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The Chuckle Knuckle - Issue IV (late again) Started by: Chuckle on Aug 24, '11 18:08

Chuckley Knuckling


This Issue is dedicated to our dear friend Sandra "Mayhem" McKenzie - truly an inspiration to us all girl.



There isn't much that can stir the Knuckle from its bed. The smell of cooking bacon is one; the sight of our scantily clad girlfriend flirting with the neighbour is another, but without doubt the one that makes us jump right out and charge downstairs still sporting that healthy morning hard on, is the sight of Barble favourite PluminousJelly making his fabled return to the front page. Welcome back buddy. We've missed you. Except not really, given your status as a monumental buffoon.

Whilst we are on the subject of colossal idiots, it would be remiss of us not to give a far from respectable (and actually pretty dismissive) nod of the head to 'this is my paper, yet not quite a paper' paper editor, Father Pickles. The disgraced pastor has taken to peddling his wares on the back of a cigarette packet and even then, most people have the sense to punch him right in his fat, yellow mush, rather than read his verbal tripe. We've got all the verbal tripe you need, right here.

So, I'm sure some of you have been wondering where the hell we've been for the past month and a half. A fair question and this is usually where I would spin you a tall tale about how we've been so up to our eyeballs in sniff, that we simply couldn't have managed to slip a Knuckle in - then I'd let you have the customary crafty smirk at our ingeniously infantile gag. However, the simple fact of the matter is this, I had a fucking dissertation to complete and without me, the Chuckle Knuckle train derails faster than New Orleans. Then I had a fucking holiday, mainly because I deserved it but mainly because I wanted to.

Fortunately for everyone though, I've totally nailed that dissertation now and shipped it off. I've also slunk back from my holiday and returned to this shit hole. This has left me with the time required to concoct this delicious morsel, which for some reason today has decided that it is a pirate. Arrr! Avast maties...Oh no hang on, there is already someone milking that gimmick to death and we're nothing if not original. Plus we heard her love interest is the dead, jealous, guitar strumming type and nobody wants to mess with someone clearly so intimidating.

How about we just get to the fucking news for a change. Yeah?

No.

First, I ask for your patience. Most of this was written prior to my excursion, which means that some of it is now pretty dated. Rather than discard the work that went into producing these, I've decided to include them as they are still pretty good. Well, good is a bit of an exaggeration, but they aren't total dog shit. Well, maybe they are. Especially the bits by EvilClown. Even so, what choice do you have? It isn't like anyone else has produced anything worth your attention lately, is it?

Didn't think so.

On with the show....no, not that type of show, fuck sake Jelly. The only person who'll do that for you is Mayhem - she will do anything. Anything.

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Horrorscopes
by Chuckles_Mum



Capricorn
(22nd December - 19th January)



A homeless man with a beard and a three legged dog will touch you in a private place around noon on Thursday. He will tell you that he'll find you and hurt you if you tell anyone. You won't though. You'll quite like it. The homeless man will turn out to be Cornelius Wilson. You will vomit in disgust.

Aquarius
(20th January - 18th February)



Some local scallies will leave a burning bag of dog poo on your door step this Wednesday. They will forget to ring your doorbell before they run away though and your house will be burnt to the ground. You'll still tread in the poo when you run for your life from the burning wreckage, mind.

Pisces
(19th February - 20th March)



The milk man will forget to deliver your white sliced loaf on Friday. That's the third time this year. Perhaps it's time you considered writing a stern letter to the dairy rather than holding on to all that rage whenever you see the milk man eat a sandwich.

Aries
(21st March - 19th April)



There are two certainties in this life. One is that you will die one day, and the other is that every Aries you meet will be an absolute moron. There's no real prediction element to this, more just a statement of fact.

Taurus
(20th April - 20th May)



If I had a dollar for every time someone has called you a smelly bastard, I'd have 8 dollars and 54 cents. Do us all a favour fatso and have a wash. It's all very well galumphing around town like a pregnant mammoth, but couple that with the stench and people are going to start mistaking you for Gordon Zola. Is that what you want? Is it?

Gemini
(21st May - 21st June)



They say that for every real Jesus there are at least three or four fake Jesii. So which is it Gemini? Can you really heal the sick or do you just have a beard and sandals?

Cancer
(22nd June - 22nd July)



They say Cancer that time is the greatest healer. They are wrong of course. Medicine is the greatest healer, so pop yourself along to the clap clinic and stop hanging around with Ozan, there's a good lad.

Leo
(23rd July - 22nd August)



My mate's cousin was a Leo and he was a right dickhead. It was probably you. Are you Mickie's cousin? Whatever. You're still a dickhead. Around about 10.43 on Saturday morning an 8 year old child will kick you in the shin and call you "fatty boom boom". He will have mistaken you for Arista.

Virgo
(23rd August - 22nd September)



You will go on to become a professional snooker player. People will love your northern charm, your hilarious waistcoats and the fact that you always look a bit pissed. One day a game show will be built around the game of snooker and you will wow the public by making amazing trick shots at only the 30th time of asking. Probably because you actually are always a bit pissed.

Libra
(23rd September - 22nd October)



Following your wild attempts to dry hump all the street furniture between your office and your Nan's flat, you will have to be taken to a back street doctor and spayed on Monday. It really is for the best. It is that or prison and prison just isn't as funny, unless you count that time that Chuckle went to prison for 2 days for failing to pay a series of parking tickets and couldn't sit on a hard base chair for 18 months afterwards.

Scorpio
(24th October - 21st November)



You are a predatory arthropod and classified as an arachnid. You look a bit like a beetle really and in many ways seem more insect than spider, although with those claws and tail one could be forgiven for thinking you were a crustacean. Oh, wait, sorry. That's scorpions.

You're going to die.

Sagittarius
(22nd November - December 21st)



Mark Twain once said that it is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool, than to open it and remove all doubt. I think he was talking about you Sagittarius, so do us all a favour and shut the fuck up.

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How Chuckle got his smug fat face in the Newspaper Industry
by Chuckles_Mum



Well Chuckle is a whiny little bitch isn't he. The eagle eyed amongst you will no doubt have noticed how I ended that sentence with a full stop and not a question mark. That's because it's a statement of fact rather than a question. How do I know this? Because from the very day that the sorry little accident spewed forth from my lady bits and out into the world, he's done nothing but bitch and moan about everyone and everything. A mental health professional advised us to buy the wee bastard a journal or something to write down his thoughts. If only we'd have known that he'd use this to start publishing papers; we'd have got him a pet rock and a window of his own to lick instead.

You see Chuckle has been writing and publishing papers every since he first placed his fat, clammy, little hand on a Crayola all those years ago. He hasn't stopped either publishing papers or writing purely in the medium of crayon ever since. He also still has a tendency to jam crayons up his bulbous, red nose. But that is because he is a moron and I probably should have stopped breast feeding him in the first year of his life, rather than let him carry on well into his late teens. We live and learn. Or at least in his case, he lives (barely) but he has never learned anything.

It all started in nursery school when young Chuckle, or Cunto as most people called him, arrived for his first day. All keen and excited and clutching his Bessie Smith lunch box to his already impressive breasts. You see Chuckle was a fat child and this caused him to be ridiculed mercilessly by the teaching staff. Mrs Weston once very cleverly quipped that Chuckle was, a "useless fat shit". Chuckle however wanted to show her how useless he was and one fateful Tuesday afternoon, he grabbed three crayons and a sheet of paper and snuck off to a corner of the room. It was here, next to smelly Braces Billington, who was continually in the corner in her lovely cone shaped D hat, amongst the dust and spiders that Chuckle first put a crayon up his nose and started making up the news. He scribbled furiously on his piece of paper for hours, pausing only to wet himself every 30 minutes or so until his masterpiece was finished. So it was that the "Playground Newsround" was born. Happy with his work, he set about fumbling down the front of his shorts. A celebration that he has practised after every finished paper ever since.

He was of course thrown out of nursery when it was discovered that Mrs Weston had never actually worked at a lesbian zoo, despite her choice of sensible shoe and I was forced to make alternate child care arrangements. I couldn't put my career dreams on hold for Chuckle. Quite frankly, as a son he wasn't worth it and I was only three blowjobs away from getting a promotion at work.

I foolishly let him follow his dream and join the day care centre usually reserved for the staff of the local tabloid. I let the editor have a quick go on my tits in the alleyway behind the building every Wednesday morning and in return he let young Chuckle produce work for him. It wasn't long before the boy was a valued member of staff. At the age of 9 and with literally no education whatsoever, he was fast becoming the brightest star of the tabloid press. At the age of 16, he was made deputy editor. He even posed for the page 3 pictures, but after a spate of readers vomiting into their breakfast cereal he was asked to stop. Well, forced to stop actually - by a judge.

He was living the dream; that is until one fateful morning. Chuckle had run a piece about a shadowy underground figure who was alleged to be running a pleasure house and waffle bar down by the docks, a young former sailor and occasional pirate by the name of Cap'n Bob. A young Dutch man by the name of Ozan, who claimed to have been employed there, came in to the paper to see Chuckle one day and blew the whistle on the whole affair. To be honest that's not all that Ozan blew in Chuckle's office that afternoon, but that's another story for another day.

Ozan showed Chuckle a gentleman's manoeuvre that he called the Dutch Rudder. "You see" squealed the Dutchman in delight, "it's not gay as we aren't touching each other's schlongs". Ozan was wrong in this assessment of course. It was gay; however Chuckle was impressed and aroused. But mostly impressed. But mostly aroused. He'd immediately put crayon to paper and written everything that Ozan had told him about the Cap'n and published. If he had realised quite how influential the Cap'n's clients were, perhaps he wouldn't have.

He was fired the following day. Chuckle was incensed. He firmly believed that he was the best editor that ever there was. He wasn't of course. Surely that was Anubis. Haha! Of course I'm kidding! He was rubbish. The point is this though, Chuckle was angry. A frown had crossed his forehead, and when your fat face is the size of Gibraltar, that's quite a trek for a frown to make. He set about taking his revenge. Chuckle set to burning down the offices of every newspaper in town. Everywhere that news was printed Chuckle levelled with a rage never before seen by journalists. Then, when his fiery vengeance was done he waddled off back to his Nan's house to once again put crayon to paper. It was in this dark period that the first death wish list was born. Everyone that had ever called him a fat bastard was added to the list. They were all then removed from the list as the list was now far too long. He added the name of the paper editor that had raised him in the news room only to fire him. He added Ozan, but then removed him as he thought he might care for another of those 'not gay' hand jobs from other men. He added those that had achieved more than him. But mostly, he added incompetent idiots to the death wish list, as these people were the most likely to die for being morons and make the list a talking point. For this reason he added Ozan back to the list, he could always get a membership at the Cap'n's to get rubbed off. Plus he loved waffles.

Chuckle continued like this for years. Churning out rage fuelled papers written in crayon. Distributing them himself around the streets and building up a readership. Everywhere a new paper was opened, Chuckle would be there with the matches and the petrol. Everywhere that another person attempted to leaflet the streets with any news offering of any quality, Chuckle was there with a baseball bat. Everywhere that grown men touched each other in the dark, Chuckle was there with his trousers round his ankles, two knuckles to the good.

What does the future hold for young Chuckle now? Who knows? All I know is that his dinner is ready and he hasn't been home for three days. Ozan's mother has been calling me asking if I've seen him as well. God knows what those two perverts are up to, but I wouldn't get to close if I were you.

Tune in next week for more of your Chuckle stories from:

Chuckle's Mum - MILFing the news since 1918

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New Oregon Hobos
by GoodJester-



New Oregon hobos (NOH) is the name given to an enigmatic, feral colony of bipedal mammals that can be found loitering about in the slums of the mighty metropolis of New Oregon. While it is not yet definitively known how they came into existence or the reason for their odd congregations in already densely-populated urban areas, there exists a widely-accepted theory that their demeaning lifestyle of fetid fornication and bathtub gin is at the root. As of the 1920 census, there are an estimated 96 New Oregon hobos, the majority of which are of the seemingly-lower caste, distinguished by their dribbling mouths.

New Oregon hobos are considered to be a true omnivore, much like the common brown rat, and one will consume almost anything, but alcoholic beverages form a substantial part of its diet. A study conducted during the Woodrow Wilson administration on the diets of the New Oregon hobos came to the conclusion that the most-liked foods of New Oregon hobos were (in order) alcohol, fast food, pizza, macaroni and cheese, rat faeces, human faeces, and cooked corn kernels. The study also concluded the least-liked foods were apples, raw beets, peaches, and celery.

Cardboard is one of the most valuable resources for New Oregon hobos. So is booze.



Hobos around New Oregon City became infamous nuisances upon their sudden appearance some time after the Irish flooded Grand Island, in the late 1890s and early 20th century. Some residents complained about the excessive drinking they brought to the metropolitan area. Commuters on the subway would sometimes provide them aid by tossing them cigarettes or half eaten hotdogs as they ran away in terror. However, many financial leaders in the city found them to be a valuable resource of cheap but unreliable labour. In the early 1920s, the city government decided to force the dirty drunkards to get jobs constructing triple tier whore houses.

Beer appears to help in New Oregon hobo procreation.



Beginning in the 1910s, various individuals started coming forward claiming to know the mystery of their origin. My rich conservative uncle has claimed on several occasions that the majority of the hobos are hippies and communists who refuse to get jobs because they are all lazy bastards, hiding behind flimsy beliefs and half truths. Equally, these could very well just be superstitions bred from the fear of the unknown.

According to statisticians, the number of New Oregon hobos seems to increase vastly during any economic recession or shortly after a war, yet have mysteriously faltered in times where the rest of society embraces social programs. However, no evidence has been found connecting these events to one another and all experts agree it is purely coincidental.

The New Oregon hobos likely show fear and suspicion towards those extending hands to them and should be treated as dangerous and abusive.

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Gagging Orleans
by Chuckle



We appear to have missed some pretty major changes in the world that came to pass in our absence. It would seem that SexyBeast didn't manage to die, disappointing. It would seem that AlabamaWorley has been considered worthy of something more than sloppy seconds from Klasky and has been given Detroit, disturbing. And it would also seem that someone decided to remove RoRoG's criminal empire from the streets of Unnamed MafiaReturns City, New Orleans - not used to being able to print that.

I'm sure you're totally more interested in how the Knuckle played a role in these events, despite their dashing editor being abroad, rather than the silly little details of what may have actually happened. Unfortunately though, the secrets of how the DWL works cannot be disclosed to mere disciples in Knuckleology (all of you) and only Grandmasters (like me) are entitled to understand the nature of that majestic beast. Therefore, we let others do the talking for us. I'm sure you've heard some hoorah about DeadlySin, truces and broken promises. You may even have stumbled upon Colin's bastard claiming responsibility for our handiwork. It doesn't matter, you all know the truth. Deep down in your heart of hearts, you know. This was DWL at play.

So, what are the talking heads claiming happened? Roman came to the streets and informed us that LV and NO attacked Marston for harbouring a former member of the Knuckle scribbler, EvilClown-. Subsequently, they had a messy war, with casualties occurring even in those cities not participating. Lots more yada, yada, yada, before DeadlySin eventually surrendered and joined old Romey Rome in Chicago. Great. However, RoRoG and Egwene then decided to kill DeadlySin and -BostonGeorgeJung respectively, which garnered the wroth of Chicago and New Orleans was summarily destroyed.

Was this a shrewd manoeuvre? Was this a completely ridiculous manoeuvre? I'm not here to judge that. I'm here to point fingers, toss out half truths like facts and burn people who offend me. On occasion I have also been known to give people enough rope to hang themselves and you will see Gallifrey's forthcoming "newspaper" providing all the proof of that you will ever need. Still not to drift from one complete failure to another, this smacks of a monumental waste of time, effort and manpower to me, Judge Chuckle. There was only going to be one outcome from the actions of Egwene and RoRoG and the replacement of them with Kimble represents the end of an era for New Orleans.

New Orleans, New Orleans, New Orleans.

Sorry, it just feels good to be able to mention all the cities and discuss events in them again without worrying about offending particularly delicate sensibilities. I always understood the angst that my inclusion of Egwene upon the DWL caused; after all it was for a totally juvenile reason (although I'll totally fight anyone who calls this juvenile, right fucking now you bastards) about a jazz flute. Clearly, this was legitimate grounds for wishing death upon someone, as I'm sure you'll all agree, and like Mr Pickles ruthlessly stalking his next kitten to buggar, the DWL never fails to find its victim. Maybe that is why RoRoG was unhappy about her being on there? It is a guaranteed death sentence after all. Maybe he was totally justified in trying to get her removed from it? Keep that in mind if you wind up on there. It will kill you.

(You can see what Roman really had to say about the war here and here)

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Chuckle Knuckle Competition - Result



Last issue, if you can remember that long ago, we asked that everyone pitch in and create a new suit for our cranky-pants friend, Tarbh. He was overjoyed with the prospect of not having to dress like a homeless bum and was reduced to tears by the fine craftsmanship the good people of MafiaReturns managed to bestow upon him. He has agreed to wear one of the suits, so if you see him not wearing it, fire a mail at him demanding to know why! It is your duty as a Knuckler to do so!

Best Suit Produced - $100,000

Suit: Best
Designer: VinoGandor

Vino's fingers were bloody and his patience was thin, but we can see his handiwork in all its glory. Considerably too large for Tarbh's 150 x 225 frame, he may have to wrap it around himself several times, but it was still a significant improvement on the rest of the shit I got sent and therefore, the winner. Congratulations Vino, although I realise you're very much deceased and likely to be less than delighted with your predicament.

Worst Suit - $100,000

Suit: Worst
Designer: Gallifrey

The hands down and runaway winner of this category was Gallifrey for the above product. This wouldn't even find its way into the bargain bin at Netto. Seriously, this is probably the worst piece of crap I've ever seen on here - and there are a lot of shitty suits around, which just goes to show how tremendously bad this entry was. Genuinely an impressively bad performance here. So shit was this entry, that it actually deserves commendation. It isn't easy being this awful, ask someone who knows.

Well done, loser.

Funniest Suit - $150,000

Suit: Funniest
Designer: Hagrid

This amused the balls off me and I'd be proud to wear it myself. View with caution if you're sensitive/have no sense of humour, which encompasses most of you. You'll probably be offended and cry or something else ridiculously dramatic. Take my word for it, it is great.

Most Offensive Suit - $150,000

Suit: -
Designer: Turtleneck

I haven't even shown this suit as it was horrifying. People around here would have kittens if I showed it to you, so you'll have to trust your beloved reporter and rely on his integrity and judgement. Good job Turkeyneck, you despicable bastard.

Bonus Suit - $1,000,000

Suit: Bonus
Designer: Karma-Couture

This fabulous Couture original, incorporated all of the bonus elements whilst still making perfect evening wear for our buddy. Tarbh will likely be showing off his trim figure in this little number across many of the country's hotspots. Truly a fine piece of craftsmanship and worthy winner of the prize - even if it was so long ago that most people have forgotten about it.



Most of you probably don't even remember this competition. Ask Tarbh for all the details.

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Classifieds
by Dame Hildegard Titweavil



  • 12 jars of haemorrhoid ointment - All top quality creams by Rimmer and Sons. Application tube available extra - Tel Augustus # 313 4056
  • Four pairs of men`s tanga briefs - Size 64 waist, and stretched to fuck. Slightly soiled, particularly in the crotch. Few teeth marks. $5 the lot - Tel Derek's (Fat Bastard Used clothing outlet) # 820 4555
  • Large brass candelabra with candles supplied loose - Mainly used in erotic dances and pose shots for National porn magazine. $200 - Tel Roman # 0845 800 5656
  • 1928 Bugatti Slingshot Roadster - 18000 miles on the clock. Good tyres, bodywork and interior. Leather upholstery and internal roof mirror. New rear seats needed, friction burn damage mainly - Tel BarbaraAmmer # 322 4991
  • 24 back issues of "How not to get yourself killed" Still in original packaging - Tel Guiseppe # 210 4548
  • Two 2nd tier tickets for Louis Armstrong/Ella Fitzgerald in Philly, November 21st - Both tickets eaten by mistake. Showing sometime Tuesday, hopefully. Personal callers only - 134, Fantasy Blvd, NO. (Chuckle likes a visitor now and then.)
  • Blow-up doll. Life-size inflatable rubber doll with hand grips, stirrups and collar - Emptied and ready to go. Both nipples replaced $230 - Tel Marionette # 400 5099
  • Dead Goomba - Would make ideal garden feature. Stuffed by professional Taxidermist, no odour. $800 Free Delivery within 35 miles - Tel Alabama # 411 3111
  • Large selection of adult toys with lubricants and applicators - Would suit young, lonely college graduate. Personal callers welcome - Cap`n Bobs` Pirate Fun House and Male go-go Bar, 5th Avenue, NY.

[The above advert has been removed due to pressure from the Blue Vein relief Society]

  • For Sale - Nothing really. I`d just like people to ring me - Tel RoRoG # 883 9900
  • Manchester Terrier Answers to the name of "Shut the fuck up!" - Free to good/bad home - Tel Raptor # 6161 5548
  • Fourteen boxes of incontinence pads - Slight water damage, would suit elderly female with complete loss of bladder control (3 litre capacity each) - Tel Arista # 445 44561
  • Man Boob reduction vest complete with side leather adjustment straps - Minimal damage from nipple rubbing. $35 - Tel SexyBeast # 011 343434
  • Model "T" Ford Ragtop 40,000 miles, automatic, completely shagged out - Personalised number plate "BINDIP3". Room needed for new project. Sale or repair $6 - Tel Hound # 230 00114
  • Signed 1st edition copy of "Fleet street - a beginners guide" by Champ en Frouder, $5 plus carriage - Tel Sweeney # 3402 3440
  • Dental services - Fillings, extractions, implants and false teeth (porcelain type not that mahogany shit), your local dental practice offers terms and soundproofed surgery. 113 Nursery Street, side of O'Malley's Butchers. "Throb Jobs" our speciality. - Tel Mayhem # 301301999


Classified requirements

  • Please ensure all ad`s are submitted 48 hours prior to print date.
  • All ad`s to be paid for in full prior to going to print. Credit no longer available. Sorry `bama.
  • All deviant submissions will be censored by the editor, and me, and Barbara, and Sam, Sue, Licky Nicky and Boris.
  • All references to the current condition and swelling around PizzaTheHutt`s genitalia will be removed. Enough is enough.
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The Changing Face of Cosa Nostra - Detroit
by Chuckle



Some of us have been around a long time. Roman has been around for so fucking long, he told God to take the seventh day off. Since Roman's birth to a mammoth father and unknown, but most likely prostitute mother, the face of organized crime has dramatically changed and altered beyond all recognition. In the past few weeks another era has been ushered in, with the fall of two long established Godfathers and one ensconced Don. Unless you've been under a rock for the past few weeks, in which case I would ask that you stamp on Marionette whilst you're there, you will have noticed that some shuffling has gone on and certain individuals have been moved about.

AlabamaWorley, famous for her lewd displays on corners across Chicago, rose to prominence under the rule of Roman. She honed her skills and became a valuable asset for the city, eventually turning her charms towards business endeavours rather than would be johns. This culminated in her being given the nod to establish her own family, not in the way you would imagine most sexual miscreants to do, but of the organized crime variety.

Miss Worley was granted the opportunity to move to Detroit and oversee all criminal activity within the city. Her first move was to promote JessicaRabbit to be a Boss in her own right and reopen the nefarious activities of the Motor City. Rumour has it she is even referred to in some circles as 'Godfather'. She was also one of the first of a growing number of he-she's plaguing the streets of MafiaReturns and many consider her to be an abomination alongside the likes of Mrs-Doubtfire and Cadoras. The former, because of her similarity in terms of 'secret' as to Worley, whilst the latter because of his annoyingly intoxicating and alluring banner. Curses.

We interviewed the head of Detroit recently and the full conversation can be found below.

C: Greetings Alabama, how is life after the change?
AW: Yo' dawg, what's happenin'? How's my main man?
C: Er, fine I guess. I was coming to talk to you...about your move?
AW: Oh child, I've made plenty o' moves. Which ones yo' talking 'bout?
C: The most recent one. To Detroit. Come on, work with me here.
AW: 'dat one? Pfffft. Dat's nothing homez. I smoked some fool outside yesterday for tryin' to sling on ma corner.
C: Right. That's interesting. I didn't know that you still got your hands dirty.
AW: Dirty as a motherfucker, motherfucker.
C: As you say. I'm trying to interview you about what it is like being the head of Detroit. Do you have any comment on that?
AW: Sure thing dawg, it is fuckin' A.
C: You do know that you are neither black or a gangsta, right?
Aw: What's yo' point homie?
C: Never mind. You're a moron.
AW: Word.
C: Word indeed.



As you can see, enlightening stuff from a blithering idiot. Tune in next week where we will profile the new head of organized crime in New Orleans, Kimble and hopefully get more sense from him than we did from AlabamaWorley.

Although we aren't too optimistic about that.

(You can see what AlabamaWorley really had to say about taking on Detroit here and here)

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Chuckle Knuckle Competition



For old Issue IV, our competition is a very simple one. Now, before you start to your yackin' and begin to speculate whether the simplicity of our competition is in any way related to our losing our edge or because we've gone a bit sloppy - don't! We never had an edge, even from the start we've been about as blunt as a rock and Chuckles_Mum has always been sloppy. The less said about the other contributors to this heap of ass the better.

Anyway, I digress and this is meant to be competition time. What do you have to do? Well, what we would like is for you to provide a description about our beloved editor and village idiot, Chuckle. This can be as kind or as abusive as you like. You can blaspheme, you can swear, you can mock. Equally, if you're feeling particularly kind for some reason, feel free to send lies nice ones about him too. The categories are going to be things like, funniest, most abusive, most insulting, most offensive, kindest, most truthful, biggest falsehood - anything that we like basically. You'll suffer no repercussions and your mean words will have no consequences, so feel free to speak your mind about that dick!

The best ones will receive some money, likely to be about $100,000-$250,000, possibly more if you're funny and not a complete sack of shit - that was a reference to you PoisonousJelly - so get your entries banged in to this thread or sent to Marionette's inbox if you would prefer to remain anonymous. There is no word limit, so you can be as detailed or as vague as you want.

We want to know what you think of that clown Chuckle, enter today!

Bonus prize to anyone who surpasses Chuckles_Mum in terms of level of abuse towards Chuckle.

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blockquote>

Obituaries

I've decided that no publication of any sufficient calibre is complete without an obituaries section. In our walk of life people die and they will be honoured in this section.
Unfortunately in our walk of life some people don't die and we wish they would have. They will also be honoured in this section.

People Who Have Died



...can be found here.

Lazy bastards.

People We Wish Had Died - Who Actually Died



Just when people had begun to doubt the potency of the old Death Wish List, it comes up trumps once again. With all the grace of a ballerina and all the deadliness of a tyrannosaurus, the DWL has elegantly crushed more bold and beautiful people as usual. Unfortunately Ozan wasn't amongst them and I'm disgusted he continues to defy me, but his time will come.

-iocaste



One issue and...poof. He's gone.

-iocaste earned our hatred by bothering to bang a cheeky little 'this should be OOC' response to a discussion started by the big C-huckle. Some people may say that it was a boating accident or that he died in a war, but one reliable witness said that they saw the shadow of Death himself cast in -iocaste's apartment. Now he's dead. Let this be a lesson to all of you - think before you comment!

Augustus



I can't really recall whether you died between these issues or in the past; what I know for certain is that we should all acknowledge this event came to pass. People have been commenting that SexyBeast has found himself a far superior LHM now and that perhaps your death was actually a mercy killing. Those people clearly didn't see what Brent did to your corpse once you had gone.

Shudder.

Inspector_Clouseau



You boldly stated that you would demonstrate to the world that you could perform upon the MafiaReturns stage. Unfortunately for you, before you even made it under the spotlight, one of those pesky stagehands had their way with you and sadly raped you to death. What a shame! A catastrophe! Fate. The DWL does not approve of pride or any of the other sins for that matter. In fact, the DWL doesn't approve of many things and you are going to have to work pretty darn hard to stay alive.

Inspector_Clouseau lost in his battle against destiny. You can't fight fate and in Clouseau's case, you can't even throw a jab against it.

Egwene



We had to wait a long time to get our quarry and boy, was she a fighter.

What people need to realise is that the DWL transcends us mere mortals. Even a Grandmaster of Knuckleology like myself pales into insignificance before the might of the DWL. You can't fight it. You can't avoid it. Once you are selected, you have no defence from it, you can't escape from it and you are destined to die.

With all that said, I don't think anyone has tried to resist the deathly embrace of the DWL as vociferously as Egwene did and she even had her name struck out from the list of victims. Twice. But lo' and behold, she still met her maker, just like all of those before her. The list is just a record, the curse itself can never be rescinded and all those selected will die. It is as inevitable as the sun setting and the tide receding. Just as night follows day, death follows selection on the DWL.

People We Wish Had Died



They gathered around the bloated corpse of Bob Liar. With a swift efficiency, they carved him open and spread his entrails on the floor before them. They took his liver and made the incision. Much muttering ensued, they considered what the omens meant as the blood flowed freely from the body. They continued to dismember the corpse, examining each organ in turn, contemplating upon what they saw. The divination took some time, but it was clear what had been seen. This time, they endeavoured to kill off more people on the DWL than the sponsors list, although it was still certain - The Death Wish List was composed.

Mayhem



Potentially the first time in the long history of the list where two brothers have been selected simultaneously. However, this would undoubtedly be a relief to their mother should both insane_killer and Mayhem be taken away from her. Her two boys are deluded you see and they doubt the hilarity of Chuckle, which is a most heinous affliction to befall them, I'm sure you'll agree. The only cure for such an illness is to cut it out.

Not only are they denied the continued genius of the heroically amusing Chuckle, they must also die. DWL.

WhereAmI



I've never trusted questions. Questions lead to answers. Answers lead to judgements. Judgements lead to decisions. A tricky business and one that is best avoided. So, what do we do when one has a question for a name? We had to ask a question there and that annoys us. The only choice we have left to us is to remove the question from our ranks and return us to good old pronouns.

WhereAmI - On the DWL.

Mr Pickles



Once upon a time there was a priest. This priest thought he would make himself a little newspaper and he would peddle it on the streets. One day, the priest was hit by a truck and died. The end.

DWL.

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Acknowledgments



This one was a struggle.

I never intended to slip so behind the schedule that we would be looking at over a month and a half between issues, but these things happen. There is a fair chance the next one will be delayed until mid September too, but I'll try to sneak another issue in before then, provided there is still the support there for this. I hope you are still enjoying them and I guess from the demands for me to keep publishing you are! I thank you all for that, otherwise I would probably stop and do something productive instead. Like kill that horrible bastard, SexyBeast.

Anyway, I'm still here. I'm still producing this pigswill and you guys still keep lapping it up. A big thank you to those people who keep donating, especially those people who don't just give me a fucking dollar. I use that money for the contests and paying Gordon Zola to keep out of sight, both worthy causes, I'm sure you'll agree.

Last but not least, thank you to my fellow writers who keep on producing some of the most amateur work I've ever seen. I couldn't look so darn good without it.

Issue IV's gone, roll on Issue V!

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Not enough Bismarck for my taste but the numerous spelling errors should draw rave reviews from Alabama!

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DanK picks up an already read copy of The Chuckle Knuckle and turns to the back to complete the sudoku, only to find someone has already completed it with all 1's. He mutters something about 'kin hate twats who put all 1s and ruin it for everyone. DanK then looks at the front and wonders whether it is worth a read. Opening the first page, he skims through, not taking too much in, before getting up and leaving it on his seat for the next mafioso to read.

OK read, however and it is still better then the low brow trash that Pickles writes. However, you would definitely lose my readership if I couldn't pick one up for free on the bus!

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As always, terrible. But good enough to read when on the can.

I look forward to reading a real paper as soon as Gallifrey gets a chance to finish it off.

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Extra points will be awarded to anyone who speaks positively about Oderus in this current competition.

I'm so happy to see this rag back in the streets. I was about to shell out a few bucks to Sweeney to run an issue of Mob News, but as always, the Knuckle has come to the rescue.

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WhereAmI sees his name on a paper he finds some bum sleeping ontop of and immediatly kicks the bum off the paper to get his hands on it. He reads the information with his name and moves towards the crowd,

What kind of journalist/reporter/chuckle knuckle writer is afraid of questions? You must be afraid of being asked questions yourself... I dont think I can trust this papers sources any more. I've decided I'll just have to retaliate by making my own DWL.

WhereAmI walks away trying to remember what damn city he's in.

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T-Man reading chuckle`s newspaper and then thinks to himself is this shit supposed to be funny Chuckle is probably the fag who put the hit on TylerDurden that reads

Aug 24, '11 21:12 Anonymous TylerDurden $250,000
Im hitlisting anonymous because: I dont have a pair of balls, am impotent, 42 years old and still live with my mother. Welfare is paying for my credits and when I go out on the street with my groceries coupons I wear a mask to hide my hideous face.

Chuckle I can`t wait till your mum dies so I can say R.I.P (Raped in Public) oh and Chuckle you better learn to sleep with one open.

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No need to feel challenged, dear Marionette. You will always hold the position of being my ass-kisser.

Unless of course, you go as far as humping the very streets I walk. I'm cool with you being my side-kick:)

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Oh here we go again with the Jelly bashing! What is it with my Jelly Chuckle? I'm starting to think you fancy some of my Jelly.

Well guess what,

I don't think you're ready for this Jelly, no I don't think you're ready for my Jelly, nooo my body too bootylicious for ya babe. (Copywrite PoisonousJelly 1929)



I'd have thought I'd at least get an honorable mention of the DWL.

ps, Who is this Mayhem you speak of? Never heard of it.


PJ walks off with his new toilet paper in hand wondering whether he should write up an article for this drivel of shite.

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quickly trying to recover that he was scammed with an old issue of a newspaper he happily buys a new paper and begins to read

laughing he tucks the paper under his arm and heads off to find his contact.

Good but not as good as the last one Keep it up

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This Forum Is For 100% 1950's Role Play (AKA Streets)
Replying to: The Chuckle Knuckle - Issue IV (late again)
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