I was sitting in a barber shop in Berlin. This small diminutive man comes
in and sits next to me. We entered into conversation regarding the current
political situation in Austria and Poland. We spoke for about ten minutes.
He then asked me if I was employed. I informed him I was understudy to
Peter Klien’s moustache at the Semperopa opera house.
“No more!” He exclaimed. “From zis day, you vill be mein moustache!”
And that was it, I arrived at his offices a week late in Dresden.
I survived the war because on the last day in the bunker, I glued a black
slug to his top lip and made my escape to Switzerland. A few months later
I began working for Peter Ustinov.
In 1995, I was working for Lady Porter at her home in Westminster, London.
She was having dinner with Lady Thatcher. They retired to the drawing-room
for a spliff and a glass of Tennent’s super strength lager. After an hour, Lady
Porter fell asleep on the rug. Lady Thatcher turned to me and asked if I was
happy in my work. I told her I was fed up with the blue rinse.
“Then you shall come and work for me at number ten my dear” she declared
A few days later, I was in Buckingham palace listening to Her Majesty the Queen
explaining to Lady Thatcher how badly she had done at the bingo in Dalston the previous evening.
When Thatcher died, I went to work for Elton John.
or is it…???
Well yes it is as it happens, so deal with it!
All of the above were written by the hate-filled bigot and self styled “Black Bastard Of Brentford” Gary Hoadley and edited by the ethnically pure, and self-styled “White Wog Of Whitechapel” Clivey Dee, 19.