Midterms, appendage art and WOMEN: Bonus Bugle

The Bugle, audio newspaper for a visual world.

Hello Buglers and welcome to Bugle sub-episode 4086A.

There's no full bugle this week.

If you want to imagine what the full bugle would have been like this week, covering the US midterms and the latest rumblings with Brexit, well here's basically a summary of what what it would have been like.

Just with words instead of noises, and stretched out for around about another half an hour.

We will be back next week with a full bugle recorded live at the Leicester Square Theatre on Wednesday, the 14th of November, with me, Nish Kumar, and Felicity Ward tickets available on the internet.

We will see you all there.

In the meantime, here is a collection of tasty morsels from recent bugles, Bugles Past, and some extra bits I've been told may have been created by someone.

Now we're going to delve into the Bugle archives for some classic US midterm past.

Top story this week, White House Tour 2010, Asia dates.

Andy, after having his ass handed to him in the midterm elections, President Obama was faced with a choice.

Did he stand and fight like a man?

Or did he run off on a long-scheduled, very important tour of India, Indonesia South Korea and Japan like a president well obviously it was option number two the coward

the results of the midterm elections have made it very clear that the American people wanted Obama to focus on American jobs and so that is what he was going to do Andy even if he was 8,000 miles away he was gonna focus on some 8,000 mile away American jobs even before he left he he wanted to make it painfully clear what the purpose of this trip was going to be.

He held a press conference and said, I want to be able to say to the American people when they ask me, why are you spending time in India?

Aren't they taking our jobs?

I want to be able to say, actually, you know what?

And then there was what felt like a long pause.

And it was as if the president was considering saying, you know what?

F ⁇ you.

This job is actually really f ⁇ ing difficult.

This trip is extremely important in ways that I'm not even going to bother you with now, which will probably have a very direct impact on your everyday lives.

It's going to be extremely hard work, but I don't mind that, because I'm the f ⁇ ing president.

What I'm not going to be doing is taking souvenir photos where I'm acting like I'm holding up or I'm about to eat the Taj Mahal like you would if you were here, you f ⁇ ing morons.

But instead, instead, Andy, he took that pause and he said, actually, you know what?

They just created 50,000 jobs.

Now, did he do the right thing not listening to his instincts?

Only history can say.

All I can say is that the second version was a lot less memorable and it seemed to be a lot less fun for him to say.

His face does have that slight look about it at the moment,

particularly in that press conference he did after the election results.

Very much his face says, I can't believe I've got two more years of this bullshit.

Yes.

There's sort of that face that says, I already didn't like Republicans, and now I've got even more of the obstructive little dick bags clogging up the place.

He sort of looked like a Michelandstar chef told that all he can use is a brevel machine.

You know why we need the people, don't you?

Not enough bees.

That's bullshit.

That's enough.

A number of you have sent in links to various massive penis drawing related stories.

Let's go back to one of the original classics, Bugle 69.

Top story this week, and penises on roofs.

You see, Andy, the bugle is already changing.

It's in LA and it's already become attention-grabbingly commercial.

We are dumbing down.

It's happening.

Damn this city of fallen angels.

It's true, this story is indeed about Peter Zon Rooves.

An 18-year-old in Britain secretly painted a 60-foot drawing of a phallus on the roof of his parents' £1 million mansion in Berkshire.

It was there for around a year before his parents found out.

And they've said

they're going to make him clean it off when he gets back from traveling.

What a story, Andy.

A fortnight ago, it was monkeys who stepped forward to take the Bugle's coveted top-story slot and provide much light relief to a world frozen in economic fear.

This week, step forward, rooftop penises.

What a story.

Well, this is unquestionably the new story of the decade, I would say.

I mean, there's a global recession.

You can take that.

You can take your funky new president in America.

Your looming environmental mega-catastrophes, your ongoing wars, the gradual devastation of everything we as a species hold dear, and even that meteorite that's going to destroy the planet Earth next Wednesday.

That's a bit of a bugle scoop, that one.

But there's only one story in town in the first decade of the third millennium, and that is this boy painting a massive wang on the roof of his parents' mansion.

Everything else seems irrelevant now, John.

A boy's painted a gigantic Johnson on a big house.

And I think what this goes to show is that when times are at their toughest, John, and when the present is bleak and the future is even bleaker, humankind will go back to basics, back to its roots, and commune with its primeval prehistoric self and draw a massive cock on something.

It's happened since the dawn of time, John.

Look at the Cernabas giants down in the West Country in England.

It started off when a teenage caveman chiseled a giant Willie and balls onto his parents' hill.

His dad was so embarrassed that he drew a giant man around it and pretended it was religious.

Well, so when God was drawing up the blueprint for the human being, John, you know, he created something simple, elegant, without too many vulnerable external protuberances.

All of a sudden he gets a bit bored, draws a cock and balls on it, giggles, goes to bed, oversleeps and wakes to find out that his over-efficient secretary has already sent the drawing off to be made up into a living being.

That's where the problems began.

I'm 31 years old.

Why do I find this story so funny?

We'll put the photo of this up on the website and I heartily encourage you to go and take a look at it because it truly is a work of art.

Michelangelo had the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and the heavens.

This kid had a roof and a massive penis.

They're basically the same.

But for me, this story brings up a number of key questions, Andy.

One, what does this do to the house price?

Because if they find that it's actually added value, then perhaps people will have to draw massive penises on their roofs to compete.

These are tough times, Andy, to buyers market.

People used to have the smell of freshly baked bread and coffee to shift a house.

Now it's all about the painted roof penis.

I think, you know, there's another question, John.

What on earth?

What is that question?

What on earth possessed a teenage boy to paint a massive slung on his parents' roof?

And I guess the obvious answer to that is that he's a teenage boy and his parents have a roof.

And you know, nature.

Nature decreed he was going to draw a penis somewhere.

Okay, I have another question.

In retort to that, Andy, I'll point out that simply that they had it for an entire year without noticing, which really makes you think.

Can anyone truly say they are 100% sure that they don't have a massive penis on their roof right now?

When was the last time you were up on your roof?

A penis could be there right now.

How does the lesson go?

Laugh not at the penis on your neighbour's roof until you're sure that you don't have an even bigger penis on yours.

It's like one of Aesop's more obscene fables.

The ones he wrote when he was drunk late at night.

How about you, Andy?

Can you be absolutely sure you don't have a penis on your roof?

I can't be absolutely sure, John Barton.

Exactly.

I can verify that no penis-shaped aircraft have landed on my roof by mistake, thinking that was a penis craft pad.

But I guess, you know, there's another way of looking at this, John.

Yeah, there's a tangential way of answering your question about whether I've got a penis on my roof.

And that is that this, it could be a fertility symbol.

You know, maybe this lad just wanted to have a little younger brother or sister to play with.

He was trying to summon the assistance of some primeval divinity to bring fruit to his mother's womb.

Who knows?

All I do know, John, is that when my wife and I were trying to get pregnant for the first time, we painted a dangler and two nuggets on our roof.

But unfortunately, at the time we were living in a downstairs flat, so we had some very angry neighbours from the upstairs flat asking us to replace their living room carpet with something a little bit less obscene.

Also, the parents here claim that this is their son's doing, but let's be fair, he's not there to defend himself from this charge.

They could be stitching him up.

Let's play Colombo for a second here, because this case may be trickier than it initially appears.

Could it be they are framing their own son to protect themselves from the truth that they painted a massive penis on their own roof and were hoping no one would notice

is the perfect crime.

Or was this a more supernatural occurrence?

Aliens have been said to regularly swoop down in the middle of the night and create mysterious crop circles.

Perhaps they're branching out.

They finished their crop circle phase and now experimenting with roofs and penises.

Well, I've got another explanation for this, John, and I think the boy is guilty of this charge of painting a massive penis on his parents' roof.

But I think what it is, John, is it's the pitch.

What are you saying?

It's actually the pitch markings from the old English sport of the roof game, which is an early form of football which originated on the roof of Eton College Chapel in the 16th century.

Now, the story goes that an infestation of dry rot resulted in the discolouration of the roofing timbers on the chapel in the shape of the aforementioned Anatomia.

And during a decade of flooding, the school was forced to move the entire school operation onto the chapel roof.

Now, they started playing the roof game using

this kind of pitch marking that nature had created on their roof.

And now, in the roof game, one team defends the naj end, named after the two semicircular shapes, at one end which looked like an ecclesiastical naj, which is a two-headed scepter used by school chaplains in medieval times.

Yep,

this team was known as the nadgers.

Now, the other team defended the end nearest the chapel's main bell, or the bell end, where the dry rott fungi had grown bountifully around the outline of a spare bell that had been left on the roof after the school camphornology society meeting, had had degenerated into an alcoholic sea of fumbling homosexualism,

as is traditional at schools such as Eton.

So that led to a bell left unattended on the roof on a stormy night.

This team, of course, was known as the Bellens.

Now, the attacking side had to use the slope of the roof to curl the ball, which was originally made from the stomach of the school's least popular boy, to curl that around the defenders up the long, narrow centre of the pitch.

This process was known as shaffing, as the boys would roll up their school gowns or shafts to use as slings to impart extra spin on the ball.

Once a team had had reached the end of the main central portion of the pitch, its players would shout the word shaft to signal that the shaving phase of the attack was complete.

On the call-off shaft, the attacking team would attempt to score.

For the bell ends, this involved scratching the nadgers or tagging each member of the nadger defence with the ball whilst in the nadj zone.

And for the nadgers, a score

required them to yank them.

Yank the bell ends.

In other words, to wrestle the defenders out of the bell end area, leaving an attacking nadger with the ball in the unoccupied zone.

Now, of course, neither side scored either a yank or a scratch between 1604 and 1856, making it very like the Eaton Wall game.

When a successful scratching of the Nadgers attracted such nationwide press interest that Queen Victoria and Prince Albert were invited to pop down the road from Windsor Castle to watch a game.

Whilst observing from above in the Royal Health Air Balloon, the professional Queen and Mother of Eight were seen to succumb into fits of giggles, pointing at the outline of the pitch and chuckling to Albert, who himself then began to laugh.

Queen Victoria was then seen to apparently grab Albert's nethercocks with her royal hand, hand, provoking yet more laughter as the loving couple disappeared from view into the balloon's basket.

Albert reappeared briefly, just to sever the court tethering the balloon to the ground, and the royal balloon floated off somewhat unsteadily, rocking vigorously from side to side to the sounds of lascivious growls from the Prince Consort and ecstatic whoops from Her Majesty.

Nine months later, Princess Beatrice was born.

But the headmaster and provost of Eton were so disturbed at the moral and psychological devastation wreaked upon the schoolboys from seeing the monarch thraggling her husband that they instantly banned the roof game from ever happening again.

Having viewed the roof from above, and realizing that it did in fact look quite like a gentleman's exhibits, they covered the old wooden roof with a giant tarpaulin, which currently resides in the Guinness Book of Records as the world's largest posing pouch.

And the roof game fell into obscurity until it was just recently heroically resuscitated by this brave young teenager from Berkshire.

And of course, the terms nadger, bellend, and shaft remain in popular usage today.

You are a husband and father of two.

Okay,

Chris, you'll go.

Do your worst.

Top story this week.

We're all women, and I'm Jewish.

On the bugle this week.

Bunch of incredibly attractive, famous people.

I've got no interest.

There's always hidden victims.

And

go fuck yourself.

Women.

We're all women.

Here we go.

We're all women.

That's enough.

Women.

I want them.

I had one beer.

Women.

Beer.

Women.

As you know, Mr.

President, the caravan was not an invasion.

It's a group of migrants moving up from Central America towards the border.

You're a very rude person.

But I had one beer.

You are the enemy of the people.

Go ahead.

Not enough bees.

The way you treat Sarah Huckabee is horrible.

Go fuck yourself.

There you go, that was your special bonus extra-free sub-episode Bugle for this week.

As I said, we will be back next week with Bugle 4087 recorded live at Leicester Square Theatre on Wednesday, the 14th of November, with me, Nish Kumar, and Felicity Ward.

Don't forget, you can buy tickets to my Andy Zoltzman's 2018, the certifiable history show.

That's at Soho Theatre from the 18th of December until the roughly 5th or 6th of January.

Let's just ballpark it.

Details and tickets on the internet.

Until next week, goodbye.

Hi Buglers, it's producer Chris here.

I just wanted to very quickly tell you about my new podcast, Mildly Informed, which is in podcast feeds and YouTube right now.

Quite simply, it's a show where me and my friend Richie review literally anything.

So please come join us wherever you get your podcasts right now.