre reminder of the infamous Monaco Grand Prix incident in 2006 when the German ace, now in an induced coma following a skiing accident last year, deliberately stalled his engine and then ‘parked’ his Ferrari at the Rascasse bend during qualifying in order to prevent the Spaniard, his closest rival for the championship at the time, from completing his last flying lap and possibly pipping him for pole position on the grid.

Alonso, who discovered the boxes as he tried to get his Ford Fiesta out of the garage to go to his local off-licence, last night told reporters. “Let’s just say the irony of this one wasn’t totally lost on me”

A spokesman for the sport’s governing body, FIA, said last that no decision had yet been made as to any punishment but that they were considering issuing Schumacher with a drive through penalty or even handing him a points deduction.

Clivey

LOMM’s TV Choice #12,567

Channel 4. 22.30: Jamie’s Money Saving Meals.

A camera crew follow the popular TV chef as he breaks into his next door neighbour’s house and steals a steak and kidney pie and a 6 pack of Greek style yoghurt.

Clivey.

“Tony Blair Wanted To Look At My Pants” Newcastle Woman’s Shock Claim

“That Mrs Thatcher’s not a bad looking woman you know. I wonder if she’s wearing any”

 

In a revealing interview, a former female friend of ex-British prime minister, Tony Blair, claims that he once asked her to show him her pants as they played together on a Newcastle bomb site in 1960 when they were both aged 7.

Mrs Geraldine Terry, now 61, told The Tyne & Wear Gazette. “It was a lovely summer’s day and Tony and myself were playing on a piece of wasteground just behind our houses. I wanted to build a den but all Tony wanted to do was play war all the time. Eventually he gave me a hand and we built a small shelter from bits of corrugated iron and some roof joists from one of the bombed out houses. We went inside and just as I was about to put the imaginary kettle on to make us some tea, Tony blurted out that he wanted to see my pants.

“I was a bit reticent at first, but I was scared that if I didn’t do as he asked he’d go home early for his tea and leave me on my own. When I lifted my dress up he just stared at my pants for a while and then ran away. I think he might have been crying.

“To be fair he never once asked to look at them again but I did once catch him rifling through my mum’s underwear drawer when she was out at work and he’d come round to mine for some jam sandwiches”

Blair’s press officer issued a statement last night, categorically denying the claim. “Mr Blair strongly denies this spurious and outrageous claim. He has never asked to see this lady’s underwear nor anybody else’s for that matter.  In all honesty why would he? After all he has an extremely well-stocked knickers drawer of his own”

Blair himself was unavailable for comment last night as he is currently doing two month’s voluntary service, working behind the counter at a lingerie boutique in Gateshead.

Clivey.

LOMM’s Heavily Edited Classics In Cockney: Great Expectations

“‘ere! Have a decko at this one people. You’ll absolutely lap it up, trust me”

 

Pip. Blimey wot a blindin’ day! I reckon I’ll go for a quick ball of chalk on the old marshes.

Magwitch. Go and half inch me a pork pie from your gaff or I’ll give you a slap and hoover up your heart and liver with onion gravy you little cow’s son!

Pip. Stroll on! That Estella’s a tidy looking sort and no error. I wouldn’t half like to give her the good news! Know what I’m saying?

Jaggers. You’ve ‘ad a nice little result Pip my son. Some geezer, who shall remain nameless, is going to give you a monkey every year for the foreseeable so you can dive up to the smoke and become a toff.

Pip. 500 notes a year! Gawd blimey sheriff! What a touch!

Mr Pocket. I’ll tell you what Pip me old china plate, this hedonistic lifestyle is as sweet as a nut my son. Fancy another pint and a slap up nosebag down the pie and mash?

Magwitch. It was me what gave you the Bugs Bunny Pip my son. I made a few quid Down Under and thought I’d use the bunce to get you all sorted and that. Mind you Old Bill’s after me so I’d better have it on me toes a bit lively or I’ll get me collar felt.

Miss Faversham. Has anyone seen my fucking lighter?

Pip. Estella! Blimey gel, I never thought I’d ever clap me minces on you again sweedart!

Estella. Alright geezer? Fancy taking me up west for a bit of a knees up and a few sharpeners in one of them fancy drinkers? I’ll let you cop a feel of me threepenny bits in the horse and carriage if you do.

Pip. Sweet as a nut Treacle! I’ll go and put some decent shmutter on, only I look a right Berkeley Hunt in this dopey cap and these diabolical baggy strides and no fucking error.

The End

Clivey.

Letters To LOMM

Dear League Of Mental Men

When my wife complained the other day that she couldn’t work out how to change her Facebook profile picture I immediately came to her aid and severed her head with a machete and then shrunk it in red hot sand. I then beat it flat with a mallet and glued it into the top left hand corner of her page.

Imagine my annoyance when a few days later I was arrested and charged with murder. Where’s the fairness in that then?

Benjamin Pre-Eclampsia

The Amazon

Clivey

LOMM’s TV Choice #875

TCM TV. 21.00 – 15 Minutes

A tear-jerking docu drama which chronicles a man suffering from a rare brain disorder which compels him to lie constantly about his staying power in the sack.

Warning! This programme may contain traces of Simon Cowell

Clivey

Letters To LOMM

Dear League Of Mental Men

My girlfriend and I split up last night after she told me I was “useless in the trouser department”

How we both laughed when I told her that earlier in the day I had been fired  from my job as a junior trouser salesman at Selfridges.

Barney Uterus

Wales

Clivey