Tag: humor

Meat Beat – Gone Fishin’

Gone fishing with Meat Beat!

Hey there meat maniacs, it’s time for another Meat Beat!

Bob: Welcome to another edition of Meat Beat! Today, we’re not in the woods at all. Or even at the zoo. Can you guess where we’re hunting today? But I warn you, Monty’s feeling a little rough, aren’t you sir?

Monty: Holy ham no, I’m fine there, boy. Jus’ gettin’ used to the ole sea legs. And sea guts.

Bob: That’s right folks, today’s Meat Beat is coming to you from a small fishing boat in the Atlantic ocean! Having conquered the land, Monty has decided to become King of the Cod, Master of Mackerel, Sultan of Snap…

Monty: Yeah that’s enough, quit yer yappin’. Now I’ll be tha first to admit I don’t know gizzardy-spit about fishin’. If I ain’t zippin’ a bullet thru some critter’s guts it ain’t worth ma time. But Bobby here thought it might do me some good to get some fresh sea air. Dunno why, nothing wrong with that musty forest smell. Like a man should smell Bobby. Not like an ol’ halibut, like ma wife when she’s….

Bob: Anyway Monty, that’s probably enough background to our trip. So, the first thing we have to do if we want a tasty fish supper is to bait our rods! For that, I bought a big bucket of what anglers call ‘chum’. It’s around here somewhere. Have you seen the bucket, Monty?

Monty: Ya mean the lunch bucket?

Bob: No Monty, our lunch is in the cooler. I’m talking about the white bucket.

Monty: You mean tha white lunch bucket?

Bob: There isn’t a white lunch bucket, Monty.

Monty: Yeah they is, the white bucket with the lunch! What I ate.

Bob: Oh my God Monty, that was bits of old squid and fish guts! I packed ham sandwiches for lunch.

Monty: Ham sammiches? Jeez Bob, ya ain’t gonna steel ya belly for the sea with piddy-biddy lady foods! Them squids was real nice. Kinda maggoty, but it’s OK they full of protein and all good stuff.

Bob: Good grief… OK, well I guess we’ll use the sandwiches instead. I hope the fish don’t expect me to cut the crusts off though Monty, eh? Haha, imagine if fish didn’t like crusts!

Monty: Bob, ya talkin’ bullbob again. I’ve heard the tha sea can make ya mad. Like that pirate ship that went all gay.

Bob: I don’t think that happened Monty. Anyway, I’ve attached the sandwiches to the line, and – woah – there it goes! We have now officially cast our Meat Beat rods into the briny! Now we wait.

*** time passes***

Bob: Well folks, it’s been four hours now, and not a single bite. We saw a dolphin though!

Monty: Yeah, but ya wouldn’t let me shoot it, would ya Bob!

Bob: Monty, how did you get that gun onboard? You were told by the nice boat rental man you can’t shoot fish. And we’re not going to get stormed by a gay pirate boat.

Monty: Dammit, that dolphin coulda cooked up real nice with bit a tabasco and pepper. Dolphins should be for eatins, not doin’ that namby-pamby Sea World stuff jumpin’ through hoops and makin’ splashies for the kiddies. Putta dollop a ketchup on a nice juicy dolphin steak and them kiddies will be chewin’ away at it like they having they best day out ever.

*** more time passes ***

Bob: Oh dear, it looks like we won’t be getting our fish feast as planned. Or even a dolphin burger! I’m kind of regretting we didn’t go for that option now. We’ve got no food and the weather is getting a little rough out here.

Monty: Holy hell Bob, I ain’t feelin’ so good. This boat is dancin’ around like a rabbit in a bonfire, and I ain’t had so much as a lick of blood all day. How you get this damn thing to drive home?

Bob: Well Monty, the boat rental man did explain it, but it’s getting dark and I can’t quite read the controls…

Monty: Well figger it out quick Bobby, I’m about a put them squids right back into the bucket they came from, and they won’t look so good second time about.

Bob: Oh for God’s sake Monty, just throw up over the side of the boat, and… Oh Monty, NO. No not in the cabin… OH NO Monty, that’s my cellphone… MONTY NO IT’S IN MY HAIR OH GOD

Sorry about this folks, hopefully Monty and Bob will get back to terra firma soon and do what they do best – shoot the shit out of our furry forest friends! See ya next time and don’t forget what Monty says – I TOLD YA MEAT IS USEFUL!


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Tiggyblog the Book – Coming Soon! Probably.

Tiggyblog: The Book!

· Can you get high on hemp oil smoothies?
· When was the golden age of porn?
· Why is part of Greenland now a suburb of Boston?
· How can you get your neighbour arrested using snow?

If you’ve ever asked yourself these questions, you will need a copy of It’s The Stuff That Comes Out Of My Brain, a fun-filled compilation of weird observations, strange-but-not-true facts and hilarious stories that will leave you with a warm fuzzy feeling inside. And a bit of a headache.

It’s The Stuff That Comes Out Of My Brain includes Tiggy’s best ever stories and musings (with all the spellings done right and everything), plus a whole bunch of new and never-seen-before anecdotes, tall tales and drunken drivel!

And it’s coming soon! Well, as soon as Tiggy stops playing on the internet and bloody well gets on with it.

To express your immense excitement and sign up for alerts, send Tiggy an e-mail!


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Back in 10 Minutes

The inconvenience store.

“Back in 10 Minutes”. I walk three miles to the convenience store, only to find a scrappily-written note stuck to the door. Back in ten minutes? When is that? Is this the first minute, or the ninth? I wait ten minutes, but no-one comes back. What a shoddy way to run a store!

Time passes. I begin to wonder if something has happened to the clerk. Is he lost? Has he been hit by a truck while crossing the street? Or brutally murdered in an alley? Perhaps I should call the emergency services.

I wait another ten minutes. Now I’m getting worried. The clerk must have met with accident. Typical! I need a carton of milk, and they’re lying dead in a hospital corridor. Hang on though, that is a ’10’, isn’t it? It could be a ’40’ if I look really closely and squint a bit. Back in forty minutes- what kind of store is this? So much for customer service. Oh well, I only have another twenty minutes to wait.

Thirty minutes pass. I realize I may look a bit of a twat standing outside the store. A passerby across the street stops and stares at me. They must be thinking “Why doesn’t she go in? Does she have a phobia about convenience stores? Is she a bit retarded or something? Maybe she’s blind and can’t find the door handle. Should I go and help? No, she’ll probably get offended. I don’t want to appear patronizing…” And so the passerby stands there, agonizing about whether they should help the poor retarded blind girl.

Another fifteen minutes pass. This clerk is ether taking the piss, or really is dead. What if the store has suddenly closed down and the clerk is out of a job? Perhaps he has taken revenge and made off with the cash register. Or driven to despair by his impending unemployment, the embittered clerk has rampaged through the store with a shotgun, opening fire on the customers! You hear about that sort of thing all the time. Is the store is full of blood-soaked bodies? Maybe I should open the letterbox and see if the smell of death wafts out.

That’s it, I’m calling the cops. Something is terribly wrong, I just know it. But the cops might think I’m involved! Why else would I be standing here for ages, acting suspiciously? Great, now I’m implicated in a mass shooting and robbery. That passerby on the other side of the street has been staring at me for twenty minutes now. They must be an undercover cop or something.

Perhaps I should break into the store. I can smash down the door and rescue any victims that might still be alive. Then I’ll be seen as a hero, not a felon! And maybe I can help myself to a couple of chocolate bars while no-one’s looking. I’m sure Forensics won’t miss a blood-spattered bag of chips either. Okay Tiggy, steel yourself. Breaking down the door in 3…2…1…

I crash through the door and hurtle headlong into the shelves. Pop bottles and Reece’s Peanut Cups rain down on my head.

“What the fuck are you doing?” screams the clerk as he grabs a shotgun from under the counter. He glances at the door swinging off its hinges and grabs the ‘Back In 10 Minutes’ sign.
“Shit, I forgot to take down that sign. I hope the boss didn’t notice…Hey crazy lady, one move and you’re fuckin’ dead… Hello, 911… is that the police… I have a major situation here…”


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Meat Beat Gets Arty… with Meat!

Meat, I love ya!

Monty: Hey there Tiggy fans! Monty O’Drizzle here, world-renowned hunter an’ King of the Kill! Today, me an’ my assistant Bob Nutter have been takin’ a look at the wonderful world of meat art.

Bob: Yes folks, you heard Monty right. Meat isn’t just for eating!

Monty: I told ya meat is useful! Now, I’m not one for wastin’ my time in art galleries, unless they let me shoot at stuff, hey? But I’d hire out my Momma out for target practice, to own summa this art!

Bob: So Monty, let’s have a wander down our virtual meat-art exhibition. First up is this wonderful sculpture of a house, made out of meat! Look at the plumpness of those sausage walls.

What a treat! A house made of meat!

Monty: Holy hell, Bob, I’d love to be livin’ in a house’ made outta meat! It sure beat my lil huntin’ hut fer sure. If I was hankerin’ for supper, I could jus’ lick the walls! Neat, hey?

Bob: And here’s the American Star-Spangled Banner – or should that be the Star Spangled Dinner! This wonderful work of meat art tastes as good as it looks.

It's the streaky bacon Stars and Stripes!

Monty: Now that is one ‘Merican flag I’d like to see goin’ up in flames… on tha’ grill, that is! I’m kinda inspired to be makin’ my own flag outta somethin’ patriotic, like beaver guts. That would hang mighty fine on ma meat wall in ma meat house, hey? Meat. I love ya.

Bob: Meat has also made its way onto the catwalk! Look at this wearable work of art – a dress made out of meat! Never mind those little black cocktail dresses ladies, if you want to impress your man on a date, I’d slip into this cheeky little bacon number.

A meat dress! Eww.

Monty: Bob, I’d even be tempted to go onna date with a lil lady if she were wearin’ that getup! Hell, I’d date a one-legged leprechaun with rabies if he were wearin’ a meat dress!

Bob: Ladies, this outfit may melt a hunter’s heart, but just remember that wearing this dress in warm environments like nightclubs can attract unwanted attention. And I’m not just talking about attracting bar flies! But also maggots and other parasitic infestations.

Monty: Good advice there Bob, I’d be keepin’ a can of fly spray in ma purse jus’ to be safe. Anyhoo, all this meat art stuff is makin’ ma belly make a noise like when we rolled that badger down a hill in an oil drum. Remember that, Bob? He were not a happy badger, that’s fer sure!

Bob: I don’t think we ever did that, Monty. Anyway, join us again next time for another Meat Beat! And don’t forget – meat is murder – but the good kind!


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