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Pre-Gwarbley Barbleing
Well, I hope you're fucking happy.
We went and produced, as usual, a highly topical and enjoyable newspaper for all of you to enjoy, but that just wasn't enough for you was it? Noooooooooooooooo. You had to go and have yourselves a massive war and make half of our targets into corpses. I hope you're happy with yourselves. As a result of this some of our stellar jokes are now aimed at the deceased, which you'll just have to tolerate as it would be pointless for us to just have this stuff sitting here and not put it out.
Fear not, because I'm such a great guy I've gone and given you a piece on the war as well in the form of a pull out, which will follow this mammoth piece. When people talk about us in the future and I have no doubt that they will, let them say that the Barble's blonde locks were flowing out behind him and his biceps rippled as he delivered the news to the helpless and needy. That was a Deimne joke, I hope that is clear.
Anyway, you'll just have to bear with us for this issue. Or don't, you know. You can always go fuck yourself instead.
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Gwarbley Barbleing
It's not that easy being green. Having to spend each day the colour of the leaves. When I think it could be nicer being red, or yellow or gold or something much more colourful like that; it's not that easy being green.
These are just some of the thoughts plaguing the rapidly deteriorating mind of Los Angeles figurehead PoisonousJelly as he laments on another torrid and loveless week. His confidence took a further knock by revelations that even old decrepit himself Deimne, has been getting up to some lap warming antics with Godmotherfathertuckerlapdogstupidsuffixer Lucretia_Borgia. Don't put your back out.
It hasn't been all roses in Barbleville either. shelly had disappeared again leaving only a dog-eared English-French dictionary in his wake. The Barble doesn't want to point the finger, but we've only spotted one stupid Frenchie around here, so RebeccaMacleod, at least do the decent thing and put a ring on it.
With shelly's defection to NO or Le Stupid D'Orleans as it is referred to by Kates, the horoscopes remained woefully unread and as a result a lot of people remained extremely less insulted than usual. Colin had stepped forward to the task, but being the enormous offspring of a particularly ugly behemoth and an incredibly promiscuous weevil, his considerable bulk had blocked out the stars leaving them still woefully unread. He's rumoured to have caused a tsunami in the Pacific, but that could have been caused by the hole in the fabric of reality that -Lana- made by actually speaking in the streets. I didn't think I'd live to see the day either.
Hoopi had been below his less than average best as well, sending me his piss poor article written on the back of a gnarled MacDonald's menu in what was either his own blood (hopefully) or copious amounts of tomato ketchup. His gaunt, almost jaundiced frame and blood drained face offered no clues as to which it was, given that he always looked like a vampire's bitch.
Cow had once again announced his intention to produce "the best here article this god damn town has ever seen! You betcha, by golly!" and had once again delivered absolutely nothing. This was barely worth a mention, but the Barble likes to puff out its cheeks from time to time, toss its head from side to side and shake a fist at the sky in exasperation. We're a superstitious beast after all, just ask the leprechaun at the end of our rainbow riding a black cat and eating a four leaf clover. Oh, that's just Deimne eating a salad? My bad.
As ever it fell to Gwarble to set his feet, square his shoulders and tell the world everything that it was dying to hear. As ever Gwarble decided that was for gays and completely at odds to everything the Barble stands for. Get your 'real stories' and 'unbiased news' elsewhere turkeys, this is Barble Country and round here we do things a little differently. Let the Fat Cats and Big Wigs grumble about that.
Not to us though - we well don't care.
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Cojones - You Don't Have Any!
by Hoopi
Yep, that was the verdict of Tyrion and he was referring to you. Yeah, ALL OF YOU. Ok, the cojones bit was polarbear's but he's extinct now so let it go you conservationist freaks. Move on. Pandas, polar bears, Barble rivals, sexually unambiguous Godfathers....they're all dying out and there's not a thing you can do about it. What you can do something about though, is street debate. Tyrion was pretty clear in his message, which I'll paraphrase* for you here and now:
"You're all voiceless shit bags. The Barble writers rock my block."
All at Gwarble Towers blush a little.
He's right though, we are pretty bloody brilliant and I think you all know that by now. Referring to himself as a modern day Captain Fantastic**, he took to the streets to ask exactly where all the debate was. Where are the commentators, the opinions, the debaters? Too busy either hiding behind the sofa scared to lose their "hard work" or wasting time kidding on that mobsters tell stories to each other in public, that's where. Who the fuck are Bobby and Peter anyway? He's not interested, you Shakespearean wannabes.
What he is interested in is good, old-fashioned weighty debate. Granted, he got a little more debate on his subtle example - that of St Louis' ownership - than he probably wanted as the hordes (a couple of people) suddenly grew some cojones and voiced their ideas on the city. The best (read: worst) of which came from LA Right-Hand Man and mouthpiece, MobFloyd, who advocated Deimne forgetting about all his far more deserving New York Made Men in favour of granting the city to random thugs for no reason or personal/financial gain whatsoever. It'd be fun to watch right enough, as long as we could shoot them all at the end. It was only an example people, you won't actually get a say in St Louis' destiny until Deimne tells you you will***.
(If you feel a set of cojones tickling your voice into action, you're probably en route to sexual confusion but destined to be Godfather one day. In the meantime, find the original discussion here: http://mafiareturns.com/comm/thread/86292 )
*Fabricate
**Not strictly true
***Unlikely, he's deteriorating by the day; his hearing's gone now as well as his vision. I'll be running this city in a month.
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Horrorscopes
by Bob Liar
Capricorn
Get a job hippy. Just cause Jesus was a Capricorn and didn't have a job or a shave doesn't mean you too can bum around your mums house pretending to be wise. You are not wise. You are stupid.
Aquarius
You will find out this week that your wife is your first cousin. You will however be a little relieved because you never told anyone that you thought she was actually your sister.
Pisces
Try not to follow persuasive Dutch women into no-win situations this week. It will cause the death of everyone you know.
Aries
Following a trip to the launderette this week all your white shirts will be turned pink. Some bastard threw a red sock in there. They did it on purpose to force you out of the closet. You are quite relieved about it in the end. It's been a tough secret to carry around all these years.
Taurus
I don't know why I should bother writing anything for you Taurus. You have no future. You'll be dead by Thursday.
Gemini
This week you will lose a daughter but gain a son. No, no, no, your little princess is not getting married; you have a serious gambling problem. You will lose your daughter in a game of Hold 'Em on Tuesday night, but win a feral street boy at a dog fight on Thursday. Swings and roundabouts then eh?
Cancer
A massive breasted prostitute will give you whiplash when you motorboat her this week. And although it's very painful and cost $12 you will feel it was worth it over all.
Leo
A misunderstanding with a priest in a public toilet will lead to a criminal charge of gross indecency this week. It may be a good idea to change your story and consult a lawyer. Most men of the cloth these days are aware that you can't make Jesus appear by rubbing your cock.
Virgo
Get over yourself Virgo. Geez. You massive loser.
Libra
You will get a yeast infection this week. Probably because you are so promiscuous. I say promiscuous, I mean whoreish. It serves you right. It will start to burn when you pee around Tuesday.
Scorpio
Scorpio Scorpio Scorpio. What is it with you and cake? You just can't leave it alone can you fatty. However the last laugh will be on you when you choke to death on a Victoria sponge. Leo will piss on your grave.
Sagittarius
Your car will get stolen this week. You will be fired from your job and your wife will leave you for your former boss. The bank will take your house and force you on to the streets and you will be beaten up by some thugs from the local posh school. But chin up champ. At least you're not a Virgo.
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Bizarre Sports Evaluation
By Colin
Dutch Rudder 16
Dutch Ruddering (DR) came to prominence in the late 19th Century and was an activity enjoyed by many of the heterosexually challenged of the time. Initially of course it was something that the participants practiced openly simply to upset the Catholic Church. But after the Rudder Inquisition of 1878 many of the activities greatest stars were either captured and killed or had to go deeper underground than an anti-social mole.
DR'ing became an unspoken activity from that point on. That is, until the First World War. With women not being allowed on the front line something had to be done. And that something was the Dutch Rudder.
With the Kaiser defeated life was returned to normal and DR'ing once again died out. Or did it?
The Bizarre Sports Evaluation (BSE) is proud to bring you the interview of the Century. The 15 time DR champion, shelly!
Colin: Great to have you with us shelly.
shelly: Great to be here Colin.
(It was obvious shelly's right arm was far bigger than his left.)
Colin: So tell our readers shelly, what does it take to be a 15 time DR champion?
shelly: A lot of hard work Colin. A lot of hard work indeed. People don't understand the dedication that we have to put in to be good at this sport.
Colin: I can imagine. What do you say to those people who claim Dutch ruddering isn't a sport?
shelly: I would tell them to fuck right off Colin if I'm going to be Frank with you.
Colin: I'd prefer you to be shelly if that's alright?
shelly: Yeah fair enough. How would you discern what exactly a sport is anyway? Let's take American Football for example and compare it to Dutch ruddering. In both sports the athletes (and we ARE athletes) compete against one another. In both sports they get sweaty. In both sports you have to visualize your climactic event. And in both sports the aim of the game (the Touch Down in American Football) brings to the scorer an almost sexual delight.
Colin: Well you certainly raise some interesting points. But what would your reply be to the people who say that you're just a bunch of old men wanking in a circle?
shelly: Nothing. That's exactly what it is.
Colin: Well thank you very much for the interview shelly, and I wish you all the best for your upcoming competition.
shelly: You're welcome.
So there you have it folks. For those of you who are interested in seeing shelly in action at Dutch Rudder 16 it is being held at Cap'n Bob's Pirate Fun House and Male Go-Go Bar. Tickets are available at the door.
Don't bother rushing however. It's not going to sell out.
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Associates, Made Men and Coffins
By Gwarble
Nobody knows better than the Barble that originality is a much loved, much sought after beast. A bit like a puppy. But with lasting appeal and you don't really get tired of originality a few weeks after Christmas and start planning ways to get it out of your life and begin to wonder just how fast you would have to be driving to mow down a small animal without it doing any lasting or noticeable damage to your car.
Along similar lines Adelaide and Bellisima were revving their engines and charging head first towards O_Banion after he posed the question "Romeo, Romeo, where for art though Romeo?"
Or:
So I guess what I'm really thinking is not what makes a Made better than wise guy or any other lower rank, but what is the difference between an associate and a true family member? Is there a difference? Do you treat them any different or would you defend them any different for one is family and the other hasn't proved his self worthy. Would you treat a guy that is proved to be worthy and earn that rank from you the same as any other Joe Blow in the family?
It was one of them anyway. Either way, they quickly charged into a massive Deimne shaped roadblock when the Godfather of New York took more dislike to their attitude than he did to the Mayor's decision to scrap the 'extremely elder brother' program at inner-city primary schools. He immediately redefined the parameters of the discussion and choice words that had been used by the Le Stupid D'Orleans duo towards a Made Man from New York soon wilted in the face of his anger, melting down into platitudes and apologies.
Kates was on the streets not soon after pointing out that "she was wearing her new dress and still hadn't entirely gotten used to showing that much skin. Crossing her arms self consciously over the plunging neckline of her dress, Kates sighed. She certainly never thought she'd be in this situation when she'd left her father's house in Las Vegas."
Or:
I am extremely disappointed with the actions of my city in this discussion.
Bellisima and Adelaide have both been demoted- Adelaide has been removed from her position as LHM.
This is not conduct that lives up to the standards of New Orleans. You can be sure that, were Adelaide and Bellisima not exemplary mafiosi prior to this grievous mistake, they would no longer be with us.
Godfather Deimne, I sincerely apologize for these shameful statements that emanated from my city.
Probz the former.
Anyway Deimne's blood was up by this point and as many schoolchildren have found out to their cost, despite his age once you get him worked up he's very difficult to stop. As a result he was seemingly less than satisfied with Bellisima and Adelaide walking away with only red faces and sore behinds (probably because they were past puberty or that would have been right up his street) so decided that further action was required.
He is a kindly soul old Deimne, despite what people in the media (like me) would have you think. He got Adelaide a beautiful cinderblock that her feet practically slid into and then he tucked them in tight with some wet cement. Not only that he then invited the former LHM for a gentle swim and splash about in the sea to show that there was no hard feelings. Sadly she splashed a little bit too far from the shore, much to Deimne's horror. He just shot Bellisima though. Nobody is that fucking kind all the time.
(For what really happened between New York and New Orleans, get all the details: http://mafiareturns.com/comm/thread/86656/page2)
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The Fence: with Crandle J. Sprozza
by Colin
Sprozza: Welcome ladies and gents to the first edition of The Fence. I am your host Crandle J. Sprozza, and today we're going to discuss some hard hitting topics that YOU the members of the audience would like to ask.
Sprozza walks into the middle of the stage his arms excitedly flapping.
Sprozza: I'd like to say straight off the bat what a great pleasure it is to see all your lovely smiling faces in front of me today. You're all as equally amazing as the other if not more so. Ok let's take some questions.
Sprozza launches himself into the crowd and props himself comfortably dead centre between two women.
Woman #1: My boyfriend has been stealing from me for the past 6 years. Sometimes it's $1, sometimes its $400,000. Should I confront him about it?
Sprozza: What a fantastic question. I almost certainly would confront your boyfriend my good woman whilst at the same time pointing out the relative flaws and pit falls that someone who is going to confront her boyfriend could encounter.
The woman smiled broadly. Then started to think about what was said. Before she could open her mouth again Sprozza was off to the next person.
Man #1: I've been thinking of starting my own business Crandle. It would initially cost me a huge amount of money but in the long term could well make me a very tidy profit. Could you give me some advice?
Sprozza: Another fantastic question, if not better quality then almost certainly exactly the same as the last. I can give you some advice my friend. In this life you get a lot of choices, some risky and others not so risky. In my opinion I think you should definitely start your own business as, like you pointed out, you have the possibility of making a lot of money. On the other hand however you might make a massive loss and it would turn out in hindsight to have been a bad idea. So maybe you shouldn't.
Man #1: But that doesn...
But Sprozza had moved on to the next person.
Woman #2: I'm a 45 year old house wife who's children have finally left home. Do you think I should start to rebuild my once promising career as a law attorney?
Sprozza: Excellent, excellent question. You're all so absolutely amazing and equal. I will be honest with you, there is only one answer to this question. Yes and no. Yes you definitely should start to rebuild your career as there are few finer things in life than the fulfillment a good job can give you, and no you absolutely shouldn't get back into working because things will have changed far too much since you've been gone, there are few more upsetting things in life than the disappointment and heartache a bad job can cause you.
Woman #2: You may well as not said anythi...
Back on the stage now Sprozza addresses the audience.
Sprozza: Thank you to everyone for coming down today to watch the show. We've got time for one more hard hitting question from someone in the audience.
A microphone is lowered down into the crowd to pick up the voice of someone in the audience.
Man #2: Are you actually going to give us a solid answer on anything or just duck and dive the questions like a lazy politician?
The crowd holds its breath and the lights dim.
Sprozza: Goodnight everybody!
Credits roll.
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A Day in The Life
By Bob Liar
Well losers, by which I mean you. Yes you. No, not you. You. Ah fuck it. I mean Nickje. But mainly I mean CrazyNine. But MAINLY I mean Maldiva. Pfft. Loser. Any hoo. I digress. Where was I? Ah yes the intro. Hello losers (looking at you there BlackKnight). Welcome to the latest brilliant (shit) edition (shit stain) of ADITL (w0rd up biznatches). This week we have a very special (lazy) edition of your favourite part of this brilliant (fecking rubbish) newspaper (jizz rag). This week I have decided that it would be entertaining (lazy) to document (ahem) a day in the editorial department (pub) of the Barble (aforementioned jizz rag).
I just know that you are all (none of you) really excited (nonchalant) about finding out how a day in the world of the nation's finest (worst) newspaper (who are we kidding? Oh yes. Hoopi. He's retarded enough to buy into it.). So he we go. A day in our life.
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The day starts at around 8am. It does for ma at least. That's when the overnight rooms at Cap'n Bob's Pirate Fun House and Male Go-Go Bar (or CBPFHAMGGB as we regulars call it for short) kick out for the morning. I'd been there all night. I have the stamina of a hero. And there was this retarded kid that had been hanging around the Barble offices lately begging for an internship. Gwarble had said he could have a job if he'd gobble him off. So one throat poke later and the Barble had Colin on staff. Anyway, old Gwarble had said that Colin went at the task about him with a lot of enthusiasm and if he were so inclined he could suck start a tractor. And that had got me thinking. I told the new intern that if he wanted to supplement his income, the Cap'n could find work for him. And so I'd spent the night at Bob's helping Colin to settle in.
So I headed off to the office at 8. I knew Colin would be a little late as he'd been dancing all night, and Bob liked his performers to tidy their own booth in the morning. I hit the office around 8.45. I stopped on route for a quick 10 minutes with Ire's mother, and was pretty surprised to find that Hoopi was already in the office. Surprised mainly because last time I saw Hoopi he was snorting a line of cocaine off of Colin down at CBPFHAMGGB as per the perks of his platinum membership package. Anyway Hoopi was there with his crayolas spread over his desk, producing his latest work, dribbling as always.
Gwarble's office was empty as always as he never made it in before 11. And as ever, Evangeline was filling most of the parking lot and sorting through the competition entry. I made my way past Hoopi, trying to avoid any conversation with him, but as usual it was not possible.
Him: "Hey man. Wow, what a night, that was real..."
Me: "Fuck off Hoopi"
Him: "Ha ha. Yeah man. I know what you..."
Me: "Fuck off"
Him: "Fucking funny man. I love you."
I got to my desk dragged out the old Remington portable and decided to write a resignation letter. I couldn't work with these idiots anymore. But then Gwarble arrived in a fluster, and broke my concentration as I watched the fat idiot bowl through the room and over to his office.
"Let's make a paper!!" He screamed as he bowled through. Hoopi started yammering like an aroused gibbon. I was pretty convinced that he was going to start tugging on his winky and flinging poo across the news room, after all he'd done THAT before. But thankfully he didn't.
"Are you ready to make the news?" He shouted across the room.
"Yes Master" Hoopi screamed back. And the two of them ran into Gwarble's office for ten minutes. There were quite a few muffled sounds that I couldn't make out, but when they returned, Gwarble was smoking a cigarette, and the veins on Hoopi's right arm were really pumped.
I checked my watch. It was only 10 o'clock. I was bored. I decided to amuse myself by making up an extreme sport that was little more than men touching each other and then dropping it on the desk of our new intern as a hot scoop, and after 20 minutes of typing it up and alleging that that the Superman to my Clark Kent was a key player in line for a competition, I knew the idiot would fall for it. That'd teach him to try sucking himself a job on the paper. I was very amusing sometimes.
11 o'clock. Gwarble and Hoopi were going nuts in the corner with the crayons. Colin had finally arrived. Evangeline had eaten the best part of 7 whole chickens, and I hadn't had any form of release for nearly 2 and a half hours. We hit the pub. Just like most days. I pretended to recommend a new bar I had heard of. Everyone else pretended that they didn't know it was a knocking shop. I got the round in and disappeared round back for twenty minutes claiming I needed a poo, no one mentioned it. Ah, routine. The comfort of idiots. Call it what you will, but as sure as no one ever mentioned that Evangeline's mum had forgotten to remove the guy ropes from her latest designer number, no one mentioned my constant need for gratification.
We stayed in the pub until about 8pm. Evangeline was desperately trying to get Hoopi to notice her. Hoopi was desperately trying to get Gwarble to notice him. Gwarble was desperately trying not to throw up, and Colin was desperate to write a sporting hero piece he'd been alerted to, and I was desperate to get away from these morons. And so, we headed back to the office to write the paper. Hoopi going nuts with his Crayons. Gwarble alternatively swigging gin and writing words. Evangeline dry humping a school bus with a picture of Hoopi drawn on it, Colin rushing of to find a phone booth and me heading home via Madame Sins, expecting a phone call before I lazily type up the day's activities and leaving it on numb nuts desk in the morning.
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So there you have it. That's the effort it takes to produce this fine publication - None. Still we have high hopes for Colin. Whilst on the outset his journalistic abilities seem to be as naïve as a new nun, we will soon set him right just like we did Sister Deidre when we held a journalistic writing course at the local monastery.
All this brings us around nicely to our competition this week. For your chance to appear in ADITL next week, send a mail with the Subject Line "Colin Gargled Gwarble" to Evangeline and send 1 million dollars to Gwarble.
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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:
I've done something a little bit different this week. I've gone and given you an update as I know most of you are wondering/living in fear about/of the Barble death wish list. Here is where we currently stand:
Issue II
Shitbrick (Shitbreak) - Deceased
Jewish_Vidi - Thug
SpaceMountain - Don
Vitti - Deceased
shelly - Useless
Deaths: 2 - Shitbrick (Shitbreak), Vitti.
Survivors: 3 - Jewish_Vidi, SpaceMountain, shelly.
Issue III
Lily_ - Deceased
Matterhorn - Deceased
BrutusTheBarber - Deceased
Deimne - Godfather
Deaths: 3 - Lily_, Matterhorn, BrutusTheBarber.
Survivors: 1 - Deimne
Issue IV
Gaius - Consigliere
Deimne - Godfather
Matterhorn - Deceased
Tommy_Carroll - Deceased
PoisonousJelly - Deceased
Deaths: 3 - PoisonousJelly, Tommy_Carrol, Matterhorn.
Survivors: 2 - Deimne, Gaius.
Issue V
Every crewleader
Issue VI
sneakyrat - Consig LHM
Erratic - Capo
MicheleRossi - Deceased
David_Webb - Capo
Deaths: 1 - MicheleRossi.
Survivors: 3 - David_Webb, Erratic, sneakyrat.
As you can see, when the Barble finger of death starts pointing, someone invariably meets a timely demise. We may not get everyone and Deimne continues to repeatedly elude us, but we get them all eventually. Nobody has survived three entries on the death list. Keep that in mind old man. You're messing with destiny.
People we wish had died:
In light of the massive deaths this week I'm going to let you all survive for another week and not name anyone. Unless Deimne chuffs it. Then I did it.
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Gwarble Barble Issue I (War)
I've decided to produce this as a separate pull out as it doesn't really tie in with the rest of the issue.
It can be found here.
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Acknowledgments
Well this took a lot of hard work, elbow grease, blood, sweat and tears. Not from me, obviously. I can pretty much shit this stuff out, no fucking problem. This is however the first time that I will actually acknowledge the contribution of the other members of the Barble team.
Thank you Hoopi for producing one shitty article, half of your contract with the Barble.
Thank you shelly for submitting your pieces so late that you delayed the publication behind this stupid war that meant I had to do a special issue of the paper.
Thank you Colin for taking until Issue VII to produce anything at all. Where would we be without you? Oh, that's right. In the same fucking place.
Thank you Cow for your continual promises to submit something and your continual failure to do so.
Thank you Evangeline for not even bothering to report/receive any mails this week. I never thought someone could fail as a mailbox, but that was before I encountered you.
There you have it. Well done Team Barble.
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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 Consigliere usually found in Philly. You probably can't get away with shooting me, but Colin's a nobody, pop him. RIP Colin.
Goodbye Issue VII and Special Issues I. Call me.
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