Animal Talk (Pilot Radio Show)

This is the pilot for my new radio show "Animal Talk", in which I interpret animal noises and their meaning. Prepare for your mind to expand so far that your skull hurts!

As usual, I am accompanied by my young protege, and all-round good egg: Evander Paul.


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The History of the Light Switch

Hello, Henry Von Stifle here and I've just had a grilling down the phone from GMTV's Kate Garraway about my supposed bad behaviour at the after show party for Richard Hammonds book launch the other night. She said that she didn't see the fun in my act of placing my penis into Lorraine Kelly's left ear lobe whilst she was sleeping in the corner of the room underneath a pile of coats.

In the words of my great friend Michael Winner, 'Calm down dear', it was just a bit of fun - sticking your penis into someones ear whilst they're sleeping is hilarious British humour! And it wasn't erect! But don't worry Kate I'll make sure the photographs of the said 'joke' never see the light of day, they will remain with my personal stash along with the other celebrities whose ears have had my penis placed inside them.

And anyway, what was she doing asleep at a party!? I know she has to get up early every morning but bloody hell. You deserve everything you get if you fall asleep at social events such as the one the other night. She's lucky is was just her ear that had a cock in it - if Barrymore had been there it could have been a lot worse for her.

You're only moaning Garraway because it wasn't your ear that got to experience the feeling of having my meat truncheon inside it. Come on, admit it! I like it when a woman plays hard to get but you can drop the charade now. I may have been a bit tipsy but I saw you gazing at me from across the other side of the room the other night, I could see the wanton lust in your eyes and I could hear the passion in your voice whilst you shouted obscenities like 'wanker' and 'arsehole' down the phone to me.

And don't worry, because I know you do, about the fact that Geri's back on the market after her split from 'Spanish tit', but that ship has sailed (don't be angry Geri I'm not saying you're the size of a ship, it's a metaphor.....a meta...look it up in the dictionary!). You see Kate, Geri and myself have very deep feelings for each other but we had a long heart to heart and she told me that we can't see each other again as she'd be, in her own words, 'liable to fall too deep in love' with me.

I know what she means, it's been the same for many of the ladies in my life. I'll quote to you now, Garraway, the words I spoke to Geri the last time we saw each other:

'Near, far, wherever you are.

I believe that the heart does go on.

Once more, you open the door,

And you're here in my heart and my heart will go on.'

I guess Geri and myself are very much like Leo and Kate in that movie where the plane crashed into an iceberg - perfect for each other but destined to be kept apart by fate.

But I'm not here today to talk to you about that. No, I have more pressing matters - your education. Today I'm here to talk to you about the history of one of the most important inventions of this or any other century, the light switch.

The light switch, for those of you thickies out there that are unsure as to what it is I'm talking about, is a switch commonly used to operate electric lights. In many homes most lights are operated by the use of a switch and can usually be found near the door of each room.

The first light of the electrical nature was invented in 1879 by a chap that went by the name of Thomas Edison, who used an electrical current and some sort of fuse thing. That's not really important at the moment but what is important is the light switch which wasn't invented for another five years in 1884....sorry, seven years.

That is five years, isn't it? 1884 minus 1879 equals 5. Yes, I was right the first time. I should have trusted my first instinct, like the time I once dated Yvette Fielding, the Blue Peter presenter, in the late 1980's (A.D.).

You see, 'Yvette' Fielding is actually Derek Fielding. I'm sure it's come as a shock to hear this, dear readers, and it was to me as he's all woman when you see him on TV, but when you see him up close, without the aid of make-up and the right lighting, you can clearly see the stubble on his chin - that was my first instinct and I'm sticking to it!

So, after 37 minutes into our date in a pub near BBC TV centre, I made an excuse and never saw him again. But I'm happy to see that things are going well for him now, with his new show in which he takes people into buildings where no lights seem to be working and scares the shit out of them on the pretence that the place is haunted. Why does he always take them to places where the lights don't work? Maybe they don't have any light switches and suffer the same fate that met Thomas Edison.

You see, Edison invented the light bulb in 1879 (A.D.) but the switch, by which to operate it, wasn't invented until 1884 (A.D.), which meant he had to spend 7, sorry 5 years sitting in the dark. The gentleman that eventually invented the light switch was named John Holmes and thank goodness for his vision for without him we'd either be sitting with the lights constantly on, or constantly off or, failing that, would've had to have found another way to turn lights on and off which would have been a real pain in the arse (but not the sort you get at Barrymores house).

Well that's the history of the light switch sorted. Impress your friends with this knowledge! I must dash now as Carol Voderman will be arriving back at her place soon and theirs a couple of pairs of knickers she put on the washing line this morning with my name on them. Toodle Pip!

Podcast episode 3: The History of the Ninja

Here is my brand spanking (hello ladies) new podcast with Evander Paul. This one is all about the ninja (a sort of Japanese equivalent of the Milk Tray man).

Click HERE to download.

The History of The Hiccup

Hello, Henry Von Stifle here and you may be interested to know that this morning I received a letter from Laurence Llywellen Bowens lawyer, informing me that I have to pay a dry cleaning bill of his.

Apparently I was sick all over his left shoe at some film premier a few weeks ago!

I recollect going to a film premier, (some shit with Brad Pitt getting younger as he actually gets older, or something like that), and I remember bumping into Bowen whilst I was on my way to the bathroom, but that's as much as my mind will allow me to recollect. So, on that basis Bowen, you can fuck off.

Unless of course you've got CCTV footage of me actually doing it, in which case I send you my apologies and a cheque will be in the post.

Come to think of it, I do have a bit of track record of throwing up over people, some of them dating as far back as the mid-eighties. I got into a brawl with Leo Sayer at Stringfellows in 1984 for doing, allegedly, the very same thing. In 1985 I threw up over Neil Kinnock's footwear at a fundraising event in Wales, in 1986 I chucked my guts up over Paul Young's shoes at an award ceremony. In 1987 I hurled up over Bobby Charlton's shoes at a funeral for someone or other. Then, in 1990 I hoicked up a bucket full of bile over Jimmy Nails crocodile shoes. But the best time I threw up over someones footwear was during the mid-eighties when I boffed over Grace Jones' leather stiletto's whilst I was dancing to 'Superfreak' by Rick James at a celebrity party.

Grace actually didn't seem to mind that much, in fact she seemed to positively buzz of it and we ended up dating for three months.

So you may be correct in your accusation Bowen, but you can still fuck off. Be honest Bowen, you're not the sharpest tool in the box and it's reasonable to suggest that it was someone else that chucked up all over your shoes but you can't remember who! Trust me, dear readers, Bowen comes across as articulate and intelligent on the television but he's very thick - he's so stupid he's actually been known to take a ruler to bed in order to see how long he's been asleep. (A little joke for you there - that's histortainment).

Anyway, on with the lecture, which this time, is all about hiccups. Now, I don't mean hiccup in the sense of a minor difficulty or setback, but rather a hiccup in the biological sense. The hiccup I'm talking about today is an involuntary spasm of the diaphragm and respiratory organs in the area around ones larynx which leads to a sort of gulping sound.

Hiccups began thousands of years ago, the first one being about twenty minutes after man took his first sip of water on the banks of the River Nile. It must have come as a great shock to the first people who hiccuped as to what was going on; a bit like how Lord Taylor of Blackburn felt when he realised he'd been caught in a newspaper sting a couple of weeks back which revealed he had been taking bribes in order to change this countries laws.

The general public, that's you lot, were outraged when the details were revealed, but be fair the man, he has needs just like everyone else. This credit crunch that we're experiencing at the moment affects all walks of life and he needs that £100,000 to help pay for the extension to his house - they need that third bathroom! You can't expect a man of his stature to get by with just two lavatories, can you, its preposterous!

But unexpected things happen to us all at some point in our lives, just look at that woman in America who gave birth to eight babies in one go - she wasn't expecting to have eight children was she, so leave her alone. And let's not forget, the worlds population is falling at the moment so eight more mouths to feed is just what we need!

The main issue I have regarding this lady though is what sort of state is her fanny in? It must be like waving a sausage in The Royal Albert Hall in there.

I wonder what dear old Grace Jones is up to now. Sorry, I know it's off the point but 'waving a sausage in the Royal Albert Hall' made me, automatically, think of Grace. Ahhhhhhh, what fun we had. We may still be together if it hadn't been for the incident on Russel Harty's chat show. It was on my advice that Grace agreed to appear on his show and I distinctly remember telling him, 'Russell', I said, 'whatever you do, don't turn your back on her', and what did he do - he turned his bloody back on her. I'm sure you've seen for yourselves the outcome of Hartys mindless folly, (I still like to watch re-runs of the said interview for the bit when Grace starts to smack Harty - it takes me back and brings up fond memories - it wasn't just Harty that got a good spanking!)

Ahh, who knows, if Harty hadn't turned his back on her, Grace and myself may have walked down the aisle together - I certainly would've been up for it, I was certainly a slave to her rhythm at the time (Hope you got my little joke there, 'slave to her rhythm', 'slave to the rhythm'. It's good one isn't it? I hope you like it, I spent hours coming up with that little beauty - that's histortainment!)

I shouldn't have mentioned 'marriage' just then though. That's put me on a bit of a downer now. I can't even think of marriage at the moment, not with Geri still adamant she's going ahead with her marriage to 'Spanish tit'. But that's one of the things that I love most about her; her sheer bloody determination to succeed when people tell her she can't. Look at her solo recording career, people said it would never work but it was one of the most illuminated periods in recent pop history - if their has been a better cover version of any song than her version of 'It's Raining Men' then I've yet to hear it!

If you tell Geri to do one thing she'll do the complete opposite, some people say that this fact shows that she's arrogant and slightly thick, but to me it shows her undiminished will and determination. I just don't understand why she dumped me. I was the perfect gentleman whenever we were together and I made sure I always complimented her on her titties!

Anyway, I've kind of gone AWOL on this lecture. Sorry, it's very unprofessional, very unlike me.

So, it is unknown why we, humans, actually hiccup and what evolutionary purpose it serves. Well, as a learned man, such as myself, my guess is that it has something to do with a word I used in the previous sentence and that word was/is 'evolutionary'. Yes, that's right, we, the humans, hiccup not because we actually need to but rather because we share a common ancestor and therefore a gene with the species of animal known by the name of 'frog'.

Next time you hear a frog 'croaking' listen carefully and you may be lucky enough to hear a sort of 'hiccup' sound. Anyway, that's my theory and I'm sticking to it. I may as well, I'm usually right about these things. We share hiccups with many animals from the wilderness, it's one of the things that binds us together, along with shagging and shitting.

So what does one do when one has the hiccups in order to get rid of them? Well their are many theories, many old wives tales such as holding your breath for as long as possible without dying, a sudden shock or fright, drink some water in an unorthodox manner or get someone to stick their finger up your arse - well, that's what Bjorn my male au pair from Sweden used to do with me as a youngster whenever I had a dose of the hiccups. And what the Swedish don't know about hiccups isn't worth knowing.

Whatever you do though, never ask Britt Ekland about hiccups or else you'll be stuck for about 3 and a half hours with her going on and on and bloody on about the damn things!

Anyway, wow what a lecture that was! I know I went a bit off the subject but you'll have to agree it was very informative. Anyway I'll have to finish off now as my Polish cleaner, Dagna, as just come into the room and would you believe it she's got the hiccups! What are the chances? I'll lube my finger up and get rid of them in an instant - I can't wait to see the thankful look on her face when I stick my finger up her arse. Cheerio!

Podcast Episode 2 : The History of The Coat Pocket

This is second podcast with Evander Paul and it's all about the coat pocket (the pockets on your coat). Heroin and canine faeces are also considered. Featuring music from The Abodes.

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Famous Landmarks : The Statue of Liberace

Hello there, the picture on the left is of 'The Statue of Liberace' which is situated on Liberty Island in New York's harbour. It was erected in 1886, covers 12 acres and stands at 151 ft. from toe to tourch.

It was given to America as gift by the people of France to mark the centennial of the American declaration of independance. France had thought long and hard as to what to give America for it's birthday and had come up with a terrible list of ideas which I found whilst researching for this lecture. The list is as follows:

1. Some onions
2. A tie
3. A statue (something to do with freedom)
4. Some money (and then they can get themselves whatever they want)
5. Nipple tassles

There you go, a terrible list although personnaly speaking I would've given them some nipple tassles but I can see why they went for the statue.

The statue is of a woman in a robe carrying a torch and wearing a stupid hat - it must've been a fashion statement in the late 1800's (AD) as it serves no practical use, I mean, look at it, that wouldn't keep the rain off you would it!

My goodness, I've just.....I feel so silly. I've just realised my mistake. I wrote Liberace not Liberty at the top of this lecture although to be honest you can see for yourself, in the picture below, it's an easy mistake to make. I don't think Liberace was given to America by the people of France but looking at that coat, it's possible.

The History of Espionage

Hello Henry Von Stifle here and I'll be honest with you dear readers (aren't I always), I'm feeling a little bit gloomy today but I'll put my troubles to one side as your education is more important than my troubles.

It's no big deal really, except I had a huge argument last night with Geri Halliwell.

Oh Geri, Geri, Geri, I just don't understand! We had a fantastic few nights together and you really seemed to enjoy yourself the night I took you to Spearmint Rhino. I wondered why you had never returned my calls and then the next thing I know you're getting married to some Spanish tit who looks like he's lost a fight with a tin of orange emulsion paint. Things are moving too fast between you and Manuel, you're making a huge mistake, Geri. I can feel it in my bowels and nine times out of ten my bowels are correct - people listen to my bowels. Listen to my bowels Geri. Listen to them before it's too late!

I don't know what else to say to you. All I can do is use the words of the great Celine Dion and hope they'll get through to you:

'Don't say what you're about to say. Look back before you leave my life. Be sure before you close the door. Before you roll the dice, baby think twice'

If that doesn't work, I don't know what will. Anyway, enough of this, dry your eyes readers and let's get on with the lecture. This lecture is the history of espionage which is an act that involves an individual, who is called a spy, obtaining information that is considered secret.

Now, their are many books and motion pictures that glamorise the job of the spy, like the James Bond movies for instance. But it's not all driving fast cars, hanging out at casinos and shagging lots of beautiful, exotic ladies. Although, in saying that, it was for me whilst I was working for her majesties secret service during the early 1980's, but I can't really talk about it - all that official secrets act nonsense.

Generally though the job of a spy whilst often dangerous is relatively mundane, just lots of sitting around, waiting for something to happen. This leads to boredom which, as all of you chaps out there know, leads to masturbation which is how I passed three months of my year working undercover in communist Bulgaria in the early 1980's but again, I can't talk about it.

Their were many spies throughout the world many many years ago but the earliest practitioner of modern espionage in England was a gentleman that went by the name of Sir Francis Walsingham who was the spymaster for Queen Elizabeth I. Sir Walsingham was a brave and subtle spy and first came to prominence in the late 1500's when he solved his first case for Elizabeth. According to my research someone, unknown to the queen, was stealing potato's from the royal allotment in the grounds of Windsor Castle.

Walsingham, using all his self taught training, disguised himself as a horse and waited for six days until the culprit, a servant of the queen, was caught red-handed and promptly executed. Quite right too, it's one of the things I feel very passionate about - if you steal spuds off the monarchy you deserve everything you get!

(Fact Fans - Walsinghams disguise is where the idea for the pantomime horse comes from).

Sir Francis cemented his fame on his next mission which was to infiltrate the Spanish military and obtain any information regarding an attack from the Spanish Armada. Disguised as a matador he managed to gather a huge amount of information about a forthcoming attack and the correct recipe for paella (apparently we'd been using too much vegetable stock).

Espionage and spying really came to the fore of peoples imagination during the 'Cold War' which was a heated argument between the communists of eastern Europe and western democratic countries. The cold war was a battle of ideal's and the threat of nuclear annihilation was never far away and so espionage became part and parcel of the said war as a means to ascertain the opposing sides plans.

It was during this time that I became a spy when I was asked to do a bit of snooping around in Bulgaria in early 1981. As I said previously, I can't really go into it as it's still classified top secret but I used my natural espionage skills, posing as an art dealer (not too much of a stretch for me), to infiltrate myself into the very top of the countries communist dictatorship.

My mission was to affiliate myself with the ruler, Todor Zhivkov (or 'Tody' to his friends) and befriend his daughter, Lyudmila who was working on the opening of 'The National Gallery of the World' in Sofia. I managed to acquire a few foreign paintings for Lyudmila and soon became a trusted friend of hers.

(This is a picture of her delivering a speech to the UN and as you can see for yourself she wasn't that fit, but my goodness she possessed one cracking arse).

Things were going well and I'd managed to pump Lyudmila for quite a lot of information until sadly, in November of 1981, she died in mysterious circumstances.

I can't really say much more but theirs a slight chance I may have been the cause of her death. I'm not saying it was me that killed her but myself and Lyudmila may have got a little too close, (I possibly pumped her too hard), and upset shadowy figures high up in the communist party.

Look, I had nothing to do with her death, not directly anyway, but what was I suppose to do? Shagging birds to get info out of them is part of being a spy and in my defence she was in an unhappy marriage. It wasn't all plain sailing for me you know! I got into a bit of bother after her death when it was discovered that public funds intended for her ' National Gallery of the World' had gone astray.

I can't say if I was involved in any of the money going missing as it's still top secret but I made my excuses and left Bulgaria never to return. But I don't think my time spent there was a complete waste of time, as just eight years after my departure communist rule was overthrown and democracy was restored. I'm not going to sit here and say it was all down to me, but it probably was.

So that's the history of espionage for you, yet another box ticked off in your education. I'd better be off now as I'm expecting a phone call from sporty spice as she's in agreement with me about Geri and her car crash of a marriage (I've always said sporty was the bright one). It's such a shame things between Geri and myself never worked out, (although I haven't given up hope), I could've found happiness, at last. I honestly think, hand on heart, that if things had worked betweeen us I could've settled down with her. There you go, I said it! Yes, I could've settled down with Geri...........well, at least until her tits started sagging.

Anyway until the next time readers, take care of yourselves. Toodle pip!