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Womb Wisdom

WOW
Words for Birds

This week in WOmb Wisdom magazine: Extended feature on the killing of Jamie Bulger. Free gift with this issue: a simulated cassette recording of the tragic tot’s screams.

Next week: The shocking story of little Katie, who was sexually abused by her rugged, Steve McQueen lookalike uncle. Also, we recount the ordeal of 45-year-old housewife Audrey, who was overpowered and raped by a hunky 6-foot burglar. Free 7-inch personal massager with this issue!

Book Corner

Extract from borderline boiler J K Rowling’s exclusive interview with Jeremy Paxman.

JP: I’ve asked you eight times now. Why do people buy your books?

JK: I’ve captured the imaginations of young and old, and taken them for a ride. I mean, a magical journey.

JP: You’ve also magically captured the money of young and old.

JK: Oh, yes, I help people escape the emptiness of their lives and lose themselves in a world of intoxicatingly mediocre drivel, in return for contributions towards the new extensions on the west wing of one of my mansions. (JK unleashes one of her trademark watery, wall-eyed smiles)

JP: What do you plan to do once the tale of plucky four-eyes Harry Potter comes to an end?

JK: I plan to write my autobiography. It will be entitled “Down and Out in Edinburgh” and it will detail the hardships I suffered when I was first starting out as a writer.

JP: Did your husband beat you? Were you living in the gutter?

JK: No, but my heating was on the blink so I had to have my dinner in a café. Of course, in the early days –

JP: What was it like being married to Denise Van Outen?

JK: That’s a different Jay Kay.

JP: I know. Sorry, I was just thinking aloud. What were you saying?

It was recently announced that JK Rowling has just given birth to a magical baby boy called Optimus Prime. The boy was born with a birthmark shaped like a multi-million pound publishing deal.

Limericks

A pale Youth, whose verve had worn thin,
Once swallowed a gallon of Gin.
He collapsed with a mewl
As cedillas of drool
Did gyrate at his slack, hispid chin.

There was a team leader named Bridie
Who looked like a female Bill Tidy.
When she puked on her clothing
Through sheer self-loathing,
The Myrmidae said, “Nearly Friday!”

A Lady, whose manner was blunt,
By an ignorant Mongol was dumped.
“I should,” she supposed,
“Appear cool and composed,”
So she phoned up and called him a Cunt.

There was a young person from Leith
Who had twelve STDs and four teeth.
“If you think I am scabby,
You should see me babby,”
Squalled that epicene person from Leith.

Never eat anything bigger than your head

Disclaimer: I wrote this a good two years before taking up with the current Mrs. This was the closest thing to bitter I had ever been - feeling 42, acting 17. I have no cause to think like this no more, but I've kept it here for posteriority.

Never get involved with anyone whom you consider to be more skilled and accomplished than yourself. Your love and admiration will soon give way to feelings of inadequacy and resentment. You might think that this person will encourage you to recognise your own potential. But that just leads to a slippery slope of reflection and resolution. Growth is just another word for tumour. Moreover, don’t try and find comfort in their weaknesses and vices – it’s not a charming display of human frailty, it’s an ugly mirror of your own corruption.

Solution: Mésalliance. Avoid the issue of projection by finding someone more virtuous and unassuming than yourself. Avoid the feeling of emasculation* by making sure that their talents and achievements do not outshine your own. You may measure yourself out at your own pace. You will not be challenged. You’re only as clever as you feel. Claim the X-factor: you’re bald (stress-related alopecia) and crippled (emotionally) so grab a wheelchair and surround yourself with nutants.

Go ahead, fart – no one can hear you up there, and even if they could, they would just think it was the squeak of Helios’ chariot wheels echoing down your back passage.

* Girls can feel emasculated too: see Clement Freud’s works on the Electric Complex.

Self Hpel

Dionne’s Healthy Responses to Negative Energisation
Lachrymose or bellicose behavioral choices actually promote negative energisation, and these all-too-common response modes are not only unsightly, but alienating and distressing for the guy who fucked your girlfriend. The best way to handle feelings of gut-wrenching anguish, bile-spewing rage or even just everyday weltschmerz can be followed in four easy steps:

* Don whimsical headgear: for instance, a fez, or a jester’s cap.

* Chortle merrily.

* Emit a pink-colored, sweet-smelling gas from your tummy-button whlist playing “Edelweiss” on a litle music box made of bluebirds and fairy plops.

How to get ahead in advertising

Where does inspiration come in boxes?

a) Boots Pharmacy
b) Ceramic Tile Warehouse
c) Leith Mortuary

If you answered b), then you could be a potential champion of the advert game. Suitable for ages 9 to 99. That’s and, not to. Whilst getting brainwashed by “messages”, affect mental skill and agility by screeching like Pavlov’s consumer monkeys. MB Games couldn’t have come up with a more mindless pastime. Lead your chums in a chanted litany of precious things. Be the first to name the product advertised, identifying brand and specific product.

Is that plain old Mister Sheen, or his fragrant “friend”, Mr Sheen Pot Pourri? If you don’t have chums, shout out anyway, and the dog will probably follow suit as your frenzy mounts. You can play fast and hard, or with laid-back “irony”. As a side project, become an expert no ad trivia. For instance, Grange Hill’s now balding “Stew Pot”, celebrated for his sensitive portrayal of “Kev” in the car advert, has also appeared in adverts for diarrhoea pills and fruit corners. Or maybe it was fruit pills and... but I digress.

Chummy Popples

Vox Populi, Vox Dei

E-Fun for the Attention Starved, the Small Minded and the Socially Inept

Chummy Popples is cool! It’s like you’re a character in a soap, and not a boring, paranoid loser any more. It’s hyper-real. The white noise needn’t stop with phone calls, emails and text messaging. It’s a sandbox. It’s a puppet show. Express yourself in ways you never dared. Stage fright, huh? Adopt the generic smiley face of the online journal culture. Smiley faces and disclaimers wipe-clean your identity. Nobody can hear your stammer or see your buck teeth. Will you deal in vitriol or sugar-fluff? Either one, but never the twain.

New Members

Skool Nickname:
Age: (minus 10 years)
Name of your best friend:
Would you take a bullet for this person?
Would you fuck them over for £100?
What’s your price then?: £
Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend?
But is there anyone you’d rather be with?
So are you really in love, or just scared and horny?
Favourite book:
Have you read this book?
Favourite band:
I’ve heard of that band. Are you sure you still like them?
Click on the button below to have this information sent to MI5, the FBI, the NME, MTV, Newsnight, the Queen, your mum and God :)