Are you as grossed out as I am by the thought of rivers of cow's milk running through the countryside? What if you fell into one?!? Yuck! And what's at the source of these streams? A giant cow being perpetually milked? Double yuck!
When the O'Gorman family encountered still opposition to their proposal to demolish the Edwardian house they owned and use the land for six modern properties they were probably a little miffed, or more than a little, if the name they chose to give the development is anything to go by. Having been given a green light by the local council, the O'Gormans announced that the new cul-de-sac was to be called "Pogue Muhone Court". Pogue Muhone is a phonetic English equivalent to the Gaelic "pog mo thoin", which means "kiss my ass" (Telegraph).
And if kissing ass isn’t your thing, perhaps you’d like to crawl through one instead? You can at a new exhibit called Grossology, which opens at the Museum of Discovery and Science in Fort Lauderdale on Saturday. Subtitled “The (Impolite) Science of the Human Body” the exhibits also include a tour of the nose, a giant replica of human skin and an interactive experiment in flatulence called “Burp Man” (Miami Herald).
Not kissing but kicking ass are the pensioners of Bavaria in Germany, who decided not to take the credit crunch lying down. After their financial adviser, James Amburn, handed them losses in excess of 2.3 million euros, five OAPs tracked him to his home in Speyer, kidnapped him, and tortured him into faxing a Swiss bank for the money to pay them back. Instead he managed to alert the police. Mr. Amburn later confided that his four day ordeal was perhaps extended by his kidnappers having to stop a while when they ran out of breath (Mirror).
Also taking a little longer than usual were the German actors appearing in Erofeev’s satirical play “Moscow to the End of the Line”, alternatively billed as a “crazy depiction of one of the most famous alcoholic benders in world literature”. In an ill-considered attempt at method acting four of the performers decided to swap the water in the props for real vodka “as an experiment", only to fall off their chairs, and the stage, before inviting audience members to take a swig. They were later taken to hospital under a police escort to have their stomachs pumped (Guardian).
More outrage now, this time from Great Britain, where in a clear breach of their normal high standards of decorum, British mums have been seen shopping in the Tesco supermarket chain in pyjamas and slippers. In fact more outrage seems to have been directed at Tescos, who have implemented a dress code and now escort anyone so attired from their premises, than at the mums, They should all just be thankful they don’t have Walmarts, that’s all I’m saying (Mirror).
Ladies! Is your biological clock ticking away but there's no man in your life? Have no fear, the do it yourself insemination kit is here! But what is it and where does it come from? Well, back in 2005, Britian changed a law that affects the anonymity of sperm donors and has since seen a huge drop in the amount of sperm being donated. This has lead to women seeking fertility treatments abroad, and in a growing number of cases, buying do it yourself insemination kits from the internet. Yes, that means you can buy an unknown man's sperm online and use it to inseminate yourself in the comfort of your own home. The kit (shown) contains a sterile semen container, lubricant, a plastic speculum, disposable gloves and sterile pasteur pipettes. You can read more about the process here and order the kit. (Bonus! You can also order a vibrator for men.) Frankly, I would think you'd have to be extremely flexible to do this by yourself.
As magic tricks go, the "I can vomit wine" claim has died a deserved death. One imagines that neither David Copperfield, nor even Penn & Teller, will be reviving the spectacle of Floram Marchand any time soon.
Floram Marchand: The Great Water Spouter
In the summer of 1650, a Frenchman named Floram Marchand was brought
over from Tours to London, who professed to be able to 'turn water into
wine, and at his vomit render not only the tincture, but the strength
and smell of several wines, and several waters.' Here - the trick and
its cause being utterly unknown - he seems for a time to have gulled
and astonished the public to no small extent, and to his great profit.
Before, however, the whole mystery was cleared up by two friends of
Marchand, who had probably not received the share of the profits to
which they thought themselves entitled. Their somewhat circumstantial
account runs as follows.
Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner includes the line "Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink!" to evoke the torment of Tantalus that was visited on the eponymous anti-hero for killing an albatross. It seems a similar punishment may have befallen two fugitives from justice after they starved to death on board the luxury yacht they stole to escape in.
Peter Clarke and Sharon Arthurs-Chegini went on the run in the last weeks of 2005 after being charged and bailed for theft and fraud. Dubbed a modern-day "Bonnie and Clyde", the pair had previously enjoyed a "champagne and cocaine lifestyle", according to Ms Chegini's step-daughter, before one of Clarke's schemes, claiming to be refurbishing a Devon hotel - to include a heliport among other extravagances - so as to serve the celebrity elite, came crashing down. Clarke and Chegini had thrown lavish parties to separate potential investors from hundreds of thousands of pounds, but were caught trying to sneak out of their hotel without settling the £1000 bill and placed under arrest. When Clarke was unable to settle the debt, he and Sharon jumped bail and stole a yacht, only to sail it a scant 25 miles round the coast of England before being caught and charged with its theft. This time when the ran, they made a better job of it, finally making their way to Portugal in May 2006, where they stole another yacht and sailed it out to sea.
They were not seen again until September of that year, when the yacht was spotted drifting off the coast of Senegal, storm-damaged and with a torn sail. On board were the badly decomposed bodies of Clarke and Chegini, along with Chegini's diary, in which she detailed how they had not eaten for weeks and had only urine mixed with sea-water to drink. In her entry for June 19th, Sharon wrote "I dream of my mum’s steak and kidney pie, steak pie and sausage and mash" (Telegraph).
This ad from India makes me laugh out loud every time I watch it, but it (the ending?) may not be safe for work. Maybe it just depends on where you work.
Paul Di Filippo
Paul has been paid to put weird ideas into fictional form for over thirty years, in his career as a noted science fiction writer. He has recently begun blogging on many curious topics with three fellow writers at The Inferior 4+1.