HANDKERCHIEF WITH BUILT IN CLOCK

The Olympics start this week and sure, I'm excited to watch a bunch of government-funded jocks play around, but at the same time, if you've seen one Olympics you've seen 'em all. The whole thing essentially boils down to people being fast and throwing things far while wearing suits designed by scientists who should've been spending their time trying to figure out how to make mice poo out grapes for the poor. And if all the events are the same year after year, who even cares where they take place? The pools in London aren't any different than the ones in Beijing (except British water has more milk in it for smoother teas). It's not like the Blue Jays build a new stadium every season. If organizers want to improve the Olympics, and as I've just demonstrated, they DEFINITELY need improving, the culture and heritage of the host country should inform the style of each games. This is such a good idea I can't even believe it. Let's explore!!

Summer Olympics 2012 in London, England

England's history is rife with tales of rude wizards and sexy dragons, and when visiting the island National Geographic called "The one with the worst pineapples" most people are attracted to the castles and darkness of the famed medieval age. Since the medieval age was full of tournaments and shit, it's a match made in gravy.

Charles and Diana (pregnant with Wills), 1981

Instead of fielding athletes, countries will have to send their best knights. Let's get serious, they don't have to be actual knights, they can be regular athletes, but yes, they must wear armour, and no, women aren't allowed. Don't worry ladies, the door is now open to pose as a man, win some event, then dramatically reveal that Sir Ulf The Blood Barfer, is actually fair lady Dana of Gothenburg, causing Lords of all shapes and sizes to spit out their ale in surprise and exclaim, "just what sort of sorcery is this?"

There will of course be classic events such as jousting and archery, as well as innovative, modern demonstration events like the one where everyone pees on an iPad until it turns off. The main draw will probably be the sword pull. We all know the classic tale of the Sword in the Stone, so no country will be dumb enough to send muscle men, giving wieners around the world the opportunity to compete. There won't be any magic involved of course, it will work more like a slot machine with the winner being chosen at random. Bonus points will be rewarded for creative grunts and colourful robes.

Speaking of magic, each country will also send their best magician to act as a sort of overseer/supporter. He or she or dolphin (Mauritius' top magician, a bottle nose named Haywire) will be allowed to use illusions or just straight up yelling in an attempt to throw off rival countries. They will also be flag bearers and must come up with way to bear the flag other than the time honoured tradition of carrying it on a stick. I once saw an Argentinean magician/flag bearer eat his flag then pull it out of a sprinter's behind.

"I control the nasty bits"

Speaking of the opening/closing ceremonies, there won't really be any. Instead, Wembley Stadium will be turned into the biggest, most raucous, most throwing big turkey bones to dirty old dogs, people having sex on hay-type banquet the world has ever seen. Not only is this a demonstration of hospitality and an opportunity for merriment, but it will also show which country can hold the most liquor, which is an event as well. No one will know this until the sun rises when the King has his servants hit play on the stadium's state-of-the-art sound system that will then blast Iron Maiden's "The Wicker Man" for all to wake to. First country to have its roster of knights, damsels and magicians wake up and finish a full English breakfast, bean juice and all, will win top prize.



There won't be medals of course, that would take the work of thousands of smiths working 'round the dial, but rather livestock bred on some of the most beautiful pastures this side of the Shire.

Pure Bread Shrewsbury Clydesdale = GOLD
Horny Bull = SILVER
Decent Sow = BRONZE
Pint of Scrumpy = All participants

I think we managed to mention barf, piss and poo in one post. That means we've completed the WIDAHIA Hat Trick!

THE FURM

The last time I honked your way I told you that I was going to London, England. I went, I came back and now that I've cleared customs, I'm legally entitled to write some stuff vaguely related to the trip as well as import 1-3 bottles of Pimm's. To all of you who were concerned for my safety concerning the riots that spread due to outrage over Rowan Atkinson crashing his McLaren F1 super car, I thank you for thinking of me amongst your other thoughts like what tomorrow's sandwich will be. Here is the aforementioned stuff, complete with punctuation:

I've been lucky enough to travel all over Europe, North America and whatever continent the Dominican Republic is in, but traveling actually causes me a great deal of stress, mentally and physically. That basically means I get diarrhea. I'm the type of guy who concerns himself with tiny things and humongous things -- in a given day I'll get stressed out about the length of my fingernails, while fascinating myself with thoughts about outer space, the biggest place in the world. I don't know where I was going with this, but be thankful, because any bit of information I hand out could be used against me in a lawsuit or game show. Anyway, I think it might just mean that I don't understand politics. Here, how about this:

I see "The Airport" as a giant challenge. I'm on time for everything because my brain is mostly clock, whereas scientists' are mostly calculators and everyone else's is mostly naked people. If flying was as simple as showing up on time and getting on a plane, it'd be easy pie, no stress, "let's do this again", but it's more like a video game -- there's a bunch of little tests and you can only pass them if you're early enough and have in your possession certain items (passport, shoes not made of bombs).

An airplane is like a bedroom full of people you don't know and instead of beds there are chairs that you have to sit in when told. Even if you are able to get up the only place you can go is the bathroom and the bathroom is as big as one human and one human only.

Then you get to where you're going and no one likes you because you're not from there. I hate tourists because they don't know any of my secret handshakes.

Then you have to go to the airport and airplane again and when you get home you get stressed because you haven't been on the Internet in a week and you're weird about that kind of thing. Chances are, all I missed were some Tweets about food, some Tumbls about Garfield and some Facebook invitations to events whose titles give no indication of what the event is, but I still end up feeling like I did when my family went to Medieval Times without me.

That being said, I had a great time! Every time I got stressed I'd eat beans and things would get funny after that. Laughter is the beans of the soul, and beans are the soul of laughter. I don't mean to slap myself on the cheeks, but that last sentence was very good, and I didn't even think about it, it just came out. Isn't the world weird?

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I tore this ad out of an in-flight magazine. It's the airline's CEO selling his music. Click on it to make it bigger.

This guy is a few lawsuits and a failed brewery away from being Frank d'Angelo. My favourite is the album "Mostly About You". It's like he had nine good songs about his lovely wife but then wrote a real slammin' track about licorice and just had to put it on. I also like the following cover of him crooning on the wing of an airplane, mid-flight:


As they say in SCUBA diving, "Swimming Rules". BUH BIIIII

RED ROVER RED ROVER WE CALL DIMPUS OVER

On Sunday I'll be flying over Lake Atlantic to Great Britain to celebrate the union of my cousin and his bride. I hear British weddings aren't all that different from North American weddings, except you're only supposed to use a spoon at dinner, and traditionally, the groom isn't allowed to see the bride until their 10th anniversary.

I think I'm finally getting excited for the trip. This always happens. Maybe 28 Christmases and birthdays have conditioned my brain to save excitement until close to game time in order to lessen what doctors call "jumping the fun gun". Or maybe I'm not that excited at all because my ancestors left the same general area long ago to escape streets full of people eating old coal and rats smoking cigars. They crossed the tub and found a pretty cool place where Native Canadians taught them about hip hop and how to make out in a canoe.

I've been to London once before, when I was a fresh-faced University graduate eager to eat fried food on a different continent and then think critically about it using the teachings of Marshall McLuhan. This prevented me from eating the newspaper my fish and chips came wrapped in while my friend who took film studies ate his, but did it in an aesthetically pleasing way using tracking shots and great lighting. Anyway, this all means that I''ve seen all the major sites - London Bridge, Millennium Bridge, Tower Bridge and James Bond's gun shaped bungalow. So I'll be spending the bulk of the week off the beaten path, searching for London's best Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, and maybe some new clothes for the wedding.

I already purchased tickets for my family to tour the Buckingham Palace State Rooms, which also includes a viewing of Kate's famous wedding dress! I can't wait to see the famous HP stain up close. It's kind of embarrassing for her, but it's hard to eat a cake made of brown sauce and mash potatoes and not get any on yourself. So far this is the only planned activity, so I thought I'd take a few hours of your time and brainstorm the rest of my itinerary:

Soccer is popular in London so maybe I should try and kick someone?

Here's a group of Londoners, similar to the kind I'll be making fun of in my head during my trip. If I were to kick any of them, I'd probably start with the bottom row, because I don't think I can kick higher than that. But since they're all kids, I'd probably just like, fake it, make them cry then say I'm a street performer named "Scrumkins".

Okay, that probably won't work and besides, I prefer spitting to kicking. The British are known for their dry sense of humour, and since I'm a comedian, maybe I can try out some of my material. Here's a new joke I've been working on:

"(find audience member with drink) So I see you got a drink there, what is it? (wait for answer) I'm a gin man myself (if the person's drink is gin say "I'm a gin man too) You know what I like to drink gin with? (look for someone with a hat) DEFINITELY not that hat! (if no one's wearing a hat, use your shoe and just like, make fun of yourself a bit)

Should I slime him?

Maybe I'll just spend most of the time doing some English Surfing. Don't worry, it's a lot simpler than it sounds. It's just falling asleep on the upper level of a double decker bus, and you have to wear sunglasses. I forget who told me about it. Whoa, I wonder if they have Turkish Delight M&Ms over there?