Two star review for this year's Queen's Speech

This is a Times Online podcast.

The Bugle, audio newspaper for a visual world.

Hello, buglers, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Bugle 96 for the week beginning Monday, the 23rd of November, 2009, in the Baloo Corner.

The Verbal Gun from London, The Mouth from Down South, The Joke Machine from Postal District SW16, The Comedian who's 5'10, The Lapsed Jew who was 32 three years ago, the satirist who does exist, the Joker, who once described in a national newspaper as groundingly mediocre.

He's equipped with grips.

He has no allergy to contrived analogy.

If it's laughed hereafter, he'll craft you a rafter.

Vit.

He floats like a whale corpse, stings like a phone bill.

The redhead, whose dog is dead, and three-time embassy world procrastinating champion, the man they call Modus, Oppa, Andy

Zoltzmoon,

and in the red corner, John Oliver.

Floats like a whale corpse.

That's like late period Oliver McCall boxing.

Hello, Andy.

Hello, Buglus.

What an introduction you gave yourself.

This week, Andy.

I think you'll appreciate this story.

I was shooting a piece for the daily show in a small downtown bookstore that involved me reading out Sarah Palin's new autobiography to a group of bored and then increasingly irritated six-year-olds.

And at one point, myself and the six-year-olds were essentially in the middle of a blazing, escalating row about the merits of the book and more importantly, its suitability as a staple of their story time schedule.

I was pro.

They were devotedly con.

And over their shoulders as this was happening, and this is 100% true, I saw Zoe Deschanel watching.

She was shopping for books with her husband, or as I like to call him, her temporary male companion.

And she'd happened to come into the bookstore.

So, Zooie Deschanel's first impression of me was someone involved in a loud, sustained argument with a bunch of six-year-old children.

I don't think that's brought Zoe and I any closer together, Andrew.

Do you not think, John?

Surely she sees that in them.

This man is father potential.

I'm not sure that's the thing.

Oh, I remember you.

You're the guy who gets into fights with children.

That's right, Zooie.

And wouldn't you be intrigued to see what kind of fights I could get into with our children?

No, I would not.

Don't decide now.

Too late, I already have.

Oh, that shows you can control youngsters.

I wasn't in control of the situation.

I'm sure it would have tweaked her rumbling ovaries, John.

It was like a bar fight.

There's nothing more cathartic than getting into a route with six-year-olds.

I think because I've always been around children all my life, I don't really treat them like children.

So it's much more possible just to get into a sustained, aggressive discussion with them.

You are a loss to the primary school teaching profession, John.

John how was the book more importantly oh it was unbelievably bad just on every level obviously you know morally most of the messages in it are abhorrent just in terms of grammar it's all over the place it's just

coming from you that is that yeah I know and that's exactly that's from me I'm a maverick grammatarian there's a perfect example

so this is Bugle 96 96 incidentally the number of the house where my wife and I first smooched for the very first time

myself and my first wife so far.

That's right.

Always good to keep the spoofing open.

Let's be realistic, statistically.

Ironically, that happened in 1996.

13 years ago, this very bugle, roughly.

So, legally, that means there's just 87 more years to go of our relationship until I can legally catapult her into space under a little-known British bylaw dating back to when Henry VIII was trying to find new ways of getting rid of his wives.

This was when he got rid of Catherine Howard.

Well, if you're going to marry a woman 30 years younger than you, she is inevitably going to beat beat you over and over again in breakdancing competitions.

So Henry had his chief weapons designer build him a massive catapult and awaited for permission from the Archbishop of Canterbury, little Tommy Cramner, to launch the young trumpet into orbit.

But Kramner didn't want to anger the big fat king, in case we'll put it this way.

If your boss had a well-earned reputation for chopping people's heads off, well, you'd make sure you made his coffee just the way he likes it, even if it's not technically within your job remit.

But anyway, Kramner gave the okay, but only after he'd sneaked in a 100 years of courtship clause on the big day, just as Henry was giving his interviews to the mass ranks of the British media, and Catherine was strapped into the catapult, ready to be flanged.

Her lawyer spotted the loophole, and the catapulting had to be called off, to the disappointment of the 78,000 crowd.

Catherine was so excited not to have been flanged into space that she dived headfirst into the crowd, landing in the arms of a young knight.

Bang!

shouted King Henry.

That looks like adultery.

No, I've only been touching him for two seconds, defended Catherine.

Splat, belly-flopped the king onto his wife, pinioning her against the young man in an adulterous-looking pose, whilst the Archbishop counted her out.

Seven, eight, nine, ten!

This this marriage is over, yapped Henry triumphantly before calling his beheading caddy, picking his favourite convex-bladed graphite steel hybrid axe out of his bag, and lopping his wife's pretty little nut clean off before flicking it up in the air, playing keepy-uppie with it for a minute, knocking it over his shoulder, spinning and vauling it past Archbishop Kramner for a spectacular goal, whilst singing to the crowd, Stand up if you had five wives.

I've gone off topic again, haven't I?

What was I trying to say?

Happy birthday.

Mary Ramadan.

No, no, no.

May all your Roshishana wishes come true.

No, it's gone.

Death of the South East.

No, no, it's not it either.

Top story this week.

Queen's Greatest Hits, Volume 58.

Andy, it was the Queen's speech last week in the UK, as I'm sure you know, the moment when one of the least charismatic people in the world reads out one of the worst imaginable speeches to a room of people historically obliged to be there.

What a gig, Andy, what a gig.

Here's a clip.

Through active employment and training programmes, restructuring the financial sector, strengthening the national infrastructure and providing a responsible investment, my government will foster growth and employment.

I don't know about you Andy, but I'm currently standing on the table in this studio waving a lighter in the air.

That was a power jam of a speech from the uppercase uppercased queue.

I'm also on the table in London with my union jack pants on my head.

Come on, Britain.

The Queen's speech, for those of you who don't know, is written by the British government and is a means of introducing the bills that they will attempt to pass during the next legislative period.

So she's essentially performing a brand new and extremely unpopular cover version once a year.

Is there any worse way to introduce a series of bills than to have the read out by an 83-year-old woman in a gold crown.

Would it not be better to give your bills a fighting chance when you first bring them into the world?

In this age of political apathy, can we really, really afford to have people disengage from it right away by having it read out by a pensioner in a gold hat?

It is the unquestionable height, John, of the British National Year, and these are treasonous comments that you're making here.

But if you were in this country, then frankly, you'd already be about to have your head chopped off.

The entire country huddled round its many television sets on,

When was it?

Wednesday?

That's the spirit.

What a patriot.

Union jacks in hands, British sausages in mouths, Churchill jockstraps waving in the air.

And the Queen once again entertained Parliament with her trademark collection of lewd anecdotes, bawdy songs, and sword swallowing before the cameras were allowed in and she delivered the Queen's speech as you've just described.

It was a stylistic disappointment, John, as he said.

Has she not seen Barack Obama?

Come on, liven up your game lady.

Let's have some gags at least.

That's why this is now such an odd tradition.

You're getting your message across to a spectacularly poor public speaker.

Look, you're right.

Look at what Obama was able to achieve through his uplifting rhetoric and outstanding performance skills.

Why on earth did they not exercise the option of having Jeremy Irons dress up as the Queen and do it instead?

Then everyone's happy, apart from Jeremy.

Besides, this is clearly just a way of getting the Queen involved in things.

It's pretty much all she gets to do now, other than open supermarkets and awkwardly watch local dances from school children on trips to Tanzania.

You take this away from her and she's essentially just a wave machine.

A wave machine?

Yeah, you heard.

The Queen's speech is supposed to be an opportunity for the sitting government to outline what they plan to do over the next year, which in this case is get voted out of office in six months' time.

It's essentially the government's to-do list.

I suppose the idea being that you might get through more of your daily to-do list if a monarch reads it out in the morning and promises that you're going to achieve it.

You don't want to to make her look bad, especially when she's gone to the trouble of getting furred up for the occasion.

My lords and members of the House of Commons, Simon Tucker hereby pledges that he will drop the children off at school, fix that wonky shelf in the spare room, take the rubbish out, glue the loose piece of banister back in, call about a haircut, and pay the TV bill.

Also, if he has time, he shall do the guttering.

I commend these tasks to the house.

Are you going for an impression show now, John?

Can you do any others?

Only if they're high-pitched and squeaky.

Can you do a high-pitched squeaky Obama?

Of course.

Yes, I can.

There you go, perfect.

Give it 40 years, that's what it'll sound like.

The government's basic message of the Queen's speech was: vote for us to clean up our own mess.

Whilst the message of the opposition parties remains:

Oh, God, John, British politics.

It's so depressing.

This is the apex of it.

This is supposed to be where things get into.

Where you sell yourself.

That's why it's so frustrating.

It's such a bad state and they're not helping.

Prince Philip sits to the Queen's side during a whole speech and he doesn't do anything.

He just sits there looking understandably bored.

He's a terrible hype man, Andy.

He should be out there before the speech getting the crowd fired up.

Wave your mother fing hands in the air, yo.

He's just a bit of ike Andy, John, isn't he?

During the speech, he should be joining in on every fifth word like he's a member of RUM DMC.

Who traditionally watch the Queen's speech and join in on every fifth word.

Huge fans.

Because they know how to sell something.

Brown was criticised by the opposition parties for a number of things, including not mentioning the expenses scandal, to which basically my reaction was, well, for f ⁇ ing sake, he heroically has tried to keep it out of the news for one f ⁇ ing day and then he gets shit for it.

This is why our political system is in a mess, John.

It's hard to imagine that British politics could get more boring and gloomy than it already is.

But they seem to be dredging up something new and shit with alarming regularity.

He was also slammed what the Conservative leader and probably future Prime Minister David Cameron described as a Labour press release on palace parchment and criticised the government for what the Queen had to say, which I think is harsh on the government.

John, the Queen, as you say, she's an 83-year-old woman.

She's fully grown, mature adult.

She's got a mind of her own.

She's not the government's trophy wife.

Is she?

Is she?

I want answers.

The government were introducing 13 bills under the barrage of criticism that almost none of them are likely to pass before the election.

In fact, the leader of the Liberal Democrats, Nick Clegg, attacked the speech saying it was just a fantasy package that stood no real chance of passing.

But if that's true, should you not have a slightly more imaginative fantasy world?

A fantasy package that includes home care for elderly patients with dementia and financial regulation for MPs is just depressing.

Where's the flare, Andy?

If you're going to go down, go down spectacularly.

Promise bills for genetically creating the unicorn and then farming it for meat.

Funding for developing the affordable rocket boot.

I know I've mentioned this before, Andy, but I really feel we should have one by now.

We could take the Empire back if we were all just hovering three feet off the ground.

And finally, providing a world-class vineyard in both penalty areas of Wembley Stadium.

If you're going to promise us something and not deliver on it, at least go big.

But the edible unicorn, that's got to be a go, because that's basically got a built-in kebab stick hasn't it

could just eat it like a massive lolly it's like one of those things you put in the end of a corn on the cob perfect yeah you can use its horn as it to hold it while you're just munching all around don't get your hands messy one aspect of this speech uh did mark a decisive break with tradition the new speaker of the house of commons eschewed his stockings and instead wore a cloak over a suit and this was heralded as a major modernizing step.

But let me say this, Andy.

He's still wearing a f ⁇ ing cloak

i don't think anyone can talk about how modern they are whilst simultaneously wearing a cloak unless you're living in the 1830s or you're in spandel balloon

in the year 2009 the only acceptable arenas to sport a cloak are if you're a teenager at a vampire convention or if you're the actual batman that's it well not even like pro wrestlers can they not wear cloaks pro wrestlers as well that and that's it end of the list now right what about zooy deshanel is Is she allowed to wear a cloth?

She can wear whatever she wants.

Now you're trying to make it up, aren't you?

Yeah, it's not going to work.

I've got two months' distance left to cover.

Shut up, six-year-old.

Shut up.

Did you say hello?

I didn't.

I was in the middle of an argument.

Some of the interns there didn't realise who her husband was.

He's a singer for this band Death Cat for Cutie.

And I tried to get him to do an interview for us.

And he very wisely said, I think I'm happy just watching.

Well, as you say, both the opposition bodies also criticised Brown on the grounds that there isn't time for all this legislation to be put through Parliament, which is A factually wrong, because the last time a government was similarly heading snout first down the lose run of unpopularity towards the brick wall of public dissatisfaction.

In 1996, the major government managed to whack through a load of stuff in the last few months, and B, it's irrelevant.

You know, admittedly, a terminal government might want to think about spending some time reflecting on its life and making peace with itself before it goes to meet its maker.

But if your dog, John, has just been given six months to live after swallowing a tennis ball, you wouldn't say, well, boy, just lie there whimpering in your bed until you cock it.

Woof woof.

You know, it's basically saying, well, since you can't get anything done, do nothing.

And Clegg, the leader of the

claimed that the speech shouldn't even have gone ahead, as the only thing that matters in British politics today is cleaning up Westminster.

Essentially asking the government to say, okay, Britain, you just hang in there.

Just you keep things ticking over.

There's not much that really needs doing.

We're basically peaceful and relatively prosperous despite everything.

We'll be busy in this darkened room, punching ourselves in the nadgers until people say we've punched ourselves in the nadgers often and hard enough

the cleaning up of westminster john as well could quite simply be done by just putting up world war one style posters with an angry looking kitchener pointing out and saying don't be crooks and the rest is just detail

u.gress news now Well, you know, we've heard what Britain have been up to with their parliamentary system, Andy.

Well, here, the Democrats have been accused of being ineffective, especially when you factor in the governing majority they have.

And I guess you can make a case for them not being as dynamic as you'd like them to have been, but you know, in their defense, they are the Democrats, Andy, and being ineffective is as important to them as their donkey logo.

Without that, they're nothing.

I mean, to be honest, with that, they're nothing too, but at least they have a donkey logo.

But finally, a Democratic congressman has stepped up.

Representative Emmanuel Cleaver is seeking co-sponsors for a House Concurrent Resolution 155,

which designates the day before Thanksgiving as, and I quote, official complaint-free Wednesday.

As a congressman, is he just trying to get his constituents to leave him alone for the day?

Is that what this is about?

Well, no, because as he explains, from time to time, we all experience anxiety, frustration, stress, and regret, and often we respond to these feelings with a criticism or complaint.

Regrettably, complaining keeps people stuck on current problems, inhibiting them from thinking constructively to find solutions.

Research has also shown that complaining can be harmful to one's emotional and physical health, relationships, and can limit professional career success.

And he signed off.

I hope you have a pleasant and complaint-free day.

Well, if you'll allow me just one more complaint, Congressman, what the f is up with Congressman wasting Congress's time with vanity bills?

What is wrong with Congress people pulling this kind of shit in the middle of the biggest global recession in living memory in a country with nearly 10% unemployment?

It's now the time to stop criticism and complaint, Andy.

You can probably afford to lose whining, tutting, and moaning, but complaining is a fundamental part of the human condition.

And while, yes, people should be thankful for everything they have, one of those things they should be thankful for is their freedom to complain their ungrateful asses off.

That is democracy.

That.

You complain about having to vote, then you vote for someone, then you complain about what they do.

That is true freedom.

Freedom so entrenched you completely take it for granted.

But for two countries, John, Britain and America, who are, you know, despite everything, amongst the most stable and prosperous on the planet from a global perspective, we do love to whinge about how fit things are.

This is a British national characteristic, John.

When things are good, we love to pretend they're bad.

And when things are bad, like when the Luftwaffe were rearranging our town centres or the plague was sweeping through the land, we swing from quivering bottom lip to stiff upper lip.

Mustn't grumble, worse things happen in France, we are winners in the lottery of life, etc.

Essentially, as a nation, John, Britain skis elegantly between the slalom poles of fortune, like a young Ingemar Stenmark.

One for all you ski fans out there.

One for all you 1980s slalom skiing fans.

It's true though, I think in Britain we are never happier than when we are completely miserable.

So in reaction to this call for a no complaints day, we'd like to take the opposite approach and call for all you buglers to complain.

We will take all the complaints

You should have complained about on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.

We will take those complaints.

Complaints about the world, about your own lives or about a bugle.

Although, of course, we won't read any of them out if they hurt too much.

We're fragile inside.

We're comedians.

Guantanamo update now.

And well, I've got a great surprise for you, Andy.

Oh, what's this, John?

Hang on.

Yeah.

What is it?

Close your eyes.

Okay.

Now, do you remember Guantanamo Bay, the human rights abusing illegal detention camp that exists in a legal limbo on the coast of Cuba?

Is that the same as Montego guy?

No, no, no, it's different.

It's the one with the orange people.

Orange blumpers, the suits.

All right.

Are you picturing it?

Picture it in your head now.

It's in Wales.

No, not nearly.

Nearly, it's Cuba, which is close, but a long way away.

Now, remember when Obama promised it would be closed within a year of him taking office?

You remember that?

Oh, yep.

Picture it closed now.

Picture how relieved you'd be that one of the great world democracies is no longer behaving that way.

Are you picturing it?

Are you picking Andy?

Yeah.

Okay.

Now open your eyes.

All right.

Open your eyes.

Surprise!

It's not going to happen.

It's not going to happen, Andy.

That's not happening.

Oh, that's a shame.

Why is that?

President Obama.

They realise it's a good idea after all.

It's working.

Three for 775.

President Obama has, for the first time, admitted that the US will miss the January 2010 deadline that he sets for closing the Guentana Mobay prison.

And he admitted this during his first interview on Fox News.

That was clearly the only place he could guarantee it being received as good news.

But this is a legitimate failure.

On the 22nd of January 2009, just two days after his inauguration, he set a deadline of a year for closing the heavily criticised prison.

And you know that he must have had detailed conversations with the Attorney General before making a statement so unnecessarily specific.

He must have said, okay, so let's be absolutely clear on this.

I can definitely close Guantanamo within a year.

I will 100% be able to do that because I can just say by the end of my first term if that's easier, but definitely within a year.

It's just this is the first promise I'm making in office and it would look bad if I broke it.

So we are all agreed.

Let's be within a year.

Okay.

Okay.

Everyone split on your hands.

Let's shake on it.

Is it at least part closed?

Maybe they just shut down the catering outlets and the cinema and stuff that's there.

Yeah, I guess some of the leisure facilities are.

That was the first to go, aren't they?

Yeah.

And now he said that he's neither surprised nor disappointed that the deadline will pass without it closing.

Really?

Because you should be both of those things.

What's the excuse for this?

Well, apparently it's complicated.

That's pretty much it.

Really?

It's complicated.

Turns out.

It's complicated.

Closing a detention facility, which has housed internationally illegal activities, is a lot more difficult than you think.

That's right.

It's full of complicated issues.

I'm not going to criticise Obama for this because

when it comes to criticising people for failing to meet deadlines, I have a leg to stand on, but that leg is made of salt and I'm standing in a lake.

Me and deadlines, as you know from how they've worked with me, we don't mix.

We clash.

I like to have deadlines, but then I like to abuse them.

You and deadlines are like Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall.

There's real tension.

That's right.

Under face lapping, but you end up making out with each other.

But sometimes when I finish with a deadline, all that's left is a torn-out page of a diary, slightly singed around the corners, hiding in the corner of my desk, rocking backwards and forwards, muttering, what did I do?

It's clearly a complicated issue, putting terrorists on trial, and it has been ever since in October 2001, the then president, George W., what was his name again?

I can't remember.

He spurned the Taliban's offer to discuss handing over bin Laden with the words, and excuse me if my impression of George W.

Bush isn't very good, John.

I'm not

such a qualified impressionist as you.

These were George W.

Bush's words.

There's no need to discuss innocent or guilt.

We know he's guilty.

That's good.

That's pretty good, isn't it?

That's what he said and how he said it.

We know he's guilty.

Justice.

Justice coming right from the top.

With the Khalid Shait Mohamed trial

coming to New York City, what's the general feeling in New York, Sean?

Pro or ante or both?

Well, I think New Yorkers are more than happy to provide Khalid Shaik Mohamed with the kind of welcome that Kurt Schilling usually enjoys when he wanders around town in his stupid blood sock.

Well, that's for our non-baseball following listeners.

He was a Boston Red Sox pitcher who famously defeated the Yankees in a key game of the postseason five years ago, was it?

With an injured ankle.

Yeah, there you go.

So slightly niche reference there for a podcast that's going out around the world.

Really, Abby?

You're criticising me for making a niche reference for having just made a reference to a 1980s downhill skiing jamping.

No, Slalom.

He was a Slalom specialist.

Even worse, downhill skiing is the only thing people like.

Just the idea of them going fast and maybe banging into a tree.

No one cares about Slalom.

No one.

You try telling that to Alberto Tomba's family.

Or Mark Girardelli, for that matter.

Are you done?

Done.

I'm not having you restart once you've started typing it into Wikipedia.

The particular issue is clearly of detainees who have been assessed as dangerous, but who, for legal reasons, could not be successfully prosecuted in US courts.

Colleague Sheikh Mohammed, who I guess doesn't fall into that category due to his obvious guilt and confession, has been described by US investigators as one of history's most infamous terrorists.

And they say that he's admitted being responsible from A to Z for the 9-11 attacks.

He's confessed in the form of a Dr.

Seuss book.

There are a few concerns over even his trial though.

One is that he turns into a bat and flies through the bars of the cell before turning into a car and driving away.

Another...

Another is that you don't...

What happened to one of my wife's defendants just recently?

Another is that they...

It's only a parking offence.

Another is that they will struggle to put together a jury.

The jury selection for the OJ trial proved difficult because almost everyone had some prejudicial knowledge of the events from television.

And I think they may find it difficult finding a group of individuals who are not aware of 9-11.

They're going to have to go for people who have suffered major blows to the head.

Yeah, or they're going to have to go for toddlers.

But you know, toddlers haven't developed yet the concept of object permanence, which may affect the way they see the Twin Towers.

Did that affect the way that they reacted to your Sarah Palin reading?

No, that was something.

I think they developed object permanence in that moment.

The problem occurred when I promised them I would read this book, Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, which is like an Learn Your Alphabet book.

But I put the Sarah Palin's book in the middle of that book and was reading that instead.

And they felt so betrayed.

So totally betrayed by my behavior.

That was when things really started getting out of hand.

In fact, it's so bad.

I actually had to read them some chicka boom boom and some where the wild things are afterwards just to calm the situation down.

Once they were packing up the cameras, I had to actually read to them.

They were too angry.

The final worry is that there might even be a tiny chance that Khali Sheikh Mohammed could be acquitted, even though Attorney General Eric Holder recently assured the Judiciary Committee that even if that does happen, the President retains, and I quote, post-acquittal detention powers.

What?

This whole trial is becoming the legal equivalent of there's a hole in my bucket.

The U.S.

government will only give trials to those with a near 100% chance of success.

And in the event of an innocent plea, the trial's legal status will suddenly turn to dust.

But even Obama slipped up, John.

He was asked whether he understood why people found it offensive that the men should be tried in American courts.

He replied, I don't think it's offensive at all when he's convicted and when the death penalty is applied to him before backtracking saying,

What I said was people will not be offended if, if, that's, if that's the outcome.

If, I'm not prejudging, I'm not prejudging.

But let's hope the jury don't decide that on the balance of probability, because Kalashet Mohamed has been a Guantanamo resident and these have turned out to be often less than 100% guilty, then he is in all probability innocent too.

As we said, three out of 775.

What are the chances?

That is a 0.38% chance that he's guilty on that evidence.

Yeah, I think he's confident, Andy.

He's confident about pushing that average up infinitesimally.

He is really talking the talk.

But then I guess maybe that is an argument in itself for a change of tactics.

If your train driver is hitting a three journeys out of 775 successfully completed rate, do you take the bus, John?

You would take the bus.

Miracle news now.

A Wisconsin woman has claimed that she was the recipient of a divine miracle when making her bed last Tuesday.

Olfraktra Schnautberger explained, I've had this fitted sheet for 10 years and it's always been a bit too big.

Usable, sure, but slightly baggy around the corners.

And then all of a sudden this week, for the first time, it fitted properly and snugly as well.

That can only be a miracle sent by the Lord Johnny God himself.

Mrs.

Schnautberger, a 43-year-old vegetable repairer, admitted that the miracle had coincided with the purchase of a new slightly bigger mattress, but added, I was guided by God to buy that mattress rather than any other mattress.

When it was then remarked at the press conference that the mattress had been reduced by 65% as part of a special promotion in the shop, making it the cheapest mattress in that shop, Mrs.

Snautberger replied, God loves bargains.

He was clearly directing me towards this specific mattress.

At which point, from the back of the press conference, the store manager Maukey Scurfax added, No, the promotion was my idea, and I'm an atheist.

That range of mattresses is being replaced by a newer one so I thought, gift them and shift them.

Mrs.

Snauberger said, well that is exactly what God would have done.

And Scurfax responded, that's horsepliss, lady.

God would probably have sent a plague of locusts to the other mattress and bedding stores in the area, meaning that customers had to come to us and pay full price.

But he didn't, because he hates mattresses.

He considers them a modern affectation, symbolic of the needless luxuries demanded by people today.

Mrs.

Snautberger responded, well if my sheet suddenly fitting off the previously not fitting was not a miracle, how do you explain then why it turned from being a sheet as white as virgin snow into deep red, redolent of the blood of the damned?

And Scurfax replied, Let me guess.

Did you buy a new dark red sheet as well?

Mrs.

Snautberger said, Well, it depends what you mean by buy.

The Lord took my hand, placed it upon a new sheet, and guided my hand into my shopping trolley, wherein he took control of my fingers, prized them apart, and allowed the sheet to fall in.

How could I spurn his almighty will by not buying that sheet?

Scurfax countered.

Let me guess.

Did he then guide your hand to put a couple more sheets in your trolleys to take advantage of our three-for-two offer?

Mrs.

Snoutberger replied, Amen.

Scurfax then shouted, I'm sick of you and your stupid bedding-related miracle claims.

You're ruining the reputation of my mid-range store.

At this point, Scurfax was struck by a bolt of lightning, dying instantly.

The clouds opened and God appeared above the Wisconsin landscape, bellowing, You total tit!

The woman's right.

I love retail and the Snoutbergers deserve some nice new, competitively priced medium-quality bedding after years of worship at church.

Right, carry on.

Oh, Crumbs, are you dead?

Oh, shite, I meant to use an injury, not a fatalizer.

Peter, Peter, you numpty!

Who's been labelling the lightning bolts this week?

I want to see them in my office in five with an apology and some fireproof clothing.

They're going down.

I am sick of sloppy admin.

Andy.

What?

I feel like one of those six-year-olds who had to listen to me read Palin's book.

I'll take that as a compliment.

You should.

Was it that full of bullshit?

Your emails now, and well, we have an email here from Nathaniel Crowe, who says, gentlemen, brackets, revel in it.

I meant that word, and it may be the only time you're called it this week, except Tom.

I bet he gets addressed that way a lot.

I don't know.

You sure as shit don't act like it, Tom?

Is there anything more satisfying in life than making Tom snap?

He goes on saying, Nathaniel, our favourite Venezuelan is at it again.

This time because the weather isn't cooperating in the water the crops department.

Hugo has decided to zap any cloud that crosses him.

Seriously, he's declared war on the clouds just after he told his armed forces to be ready to fight the Colombians, which apparently was solely because the US gave the Colombians money.

Come on, Hugo, admit you're jealous that Obama gave the Colombians a bigger allowance than you and get it out of your system.

And not just that, but he's built a coalition of the willing to fight the clouds.

He's got the Cubans helping him.

This guy is pure gold.

If he ran for president of the US, I'd vote for the guy just on sheer entertainment value points.

Since we all know a candidate's ability to keep people riveted to their TV screens is the only serious requirement to achieve political office in this country.

Hugo Chavez says he will join a team of Cuban scientists on flights to bomb clouds to create rain amidst a severe drought that has aroused public anger due to water and electricity rationing.

And Chavez has done things like he's asked Venezuelans to take three minute showers to save water.

He'd said that the Cubans have now arrived in Venezuela and are preparing to fly specially equipped aircraft above the Orinoco River.

And this is his quote: I'm going in a plane.

Any cloud that crosses me, I'll zap it so it rains.

I want Gordon Brown to come out of some shit like that.

That is his only chance of winning the election.

It's to learn from Chavez.

I think, right.

Any cloud that crosses me.

What?

Have you ever been crossed by a cloud?

I think I might have been, and I didn't zap it, and now I feel like an idiot.

I'm flying to California next week.

And

I'm going to hang out of the window with a machine gun shooting clouds all the way.

That's the kind of stuff you expect from the older Soviets.

Didn't they do that?

Cloud zappers?

Yeah.

In the Moscow Olympics in 1980, they did cloud seeding to stop it raining on the long jump.

Yeah, and the Chinese did it as well.

You know, that's all done covertly.

That's not Hugo Chavez with a scarf flying around his neck, just flying straight into the heart of darkness.

I want to see him catapulted in a special

cloud-popping rocket.

Yes.

Or maybe just attaching guns to himself and just firing himself out of a cannon into a cloud.

Maybe that's why people just sometimes drive around firing guns in the air.

Yeah.

It's an anti-cloud measure.

Yeah, they're zapping clouds.

This one comes from Joel in Tokyo.

And he writes, Dear Andy and John, on the subject, does the bugle cause violence in computer games?

Last week you seemed a bit dismissive of Call of Duty, Modern Warfare 2.

Now I know that you aren't big fans of war, or at least not pro-war.

No, but I do like the documentaries.

I would say I'm anti-war, you know, it's just it's it's all about when.

Yeah, it's gotta be the right time in your life, I guess.

But I urge at least one of you to play the game to completion, for I happen to know that the developers are big bugle fans and have actually included a bugle tribute in the later stages of the game.

It can be found during the level in downtown Tehran, when the protagonists burst into a comedy club as part of a mission to eliminate some dangerous civilians who are casually enjoying a night out.

There on stage in true game tradition are the blocky figures of both Andy and John, static and receiving no reaction from the audience, just like in real life.

You, for fair points.

I think it might be based on that gig we did in York one time before Edinburgh.

Yes.

I'll be the first person to say, poor gig.

Actually, that wasn't no reaction from the audience.

If only, if only there had been no reaction.

Yeah, I'd have taken no.

Any gaming bugler will confirm this is true.

You have to go and see it for yourselves.

It's not conspiracy.

It's the truth.

Trust me, I'm a bugler.

Well, we do pride ourselves on telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so must be a fact.

So, thanks very much for all of your emails.

Do keep them flooding into thebugle at timesonline.co.uk.

Bugle sport now, and one of the greatest injustices in the history of humanity has been perpetrated upon the Irish nation, according to the Irish nation and quite a lot of other people.

It's the worst thing that's ever happened to Ireland.

For those who who don't follow the great game of football, proper football, Ireland were playing France in a play-off to get to next summer's World Cup in South Africa.

The game delicately poised at one all on aggregates.

The French forward Thierry Henry handled the ball and set up a goal and it was one of the more obvious hand balls that looked like it started accidentally and then became at least partially deliberate and ended up with a goal that won the match and Ireland were knocked out as a result of this massive refereeing error which you know some cynics might have say counted out the the earlier refereeing error when you didn't give France a penalty.

But, nevertheless, let's ignore that.

Ignore that.

Let's ignore that.

What are you talking about, Andy?

And the Irish response has been: first centuries of oppressive British rule, and now this.

Thierry Henry's excuses, John, were basically: I saw a hornet on the ball and was trying to swat it.

And I had a vision that if the ball went off the pitch, the Irish president's trousers would catch fire, and I didn't want that to happen.

Where's my award?

Well, there's another great story in football, Andy.

You know, often players get injured and they want to come back quickly.

Well England and Liverpool's Glenn Johnson is apparently in Serbia for some treatments using the horse placenta cure that another player Robin Van Percy is receiving.

He's in Belgrade being treated by radical physio Mariana Kovacic who his signature treatment is massaging liquid from a horse's placenta into the affected area.

Many doctors apparently dismiss the treatment, but increasing number of players are going to him.

Has anyone noticed whether Kovacic is taking breaks from the applications of this treatment to go behind a screen and giggle to himself?

It's off cover, it's not a woman, Chuck.

Mariana.

Oh, yeah, I thought it was Mariana.

Yeah, you're right.

Probably is.

It doesn't matter.

To be honest, Andy, that is not the thing in the story that I wanted to pick up.

It was the fact that someone is rubbing a horse placenta into someone else and calling it a medical breakthrough.

Medieval level sports.

Yeah, but I mean, how many medieval footballers missed games due to niggling hand string injuries and ankles?

That's a good point.

That's a good point.

Placentas, John.

Yep.

Surprisingly big.

Oh boy, here we go.

You wasted yours.

You delivered your child.

You could have rubbed it into your ankle.

Yeah.

Been back on the field.

That's right.

Yep.

Straight in the bin.

I w uh well clearly got somewhere in the British rubber system there's an extremely healthy plastic bag.

It is.

Yeah.

Either that or you should have found the nearest premiership footballer and charged charged him five grand.

There are some cultures where they they do wrap babies in placenta for several days after birth.

Oh, that's a stupid thing to do.

Yep, I guess that is the obvious reaction.

So that's it for this week's bugle.

And I think you'll all agree it's been one of the greatest achievements in the history of human civilization.

I don't think I'm out of line in saying that.

I know it sounds a bit cocky, but you've got to be confident these days.

If you don't have faith in yourself, who is going to have faith in you?

You've got to talk a good game.

So that's it for this week's bugle and for next week's bugle as well.

Because we're off for a Thanksgiving special.

Because basically, nowhere in America will allow John to talk on Thanksgiving Day.

Yeah, fair enough.

Or anywhere around it.

There's not giving thanks.

So no full bugle, but there will be a Thanksgiving special bugle next week to keep you going until we return early in December.

So we'll speak to you in a couple of weeks.

Bye-bye.

Have a lovely week.

Bye.

Bye.

Bye.

This is a Times Online podcast.

For more podcasts, go to timesonline.co.uk forward slash podcasts.

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.