Bonus Bugle – A Twitter Q&A

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Hello buglers and welcome to Bugle 258 sub-episode Ava Apricot.

I'm afraid there is no full bugle this week as John is, I think I'm right in saying, busy choreographing Twerkers of the World Unite, Unite, the new Marxism-themed pop opera ballet featuring Miley Cyrus as Friedrich Engels and Pharrell Williams as a means of production.

So instead here is a question and answer session with me Andy Zaltzman reigning UK sitting in a shed champion featuring the questions that you or someone possibly a bit like you but different sent in on Twitter on Friday morning.

The first one came in from the Gortman51S who asks, is the idea that the bugle will continue until you've discovered everything inadvertently penis-shaped in the entire world?

Well, the Gortman, that is indeed the goal.

I was always sceptical when I used to hear people saying that they had been put on this earth to do something specific, dictated by some kind of divine destiny, whether that was to eat cabbages really well, or score goals, or describe furniture in a furniture store, or tell parables and do magic tricks.

But since the bugle started, I'm starting to understand now.

And as long as new species of snake keep being discovered, or new prong-influenced architecture keeps being erected to the skies, or space rockets keep getting childish whenever they land on a new planet and draw a junk and two clunks all over it, well, the bugle will live on, fearlessly shining a light whenever a wang-shaped shadow may be cast by it.

This one comes in from Nathan Ray, who asks, who would you cast as the Englishman counterpart to the American?

Well, we've already cast it, Nathan, as you may have noticed if you've been listening for a while.

That man is John Oliver.

In fact, the original title for this newscast was The Englishman, the Lapstew, and Scarlett Johansson's Bonsai Mayhem.

But unfortunately, Scarlett had to pull out when her tiny little tree got eaten by a wolf while she was back home in Mozambique.

She was too upset to even contemplate talking about it anymore.

So we decided to plow on without her and broaden the scope of the show.

But she still comes to every single recording, though, just never speaks, brings back too many bad memories.

Isn't that right, love?

She nodded.

This one comes in from Jose MacFisto, who asks, Does the Bugle expect to make any last-minute transfer deadline day signings?

Well, Jose, this is, of course, the 31st of January, the last day of the mid-season football transfer window, when football clubs have their last chance to buy, sell, steal, borrow, lend, humanely destroy, cryogenically freeze, eat, or kidnap and incarcerate new or old players.

The Bugle are still waiting on various irons in various

transfer fires, hoping to pick up the writing books celeb Malcolm Gladwell on loan for a few episodes.

And we're also in talks with the very dead 17th century French satirist Molière to stand in from beyond the grave for a couple of months whilst John films the legend of the unstoppable Wanghammer.

That's the controversial new biopic of St.

Thomas Aquinas.

Of course, Deadline Day goes back, in fact, way beyond football.

It's always been there, whether people knew it or not, the 31st of January, ever since really the Catholic Church signed Sylvester I to be Pope in the year 314.

In 1504, in the Deadline Day Treaty of Lyon, King Ferdinand II, manager of the Spanish Kingdom of Aragon, signed the entire city of Naples from France.

That has to be one of the biggest transfer deadline day signings.

He then gave a press conference saying, No, no, it's not a panic buy.

We think Naples can do a terrific job for us,

shoring up the midfield.

It's a terrific city and one we're delighted to welcome to the club.

And no, we're not buying Berbatoff.

He's a luxury player.

This question came in from Pencil Bloke, who asks, who would win in a fight between Vladimir Putin and the Iron Shake?

Well, I mean, that is a contest that everyone alive, buglers included, would pay to see.

The Iron Shake, of course, can make pretty much anyone humble, but Vladimir Putin, he is not a man naturally given to humility, as his political opponents would testify if they weren't in jail or mysteriously disappeared.

So I don't know who'd win.

I'll make a few calls to see if I can make the fight.

If I can, we will

broadcast it in full, as live, on next week's Bugle.

Putin and the Iron Shake, Mano Amano, naked by a fireside, as God intended.

This one comes in from Beans Just, who asks, who will be the next recipient of a fk eulogy?

I'm afraid I cannot reveal that.

That would give the guy or girl, or girl, time to escape the Bugle hit squad.

We had enough trouble when Gaddafi almost escaped down that sewage pipe.

So I'm going to keep that.

That quiet.

Another question that Beans Just sent in was, should the English cricket team be sent to tour Afghanistan as penance for their appalling performance in Australia?

One of the darkest moments in British history I'm sure all British buglers would agree.

I'm not sure actually.

Afghanistan are actually pretty good at cricket these days.

They qualify for next year's World Cup and the way England are playing at the moment we could lose to anyone.

The Vatican have a team now and they've got at least one very influential supporter.

So

I think we should just probably retire from cricket for a while.

On current form, we could probably lose to Baklavia.

That's a fictitious fictitious country that doesn't even exist and is based on a Turkish pudding.

In short,

I just don't want to talk about it.

Blaister 1969 asks, if you had a choice of any world leader, which one would you choose to replace John?

Well,

one of two, I think.

I've thought about this long and hard many times over the last six and a half years.

I would say either Angela Merkel, closest like-for-like replacement, good to have continuity in a show.

She has, in fact, fact, stood in for him a couple of times already and none of you noticed, so that should be fine.

Or Bashir al-Assad.

I'd like to trick him in with the promise of doing the bugle, then hand him over to the relevant international authorities.

Now, it would probably kill the podcast, but that is a sacrifice I'm prepared to make.

I just love international justice, and I don't like genocidal crackbots.

Don't judge me for it.

I cannot help who I am.

This one came in from Chris Owen.

A fascinating question, this, who asks, will there ever be a boy born who can swim faster than a shark?

Well, I think there's at least one religion waiting for that boy to be born, isn't there?

From memory.

I guess the answer very much depends on a number of different factors.

One, does the boy have to do the swimming as soon as he's born?

In which case, it's unlikely, I guess, despite the nine months practice in the old amniotic sack.

Give him 20 years to get up to speed.

Call him Michael Phelps, and you might have a chance.

Two, what type of shark are we talking about here?

I mean, you're regular speedy sharks, it's going to be tricky.

But if you're racing against, say, a Venezuelan fat shark or the Madagascan layabout shark or the narcoleptic Manchurian river shark, then you stand a pretty good chance.

Three, it depends on if the shark is ill and how ill.

You know, if it's got a cold and its gills are all bunged up, then you could be in business.

And four, is either boy or shark allowed to use a jet ski?

If the boy is, that's probably good news for him.

If it's the shark, I reckon in many ways that does play into the boy's hands, all of which goes to show there are no certainties in life anymore.

This one comes in from SDC versus Godzilla.

Thank goodness for Twitter to give us just combinations of sounds like that.

Who asks, is Yanukovych the only president with a sick note?

And well, yes, Yanukovych, the Ukrainian boss, has called in sick today, apparently,

saying that he's too ill to come to work and deal with his nation being on the brink of total meltdown.

And that's a super tactic.

You know, bringing in a note from his mother, please let Victor off brutally suppressing political dissent today.

He's feeling very poorly.

We'll probably go into this in more detail in next week's show, the Ukrainian situation.

But he does seem to be going for the sympathy vote, hoping that protesters will think, oh, well, this guy is ruining our country and splodging our democracy all over the place like a hedgehog under a steamroller.

But let's cut him some slack.

He's got some nasty sniffles.

Of course, not the first leader ever to call in sick.

King Charles I of England.

Exactly 365 years ago, yesterday, as I record this, the 30th of January 1649, took sick leave, albeit for only about 0.05 seconds, when he clocked off work with a nasty-looking neck injury, work-related injury in a lot of ways, until 1 20th of a second later when the axe finished chopping his head off.

Another question now, this one comes in from Lou Samsky, who asks, what does Zoltzmann mean?

And do you have any ancestors of historical note?

I'll answer those questions in order.

Solzman means harbinger of everlasting vengeance, I think.

I think it's Spanish.

And do I have ancestors of note?

Yes.

Moses?

Probably.

Next question comes in from Mr.603,

who asks, Zaltor the Magnificent, thank you for addressing me by my correct title.

I'm drafting my wedding speech and I need to pack it with puns.

Any ideas that I'll be able to use?

Well, you've already clearly brought one of your own, but to be honest, I can't believe you asked me that.

Wedding puns?

No.

You'll have to think of your own.

Ring a friend up right away.

Or do your own.

And if it's not working, learn from Star Wars.

Use divorce.

This one comes in.

Let's move on.

This one comes in from Daddy MightyZim, who asks, what's Andy's hair routine and how long does it take?

Well, I have been waiting many years for a bugler to take some interest in how I get my lovely locks looking so glorious on a daily basis.

And well, it takes between five and seven hours each day and involves the freshly juiced serum of a Patagonian toothfish filtered through the beak of a pretty flamingo.

I rub that then on my freshly shaved pates every single morning at 8 a.m.

precisely.

I then lie in a darkened canoe for four hours until the hair has grown to the right length.

Of course, you don't need me to tell you with those kind of products on your hair, it's going to come out all straight.

So, to curl it up, I shout at myself in a mirror for between one and three hours to intimidate my hair into curling up in a terrified ball of shame.

But still, it's strong branding, so it's worth every second.

This one comes in from Bandito Fury,

which is a terrific name.

I think I was once in a band called Bandito Fury, kind of a Mexican punk-funk fusion band.

Anyway, why does Andy love puns so much?

Is it because he likes to make others suffer?

That's why I like them, writes Bandito Fury.

Well, do I do puns because I like inflicting pain?

Well, I wouldn't say that it's the most important reason.

Moving on, not quite swiftly enough.

This one from Prof Shminski.

What do you think of the new Tesco in Streatham?

Is it worth travelling to from Crystal Palace?

Getting a bit local here for any South London buglers.

Well, Streatham's gleaming new supermarket just up the road.

For me, it's an architectural and spiritual marvel, very much the Acropolis of the 21st century.

But they've at least actually got round to putting the finging roof on.

It's already one of Streatham's leading tourist attractions, which is more true than would be ideal on a number of levels.

This one comes from This Is Your Laugh, who asks my question: Should the bones of King Richard III be interred in Leicester or York or anywhere else?

Well, of course, this refers to the big story in Britain over the last, probably the biggest story of the last hundred years.

The discovery of the bones of Richard III, the alleged child-killing hunchback despot King of England, who had his clogs very forcibly popped at the Battle of Bosworth in 1485.

His last words, according to Shakespeare, the prominent late Tudor propagandist and playwright, were, A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse.

No takers, okay, I'll haggle.

My kingdom, and a lifetime supply of free lager for a horse.

Still, no.

Okay, my kingdom for three courses of a horse.

Actually, that's no use.

Mind, you guys drive a hard bargain.

Is there any chance, whilst we're negotiating this, that you could stop stabbing me quite so much?

Thanks.

Now, okay, right, my kingdom, 12 months free subscription to Wars of the Roses monthly magazine.

What the heck?

I'll chuck in a couple of my brother's daughters too as wives for someone, and a new Lamborghini for a horse.

All for one horse.

Deal?

We have a deal.

Ah, I'm already dead.

Shakespeare ended up trimming it down a bit for the final edit.

Well, I would say, regarding what happens to his bones, big dispute between whether they should be in York, where you know, the seat of his family power, or Leicester, where he was discovered under a car park at the start of last year.

I think well, he was King of England.

He belongs to all of us.

So I therefore think his bones should be ground down into dust and surreptitiously introduced to the food chain, maybe in flour at a mill or a bread factory or wherever they make flour and bread these days, so we can all share in the magic royal bones by possibly eating some king and a sandwich.

That seems fair to everyone.

I think it's also what he would have wanted or at least it beats being buried under a car park for over 500 years particularly as cars didn't even exist for at least the first 400 years of that.

Pretty humiliating for a guy who once sat on the English throne.

Well, that's I'm afraid all we have time for this week in this week's brief bonus bugle.

Thank you very much for sending in your questions.

Sorry if I did not answer uh your specific question i'm really really sorry i can barely even live with myself anymore but let's try to stay strong and get through this temporary crisis we will be back next week with bugle 259 including an aviation feature section could air travel ever take off was a question they were asking themselves 100 years ago this year plus pigface censorship Yes, I imagine we now have your full undivided attention for that story.

A Ukraine update and China news plus much, much more, or maybe exactly that amount or slightly less.

But we will be back with a full bugle next week.

Don't forget to check out our SoundCloud page, soundcloud.com/slash the hyphen bugle.

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That's all at thebuglepodcast.com.

Until next week, Buglers, 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.