WILMA Arrested in Red Square Campaigning for Gay Rights
Join the Pink Post EuroVision Protest
In an “ironic” twist, a Gay Rights march was stopped in Red Square in Moscow, yesterday. Ironic, as the march was planned to coincide with the Euro Vision Song Contest which is, as everyone knows, disproportionately representative of Gay artistes and presenters – for example the UK’s favourite Gay presenter Graham Norton.
WILMA PROOPS ARRESTED
Peter Tatchell – a seasoned Gay Rights Activist – was among those stopped from exercising our human right to protest peacefully. This brave man, one of the few with enough balls to stand up to the evil Robert Mugabe, is a personal friend of Wilma Proops who was arrested in an alternative Red Square protest and is still being held. Unfortunately Tatchell was kept unaware of Wilma’s arrest or else he’d have brought it to the media’s attention. Indeed, without the internet Wilma’s plight might still be a secret!
INFORMATION SKETCHY ABOUT THE PROTEST
According to one eye-witness account, Wilma’s one woman protest, choreographed by Nigella de Shackley (responsible for the outstanding multi media production of Stench City) was truly captivating – even in its toned down version which did not make use of a strap on phallus. The dance did however employ Satanic symbolism but only to bring attention to the ridiculous homophobia of the current, unworldly, Moscow ruling elite. Reports are sketchy but Wilma’s protest is said to have involved “gyration” and a “life sized, stuffed toy goat”
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PROTEST AGAINST RUSSIAN HOMOPHOBES!
In a tactic copied from another protest (details available HERE) we beseech anyone reading this to send a pair of clean (preferably new) PINK KNICKERS, BOXERS or a THONG to The Mayor, off Red Square, Moscow, Russia.
Messages of support can be left below
Dealing With Farting Children
In these days of political, economic and climatic extremism, fundamental questions go unasked. Some of my readers have been asking for advice on how to deal with children who fart in public and find doing so hilarious. If you find your farting child difficult to deal with, this could help you:
Are Farts Funny?
What do you think? I think they are and if you don't you should chill out and let rip. Sounds dramatic - it surely can be - but read and consider the following before you answer, make your mind up or (indeed) let rip from the mouth in your pants!
A year ago, my friend's eldest, a boy of 5, thought it would be extremely funny if, (when his parents were entertaining important guests), he were to walk into the room where the group were enjoying after dinner drinks and small talk, and emit a very loud fart.
The child did just that and, post-emission, broke down in tears of laughter. His Father was furious and marched the offending boy from the room. His Mother asked forgiveness of her guests. The guests looked embarrassed made some diplomatic remarks and the whole affair was, rather uncomfortably, not mentioned again during the course of what became an uncomfortable evening.
When my friend related this embarrassing incident to me, although I tried not to laugh, I was unable to fully contain myself. My friend was annoyed but I told her she was a hypocrite and listed several occasions in the past when she herself had laughed at farts. She refused to agree so I listed the occasions:
Firstly, I reminded her of the rhyme we were fond of when we were children - a rhyme we were told came from the tomb stone of a man in a small parish church in Worcestershire, England. It went like this:
Where'er you be
Let a Fart Go Free
For "twere the want of a fart
That killed poor me!
My friend started to smile but still didn't see the humour in the incident we discussed. Not perturbed I reminded her of another childhood verse we must have recited a thousand times between us; this went:
Tarzan in the jungle
Got the belly ache
Wants to go to the toilet
Plurp, plurp [fart noise, fart noise]
Too late!
The switch went on and my friend started to laugh. I motioned a couple more anecdotes from our past including:
When we were eleven we'd named fart types, just like millions have done in the past are doing now and will in the future. For us farts, loosely fell into two categories “rumblers” and “splips”. The biggest fart, the one we aimed for, was the “dynamite black rumbly”. The smallest fart, the one that we found very disappointing upon producing yet did cause us a different kind of amusement - think giggle as opposed to the guffaws that followed dynamite black rumblies - was from the Splip genus and known simply as a “light-switch”.
I shall not repeat other weirder stories here but, anyway, it was reminiscing about a recent fart incident that had her rolling about laughing...
My friend continued to laugh but protested “but that was when we were young”.
“Excuse me?” I said - “what about two months ago?
“What about two months ago?”
Two months ago my friend (the mother of the farting child who caused this discussion) had called to relate a tale a friend had told her that day. She'd found it extremely funny and wanted to share it with me.
Dave X (I shall not name him) had remarked to her that he'd thought someone was driving a Harley 1250 motorbike through his kitchen yesterday but was relieved to discover it was (merely) the sound of his wife farting as she prepared food.
My friend was still laughing when I returned to the subject of her dog-housed five year old by enquiring “Don't you think you're sending your son mixed messages?” She was cracking up when her son (the farter) entered the room and I did something I hadn't done in front of her for a good twenty years and probably more - I shall not name the act, but it was from the genus rumbly!
I laughed, she laughed and her son went into near hysterics. We had some explaining to do to her husband later that evening, but as expected, given a few drinks and convivial company he too laughed and in so doing found farts funny.
Proof positive that Farts are Funny.
NEWSFLASH!
You can have too much of a good thing and too many farts can ruin the soup - a vile distortion of a much used cliche but nevertheless illustrative of the following point:
Recently I visited the home which inspired this article only to discover that, with several whoopee cushions, remote controlled fart machines and fart ring tones a plenty - farts are sometimes extremely unfunny... and can be very boring. As with the writing of comedy - particularly for stage - timing is essential as is the frequency of any punchline.
UNIQUE FOREX ADVISE
Wilma solves this client's problem:
Washington DC
9th April 2010
Dear Mrs Proops
It was suggested that I contact you for some financial advice. I've spoken to a couple of Financial Advisers but found, quite frankly, that they were smarmy wankers who'd probably sell their grand-mothers for a quid. I've £50,000 to invest and someone suggested FOREX - whatever that is, what would you suggest Wilma?
Yours sincerely
Name and Adrress withheld for National Security Reasons
May 2nd 2009
London
Dear Mr P,
You seem a good judge of character as, in my experience, most Financial Advisers are smarmy wankers who would indeed sell their grannies. The only thing we disagree about is the amount they'd sell them for - I'd suggest a penny would be enough to seal the deal with them!
Before I offer my advice on how I'd invest your money, let me tell you a story about FOREX... or more precisely, my mistake with FOREX – so you...
Don’t You Make the Same Mistake as
Wilma Proops!
The Events Leading up to My FOREX Mistake…
As you probably know Shirley, I’m just an average woman but I suppose, if I have to admit it, men like giving me money more than they do the average woman. For instance Burt Pillock (not his real name) gave me £50,000 once so I wouldn’t finish with him.
I took the money, more for his own good than anything else (I'm not a selfish woman). If I'd not taken it he’d have only spent it on his stupid children who, in my opinion, had more than they could ever need. I was always urging him to cut the strings and make his children stand on their own two feet but BP would never take my advice.
After I’d accepted the money and his cheque had cleared into my offshore account, BP still refused to take my advice. I wanted him to sign over his nice little apartment in Tenerife to my oldest daughter – she deserved a break – unlike that snooty little madam (BP’s eldest daughter) who really needed the lesson which many snooty sons and daughters of the landed gentry need – but Burt refused. He did offer to buy my daughter a similar apartment in Tenerife, indeed I allowed the purchase to go through and the deeds to be lodged with my Swiss Bank – but I found the compromise annoying. I am an accomplished Agony Aunt - to the Stars - and I did not appreciate him not acting on my advice.
I therefore decided I would finish with BP and moved out all my belongings, including the bespoke kitchen and bathroom fixtures and fittings because - morally - they were mine. After all, who had chosen the marble and slate finishes, found the tile maker in Tuscany, sourced the interior designer and the old pine kitchen cupboards? Precisely! Anyway, I knew BP wouldn’t mind as I had video footage and pictures of him that would destroy his credibility on Wall Street and anywhere else for that matter. As I said, what really angered me was that Burt never took all of my advice and on more than two occasions had actually had the temerity not to do exactly what I told him.
Pillock! How dare he? He needed this valuable lesson taught him. Yes, it might be acceptable to some women, but not Wilma Proops. Remember, I am the ONLY Comedy Problem Page owner in the world. It was a professional insult for BP not to follow my instructions to the letter. Anyway, with Burt out of the way I decided that I’d either put the £50k on a horse or look into FOREX. I decided on the latter. I based my decision on the flip of the coin. I suppose being in this position is hard for most to comprehend. I’m not saying that I couldn’t have spent the money on something better – it would have paid for a brilliant holiday for me and my daughter – but really I couldn’t have cared less. You see, I don’t actually need money, correction any more money. I’ve accounts bursting, trickling up to higher interest rates, I own my own properties, I never pick up any bills – just pass them on to the relevant man in my life – eg Brian pays my credit cards, Trevor pays my staff, Gilbert my utility bills and Nigel (bless) has a chain of exclusive boutiques I can raid. I particularly like the one in Seges, south of Barcelona. But I digress:
Things I discovered about Forex. I’d always thought it was a weed killer and was surprised to find it stood for Foreign Exchange. Then I learnt, it wasn’t any old foreign exchange, it was currency. FOREX then, is the dealing in foreign currencies. I grasped the idea immediately. Basically, at the end of the day, what you do is buy currencies that you guess will increase in value and exchange them for other currencies you think will increase in value. Trick is I was told by Dan (since dumped, one of those smarmy wankers we mentioned above) to exchange at a peak into something that was just coming out of a troff. Equipped with this information I put the lot into the currency of Zimbabwe. A long shot I realised, but (admit it), like the gee-gees (the 'orses) they are more exciting! To cut a long story short, my £50k was turned into 50p overnight. Quite funny really.
What Would I do if I Were You With £50,000 to Invest?
Shirley, you're a woman fast approaching your fiftieth birthday, and you have two children who you've brought up well. I've done my research and your daughters are a credit to you. Both have huge potential. What I'd do is put the lot into a pension policy for you - but not one of those the smarmy Financial Advisers recommended - they only recommended those because they get 30% commission.
WILMA PROOPS' RECOMMENDED PENSION POLICY
Our children are our pension policies. Give them £20,000 each with various conditions. You'll get it back tenfold - in cash and kind. Compare that to the .05% I got from Scottish Widows for a 10 year with profits saving scheme. (I fell for that one hook line and sinker - don't you - remember you won't get a bung when they float - I did!). Give your daughters the opportunity to set themselves up, buy property - when it goes down another 15% of course or start up their own business. The other £10k - help some poor unsuspecting young woman out with a gift of £8k - one without a caring Mother. When you do, don't brag about it as that is very vulgar and not the reason for doing it. The other £2k will pay for a long winter break in Crete - you know you love it there and who knows, you might get lucky!
Please Note: The contents of this article are entirely original and will be published nowhere else. ANY INFRINGEMENT of Wilma Proops' Copyright will be prosecuted. If you see any of Wilma's text reproduced on any grasping, rip off FOREX dealer sites or publications please inform Wilma immediately and she'll have "them sorted".
Wibble Wobble Wilma on the Plate - a Glimpse of Wilma at Home
Wobble Your Fat Away!
Wilma's Secret Exercise Regime with a Vibration Plate Exerciser
Start Wobbling Your Fat Away!
Image via Wikipedia
Discovering Vibration Machines and Losing Body Fat
I didn’t know anything about Vibration machines when I first stood, wobbling on one. I was asked to stand on the machine’s platform by my daughter and, when she saw the way the fat on my belly wiggled, I realised why she’s asked me to stand on it – she wanted to laugh at her big, fat Mommy. And did she laugh! In the end she was doubled up on the settee, holding her stomach, crying with tears begging me to stop wobbling my fat. But I didn’t. In fact I increased the rate at which my fat wobbled by turning up a dial.
Oh, How She Laughed!
At this point my daughter was heaving with laughter and apparently in pain. She beseeched me, between guffaws, to “get off”. I did (temporarily) and within a minute her laughter had subsided. However, before she could leave the room and escape, I played a master stroke. I quickly pulled up my skirt and sat on the Fat Wobbler in my pair of sensible white knickers.
Click on the image above for details of where to buy this Vibration Exercise Machine as used by Wilma Proops and referred to in this article. Please leave after purchase reviews in the comments section. Start wobbling your fat away soon!
Bum and Tum Wobbling
Now, instead of her laughing uncontrollably about my bulging belly wobbly, she laughed at the fat ripples on my huge fat bum. I saw for myself in the mirror why she found the spectacle so funny. It reminded me of a skipping song I’d used in my youth:
“jelly on the plate, jelly on the plate,
wibble-wobble, wibble-wobble,
jelly on the plate”
When I recited this verse, dead-pan, while the fat on my big bum wobbled my daughter’s laughter turned to donkey-like brays.
Ten Minutes Every Other Day is all that is Needed!
I would have sat thus for longer and prolonged my daughter’s laughter and pain but I started to feel tired and – after ten minutes standing and latterly sitting on the Fat Wobbling Machine I was bored. Without any notification I stood (albeit in a somewhat undignified manner) and took myself from the room. On the way out I snatched a leaflet about the Fat Wobbling Machine or Vibration Plate Exercise Machine as I discovered it was called.
Bananas and Custard
I went to the kitchen and did myself a snack of bananas and custard. I’d been sitting in front of my computer all day and the walk from my daughter’s room to the kitchen and then to the sitting room, was the longest walk I’d had all day. I sat contentedly in front of the now activated television and slurped gob-fulls of very tasty yellow goo into my mouth. There was nothing much on so I read the leaflet.
Click to Read Part 2 of Wobble Your Fat Away and discover how I lost my body fat and stopped being the slob I had become
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