A weekly column reproduced from the Bristol Evening Post

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Meanwhile Whittaker, our wrinkled retainer, has spent hours on the phone to the Daily Mail claiming he’s caught the human version of foot and mouth. He actually has a cold sore, but he reckons that’s worth £20,000 of any tabloid’s money.

And then there’s the tourists. Or rather there isn’t. It is such a delight to stroll around without being assailed by numskulls from Birmingham on mountain bikes.

And no-one’s seen a daft-trousered Yank since February.

Mind you, if you thought eating a roast beef sandwich was going to make you grow a second head and another set of genitals, you’d probably stay away as well.

And while we’re on the subject of dodgy meat, here’s another puzzler. On one hand we’re told that the Army is to blame for foot and mouth for importing cheap, mucked-about-with poultry. On the other, we’re told that lady soldiers are being offered free boob jobs to boost their self-esteem.

Right, let’s think this through. The suspect chickens have been injected with hormones to increase the size of their breasts. The lady soldiers then eat the suspect chickens. Surely logic suggests that the chicken-related hormones would do the trick for the lady soldiers? No?

Sometimes I think that we should shoot all the scientists.

BARRY BEELZEBUB
– The views of Mr Beelzebub are purely personal and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Editor or staff of this newspaper; of the pathetic dregs of humanity who still get away with selling tacky kiss-and-tell stories to the News of the World; of Tony Blah, who can’t put on a pair of glasses without turning it into a three-ring circus; or of anyone who doesn’t object to paying benefits to the soap-dodging, lentil-eating, balaclava-wearing rioters who infested the streets of London on Tuesday. Freedom of speech? Earn the right first, scum.

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