Resuscitation of the Ramblings

In the beginning the Inane Rambler was brimful of optimism. I had just enrolled at University, the world was fresh, new and exciting; I was experiencing freedom like I never had before. However, this sweet feeling of freedom soon turned sour in the cold stark face of responsibility and the decline came at an unstoppable pace. Of many an evening I would frequent the many guzzling holes of Newcastle Upon-Tyne. Indecent exposure, thinly-veiled ‘tongue-in-cheek’ bravado, and alcohol theft were regular features. However, during light-hours, I became lazy, often hungover, and spent most of my days in my bedroom sat at a laptop all day. With a lock on my door I was beginning to isolate myself during the day, gradually building up mess and filth. There were fruit-flies emerging from my bin, urine stains in and around the sink, and hardened underwear strewn across the floor but I just sat there at my computer oblivious to my living conditions; seemingly unaware of the sty I had created. Whilst my right hand, clutching at my mouse, was steadily being engulfed by mould, mould which had continued to grow out of a bowl of leftover milk and cereal, my other hand (that’s right, the left one), served only to pull and push my foreskin back and forth, respectively, over my smegma ridden glans as I clicked through more and more degrading and debasing pornography (or differing and/or diverse, if you want to put a positive spin on it).

At this point an existentialist crisis ought to be galloping over the hill towards my morally devoid, masturbatory bubble. It took a while for that to happen and for me to shower. It seems needless to say that, at this point, the Inane Rambler’s resonance had been muffed.

By the time I had realised the errors of my ways graduation was already behind me and I was working full-time in a local bar in my home town. The three years previous were a blur, now these times were droning on. Long days, long nights, anti-social hours, and a Scotsman as a manager made this period particularly difficult. At first I managed to contribute to Inane Rambler on an inconsistent basis but work was choking me, restricting air to my creative lungs whilst beating me across my head, holding my legs down and punching me in the groin repeatedly. There was nothing I could do.

So then, like the stagnant pseudo-corpse of Ariel Sharon, the Inane Rambler had lied lifeless and almost entirely motionless. The huge cerebral haemorrhaging brought on by full-time employment in the service industry had almost destroyed any hopes of the Rambler living to waffle on another day yet random twitches; small explosions in the brain, if you will, have kept hope of the continuation of bizarre ideas and musings alive.

After a brief visit to the Holy Land to espouse offensively irreligious viewpoints, I have risen from the role of lethargic-lackey into the luxury of unemployment and state-subsidised binge-drinkery. No longer am I slaving for people I’ll never meet and no longer shall the inane ramblings be swept aside at the will of The Man.

A new determination has emerged and one must prepare oneself as I will often blur the lines between reality and fiction, satire and straight-forward comment and analysis; a Nietzschean diatribe, if you will. It will attack and seduce from all sides, it will overwhelm and confuse, arouse and stifle, explode and implode; it will fart and follow through whilst making the most orgasmic love to you.

The time has finally come again for blind righteousness to break free from the shackles of the recently deceased guide-dog of reason.



The Wonderful Sounds of Whaling

In this fantastic 3 CD album deal, The Wonderful Sounds of Whaling brings you authentic recordings from Norway, Japan, Iceland, Canada and Indonesia!

Sit back and relax to the frantic cries of the Japanese whalers, the deafening moans of the majestic blue whale, the splatter of guts, the tearing of flesh, the victorious war-cries of the Lamalerans of Indonesia.

Also, when you buy online you will receive a free DVD: Whaling Mishaps with commentary from all round fan of unnecessary violence Binyamin Netanyahu.

And all this for just £14.97. It’s the deal of the century! Just look at these celebrity endorsements:

“Soothing, relaxing, and great to listen to after a hectic day of violently oppressing my own people.” – Robert “Muggers” Mugabe

“I always listen to The Wonderful Sounds of Whaling when I’m in the bath, all hot and shaving my legs.” – Gordon “Godfather of Soul” Brown

The Wonderful Sounds of Whaling has had a significant influence on my music” – Edith Piaf

“It’s more fun than the Hilsborough disaster” – Kelvin MacKenzie

So order online now for just £14.97 at and you won’t be disappointed*

*Customers may be disappointed

Not an interview with Chris Langham

Firstly, I would just like to make an apology to all readers of this blog regarding the time it has taken me to conduct and publish another interview.

As Channel Four‘s Shrink Rap stole Chris Langham away from me I am not able to bring you an interview with Chris Langham. Langham did apologise for cancelling his interview with me, apparently he had bigger fish to fry and wanted to get his side of recent events out via a “credible” organisation. However, Langham, you and all your perverted cronies at Channel 4 don’t matter now as I’ve gone several better and brought in ruler of South Rhodesia, I mean Zimbabwe, Robert Mugabe.

Inane Rambler: It’s been quite a task but we’ve finally managed to track you down, President Mugabe.

Robert Mugabe: Good evening, Mr Rambler. It’s good to know that there’s someone you can trust amongst all those lying white devils.

IR: Of course, trust is definitely a big issue in your country. Let me move on to my first question which goes back to the early days of your Premiership and your conflict with Canaan Banana.

RM: Yes, a very strange man. A dirty homosexual, you know!?

IR: Yes, my question is actually about the charges that were brought on Mr Banana, the charges of sodomy and homosexuality. What evidence was there behind the charges?

RM: Well, there was plenty of evidence, Mr Rambler. The man was a blatant batty boy! He even tried to sodomise me, with a banana no less!

IR: Oh, how ironic! Banana and his banana!

RM: That’s not irony, you fool!!! Irony, in this instance anyway, would be an incongruity between what might be expected and what actually occurs. I had thousands of people tortured for misunderstanding irony.

IR: Of course! I meant fitting, Banana and his banana is fitting. Yes, fitting.

RM: What do you mean fitting?! What are you insinuating?! It didn’t fit anywhere!!!

IR: I didn’t mean it in that way, Mr Mugabe! I meant fitting as opposed to ironic.

RM: Well you fucking better mean it in that way, I’m quite a powerful man in this country.

IR: You don’t say, President Mugabe. Did Canaan Banana grease his banana up first or did he try to force it in dry?

RM: Well, at first it felt very dry so I then told him to spit on it to make it easier. Obviously now, in my old age, my anal sphincter is much more relaxed making penetration a relatively trouble free task, however retention is a different matter altogether.

IR: Indeed. Would you give any advice to readers of this blog for matters concerning anal penetration and/or retention?

RM: Well, I’m no agony aunt!

IR: Don’t put yourself down, President Mugabe, I’m sure you’re a man of the world and your advice on any matter is of utmost value.

RM: You are kind, young rambler.

IR: Why thankyou, President Mugabe.

RM: I have a bunch of bananas and a stun baton in my office, would you mind doing some “investigative journalism”?

IR: It would be my pleasure, Mr President.

At this point the interview ground to an abrupt, non-sexual, halt.


The editor of this blog has come to the decision not to publish any more interviews with famous politicians, television personalities, dictators, musicians, alleged paedophiles, actual paedophiles, potential paedophiles showing encouraging signs of paedophilia, street urchins, bearded ladies, shoeless shoe shop owners, and so on and so forth. They are becoming almost overwhelmingly silly.

Idea #4: How to Make Television Better

Hello everybody. As usual it’s been rather a long time since I last wrote here, however (as always) the wait is worthily worthwhile.

I have published many ideas, some great and some amazingly great, and these ideas are no different.

Television has provided the British nation with entertainment for decades, however television evolves with society; it changes. Television has become bone-achingly boring, tormentingly tedious and underzealous. However, there is a solution. A simple solution: Mindless sadism.

Take the hit Channel 4 programme “Deal or No Deal”. If you are unfamiliar with “Deal or No Deal” it is a game show in which a contestant is picked at random to pick random boxes, with a chance to win BIG MONEY. Plenty of emphasis is placed, by presenter (and Demigod) Noel Edmonds, on how important the box-opening cretins are and he often comes close to placing blame on them if the box they open contains one of the “power five” for instance.


Noel Edmonds: “Don’t let us down, Ismael, show us a blue.”

(Contestant opens box with one of the ‘power five’ inside).

Edmonds: “Argh! You’ve let us down, etc etc.”

Now, this is kind of amusing and entertaining, but it undoubtedly lacks a kick. If “Deal or No Deal” is to be truly entertaining it ought to contain real punishments, leading to dialogue such as this.

Noel Edmonds: “Don’t let us down, Yusef, show us a blue.” (Contestant opens box containing £250,000, the highest amount a contestant can win.)

Edmonds: “It’s £250,000! You’ve lost £250,000. Now fetch THE ELECTRIC CHAIR!”

And it’s goodbye Yusef.

Entertaining no? Of course the punishments would vary, execution would be harsh if someone opened a box containing just £1000 to even £100,000, anything from a cattle-prod for £1000 to amputation of any major limb for £100,000 would be fine.

Any ideas for punishments are welcome, such as leaving a contestant in an empty room and slowly filling it with concrete, circumcisions with no anaesthesia or even forcing contestants to drink sulphuric acid, just leave them as comments and I will steal them.

Next Time: “The Secret Pauper” an adaptation of “The Secret Millionaire”.

Idea #3: Charity workers and their appeals

Hello all. Another top notch idea for you all to digest (mentally of course, it’s pretty much impossible to eat an idea let alone have enzymes and then stomach acid break it down for it to be shifted on into the small intestines then on to the large intestines for liquid absorption and inevitably out of the anus, after being compacted in the rectum, unless you write it on a piece of paper first, of course) and it relates to those awful charity workers – who I shall be referring to as ‘beggars’ – who approach you on the street, or even knock on your front door and ask you for money.

As we all know, it can be hard for some people to turn beggars away, one can feel guilty. However one should not (feel guilty), in fact one should not only be proud of turning down the chance to help the desperate, needy and pathetic, but one should do it in style.

I find the best way is to work the beggar up, to make them think you are giving them money and donating to their selected “just cause” only to decline at the last moment. This is particularly hilarious if you make them beg, literally, for your money.

Step One: Demand that the beggar gets down on their bandy knees (they’re usually bandy, I find that people working for charities have some sort of disfigurement, if not they’re very ugly). If they really care about their charity they should be willing to do this, they’ve already given up enough of their own dignity by begging and harassing passers by.

Step Two: Make them kiss your shoes. This is fantastic and really funny, putting ugly beggars back in their place.

Step Three: Slowly take out your financial information, credit/debit card, bank statement etc then say “I think I’ve seen enough of this, it is quite pathetic. Now look up.” Then dangle your credit card above the beggar’s head. They will be up like a shot, with their pen in hand ready to hand over the papers for you to sign your hard earned cash away.

Final Step: With the beggar thinking (after all the hilarious humiliation and devious degradation) something good is finally going to come out of this affair, spit in their face and knee them in their groin. This is truly outstanding. They won’t know what’s hit them. Swiftly and securely place your financial information back into your wallet or purse and then run away laughing as loud as you can.

This process does not only give these middle-men for the pathetic what they deserve, it provides immense pleasure for oneself.

Next week: How to make a Big Issue seller’s life even worse.

Profile of a Glamour Model: Germaine Greer

Welcome – or ‘willkommen’ as a Nazi would say – back to my wonderful, wonderful blog. And welcome to a new series of short entries dedicated the fabulously famous, the terrifically talented, and the very good indeed and much better than any of us normal, ugly, stupid, uninteresting peasants. Or as they are often called “celebs”. In this entry I will be focusing on the world famous glamour model Germaine Greer.


Picture: Reuters

Born on the island continent of Australia, Germaine Greer started life as a very young child. It was from then on she would gradually grow for around 20 to 25 years and then stop growing as such, but carry on developing in different ways. Within these earlier years she developed supple breasts and peach-like buttocks. It was during these years that Greer decided to throw off the shackles of male oppression and become a glamour model for adult oriented Australian magazine ‘Shocking Sheilas’.

Greer eventually went on to star in many Australian adult films and is one of the most popular women in Australia since Dame Edna.

However, Greer’s career was dogged by rumours that she was a staunch feminist and this led to her having to withdraw from the adult entertainment industry in Australia. Fortunately this was towards the end of her career and the industry had already drained the best out of her, mentally and physically.

Despite these troubles Greer remained a popular public figure in Australia, and accross the world.


Barbie’s Booby Barby

Abo Cock #12

F*ckin’ in the Bush #7 ,8, 19, 32, 59

Bush F*cker Challenge #12, 14, 23

On Her Back in the Outback

A sincere apology to the two, or maybe three readers of this blog

As I am sure you have noticed there has been a large emphasis on sex, and specifically sex with children, in this blog. I firstly would like to apologise for this and from now on there will be more variation of low brow, crude, tasteless humour within these electronic walls.

I would also like to apologise for the amount of ‘surfers’ who have stumbled accross this blog in their valiant attempts to search for child pornography. Unfortunately for those people there are no indecent images of children within this blog, and if it weren’t for this Nanny State run by fascists I’m pretty sure there would be. But there you go, the law is the law and we all have to suffer underneath it.

Prancing back to the original point of crude humour…

I was in the centre of Newcastle Upon Tyne just the other day and a young woman came accross my path. It was a very messy sight as this woman clearly had no control over her anal sphincter… Too crude? Yes, that’s what I thought. One can surely do better than that.

I was reading a copy of a credible newspaper just the other day, I specifically remember a particularly interesting and insightful column written by Richard Littlejohn… Oh wait, that’s even worse.

Northern Ireland. Why are they fighting? They’re all white… Oooh. Rather racist, best not go down that road, it’s a bad road. However, I think I ought to make it known that the above is in fact the material of Bernard Manning. I’ve not got permission to use it, but what is he going to do?! He’s dead!

Right, bollocks to this. I’m just waffling on. There will be more to come soon, I promise.

An Interview with… Pete Townshend

Inane Rambler: Pete Townshend. It truly is an absolutely mammoth, a terrifically gargantuan, a seriously substantial, and a pretty planet-esque privilege to be sitting here opposite you today.

Pete Townshend: Yeah?

IR: Now, Pete, I would like to conduct an interview with you. Is that OK?

PT: No.

IR: Well, it’s already started so you’re going to have to go along with it anyway.

PT: Just give me a bottle of rum and the kiddy pics and I’ll do it.

IR: But Pete, there are no ‘kiddy pics’ here, and we don’t have any alcohol on the premises.

PT: I NEED TO CONDUCT MY RESEARCH! I need to hurt… I mean help the children.

IR: What? I’m sorry Mr Townshend but we cannot help you fulfil your ‘needs’.

PT: (Drunken slur)

IR: Wait a second. You’re not Pete Townshend, you’re just a homeless, drunken pervert posing as Pete Townshend! Go on, get out. Back onto the streets where you dregs belong!
Next week: An Interview with Chris Langham.

Revival of the Ramblings

Hello readers, it has been a while no? Months and months spent in limbo, stuck in uncertainty as to whether the blog had died a silent death, halted by apathy, suffocated by lethargy or just muted by the fleshy mufflers of hardcore pornography and drowned by the vast sea of many branded alcoholic beverages.

Worry not…

The revival is beginning.

The revolution ball is rolling.

The boulder of discontent is storming down the hill of society crushing the ignorant shrews of contentedness and blasting away the old institutional trees rooted in the irrational traditions of society.

The poet is reborn.


Idea #2

Idea: Guide dogs for those who suffer from Aphonia (dumbness) or for the deaf (sufferers of deafness).

For many years now blind people (people deprived of sight) have been allowed dogs to guide them around public areas in order to prevent accidents, sometimes amusing, i.e. walking into signposts, but sometimes fatal i.e. walking off cliffs. However the deaf and dumb members of our society have been deprived of the same right.

I think that it is grotesquely unfair that we have this double standard. I believe that the deaf and dumb deserve to have dogs which have been trained to speak English (amongst other languages such as Mandarin, Swahili and Double Dutch) and communicate with sign language.

People will say that it is a ridiculous idea and that it would be impossible to train a dog to do these things, but to that I say “NONSENSE!” I think that it is plain and simple daftness to underestimate the intelligence of dogs. Did you know that many celebrities and public figures are in fact canines? Bob Geldof’s scruffy hair and bad smell are obvious indicators of his genetic differences. And let’s not forget Hazel Blears whose belligerant yapping and sour face are very similar features to that of a yorkshire terrier.

Obviously there are other arguments that suggest that this idea is fundamentally flawed, however they tend to be made by extremely selfish blind people who want all the world’s guide dogs to themselves.