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***************************THE BACK ISSUES**********************************
*******************PARTS SEVENTY-ONE TO SEVENTY-FIVE************************
     (Written by Daniel Bowen, Monash University, Melbourne Australia)
                 (Send e-mail to tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu)

_______________________________________________________________________________
Just A Little Toxic Custard


- Told you it would shrink.
-- Yeah yeah, okay, you're right. You should never mix exams with custard.
- Yep. So, will you do the announcement, or shall I?
-- You can do it
- Okay. Where's that shift-lock key?
        LADIES AND GENTLEMAN. DUE TO THE AUTHOR BEING                         Y
        IN THE MIDDLE OF EXAMS, THIS WEEK TOXIC CUSTARD                       e
        WILL BE A SPECIAL *MINIATURE* EDITION.                                s

*****  ***  *       * ****   ***** **   TOXIC  CUSTARD  WORKSHOP  FILES       f
  *   *      *     *  *          *  *   NUMBER 71  - 18TH NOVEMBER 1991       o
 M*I N*I A T U*R*E*   ***E D I T*I O*N  -------------------------------       l
  *    ***     * *    *        *   ***      Written by Daniel Bowen           k
                                                                              s
Housewives - sick of tidying up the house? Well, nail down anything           ,
you want to keep.. 'cos here comes SUPER VACUUM! Especially designed
for that lazy git of a husband, it will suck up anything and everything       t
within a ten metre radius of the suction hose. SUPER VACUUM is now            h
used on drugs raids - it never fails to suck up all the stuff!                a
Available exclusively from SUPER VACUUM Ltd- SV Nails.. the only              t
reinforced super-strength nails guaranteed to hold the furniture              '
down. Also protection against nuclear blasts (though the objects              s
themselves may well disintegrate).
                                                                              r
          SUPER VACUUM - You will believe a man can clean.                    i
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -         g
                                                                              h
RICHARD III - ACT 4, SCENE 2: London, The Palace                              t
                                                                              :
*Grammy award-winning Sennet. Enter Richard, in pomp, crowned;
Buckingham, Catesby, a Page, and others*                                      A

KING RICHARD: Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham!                          b
                                                                              i
BUCKINGHAM: My gracious handsome sovereign!                                   g

KING RICHARD: Give me thy hand, sweetie.                                      3
                                                                              5
*Trumpets sound and the court looks embarassed as he ascends the              %
throne and puts a coin in the condom machine*
                                                                              o
KING RICHARD: Thus high, by thy advice and contacts,                          f
              And thy assistance, is King Richard out of his skull:           f
              But shall we wear this cool skin for a day?
              Or shall it last, and we rejoice in them?                       a
                                                                              l
BUCKINGHAM: Still protect they and for ever let them last!                    l

KING RICHARD: Ah Buckingham, now do I play the touch,                         T
              To try if thou wouldst come back to my place:                   o
              I forget my line; think now what I would speak.                 x
                                                                              i
BUCKINGHAM: Say on, my loving lord.                                           c

KING RICHARD: Why, Buckingham, I saw I would be king.                         C
                                                                              u
BUCKINGHAM: Why, so you are, my well-endowed lord.                            s
                                                                              t
KING RICHARD: Enough of this palace, come with me Buck,                       a
              We'll go back to my castle and both have a                      r
                                                                              d
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                     s
Well, we'll throw TCWF onto the rack and
make sure it's stretched to a decent size                                     t
by next Monday. Have a good week.                                             h
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                     i
                                                                              s
Next week in Toxic Custard, we'll be interviewing at St Nick..
Satan.. Lucifer.. yes, the devil himself. And asking the question..           w
Does the Prince of Darkness suffer from nyctophobia?                          e
--                                                                            e
Copyright (c) 1991 Daniel Bowen                                               k
--
Daniel Bowen, in the middle of exams at |                                     o
Monash University, Melbourne, Australia |     Solar flares are                n
   edb134tbp2@vx24.cc.monash.edu.au     |     still in fashion.               l
---Toxic Custard: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu---|                                     y
                                                                              !

_______________________________________________________________________________
Frozen Toxic Custard Concentrate


                                                      -----
                         ---------------------------  |7|2|
                         |      TOXIC CUSTARD      |  -----
                         |via Malady and Berk Roads|
                         ---------------------------
KURDISTAN ARMY CHANT

We are tough and we are mean         (we are tough and we are mean)           W
The crimes against us are obscene    (crimes against us are obscene)          e
It's Saddam- One and us Kurds- Nil   (Saddam- One and us Kurds- Nil)          l
If we don't stop him no-one will     (we don't stop him no-one will)          l
    Who will? (Who will?) We will. (We will). U.N.? (No chance)               ,

Allies fought and saved Kuwait       (Allies fought and saved Kuwait)         t
Saddam beaten? Give me a break       (Saddam beaten? ...me a break)           h
We run round and yell this chant     (we run round and yell this chant)       a
And don't you love our baggy pants?  (don't you love our baggy pants?)        n
    Who does? (Who does?) You does. (You does?) Do you? (Oh yeah!)            k

Patriots saved the Jews from Scuds   ('triots saved the Jews from Scuds)      G
But we're still cold and eating mud  (we're still cold and eating mud)        o
So spare a thought for us poor Kurds (spare a thought for us poor Kurds)      d
We'll stop now, we're out of words   (we'll stop now, we're out of words)
    Who are? (Who are?) We are. (We are?) Are we? (Oh, good!)                 t
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -     h
                                                                              o
The new, some would say revolutionary, plans for the economy put              s
forward by Federal Opposition leader John Whatsisname last week were          e
leaked early by the Government. In fact the Government had planned to
replace the front cover of the document with a page saying "Written           e
And Prepared By That Brilliant And Incredible All-Australian MAN The          x
Prime Minister Bob Hawke Corr Blimey He's Good At Cricket", in an             a
attempt to pass off the document as the Government's own. But someone         m
forgot.                                                                       s
    Anyway, included in the document are many plans to irrevocably
change this country (Overseas readers, please read "that country down         a
under where the kangaroos and stuff live"):                                   r
    - encouraging people to save by making everything so expensive            e
           they can't afford to buy anything
    - tax cuts, with an added bonus of the public stoning of                  o
           Australian Taxation Department officials                           v
    - a system to ensure that jobs go to rich people (P.F.D - Positive        e
           Ferrari Discrimination)                                            r
    - compulsory reading of Toxic Custard for all citizens earning            ,
           less than $40,000 a year and not driving expensive
           European cars                                                      a
    This last move has been widely condemned by humanitarian                  n
organisations. World governments also reacted. US Vice-President Dan          d
Quayle made an impassioned plea, saying "I've read this stuff, and
even I can't understand it." An Indonesian Government spokesman said          I
"And you thought *we* were bad." And Saddam Hussein phoned to ask
where he could get a copy of the files, and to approve of the whole           c
plan. He's been using it for years, apparently.                               a
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -     n

As soon as Popsicle and Inspector Unnecessary-Violence had worked out         g
where they were going to, they went there. By asking themselves deep          e
and penetrating questions, they worked out that they were going to the        t
site of a recent nutmeg-related incident, in an effort to track down
the dealers.                                                                  b
    Popsicle left the Inspector to guard the car, and, after placing a        a
"Beware of the Policeman" sign on the windscreen, went to talk to some        c
of the neighbours. He made sure he was looking butch and knocked on           k
the door of Mrs Irene Busybody. The noise of the Super Vacuum (tm)
stopped, and the house stopped shaking. The door opened, and out              t
looked Mrs Busybody, the very image of primness in her thick dressing         o
gown, moccasins, hair-curlers and moustache.
    "What the hell do you want?"                                              t
    "Just a few questions about the murder last night, madam", replied        h
Popsicle in his best I-know-very-well-she'll-blab-to-the-media voice.         e
    "Oh yeah? Well, it was only one of those students. I'd hang the
lot of them. With their sex, drugs, rock'n'roll and all that                  i
late-night studying. They should piss off back to their universities          m
and never come back. Parasites on society, that's what they are. Going        p
around having more fun than the rest of us. Shameful, that's what I           o
call it. Shameful. And you know who I blame? Bloody immigrants, that's        r
who. They've come over to live here.. why don't they stay at home and         t
be oppressed there, like everyone else is? They come over to live             a
here, and get all the cushy easy unskilled jobs, like welding car             n
parts, or falling off oil platforms. They get all the unskilled jobs,         t
and the students think 'Oh, bugger that, I'll have to get smarter
before I try for a job.' So they go to bloody university and try and          t
get smarter.. lost cause, I reckon. You're either thick when you're           h
born, like my husband Fred, or you're smart, like me. Bloody students.        i
Bloody immigrants! I'll tell you who I blame for all those foreigners         n
coming over, too. Journalists. Scumbag filthy bloody journalists. If          g
no-one knew about governments going around massacring innocent people,        s
they'd never let those filthy foreigners into the country. With their
filthy fucking foreign food full of worms and mud and pasta and rice          i
and crap like that. Criminal, I call it. You know they just opened a          n
Chinese restaurant down the street? I called up my friends on the
phone, bloody Telecom phones, they're hopeless.. I called up my               l
friends and we're organising a Filthy Red Chinese Food Out Of                 i
Ignoramus Street rally next week. We rang up the Fascist Fuckwits             f
Federation; they said they'd help. Those foreigners, they can take            e
their fried rice and piss off back to their own countries, that's what        .
they can do. Anyway, what's the question?"
    "Well", said Popsicle. "I was just wondering if you knew anything         S
about who might have killed the dead nutmeg addict."                          u
    "Oh that's easy", said Mrs Busybody. "It was one of you coppers           c
that belted him over the head too hard during the raid yesterday. Good        h
job too. One less student in the world. Fred!" she called. "Start 'er
up again!" And she slammed the door as the house began to shake again.        a
    Popsicle went back to the car considering early retirement, and           s
found Inspector Unnecessary-Violence, who had by now recognised where
he was and was trying to look as if he'd never been there before.             .
                                                                              .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                           .
Popsicle will continue sometime before the end of
time. TCWF will be back next week. Back-issues are                            u
available; send e-mail to tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for                             m
details. Does anyone want to hear about Rocket                                m
Roger (rocketroger@gnu.ai.mit.edu)? No? I thought                             .
not. The author of that won't be surprised.                                   .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                           .

Copyright (c) 1991 Daniel Bowen                                               e
--                                                                            r
Daniel Bowen, Monash University |                                             r
Melbourne, Australia------------|  The boy stood on the burning deck          .
edb134tbp2@vx24.cc.monash.edu.au|  "No more cards", his mother said.          .
====TCWF tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu====|                                             .

_______________________________________________________________________________
Original Rivetted Toxic Custard

     __         _            __        __
    |          | \          |__|      |       Number 73 - 2nd December 1991
TOXI|    CUSTAR|  |  WORKSHO|     FILE|__     Badly written by Daniel Bowen
    |__        |_/          |          __|.................................

Freedom of speech is a wonderful thing. I'm proud to say that the Toxic       A
Custard Workshop Files is not subject to any censorship whatsoever. So,       n
if I want to say that the ********** sucks, or that the **** *******          d
***** ********** ****** with cabbages, I can. Not to mention the
University. Personally, I never believed that the Vice-Chancellor             y
********** ***** **** ******* **** sheep. But apparently it's true.           e
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -       a
                                                                              ,
MRS IRENE BUSYBODY SPEAKS OUT ON...
                                                                              t
The Recession. Government? What have the bloody government got to do          h
with economics? Stuff all, I reckon. I mean, I know the government are        e
a bunch of idiots who pretend to run the country - and we pay them for        y
the privilege, but in fact they don't run anything. All they do is
stand around in their big Houses of Parliament... why the hell is it          d
HouseS.. plural.. there's only one of them. I've seen it on the telly..       i
one big huge humungous building that cost zillions. They stand around         d
in their House of Parliament .. well, they sit, mostly, the lazy gits,
and they argue with each other all the time. I've seen that on the            v
telly, too. And for that they get paid loads of money. Anyway, do you         e
want to know who I blame for the recession? Do you? Oh, you don't,            r
okay. Well, I'm gonna bloody tell you anyway. It's not the government.        i
It's not the stock market people either - those yuppie gits in their          l
striped shirts standing on the trading floors shouting their heads off        y
to "Sell!" or "Buy! Buy! Buy!" or whatever the hell they're shouting..
I think they're trying to order lunch from the blokes at the front with       r
the chalk. "Pie! Pie! Pie!". You can tell, 'cos those prices on the           e
boards look very like the prices written on the big menu at the fish          a
and chips shop. Anyway, you think those gits in the stock exchange            d
could possibly have caused the recession? Nah, they can't even order a        e
hamburger successfully. I blame the recession on TV game shows. I mean,       t
it's obvious, isn't it. Those prize idiots are giving away bigger and         h
bigger prizes on their TV shows, to those smart arses that go on those
shows. Great. They give away cars and holidays and VCRs... oh, those          f
bloody VCRs. Who can work the buggers? With all those buttons, you'd          r
think it controlled the bloody space shuttle. No, serious, I once saw a       o
film of inside the space control centre, and they were pressing little        m
buttons just like on the remote control on the video. Only instead of
"Play" it said "Launch". No difference. And they blamed the Challenger        t
disaster on a rocket thingy exploding or whatever they blamed it on.          h
Nope. Absolutely not. Someone at NASA got hold of a control unit,             e
thinking it was for their vcr. They probably wanted to record Days Of
Our Lives or something... and KABOOM. Seven astronauts blown into bits        b
the size of sand through an hourglass. Anyway, the recession. What was        o
I talking about? Game shows. Yeah. Every single person who goes on a          o
game show and wins a new telly or a matching set of fake gold jewellry        k
has to spend a day or two at a tv studio recording it, instead of at
work. And that's why the country is in such a state. So, bloody Sale of       o
the Century... Wheel Of Fortune... they should be banned. It's all lost       f
worker productivity. Huh. Workers. Lazy gits, all of them. They should
all be sacked. You know who I blame for workers being lazy? Unions.           C
Yeah, unions. They all want something for nothing, those bloody trade         u
unions. Minimum wages, I ask you.. safe working conditions..? I mean,         s
if more workers were killed in accidents, it would soon solve the             t
unemployment problems.                                                        a
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -       r
                                                                              d
THE ADVENTURES OF *POPSICLE*                                                  .
Please note: The absence of asterisks in last week's episode was due to
the international asterisk shortage. And because I forgot.                    A
                                                                              n
*Popsicle* and Inspector Unnecessary-Violence are (or were, depending         d
on tense) hot (or cold, depending on the weather) on (or off, depending
on the switch) the (or a, depending on the determinacy or otherwise of        t
the article) trail (or path, depending on your point of view, I expect)       h
of a gang nutmeg dealers. After investigating closely the scene of a          e
nutmeg-related murder in the previous episode, they spent the first
paragraph of this episode explaining what they had been doing in the          s
previous episode.                                                             c
    *Popsicle* decided to try something different in finding out the          r
identities of nutmeg dealers in the area. He looked up "Nutmeg" in the        i
Yellow Pages. And found sod all. He was desperate by now, but decided         p
he should think about the case instead. As *Popsicle* and the Inspector       t
drove along in the exceptionally fabulously designed and exceptionally        u
cheaply built A.R.S.E. custom vehicle, they just happened (pure               r
coincidence, you understand; not just a plot device to finish up the          e
story quickly due to the author running out of ideas) to see a truck in       s
front of them, which suddenly swerved, distributing a large number of
nutmegs on the road. *Popsicle*, having decided to drive on this              w
occasion, opened a window and let out a whoop that had got inside the         e
car somehow, and sped after the truck, while the Inspector turned on          r
the special A.R.S.E. siren that was fitted to their car.                      e
    "Halt! You, yes *you*, the one in the large white truck, are being
pursued by the Australian Royal Security Establishment. Please stop           l
your vehicle and surrender before we blow your fuckin' brains out",           o
said the spoken bit of the siren, which was accompanied by the loud           n
wailing of the siren which made the spoken bit almost unintelligible.         g
    The truck driver either decided that he didn't want to stop, or           ,
couldn't hear the spoken bit of the siren, since he kept driving.
*Popsicle* ran over a couple of small dogs as he increased speed, and         b
turned quickly into a laneway to follow the truck. Both vehicles sped         o
through lanes and streets, going bloody fast and miraculously not             r
hitting anything though they were on the wrong side of the road half          i
the time and ignoring all the traffic lights, just like on car chase          n
films. After half a dozen cliched turns, it was getting very boring for       g
the readers, so the truck ran out of petrol and slid to a halt by a
pile of dustbins.                                                             a
                                                                              n
  WILL THE AUTHOR HAVE THE TIME TO WRITE A DECENT EPISODE NEXT WEEK?          d
    ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT.
                                                                              n
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                       o
That was another of them Toxic Custard Workshops. And                         t
The Adventures of *Popsicle* will continue sometime
after now, and sometime before they finish. Back-issues                       v
of this crud are now available. If you must, then                             e
send mail to tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details, or reply                        r
to this. Also rumoured to be still available is the                           y
tedious adventures of Rocket Roger. For that, send mail
to rocketroger@gnu.ai.mit.edu  Can you hear "With a                           f
little plug from my friends" playing in the background?                       u
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                       n
                                                                              n
Copyright (c) 1991 Daniel Bowen             Wall Street Rally                 y
--                                  _________                _________        .
Daniel Bowen, Monash University |  |DOW JONES|   ________   |GREENBACK|
Melbourne, Australia------------|  |   FOR   |  |FT INDEX|  | We love |
At a new, unknown e-mail address|  |PRESIDENT|  |RULES OK|  |___you___|
------tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-------|  |_________|  |________|

_______________________________________________________________________________
Highly Combustible Toxic Custard


::::: ::::: :   : ::::: ::::: :   :      TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES #74     T
  :   :     :   : :         : :   :                     9th December 1991     h
  :   :     : : : ::::      : :::::               Written by Daniel Bowen     e
..:...:::::.:::::.:.........:.....:......(vac673b@monu6.cc.monash.edu.au)     r
                                                                              e
This is like, the Hippy News, so mellow out. That mega-heavy dude the
Prime Minister spilled out a big floral shoulder-bag full of bad vibes on     i
Friday when he kicked the chief bread-head John Kerin from the                s
Treasurer's position, which is like a real shame man, 'cos John was like
one of the mellowest and coolest Treasurers ever. Okay, so the recession      o
is really really heavy and uncool, but all you gotta do is take it slow,      n
roll yourself a joint and take it easy, man, it'll sort itself out.           l
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -     y

THE TWO SIDES OF THE BRAIN                                                    o
                                                                              n
- I *want* that chocolate.                                                    e

-- Don't be silly, it's too sweet; it'll rot your teeth.                      p
                                                                              e
- One little chocolate can't hurt.                                            r
                                                                              s
-- All your teeth will fall out and everyone will laugh at you for having     o
no teeth and you'll have to pay the dentist three zillion dollars to have     n
a full set of false ones put in.
                                                                              m
- Mmm... milk chocolate. I can't resist milk chocolate.                       o
                                                                              r
-- That one chocolate will mean you'll have to exercise for ten hours         e
every day for the next two years to burn off the excess fat you gain from
it. You'll be bloated, huge, round. You won't walk out of the 7-11;           s
you'll roll out. You'll look like the enormous fat pig that you are, you      t
chocolate maniac.                                                             u
                                                                              p
- One chocolate... just one.                                                  i
                                                                              d
-- Oh sure, you say just one. But you'll get hooked and be eating thirty
a day for the rest of your life. Hideous spots will appear all over your      t
face, and you'll look completely repulsive to any other members of the        h
human race.                                                                   a
                                                                              n
- But it looks so *tasty*!
                                                                              t
-- Well of course it looks tasty. It's specially developed by the             h
chocolate companies to look tasty. You don't think they'd market a            e
chocolate that looked totally revolting, do you? It's meant to look
sumptuous, seductive and delicious. But that chocolate will block your        a
arteries.. you'll have heart disease or something horribly gory and           u
dangerous like a heart attack. You'll be dead before you've even thrown       t
away the wrapper.                                                             h
                                                                              o
- I love chocolate. I want that chocolate.                                    r

-- Oh sod it, you're right. Eat eat eat!                                      o
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -     f

Once upon a time there lived a frog, who basically spent most of his time     t
hanging around a swamp. He would have hopped around instead, but he was a     h
very rebellious frog, who felt that he shouldn't have to be subjected to      i
the usual frog cliches in fairy-tales. Anyway, this frog naturally wanted     s
to go far in the world. He was aiming for promotion, hopefully before the
story finished, and was therefore forever on the lookout for any good         u
looking princesses who might be hanging around as well. With luck he'd be     s
able to get a kiss from one to transmogrify himself into a fairly rich,       e
moderately handsome and well-hung prince.                                     l
    The frog's name was Roger, pronounced "Rogger" for reasons that will      e
be apparent to all but the most unknowledgable of readers. Roger              s
preferred to be known as Rog (pronounced "Rogg") so we'll stop calling        s
him Roger and start calling him Rog, beginning with the next paragraph.
    Rog was having a pretty rotten day, all things considered. He'd not       s
spotted any princesses around the swamp all day, not even a hideously         i
ugly one, and to can it all, he had a migraine. There was a mist rising       d
above the swamp, and he decided, in a move destined to anger those            e
supporting more radical roles for frogs in stories, to bounce home.           w
    After passing a Pipa, he bounced into a very misty area of the swamp,     a
landing on a log, where he found a (lo and behold!) princess. The             y
princess was sitting on the log, and looked down at Rog, who grinned          s
back. Rog realised that this particular log was in the centre of the
marsh, which was not a particularly likely or terrific place for a            m
princess to be sitting. But hell, it was just the way the story was           e
running, so it would have to be here.                                         s
    "Yeuch, a frog!" screamed the princess in Greek, mainly because she       s
was Greek, the dialogue being shown in English because the author and         a
most of the readers didn't speak Greek. The princess, being a typically       g
civilised and dignified member of the human race, was of course armed to      e
the teeth. But also being only a young child princess (not really one of      .
the ones Rog had been looking for), the weapon in this princess'
possession was a slingshot. Which she fired roughly in Rog's direction -      A
not a very friendly thing to do in the circumstances; something which         n
became obvious when the small stone from the slingshot hit Rog, most of       d
whom exploded in a splash of green bits. And all that Rog the Frog had
wanted to do was to snog with a wog on a log in the bog during a fog.         t
                                                                              h
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -     a
                                                                              t
MRS IRENE BUSYBODY SPEAKS OUT ON...                                           '
Fairy tales. It's shocking the junk that we feed our kids. Thank Christ       s
they're moving away from that bullcrap nowadays, and giving them those
Teenage Mutated Ninja Tortoises. Those fairy tales were just promoting        y
boring peaceful sixties values in our kiddies. Well, okay, I know that        o
most of them were written before the 1960s, but that's not the point;         u
most fairy tales were written in the sixties of different centuries,          ;
which throughout history have been known for their revolutionary music
and peaceful long-haired people. The Great Fire of London actually            t
started from a commune of seventeenth century hippies who lost control of     h
a Restoration joint. See how dangerous drugs are? It's that type of           e
peaceloving wet wimp what wrote those things. The whole concept of fairy
tales corrupted the little kiddies for years, you know. Just the name is      o
suspect. "Fairy"? I blame AIDS on fairy tales. It's fairy tales that          n
promote peace and love and stuff.. and of course we all know who's to         e
blame for AIDS. Well, those immigrants brought it over from Africa,
didn't they; then they gave it to the gays and the drug users through the     r
toilet seats and stuff. I think we should ship all of them, all the poofs     e
and all the drug users and blacks and immigrants and haemophiliacs to         a
Africa and re-build every toilet in the country. That'd get rid of AIDS       d
for good.                                                                     i
                                                                              n
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                 g
Toxic Custard is over for another week, thank
God. For back-issues mail tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu                                 i
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                 t
Copyright (c) 1991 Daniel Bowen                                               .
--
Daniel Bowen, Monash University, Melbourne Australia------------With his second
vac673b@monu6.cc.monash.edu.au   TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu---shortest sig ever!

_______________________________________________________________________________
Toxic Blue/Green Custard Algae

....______..._______...................................................
.     T  /C  |W   F    TOXIC         Number 75                        .
.       /    |_____    CUSTARD       by Daniel Bowen                  .
.      /           \   WORKSHOP      vac673b@monu6.cc.monash.edu.au   .
....../......______/...FILES.........Accept no Pictures of Lily........

MRS IRENE BUSYBODY SPEAKS OUT ON...                                           E
The Arts. What a load of poncy namby-pamby poofters artists are. Look         v
at ballet.. you know it's true that no-one in ballet is over thirty.          e
It's so competitive that ballet dancers are all killed by their rivals        r
within a year or two of making it big (principally in the crotch              y
department, needless to say). Ballet people who survive usually have
bullet-proof leotards, and become famous choreographers in their old          w
age. Just as well that only a few get that far really, or there'd be an       e
oversupply of famous choreographers. Imagine wild, unemployed famous          e
choreographers roaming the streets threatening people with their              k
pirouettes.
    Anyway, apart from ballet, there's painters. Why the hell don't           i
they make themselves useful and paint walls and houses and stuff,             t
instead of painting on bits of canvas. Though they'd have to paint            '
different stuff.. I know I wouldn't want some topless woman painted on        s
*my* outside wall for Fred to stare at and the neighbours to gossip
about. Some of those artistic splodges wouldn't be too bad - they'd           a
hide the stains well.
    Then there's musicians. With their noisy instruments. Quite apart         w
from those roll and rock people, who should all be beheaded for causing       o
noise pollution, all the poncy artistic classical twits. Ever noticed         r
how an orchestra is arranged in a formation that looks just like the          r
politicians in parliament? Classical music represents class..                 y
authority.. posh gits. And if they're all so musical, how come almost         :
anything you hear with only one instrument sounds like crap?
    Writers? Yuck. Ludicrous little-brained literature loving loonies.
    As for sculptors - disgusting, I call them. I blame most of               w
society's ills on sculptors. Bending their soft moist clay into all           h
sorts of filthy phallic symbols of disproportionate dimensions. They          a
should all be strung up by the testicles in public places, they'd soon        t
learn the importance of the genitalia and that it shouldn't be mocked
or modelled or stretched.                                                     w
                                                                              i
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -       l
                                                                              l
THE ADVENTURES OF *POPSICLE*
                                                                              g
*Popsicle* and Inspector Unnecessary-Violence are very hot on the trail       o
of a gang of nutmeg dealers. Having stopped a nutmeg truck by chasing
it for so long that it ran out of petrol, *Popsicle* and the Inspector        i
are about to confront the driver, and, if they possibly can, blow his         n
brains out all over the pavement, drowning a nearby small dog in blood,
in a horrifying cliche directly lifted from nine out of ten violent           t
police films.                                                                 h
    Inspector Unnecessary-Violence, having forgotten that he had              e
forgotten to bring his gun, pulled his banana (that his mum had given
to him as part of his lunch that day) from his holster and ran over to        s
the driver's side of the truck, brandishing it. With a deft movement of       i
his other hand, he pulled the door handle open and leapt into the             d
cabin, pushing the potentially lethal banana into the driver's face.          e
    "Freeze, punk!" he screamed.                                              w
    "But I'm not a punk", replied the driver, "I'm a supporter of the         a
reactivist-socio-modernist subgroup of the Footscraynian school of            y
political activism."                                                          s
    "So why do you have spiky purple hair, a leather jacket and torn
jeans?" screamed the Inspector.                                               m
    "It's my day off."                                                        e
    "Okay, pu.. Okay, supporter of the reactivist-socio-subgroup              s
modernist convert of the Footscraynian school of political activism:          s
freeze or I'll get violent and put the inside of this truck in grave          a
need of a respray job!" screamed the Inspector, who had done quite well       g
in a screaming course at the Police training school.                          e
    "Okay man, okay. Keep maricultural", said the driver, who had now
figured out that it might be a good idea to raise his hands, and had          t
done so.                                                                      h
    While *Popsicle* continued to look on, coolly leaning against the         i
car with the radio in his hand, trying to look like the sex symbol of         s
the team, the Inspector pulled the driver out of the truck and pushed
him into a pile of dustbins.                                                  t
    "Listen man, garbology examination studies aren't generally my            i
scene, right? And besides, if a garbo turns up now he's going to be           m
really generally pretty pissed off about the whole street/waste               e
situation re the garbage, you know?"                                          ?
    "Shuddup pu.. fucker! Now fuckin' listen to me!" the Inspector
screamed. "Me and my fuckin' colleague are on the fuckin' trail of a          C
gang of fuckin' nutmeg smugglers. And we saw fuckin' nutmegs coming out       o
of the back of your fuckin' motor, right? So, how the fuck do you             m
fuckin' explain that?"                                                        p
    "Hey man, lay off the vulgar quadruple letter arrangements or             l
you'll really like isolate yourself from the readers."                        e
    "Fuck them, I wanna know about the fuckin' nutmeg!" screamed the          t
Inspector.                                                                    e
    "Oh well like that's easy. I've never seen that stuff before. I
borrowed the truck from this really rad dude on campus. He said I could       c
borrow it to collect the joints for the party tonight on the condition        r
that I drop off the supply of cooking materials to his mate first."           a
    "Right!" screamed the Inspector. "So what's the fuckin' name this         p
fuckin' dude fucker?!?"
    "Rob", replied the ex-driver, now partially submerged in a garbage        a
bin. "He's a lecturer at the university."                                     s
    *Popsicle* sauntered over and pulled the man out of the bin, coolly
dusted him off and said coolly "Okay. That's cool. That's all the info        u
we wanted. See you. Stay cool."                                               s
    The Inspector put the banana back in his holster and followed             u
*Popsicle* back to the A.R.S.E vehicle, which in the great movie              a
tradition had been left on an angle half on the curb with its lights          l
still flashing and all the doors open. With a tricky but extremely            ,
smooth and cool procedure, *Popsicle* swerved the car back onto the
road in such a way that all the doors closed themselves and sped              i
towards the university.                                                       s

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                     t
Toxic Custard Workshop Files is over for another week;                        h
praise the Lord. The proclaimation has come forth from on                     e
high, and reads as follows: Back-issues are available -
send mail to tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details.                                 a
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                     n
--                                                                            s
Copyright (c) 1991 Daniel Bowen                                               w
--                                                                            e
Daniel Bowen, Monash University |    Wanted:  Two masked men                  r
            Melbourne Australia |    who stole the signature                  .
 vac673b@monu6.cc.monash.edu.au |    quote from this week's
      TCWF- tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu |    Toxic Custard.

_______________________________________________________________________________
To subscribe to the Toxic Custard Workshop Files, mail tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu

--
Copyright (c) 1991 Daniel Bowen
May be copied or reproduced without permission
provided this notice remains intact.
--
         Daniel Francis Bowen            | Remember - jumpers are
 Monash University, Melbourne, Australia | clothing's way of telling
----THE TOXIC-CUSTARD-WORKSHOP-FILES-----| you to pull over...
          tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu            | [Toxic Custard Workshop]

