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Gwarbley Barbleing
The sun is shining and the dull looks on your ugly faces are about to be transformed into beaming smiles. Most of you and I'm looking at PoisonousJelly here, are still going to be ugly, but you'll probably crack a smile once you get your teeth into another delectable issue of the Gwarble Barble.
It's been a tough week(ish) since I last cooked up the 30 seconds it takes to produce this smut, but the time has finally arrived again. I'm sure you'll appreciate my frustration. I have to intertwine my genius with the amateurish attempts of Hoopi and the wildly inappropriate remarks of Shelly.
Still, our growing reputation as the finest paper ever to grace the streets according to absolutely everyone has bred more sponsorship and a new wing to casa Barble. Our offices come equipped with a magnificent garden, verdant borders, fine fragrances, stone benches to relax on and a picturesque fountain to admire. It is quite tastefully done all in all; credit should go to JesseJames and TheSandman who forked out for the majority of the renovations. Along with donations from Adelaide and the other less significant ones. Although, when I say credit should go to them, I really mean it should go to me. Nobody likes a credit skimp. Keep that in mind when you reach the end. Hint.
It has been an eventful week(ish), so eventful that I'm repeating myself within 200 words of beginning. A sure sign that I'm going from strength to strength. I'm sure you'll appreciate my frustration. It isn't like I have anyone else around here to bounce ideas off. The garden gnome level of shelly's brain limits him pretty much to two word responses (fat Cam, traditionally) and with Hoopi's conversation being somewhat similar to a watering can, sprinkling irrelevance where it doesn't belong, my Hanging-Gardens of Babylon-esque level of thought is somewhat undervalued and starved.
Still, my growing repetitions aside. It really has been an eventful week(ish) across MafiaReturns and we, as you've all come to expect had our finger so far on the pulse that the Pulse took out a restraining order and now we aren't allowed within 20 feet of the Pulse and should stop making phone calls to the Pulse, should not ask what the Pulse is wearing and put the phone down and may not repeat this process until the early hours of the morning and then thoroughly intoxicated drive over to the Pulse's house and write 'Take me back Pulse' in blood on the Pulse's front lawn. Apparently that isn't cool.
The sun is shining and the dull looks on your ugly faces...repetition joke....again...you get the picture. We wished Cryptic would get one and he did just that. Joke ruined admittedly but credit to him, we actually like it as well. I say like to be polite. I mean, you could have at least got something that fit (150x225 just FYI) but I suppose it is a start. You don't look like a right old dumpling anymore so I guess that's an improvement.
For anyone who's keeping count that is: Ridiculous profile pictures 0 - 1 Gwarble.
Barble alert.
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Opening Story - You've guessed it
by Gwarble
There was only one place worth starting and with the mammoth news that a Godfather had been felled (still not Deimne, we are sad about it too) after dropping a Don from New York, leaving St Louis unoccupied and with much discussion of that across the cities, it would be pretty irresponsible of us to lead with anything else.
Seamless lead into our something else, I'm sure you'll agree. So, yes, we've chosen to gloss over the fisticuffs between Quirinus and Deimne in favour of references to our own personal fisticuffs with *Untitled*. We may talk about it later. We might not. You aren't the boss of us. Unless you're TheSandman or JesseJames, then you sort of are, but to the rest of you: Expletive, expletive, pants drop, bend over, waggle, waggle.
You see, the Barble has itself an ego and the Barble is only concerned with Number One. That's what the Barble calls itself when it stands shirtless before the mirror, flexing it's biceps, making it's pecks dance and generally admiring the magnificent specimen I've personified it into. Number One is beautiful. Speaking of beautiful, the second in command of The Lion's Den, Evangeline, got punched right in the mouth by a beautiful person. Not that it'll be noticeable given her ugly mug, but she gets mouthy and her long face pisses me right off, so we had little choice.
Anyway, Evangeline's hideous chops aside, (I suppose I should throw a PoisonousJelly reference in whilst the topic of hideous chops is on the table) *Untitled* finally managed to produce an issue and respond to allegations from most quarters that their inferiority is directly related to Mux's small equipment. That's right ladies and gentlemen Mux has small equipment. His printing press fits right on a table top. What a loser.
Mux or Chump-o as he's known by his members (one member) had this to say about the Barble "Gwarble... (sic) he's so cool with his "Who we wish were dead", and his witty little catch phrases, but we've had enough." I can understand his feelings. It must be hard dealing with how cool I am and how witty my catch phrases are. I don't know how he can deal with it. We'd never advocate suicide, but sometimes...right?
(For those who are interested in what Mux actually had to say, it can be found: http://mafiareturns.com/comm/thread/84536)
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Page 3 Pin Ups
by Gwarble
It is that time again folks, you've hit page three foaming at the mouth and the spittle is beginning to leak down your chin. You're right to be excited, we've plugged the depths of MafiaReturns and only gone and got you the finest talent out there in various states of undress. Do you love us now, mum?
That's enough prattle from me, nobody flicked straight to page three to read my wonderful introductions, despite how wonderful they undoubtedly are. I know why you're here you saucy devils and I'm happy to oblige.
Something for the ladies.
We've gone and done it again. CrazyNine sizzled in his dazzling sailor suit but nothing compares to the super sweet taste of PlumonousJelly. The leading man of Los Angeles donned his majestic giant plum and pranced around our studio with all the grace of a Russian ballerina. Good job say all of us.
Something for the men.
I know what you're thinking, how could we ever top last week's giant plate of meat? Well I'm pretty sure we never will. Except with maybe a picture of a car but I don't think you could handle that after last week. Instead with invited Godmotherfathertuckerstupidsuffixer Lucretia_Borgia to our studio and she did not disappoint. She brought her 'curing Sin City' nurse's outfit along with her. Ding dong.
Something for the children.
Don't let this be you, kids. Run.
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Loyalty - A Dummies Guide
by Hoopi
In true tabloid fashion, I've misled you with the headline just to draw you in...this is no guide to loyalty at all, far less one for dummies. It just sounded catchy. In fact, this is a simple news relay, where I waffle on about others waffling on. Read on dummies.
In what surely breaks our traditions of Omerta, Gaius appeared on the streets in his usual blurry eyed, emotional and generally unmanly fashion and gave us a word for word recount of his private chat with the Godfather of New York, Deimne (Happy 106th b'day old boy!). There were two roles available; one was the innocent, thick yet curious, non-Made Man and the other was a worldly wise, thoughtful and understanding Godfather. Gaius was a perfect fit for the former obviously, leaving Deimne to take on the second by default.
The topic? Yes, you guessed it, loyalty. More specifically, Gaius' confusion over why everyone in the other cities just sat back, pointed and laughed whilst Pedro and his underlings buckled under attack from Las Vegas (and Chicago - that's $50 you owe me for the mention, Noah!). Lest we forget just a couple of weeks back when Aurora, Boaby and Rhuarc were fitted for some new cement shoes, Pedro had stepped in to back Philly and Los Angeles, with Kates also ultimately benefiting in the shape of becoming New Orleans Godmother. Where were they in Detroit's time of need? Sitting back, pointing and laughing! I already told you that, pay attention. Rumour (Read: Truth*) has it that even at the time of that war, Pedro's upper structure actually had no idea why they were helping LA/Philly.
I won't bore you with the finer details of the Godfather's words, suffice to say, he set the curious Earner straight on where loyalties should lie. Gaius can consider himself lucky to be alive after a couple of hissy fit style outbursts at the Godfather, who chose not to smite him down just yet. The rest of the street debate basically came down to BrutusTheBarber - frenemy of the Gwarble Barble - laying out some Cosa Nostra smackdown for Leviathan. In a surprising twist, given that we all thought he was a massive sea creature, Leviathan was found at the scene with dribble rolling down his chin and onto his brand new scuba gear. Arse(a)nal also added something but, unlike his acrostic poetry contribution (see Barble Issue III), it wasn't worth hearing. In fact, it was barely comprehensible.
*Read: Maybe
(Full original discussion here: http://mafiareturns.com/comm/thread/84121)
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What really happened - But not actually at all what happened
by Gwarble
Sometimes emotions get the better of people. It happens all the time and a momentary loss of control can have massive consequences. This is the lesson that Mux has been slowly learning between his bi-annual issues of *Untitled* about not approaching old Gwarble here about writing for his newspaper. It is tragic to see and after no time at all, they have more tears running down their face than Gaius does after one of his idols kicks the bucket.
This loss of control has seen numerous idiots come to our streets and spout a whole plethora of nonsense regarding the deaths of Godfather Quirinus and WillHayes. The foremost of these idiots was undoubtedly Deimne who brewed his cauldron to boil, invited cackling witch ScreamingButterfly to add the eye of newt, nefarious necromancer PhelixTheSphinx to pour in the limbs of stolen children, before reciting the wicked incantations and conjuring up the foul 'Choose Life' potion, where he had the audacity to try and pull the wool over our eyes, by saying, and get this, that he shot Quirinus in response to him shooting one of his bosses. Who does he think we are? Does he expect us to swallow this horseshit? Surely even his meagre intelligence comprehends that we can't be duped like this! How would this ever fly?
Luckily for all of us, pious disciples of St Louis came flooding (trickling) to the Streets to make us see the light and dispel Deimne's horrible black magic deception. WoodStein told us that it was clearly the work of self-dubbed 'tyrant' ScipitaRourke trying to expand in a wonderfully thought out strategy of having her staunch ally commit hara-kiri and taking the whole of the city with him. He went on to say "Chicago are a bit of a mess" which is ridiculous given the finely carved fences laid out and regularly occupied throughout the city.
His wild eyed speculation didn't end there and clad in his wool shift, wildly casting his staff about him ready to smite evil, he went on to say "Philly want to force a situation with NY. A direct assault on NY from Philly would result in losses that Philly couldn't sustain, after 'The War'. So, a proxy was used. Deimne wasn't touched but someone close to him was. Philly thought NY would approach Philly to sort the situation."
The elaborate deception of the New York mages circle couldn't be so easily undone and all manner of folk gathered to cast WoodStein down and crucify him. Was this another false prophet condemned to disgrace for his false allegations or was this an agent of the greater good trying to open our eyes and see through the darkness? We await his resurrection for the answer.
The aptly named Shaman was the next to try and defeat the dark arts of New York, when he questioned Deimne's actions (not the ones involving those children though) pondering why it took seven minutes for the aged head of New York to take out Quirinus, why he didn't bother to mail him first inviting him for tea and scones and just why oh why do people insist with these stupid squares upon squares in their profiles? Ok, the last one was me, but it doesn't look good at all, much like Noah Levenstein's shitty and poorly sized picture.
Shaman was ritualistically butchered and we expect someone in New York to be spreading his entrails about an altar somewhere trying to see the future. Hopefully in that future Giovanni_Bontade makes it onto the Streets, -V- and Pixxie will stop dancing their awkward dance and finally just take a chance, embrace and live happily ever after on a farm with some pigs, several chickens and a few goats, maybe even get a tiger that looks like a tiger, purrs like a tiger, walks like a tiger and they'll end up calling it a tiger and it'll refer to them as 'Ma and Pa'. We aren't convinced any of that will happen either.
(For anyone interested in Deimne's actual speech on killing Quirinus: http://mafiareturns.com/comm/thread/84754, you can find WoodStein's here: http://mafiareturns.com/comm/thread/84758 and Shaman's here: http://mafiareturns.com/comm/thread/84836)
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A Day in the Life
By Bob Liar
Well we had so many letters come in to the offices+ this week calling for more 'day in the life' articles, that I had to cancel my 3 o'clock rub down and crack out my trusty Remington Portable #1. It was expensive when I'd bought it, 60 dollars, but it does have a folding type-bar mechanism that raises the type-bars to a 45-degree angle. And trust me dear readers that makes all the difference in this game. I mean of course the Remington rather than the rub down. The rub down of course only costs 12 dollars and poor old Evangeline can't fold her type-bar beyond 22 degrees these days.
Anywho. This week a day in the life has been easier than Gwarble's sister++. This week we have obtained a page from the diary of one of the more esteemed members of the community. It has to be noted mind, that esteemed is used in its lesser known meaning of hated beyond compare. But yes, we have got a page from Hoopi's diary, and we present it here un-edited+++.
However, before we get started, there is the little matter of last week's competition. The correct answer to the quiz was slightly A, but mostly B, but definitely C, but probably D. The winner of the kick Gwarble in the mangina competition was me. I collected my prize earlier this week: Numb nuts gets numb nuts. Gwarble was unavailable for comment.
+ Literally none you bastards.
++ Only joking kids, nothing is that easy.
+++ By un-edited we obviously mean un-verified in anyway shape or form. A big hand goes to our lawyers there for clearing up that little confusion.
Hoopi's Diary
Wednesday 3rd February
Woke up feeling good. Feeling good in the way that men do when they wake up. You know what I mean diary. The bedside clock may have read six o'clock, but it was high noon on my sundial. I jumped out of bed and headed for the shower so I could have a quick wash and tug. But it was just like last Thursday and I couldn't finish. Sat down and cried till the hot water ran out.
Had quick wash, towelled off and got dressed. Smart suit, sharp tie, killer hat. I was looking good. Headed down stairs to see what Nan had lined up for breakfast. EGGS! Wicked. Hasn't missed a boiled egg Wednesday since I moved in. My wife was always missing boiled egg Wednesday. That paper boy she moved in to our house is in for a shock if he thinks that woman will feed him.
Mittens was purring round my feet again as I ate breakfast. I don't know why, but when that cat rubs herself against me it gives me a funny feeling behind my winkle. Finished my soldiers and headed off to work with a spring in my step. Thanks Mittens!
Got to HQ. Bang on time. Hung up my hat and set about the day's work. By the time lunch rolled around the toilets were so clean you could eat your lunch off of them. Which of course Deimne makes me do every day. But fear not diary I won't let them get me down. I have Nan and Mittens waiting for me at home. Ah Mittens.
The afternoon went quickly. I swept up round by the bins; I changed Deimne's bed sheets (yellow only today, no brown) and polished the floor in the great hall. What a day. I was glad to get home. Glad for two reasons.
1) It was pork chop night
2) Nan was off to bingo tonight
The house was always much quieter when Nan was gone and Mittens used to come to me for cuddles.
Pork chops were overdone tonight diary. But at least Nan went out. I had exactly three hours of freedom before she came back stinking of sherry and urine and moaning about how the caller wouldn't know two fat ducks from her breasts before collapsing on the sofa in fits of laughter before passing out.
I put on my copy of Body and Soul by Paul Whiteman & His Orchestra, hung my suit up for the night and slipped into my silk kimono. After dancing around the room for a while spinning and turning getting giddy from the music and the 4th Gin Rickey of the evening. I fell on the sofa, sweating slightly and breathing heavily.
Mittens jumped up on my lap her whiskers playing gently against my chest as my kimono fell open slightly. I gasped a little in surprise. She started walking around in little circles on my knee and rubbing her scent gland all over my hand. The little minx. I stroked her back; she arched her chin up at me. I tickled her, she smiled and purred. She walked around my lap in little circles three more times and lay down.
I ran my hand through the fur of her back and felt the release I was denied in the shower at 10 past 6 this morning. We fell asleep together on the sofa. Man and cat entwined as one. I only just managed to wake up and peg it upstairs before Nan got home. I can't wait until tomorrow. I think I will take Mittens to the zoo. She'd like that. I bet Alison and the paper boy don't have this depth of feeling. I am sooooo happy diary.
Night night.
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So there you go folks. A page from the diary of Hoopi. The sick bastard. To keep A Day in the life as interesting and exciting as you've all come to expect we will of course be running another competition.
This week you have the chance of winning my paparazzi shot of Hoopi and Mittens caught just after this beautiful moment.
In order to win simple send a mob mail with the subject title "Sticky Cat" to Evangeline before the end of next September. A winner will be chosen at random from those that entered, and those that didn't sometime in 18 months. But trust me. This is a sticky cat picture you won't want to miss out on.
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The Sekrit's Out - Of the closet?
By Gwarble
Busy few days for Deimne, he dragged his weary, depression filled, elderly carcass onto the Streets again to announce the arrival of another leader to replace the fallen WillHayes, the former flame of GaryBusey, DirtyLittleSekrit.
Much speculation has gone into what DirtyLittleSekrit's dirty little secret might be with Youngsta commentating "You know what? I'm as baffled as a fox in a supermarket by it!"*, Kates saying "Secret? I don't know any secrets. Mardi Gras is good for secrets. Did you see my announcement about it? Wait! Where are you going? It'll be great!"**, and Mux adding "GWfffsABRJ GhHIAihoOGF RwearRFFV!!!"*** Before dribbling all over himself and picking his nose, because he's an idiot. ****
This wonderful insight from our best and brightest led to your number one investigative team at the Barble breaking out their enormous magnifying glasses, grasping their pipes (easy), donning their glasses with a fake nose and moustache attached and heading out into the streets to uncover the mystery.
The first and only clue to what this secret might be came from the auth announcement itself, "The Sekrit's Out". Out of where you ask? Well, when Deimne was 'flushed and out of breath' the plot thickened, our thoughts darkened, we steeled ourselves for the worst, ironed out the finer details, zinced our way to the truth and coppered all over the brass.
Concluding then that metals wasn't at the core of the issue, what could possibly have gotten Deimne out of breath? We note that she was at Will's side but nothing more. We've heard no wedding bells ringing and after thorough garbage digging under the guise of 'research' we decided then that DirtyLittleSekrit is probably out of the closet, which is her dirty little secret. Probably.
*Youngsta didn't make this comment.
**Kates didn't say this.
***Mux didn't add this.
****He is an idiot though.
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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: http://mafiareturns.com/news/obits.php.
Lazy bastards.
People we wish had died who actually died:
BrutusTheBarber - Ruh roh. The Barble does it again. Is it coincidence? The naysayers would have you think so, but I think it is more likely our direct line to the Grim Reaper, our 5 minutes of polite conversation, asking about the weather and checking that the new hooded cowl we sent him was the right size, before dropping our subtle hints into who we wish he'd go and say hi too that probably did the trick. Another one down and I'm sure that wherever Brutus is now (feel fairly confident in suggesting that is hell) he's shaking his fist wishing he hadn't fallen foul of the handsome editor of the Barble. Understandable, forgivable, inevitable.
With BrutusTheBarber having been barbered we are left wondering if anyone else will take heed our warnings. Nobody likes rude people, donation skimps or those who disrespect the finest publication ever to grace the streets. Dare you to disagree. Dare you right the way to your funeral. Ner ner.
People we wish had died:
Gaius - The Wise Guy from New York tops our death wish list this week for a very simple reason. We appreciate his efforts and entertaining stories, complete with a healthy mix of important figures and overrating of his own importance - something we can relate to. What is beginning to grate on the Barble's nerves though is the alarming regularity that old Gaius breaks down into tears over the events that befall him. What are you, a girl?
Deimne - "Hey buddy, did that new hooded cowl get to you alright? It did? Great! What about that scythe? And you like it, right? Listen, we need a favour..."
Matterhorn - Nobody likes a pickpocket. Choke.
Tommy_Carroll - Still owe me money. You're messing with fate here. I'd clear your debt.
PoisonousJelly - "Los Angeles is its own city and no one else's. It is not run for nor by Philadelphia and my loyalty to them is only outweighed by my loyalty for my members." Which is only outweighed by his love of the Barble. I don't know why he omitted that. It hurt though. We are just a delicate flower that needs love and affection to thrive, why are people so mean to us? Die. Die. Die. Die.
Anyone who insists on capitalising the 'F' or 'M' in Godfather and Godmother - Stop it. I hate it and I hate you.
If you have someone that you wish was dead, who isn't, feel free to submit their name and your reason for this feeling to me via mail and I'll happily publish it in the next issue. Genuine reasons are encouraged as much as stupid ones.
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Acknowledgments
Another one down and a whole host of people to thank. Let's start with me, thank you Gwarble, without your fine intellect, razor sharp wit, keen fashion sense and frankly laudable appearance; I'm not sure this would be such a success. Thank you Barble, you are too kind. Enough thanking? I think so, time to move on.
I notice that these are increasing in length with every issue. I attribute this in part to the ridiculous bit that shelly writes, so I may start cutting that out as I know you really just want to read my bits.
If you want to write for the Barble, we welcome all contributions, however if it isn't funny you may (definitely will) encounter some abuse from us and the readers. Warned.
To those who continue to sponsor and donate to this, you're saints. We aren't suggesting for a minute that Jesus hates anyone who doesn't donate or sponsor us, but that is being mooted about.
Something like a disclaimer:
If I've taken a pot shot at you in this, it is because I think you're big enough to handle a joke and may find it funny yourself. If I've thought wrongly and you aren't big enough to handle that, I'm a very expendable Capo (check me out) usually found in Philly. RIP Gwarble.
So concludes issue IV of my Barble. Go me. |
