The Bugle – The complete 2012 – Part 1

This is a podcast from thebuglepodcast.com

The Bugle, audio newspaper for a visual world.

Hello, buglers,

and

well, the happiest of all available Christmases to you, unless like John and I, you are godless infidel.

Welcome to this supplementary Bugle 217 sub-episode, Aleph.

I'm Andy Salton.

We're in my kitchen here in London, and with me, not only in the same continent, the same country, the same city, but actually in the same room here

in my kitchen, it's none other than John Oliver, star of the Bugle podcast.

Hello, Andy.

Hello, buglers.

What a kitchen, Andy.

Yeah, strong coming.

There's a lot of magic being cooked up.

Is it true that the Rolling Stones recorded Exoll on Main Street in this kitchen?

Well, not literally, but you know, had they recorded it in a kitchen, they would have probably have recorded it in one almost identical to this.

I might have been confused by the fact that you have played the album Exolle on Main Street in this kitchen.

Yeah.

So I did hear it played in here.

On the kazoo.

That's right.

The way they designed it.

yeah to be heard that's pretty much uh well happy christmas andy thanks john um that means a lot coming birth of the man who of course as a jew you would later go on to murder

well

murder or successfully prosecute

i mean

it's it's a legal yin and yan isn't it it sure is yeah it sure is it doesn't um

it's it's you know it's a time of year for reflection not recrimination john and of course father christmas owned by no no religion.

Unless.

No.

Unless you count, I guess, the image supplied by Coca-Cola as a religion.

Yeah, he's the universal religion of

children wanting presents.

That's transformative.

Wanting faith.

Wanting, nay, demanding presents.

Whatever it takes for you to get me a f ⁇ ing bite.

What's on your Christmas list this year, John?

I don't really have a Christmas list.

No, Andy.

Just

two being a big hit.

Well, Well, I mean, that's out of my control, Andy.

I just did.

I just actually did.

I haven't even showed you, Andy.

The trailer is out.

Oh, really?

Smurfs 2 trailer is out.

Have you recorded it?

Your bit already?

I didn't realise that I had.

Right.

We went in to record it.

Vanity Smurf appears in the trailer, Andy.

Right.

That is sensational news.

Well, don't say that until you've seen it.

Yeah.

No, I'm saying the news is sensational.

I still haven't seen the first one, John.

Well, you probably should

before you see the second one.

Is it not going to make structural sense without.

I don't know, Andy, because as I've pointed out to you, I haven't seen the first one.

So the script for the second one wouldn't make a lot of sense to me.

Really?

Yeah.

I think I'm storing them up to watch it all in one go.

Yeah.

I mean, if you don't know what a plot is, how can you really get deep into the characterisation?

I think it helps the character of vanity, who's always seemed socially dislocated, to not be fully aware of who is around him or where he's going at all times.

I think it's helpful for you.

Well, I guess that's the nature of vanity, isn't it?

I guess you're expressing that inner sound.

He's entirely self-absorbed and uninterested in the other.

And that's what you'll see or hear

when

you see Smurse 2 in theatres summer 2000 and next year.

I guess I'm more likely to see it on an aeroplane in some awesome situation.

The thing is, most great actors, Andy,

don't know what

is going on around them at any point.

Well,

that's mostly because they're absolutely hammered, isn't it?

That was actually.

When you're Richard Titans, Oliver Reed, that's definitely true.

But

apparently,

Daniel Day-Lewis, when he was recording Last of the Mohicans, thought he was in a cartoon.

Really?

Yep.

Thought he was in a Pixar cartoon about

racing horses.

Was he not?

Apparently not.

Apparently it was

about Native Americans running around.

I've misinterpreted that film big time.

Big time.

So I hope you're having a good Christmas, Buglers.

Yeah, yeah.

I hope that's awesome.

Yeah.

So I mean John, coming back back to London now as a foreigner,

how do you see our great city

that you're an outsider?

I mean, in almost caricature format, it has been raining non-stop since I got here, and now half the country is flooded.

Right.

You bring extreme weather with you, because last time you came, I mean,

it last got snowed out in Germany.

It got snowed into Germany, and this time there are people canoeing out of their garage.

So, yeah, there is a fucking hinge.

Yeah, it's hard to feel entirely welcome when there is a borderline monsoon

greeting your every move.

Yeah, it's hard to explain to my wife that Britain is actually a pleasant place to live as the two times she's been here, there's been a historic ice storm and now basically flood conditions.

Well, it clearly wasn't pleasant enough for you not to jump ship at the first available opportunity.

Did I jump off that ship and it was on push?

I don't know, we'll have to ask whoever was decommissioning comedy at Radio 4 at the time.

So the exciting news, Buglers,

is that we we've made a decision on the Bugle logo.

Thank you all who sent in entries.

There's been some tremendous entries and we're hoping we'll be in touch with some of you who sent them in to see if you'd be interested in

in your images being used for the future bugle merchandising machine.

Yeah, there were some truly, truly remarkable ones and a couple that were borderline psychotic.

Yes.

One which seemed threatening.

And one which was unquestionably just a penis.

I mean, I'm not, I'm neither of us are marketing experts,

but I think that could have been a hard sell

in the teen market.

Yeah.

I'm afraid that just made it to the maybe part.

But the winner is a guy called Benjamin Smith, who's a very

excellent design that we will put up on the website.

And so

the exciting

additional news to this is that once this is finalised,

Bugle merchandise

will be out within weeks.

Within weeks, there'll be mugs?

Just in time for missing Christmas by a month or so.

Right.

Just in time

for when, as you said, John, people are

really tightening their belts.

The time of the year people have the least disposable cash.

The least disposable cash.

I mean, that's really what the bugle's always been about.

It's always about timing things commercial machines to the least perfect degree.

Just

we were hot off, you know, it's only a year and a bit since we got ditched by the Times, and we've actually

raced into this exploitation of the bugle market.

In a mere 18 months, we have

tried to do something to make this a financially viable escapade.

That's right.

So, So,

I mean, because you've got to have a cover bet if the Smurfs hits the skids.

I mean, yeah, because it'll be a big problem.

Because it's hard to see that as not being my fault if a film goes from making half a billion dollars to any less than that.

So, thank you, Benjamin Smith, your excellent design.

Thank you, all of you who sent them in, particularly those who sent in good ones.

Most of them were good.

Most of them, yeah.

Some excellent.

It was quite a hard decision.

Yeah, we had a long selection meeting, there were some very disappointed designs that left the room in tears.

I shouldn't be disappointed being

overlooked.

But we hope all you buglers like Benjamin's design for

the bugle logo.

So well done.

It's one of the great moments in the history of

branding.

Yeah.

This history both of us are fascinated by it and it's always have been.

Always have been, yeah.

I definitely see the point of it and I value it as a skill.

You're all about the logo, sheep, John.

Always have been, Andy, and always will be.

Well, anyone who's, you know, knows,

is familiar with our own personal websites will know that, you know, we're all about getting ourselves out there.

I'm not entirely sure that I have one.

I think you did.

I did a couple of years ago.

I certainly did a couple of years ago because I set it up and then haven't touched it since.

Yeah.

I can't.

I can't.

Your Twitter account's going well, isn't it?

I believe so.

I've not really, I don't think I've tweeted since the election.

Yeah.

I think I've sent about five tweets.

Yeah.

That's not bad going.

I mean, that's nice.

It's all right.

I mean, it's more than more than Franklin Roosevelt ever sent.

Exactly.

Five more than quite a major president in American history, so that puts me headed in.

Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.

Yeah.

Couldn't tweet from the movie.

Didn't tweet about it, did he?

No.

Couldn't.

Couldn't or wouldn't.

So

yeah, it's been night.

We played football.

Yeah, yeah, terrific.

True, I thought you'd lost a yard of pace, to be honest, mate.

Well, if I was rating out of ten, I think I'd give you three only because I'm sitting in front of you, otherwise, I'll give you two.

Yeah, to be fair, it wasn't my best goal.

It wasn't, it was very bad.

But I did set you up for a goal, and I put another one on a plate that you absolutely spanned.

So

that's what I bring to the game.

I make chances.

Yeah.

I'm a facilitator.

So I left my hat there.

That's a real disappointment.

Oh, you did?

Yeah.

Well, that's a shame.

It's a disaster.

You lost a hat.

I mean this is the worst time of year to lose a hat.

What?

Christmas.

It's supposed to be a happy time of year.

Yeah and you're not thinking of it.

It's cost a paula for everything.

Yeah.

That's a disaster.

I'm sorry that your children are going to have to suffer a meager Christmas because their dad lost his hat.

Cost me seven pounds that hat.

Are you going to open every present from them and say, is this daddy's hat that he lost that he wants?

Oh no it's not.

It's a handmade card about how much you love me.

Can I wear that on my head?

No I can't.

Thus, it is useless.

Well,

Christmas is about learning as much as

opening presents that you'll never play with.

So

it's a valuable lesson.

So I think at this point in this special festive bugle.

Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle.

Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle.

Ho, ho, ho, ho.

Yep, seasons, seasons, greetings.

Ding dong, ding dong.

We're going to play you some of the highlights of 2012 on the bugle, our first year of independence.

Yeah.

Freedom!

It's been a fun year on the bugle.

It has been a fun year.

There's been some japes.

There's been

some japes and puns.

Yeah.

Yes.

Seen quite a lot of singing.

Learned some good new words.

Catastrophe, John.

That was a particular high point from you.

Solembrio.

Solembrio.

Majesticals.

Yeah.

Some good words.

Word by word, we are rewriting the English language until no person in the English-speaking world can communicate seriously.

It's good to have an ambition in life, John.

That's good.

So,

may 2013 bring many more

new words.

But here we are, and we'll have some more next week, some more best of 2012 on the bugle to see you through another year closer to the eventual annihilation of the planet

and the merciful embrace of nothingness.

Happy Christmas!

Ding dong, ding dong, jingle, jingle, buglers.

Hello, Andy.

Hello.

Hello, buglers.

I was in Atlanta last weekend, Andy.

I'd like to say a quick hello to all the buglers who came to see me.

And I'd like to say a particular hello to Richard and Jim, Andy, who brought along a box for me that said three words on the front that have meant so much to the bugle over the years and have been the building blocks indeed of an entire nation.

Those three words were, Belgian waffle maker.

That's right.

They brought me a Belgian waffle maker, Andy.

The card read as follows.

Dear John, Andy and Chris, in order of enjoying these Belgian waffles, my roommate and I just wanted to wish you the best of luck and put our support behind you guys in any way we could.

Being from Florida, the only way we knew how was the ancient of Florida's tradition of gifting a Belgian waffle maker.

That tradition first observed by European explorer Pense de Leon.

Legend has it that he encountered the Calusa Indians in the western portion of Florida.

The Calusa presented to Mr.

de Leon a primitive waffle make and a collection of tintin comics, which the Spaniards, in their close-minded way, took as a threat and fled.

It was not until later that they realized the Indians had meant no harm.

But by then, it was too late, as the Calusa had been seriously offended by the Spaniards' lack of manners.

This eventually led to Ponce de Leon's death when a Calusa Indian arrow accidentally mortally wounded him.

Anyway, please enjoy the waffles.

Maybe you can hold a bake sale to save the bugle, Richard and Jim.

Come on, Andy.

That is some high-end bullshit generosity with a side helping of bullshit reasoning behind it.

Andy, you're actually coming here next week.

We'll be doing the bugle together next Friday.

I'm going to whip you up a waffle, Andy.

We'll eat like a couple of Belgians.

Awesome.

Have you made any waffles yet?

No, not yet.

No, not yet, Andy.

I'm waiting till you come here.

The only side note to this story is that when I got to the airport, the driver said, oh, what have you got in there?

And I said, right, a waffle maker that someone from the gig had given me.

And he said, Have you actually checked what's in the box?

I said, No, and he said, It isn't a knife or a gun or some heroin, is it?

And I laughed.

And then I thought, Actually, I don't know.

And let me tell you, as that box went through the scanner, Andy, and I looked at the TSA agent screen, I've never wanted to see the outline of a Belgian waffle maker more.

top story this week Wikipedia goes on strike what do we want uh let me just check let me just look that up oh shit I forgot Wikipedia's gone down

I think it has something to do with the internet when do we want it I don't know let me uh let me just check for f sake I think it was soon but I'm not sure shit

Presidential campaign update now and sadly we must all bid a fond farewell to the Rick Perry presidential campaign.

Rarely has a candidate flamed out so spectacularly after coming in so strong.

He truly looked more comfortable in a cowboy hat than out of one, which is a great quality in a cowboy and a slightly frightening one in a potential president.

He certainly looked more comfortable in a cowboy hat than in a televised debate, for example.

And he has withdrawn from the nominations race.

Perhaps, I mean, let's try and be generous here.

Perhaps because he realised that the whole process is a massive waste of time and money, a travesty of democracy, and an insult to the intelligence of all Americans.

But also because things hadn't really been going too well for him since he forgot his own policies in the TV debate.

Perry said yesterday, I'm pulling out of the race, and I would like instead to endorse

What's his name?

You know, the guy with the suspicious looking hair.

It doesn't look real, does it?

Ah, no, it's on the tip of my tongue.

You know, the chap who always does the funny Mexican accent in the green room before debates on bench 350 and has the extreme increasingly stroppy collection of ex-wives.

No, no, no, it's gone.

Anyway, I'm supporting him.

It does seem more and more likely that the Republicans are going to get the candidate that almost none of them want, Mitt Romney.

And as you say, in a final desperate attempt to not have him, Rick Perry endorsed Newt Gingrich, who may have the only chance of beating Romney, despite the fact that Newt Gingrich has a lifetime of inexplicably successful horn doggery that keeps coming back to bite him.

Let me take you on a little stroll through his strangely high-profile sexual history.

Gingrich met his first wife at high school when she was one of his teachers.

So even at that age, he was living up the plot of a bad porn film.

He left her while she was getting treatment for cancer to be with his second wife, who he later left when she had multiple sclerosis to be with his third wife, who could hardly complain if the cycle continues one day.

Classic.

It's not clear exactly how he does this, and his only response to this history seems to basically be, players gone play.

Players gone play, people.

The only solution to this sequence of events is that power must be an intense aphrodisiac, because the only other answer is that Newt Gingrich has a 14-inch penis.

I cannot believe in a god that would let something like that happen in the world.

And the Florida primary took place on Tuesday.

And although Florida has a history of awkwardly close elections, there was absolutely no doubt about the winner this time.

It was the Storman Moorman, Andy,

Willard Mitt Romney.

The race had been close up to a week ago, but the only real debate afterwards was about how you would describe the crushing victory that he delivered.

I heard the result variously referred to on TV as a thumping, a roasting, a Dresden bombing.

That was a direct quote.

And CNN alone used the word shellacking five times.

And they were right to wear out their thesauruses, Andy, because it was a thrashing, a pasting, a pounding, a spanking, a flogging.

It was basically a Dominatrix's entire service menu.

What I'm saying is, Mitt Romney dripped hot wax onto Newt Gingrich's balls.

In fact, Andy, words alone do not get across the scale of this defeat.

Images might demonstrate it better.

You may have seen the very popular YouTube video of a little girl at a zoo waving at a lion as the lion mauled the glass in front of her.

Well, imagine if that glass wasn't there.

That little girl is Newt Gingrich's campaign.

Newt Gingrich's campaign is now a dead little girl inside a lion.

Does that help?

What I'm trying to say is, Mitt Romney won Florida by 15 points.

And he seems to have cut loose as a result.

Started saying some pretty exciting things, including, I'm not concerned about the very poor.

Yes.

Which is a wonderful thing for a politician so I guess you know from his point of view they don't vote much, they don't pay much and he's not allowed to shoot them anymore.

So you can understand that he's just not that fussed about them.

They don't really impinge on his personal space.

So it seems that America has looked a gift horse in the mouth with Rick Santorum and turned him away, probably because they weren't sure if he was actually a gift horse or one of the four horses of the apocalypse.

Mitt Romney, as you say, looks like he's all but tied up for the Republican nomination and that Republicans are going to have to do what women sometimes tell themselves they have to do and just settle.

Just settle.

Sure, he may not be perfect.

He may not be who you dreamed of ending up with.

He's not Mr.

Wright.

But look, it's time to just suck it up and settle down.

You could do a lot worse, right?

Maybe.

Sure.

Besides, as long as your skin doesn't crawl when you see him, you're doing the right thing.

Hold on, what's that crawling feeling?

Oh boy.

And as you say, the only candidates left now are Ron Paul and Newt Gingrich.

And Newt Gingrich is still in the race, either because he feels he can get as far as a brokered convention, or, as is much more likely, because he needs money because his campaign is in a f ⁇ of a lot of debt.

The Gingrich campaign recently bounced a $500 check for the filing fee for the June the 26th Utah primary.

That's a bad sign, Andy.

That's very bad.

And apparently his campaign is around $4.5 million in debt.

Having said that, could Gingrich not argue that what is more American than being in a massive amount of debt?

Does that not make him more quintessentially American than any of the other candidates?

Having the moral high ground in American politics, I guess, is like climbing the tallest mountain in Holland.

You're still essentially pretty much below sea level.

But Romney does now have a clear run-in to tackle the reigning U.S.

presidential election champion, Barack Obama, or as many Republicans still think of him, Mohamed Kiptanui.

But the major concern for Romney, the Massachusetts Machiavelli himself, and for his supporters, must be that their man, having power-spewed so much vitriol and overcoming Santorum, might actually have vitrioled himself out by the time he even tries to chunder more vitriol all over President Obama, who of course has his own lavish vitriol spewing machine at the ready for the battles ahead.

It does raise the somewhat disturbing question for all democracies though.

Has top-level democracy now become the preserve only of those who have access to massive reserves of vitriol?

What chance now for candidates who just want to debate the issues but are power hosed into oblivion by candidates with seemingly inexhaustible supplies of their own personal and big corporate vitriol resources?

Isn't democracy fun?

We fought world wars for it.

People have laid down their lives and freedoms for it.

It has been held up as a beacon of hope for the oppressed and the disenfranchised, all with the distant expectation that one day a multi-millionaire vulture capitalist would have the rights, the freedom, and the inclination to spend millions and millions of dollars on advertisements savagely lampooning someone who essentially thinks exactly the same as him.

George Washington must be spinning in his grave, John, and spinning so fast that he will probably soon power drill his way out of it and find himself zooming around over America in a low orbit, shouting, No, you numb skulls, it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Grrr!

Grrrr!

Grrrr!

Raa!

Ra!

Georgie Cross Lion

Georgie want zebra sorry I'm getting off point the point is

Is this what you did at the zoo in the weekend?

Sorry yeah, I haven't been to the zoo here

oh Andy you've been personifying animals for too long this week

200 years to the day John as we record since Spencer Percival became the first and to date only British Prime Minister to be assassinated.

That is, if you exclude Harold Macmillan, who was assassinated by natural causes in his sleep at the age of 92, the 12th century Archbishop and celebrity Thomas Abeckett, who was assassinated but wasn't Prime Minister, the 1977 Wimbledon champion, Virginia Wade, who is 0 for 2 on being either Prime Minister or assassinated, for which we should be eternally grateful on both counts.

I have nothing against her politically.

I'm just happy with her as a tennis pundit.

Also, if you exclude John F.

Kennedy, who was American and not Prime Minister, but could have been if America hadn't fked us over in the late 18th century.

Good point.

And championed the Wonder Horse, the 1950s fictional horse.

Who wasn't assassinated, Prime Minister, or a horse?

Well,

I mean, all those three.

I think we'll let history be the judge on that.

But anyway, Percival was bumped off in the lobby of the House of Commons by lone gunman John Bellingham, who was hacked off with the government and dealt with that hacked offeness in a slightly silly way with hindsight.

He'd apparently the way he did it was he'd taken a friend to see a watercolour painting exhibition and then casually remarked he had some business to attend to, went to Parliament and shot the Prime Minister.

That's a nice bit of classic British understatement, isn't it?

Excuse me, I just awfully I have a little bit of business to attend to.

He died in the House of Commons, presumably to jeers from opposition MPs about how he had broken a manifesto promise not to be shot dead whilst his press secretary hastily issued a press briefing trying to spin the story as Percival showing how in touch with ordinary people he was just by, like ordinary people would, dying.

And an inquest was held the following day.

And can you guess where it was held, John?

I don't know, Andy.

Where was it?

It was held in the Cat and Bagpipes pub on the corner of Downing Street.

Naturally.

Some say it was in the Rose and Crown pub.

Either way, it was in a pub, or more likely, in two pubs.

Right, before we get down to business, uh pint yep pint only a half of you driving god have a pint as long as your horse doesn't drink it it'll be fine pint bloody merry too soon jeffrey pint pint pint right

okay i'll get some crisp i'll get four packages we can share them okay now let's get to business three hours later who's around is it might as well get a couple of whiskey chasers too okay

so how do we reckon the bastard died shot yeah i reckon he was shot yeah uh anyone think he got a septicemia from a rusty bullet no he was shot right that down down case closed.

Let's see these off and head down the rose and crown for a couple more.

And the golden typhoid for a quick boogie.

I'll tell you what, that Jane Austen.

Oh, yeah.

So this is the Beagle for the Week beginning Monday, the 7th of May, 2012.

25 years to the day since 1987, the day that Margaret Thatcher secretly gave birth to Lady Gaga and named her magic new child after herself.

Then shipped her off to America to be raised by the Reagans.

Also, 60 years since the Queen, in the early days of her reign, said, look, everyone, I'm levitating.

I knew I was magic, now I'm Queen.

Before the then Prime Minister Winston Churchill said, you're not levitating, mum, you're bouncing up and down on my tummy.

That's not the same.

To which the Queen replied, Shut up, Mr.

Trampoline, I'm having fun.

As always, the section of the bugle is going straight in the middle.

This week, part one of a new Safety in the Kitchen Do's and Don'ts audio series.

And part one is a don't.

Did I turn this on?

Ah!

Ah!

Ah!

That's a don't, Andy, right?

That is a don't.

That is a don't.

That's a don't.

Okay, I was just worried you were suggesting that was a kitchen do at some point there.

It's a kitchen don't

shut to the hair, and you're to blame.

You give love.

What, Andy?

What does Bon Jovi give love?

A bad name!

A bad name.

I was also accused of giving my son a bad name.

Now.

You're right in saying that Britain and America are not particularly good when it comes to gender equality in politics.

The UK has the 49th equal highest proportion of women in the lower house of parliament, level with Eritrea and Uzbekistan, whilst America is 71st equal.

That's a level with Turkmenistan and 1% ahead of North Korea.

Holy shit.

Is that true?

Yeah.

So things are not going quite as well as they could have been in terms of Mrs.

Pankhurst not getting increasingly stroppy in her grave.

I'm not saying all women should be MPs, John.

But what I am saying is that 30% of all male MPs and male representatives in whatever America calls its lower house should be randomly selected for sex change operations.

I think that would also also weed out those who weren't fully committed to their political beliefs rather than personal aggrandisement.

But that's not the point when it comes to Egypt.

The point is that the promise of a new free Egypt post-revolution does not seem to be getting extended to women, despite the role that they played in the revolution itself.

Even at the height of the protest in Saharia Square last year, when women bravely bucked the conventions of society and turned up to join the demonstrations, some men yelled at them, go back home and feed your babies.

to which the natural human response is f ⁇ off and don't be such an asshole but sadly in some societies women aren't allowed the joys of using such elegantly crafted comebacks as those

in the new egyptian parliament there are only nine women mps out of some 508 seats that sounds pretty bad but it sounds even worse when you find out that under mubarak there was a legal quota of at least 64 women MPs or 12% of parliament.

You really don't want to be less good at something than a man who was just hounded from office and is on trial for human rights abuses.

That just does not look good.

Hack attack update now.

And well, sad, sad news about our old employer, Andy News International, which has been a paragon of virtue and journalistic ethics up until the actions of just a few thousand bad apples spoiled it all for the two or three good apples that work there.

The phone hacking scandal has claimed another victim as James Murdoch has stepped down as executive chairman of News International, the UK newspaper business that owns The Sun and The Times.

James Murdoch, who coincidentally is actually related by blood to Rupert Murdoch.

In fact, I believe he's actually his son, although it's got absolutely nothing to do with him getting any of the jobs he's had in News International, said, I deeply appreciate the dedication of my many talented colleagues at News International who work tirelessly tirelessly to inform the public.

Ooh, I'm sorry, inform the public?

Does James Murdoch know what the word inform means, Andy?

Someone should tell him quickly because I'm pretty sure he'll want to quickly issue a retraction.

Demoralize the public?

Certainly.

Poison the public?

Metaphorically.

Mislead the public?

Occasionally.

Make the world a slightly worse place for the public?

Always, Andy.

Always.

That's the News International guarantee.

Do you know what?

And it's not as much fun doing this.

Now the words.

It's It's not so.

It's not.

It was more fun saying this before we were fired.

There's not the same thrill anymore.

In fact, I feel like I'm chasing the kind of adrenaline rice that we got.

And I could only do that if I start insulting SoundCloud.

But, you know, they haven't illegally tapped anyone's phones.

Yes.

Yes, Andy.

What are you up to, SoundCloud?

Playing the long game.

I'm watching you, SoundCloud, and thank you for your support.

But I warn you, SoundCloud.

News International supported us for years, and now they're in court.

I fully expect you to lawyer up by 2015, SoundCloud.

I'm watching you, SoundCloud.

Is this on?

Rupert Murdoch last weekend launched the new Sun on Sunday,

the newspaper filling the hole that had been left by the defunct News of the World in terms of something pretty shit to read on a Sunday if you've got nothing else to do.

And

yes, he said that he did praise the Sun for always

uncovering stories to inform and protect the public.

He sent an email to Sun staff saying this.

Inform and protect the public.

I think he seems to be mixing up stories with breasts.

And I don't know what he's protecting the public from, John.

I imagine he's protecting them from not seeing enough breasts.

And he's a hero in that regard.

He also said in the email, we will obey the law.

Illegal activities simply cannot and will not be tolerated at any of our publications.

Our board of directors, our management team, and I take these issues very seriously.

And unfortunately at the end of that, he omitted the word now.

Top story this week, election roundup.

And I mean election roundup in the literal sense because much of the election roundup news this week involves world leaders literally rounding up opposition activists before the election takes place and bundling them into a back of a van.

I don't know how you chose to celebrate, Andy.

I know that many people here in America chose to head down to SeaWorld in Florida to see a recreation of the daring operation by their incredible SEAL Team Six.

It's basically six SEALs in night vision goggles, Andy, with plastic machine guns, storming an inflatable version of the Abad Abad compound that's floating in the middle of their pool.

And they use their guns to shoot sucker darts at another SEAL wearing a long beard.

It's incredible, they are the best there is.

Further details have emerged of exactly the circumstances Bin Laden living in, which are not really

what you expect from an A-lister, as he'd like to think of himself.

As we reported on the the Bugle last year, also I mean, not only the one-year anniversary of the death of Bin Laden, John, but also the one-year anniversary of the first use of the term f eulogy.

That's right.

It's been with us for a year.

A whole year it's been in our mouths.

So it needs to be commemorated.

Yeah, so they're in the compounds, and they found $450 cash sewn into his clothes,

which, I know, maybe just like having George George Washington's face oddly close to his skin to kick himself angry about America, but that's an oddly specific sum, John.

Because I've been on the internet and there are only three things you can buy that add up to $450.

He was saving up for a Nintendo Wii,

a George Foreman grill, and a porcelain Chris Acabusi.

What atrocity was he planning with that lot?

Oh, God,

that is a fearsome list of ingredients.

And they found two buffaloes.

Well, you know, fair play.

Everyone loves jousting.

They found one cow, because there are two things we know Bin Laden loved.

One, pantomimes, and two, realism.

And

I think we reported last year, they found 150 chickens.

And I've been thinking about this almost non-stop since then, John.

And I think there's only two possible explanations for this.

One is that Bin Laden knew he was finished.

He knew he was a busted flush.

The only way he could make himself irrelevant and powerful anymore was by on the hour, every hour, getting six freshly laid eggs and crushing them in his bare hand and saying to himself, you've still got it, Aussie.

You've still got it.

That's what he was reducing.

The only other explanation, I don't know how to break this to you, is that Osama bin Laden was holding a chicken fighting competition.

Oh, no.

Now, he wouldn't do that.

Well, I've done the maths on this, John.

I think with 150 chickens, it was most likely a seven-round knockout, Wimbledon-style.

Now, that, of course, would require 128 chickens.

But he probably thought there'd be some fatalities amongst the victorious victorious chickens.

So he had 22 backup chickens to parachute into the draw

in the event of one of the winning chickens dying.

But the problem with this, John, is that you could end up with one of the chickens winning the whole competition, only fighting in the final.

If the winning semi-finalist died, and

that's just obviously unfair.

Yeah, that's flawed, aren't they?

But I guess he wasn't really a fair man.

You know, that probably didn't even occur to him.

And that shows you what kind of monster we were dealing with.

But not only have they found his last words, but also the US government this week has released a computer simulation of Bin Laden's final thoughts as a conscious human being.

And we at the Bugle have got exclusive access to this exclusive coverage of Bin Laden's final conscious thoughts.

Well, Summer, the game is up.

I, the self-styled rowdy Saudi, the Torah Bora Lorignora, I'm done for.

Slice me into soldiers and dip me in an egg.

I am toast.

Just a few moments to assess what I've done with my life.

There are so many things I haven't done I really wanted to do.

I never quite fully got around to destroying America and all it stands for.

Oh no, that was career goal A.

I haven't even come close.

Maybe with hindsight I could have gone about it differently.

The whole acts of mass violence perpetrated on the inner stick didn't really catch Western public imagination.

Still, if I've learned one thing from that, it is never trust a focus group.

Or at least, never trust a focus group made up entirely of Islamic fundamentalist terrorists.

Live and learn.

Maybe we should have tried to convert people door to door, Jehovah's Witness dial.

Hello, have you ever thought about indiscriminate slaughter, institutionalized misogyny, and destruction of civilization as we know it?

Okay, I see you're busy right now.

Should I come back next week?

There's no need to slam that door in my face.

Ah, hindsight, schmeinseit.

Never got around to wiping his hell off the face of the globe either.

Never fulfilled my lifetime ambition of breaking the 755 mile-an-hour barrier on a unicycle.

I guess when I look back at things, I have to say, I've never been very good at setting achievable goals.

Oh, well, that's the 21st century for you, I guess.

So hard to make time for your career these days, particularly when you've got a wife and kids.

And even more particularly when you got six wives and 22 kids like I have.

Silly, silly, Aussie.

I shouldn't have burdened myself with such a big family if I wanted to be so focused on my own career.

How was I supposed to destroy the West, Israel, and capitalism if every other finging weekend, birthday party?

I guess that's genetics.

And like my dad, 22 wives, 57 children.

An indecisive man, but a randy one.

Maybe I've been in the terrorism game too long.

Should have moved jobs.

I could do loads of other stuff.

Sure, I'm getting on a bit, but I have proven organizational and communication skills.

People might quibble with what I've organized and communicated, but still, a good employer should look beyond that.

My lifestyle has felt so restricted recently.

My life insurance premiums are absolutely f ⁇ ing ridiculous.

They're cooking their triggers.

Man, I could really do with some quality me time right now.

There must be a way out of this.

Think, Aussie, think.

Ah, shit, these aren't real wings.

I'm never buying anything off eBay again.

Right, come on, Osamak.

At least go down with some unforgettable last words.

They're to the south.

No, just kidding, the west.

Oh, you guys.

I want something people are going to remember for eternity.

To look back on in centuries to come and say, what an unbelievable thing for a man to say as he departed this world.

Something like, there was an old man from Nantucket who dangled his bolts in a bucket.

No, that's not really me, is it?

How could it?

Don't shoot me, I'm allergic to lead.

If you shoot me, it's health and safety violation.

No, it might work.

Right, Goran Defiant or Sama.

Looking at where they're aiming, this is gonna be, at best, a career-ending eye injury.

Clear your head now.

One final thought.

Oh, oh dear.

No, no, I cannot die with this in my head.

I can't die with this tune in my head.

I, Osama Vin Dan, the baddest bastard in the world, can't die with this tune going around my head.

Why now?

I gotta stop watching Kids TV.

And if good comes out of this, it's that.

Bloody Western infidels.

Think of some.

Think of another tune.

Think of any other tune.

Think of something else.

Oh yeah, oh, I can tie to this.

That's a no, no, I don't really like moving it that much.

No, no, no, no, something else, something else.

That's completely inappropriate.

No, no, no.

Grudging respect, but uh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Oh, that's even worse.

No, I'll take Fifi in the flower bus.

I'll take Fife in the Flower Poss.

Okay, that that will have to do.

Okay, I I'll reconcile myself with that.

Okay, one final conscious thought before meeting my presumably quite unimpressed maker.

Oh,

Pepper.

Oh, Pepper.

You wanna be wife number seven?

What way of firing that?

What way of firing that thing?

My house.

Oh, not a squeaky duck.

Have you no compassion?

Ow, Pepper.

I'm gonna miss you too, squeaky.

Yes, that's out.

What are you doing here?

What, Andy, for a start?

This is for you.

For me, John.

Scoop.

For me, scoop.

Congratulate the Pentagon.

They're the ones that got it.

This email comes in from the wonderfully named Gorasht Kos,

who writes, Dear J A and C, in order of how likely you are to become exiled from China.

Well, that's up in the air, though, isn't it?

Up in the air.

As long as I can remember, I've been proud of my surname Kos, which in my native Slovenian language means blackbird.

The surname is also shared by such remarkable things as the US corporation Kos Pharmaceuticals, characters in the Game of Thrones, and Norwegian Olympic medalists.

A few years ago, when I still had a noteworthy job and was visiting Iran on business for the first time, a gracious business partner had informed me just before I was about to make a public presentation that my last name Kos means k in colloquial farsi.

Whoa.

Startled, I had to quickly alter my presentation, so at no point mentioned my full name, and had made sure, no matter how formal the occasion had been, that I mentioned only my first name.

So now, condemned to only a one-word name in Iran, I share the same fate as Madonna and Prince, where a higher power has made sure that we will never again make public appearances in that country again.

It's truly gorashed cos.

Is that why Madonna and Prince only have one name?

Yeah, because their surnames are like c and f.

Wow,

you're making your own bleeping work now, Chris.

You're doing it to yourself.

Andy,

if Solon, Plato, Pericles, and Aristotle were to be transported to Greece now, they would feel like parents returning home early from vacation to see that their house has been trashed by a party their teenagers had that got out of hand.

What the f

happened here?

We were only away for 2,000 years.

What the f have you done to this place?

Wait, who are those morons with swastikas?

Please tell me this is a joke.

Please tell me that you didn't use democracy to actually give these pricks any power.

What the f is wrong with you?

And holy shit, what happened to the parthenon?

You trashed it how did you not take care of a building like that and why aren't any of you wrestling and why isn't everyone naked what the f has happened to this country hold hold on hold on calm down

this is still the most powerful country in the world right

what do you mean no who is then

What the f is America?

Okay, okay, okay, okay.

But the name Greece is still synonymous with the greatest minds in human history, correct?

Please tell me that you haven't even trashed the greatness of our reputation.

We're still the philosopher kings, right?

What are you looking at your feet for?

Look me in the eye and tell me what Greece is most famous for.

I beg your pardon.

What the f is a Moussaka?

It's almost like you did a classics degree like I did, John.

Bit of fun.

Yep.

Bit of fun.

I'm so sorry, Pericles.

Bye.

Bye.

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.