Irish Teenagers’ Mystery Sex

The [UNICEF] report on sexual health and behaviour [of Irish teenagers] found:

– 82 per cent had had full penetrative sex while 10 per cent said they didn’t know what type of sex they had had.

Obviously this is a new kind of sex invented by the Catholic Church. It involves having full penetrative sex without actually touching your partner’s or you own naughty bits.

Yeah, that explains it. I think.

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For Sale Two Teenagers, Hardly Used

A woman in America faces trial after selling two children in her care for $170 (about £100) and a white cockatiel.
I dunno, sounds like a plan to me, so here goes.

FOR SALE

TWo Teenagers, 1 male, 1 female.
One careful owner
Good condition, certainly not worn out or over worked, although female has yet to develop a sense of direction.
Extras:- inability to get out of bed
rapacious appetite
incredibly untidy
selective deafness
expect to be waited on hand and foot
exceptional levels of rudeness to adults in
household
charming, polite and witty to adults outside
household
Very clean, enjoy long periods in the
bathroom grooming
reasonably housetrained although they both
appear to have an aversion to putting lids
down on toilets, tops on tubes of toothpaste,
spot cream and shampoo and conditioner
Full vocabulary including abbreviations CBA;
WTF; OMG and like whatever.

All reasonable offers considered.
No time wasters.
Will NOT accept a cockatiel, cats would argue over who got to eat it.

How To Embarrass Your Teenage Daughter #163

1) Go to a large DIY store.

2) Send her off to the paint aisle.

3) Wait patiently for ten minutes.

4) Have a quick look up and down the neighbouring aisles to see if you can see her.

5)Go to the customer service desk and explain that you have mislaid your child.

6) Supply the information that she (currently) has purple hair, is wearing a black top and black leggings, has stripy foundation on her face, is 5 foot six, and is 17 years old.

7) Stand by as they put an announcement out over the tannoy.

8) Wait for red-faced teenager to be escorted to customer service desk by kindly assistant.

Shock! Horror! You Mean It Wasn’t True?

Little Alfie Patten, thirteen going on seven year old, is said to be devastated that DNA tests have proved he is not the father of ‘girlfriend’ Chantelle Stedman’s daughter, Maisie.
Alfie claimed, or at least whoever was manipulating him did, that he had been going out with Chantelle for two years, that she had been a virgin and that he was the only boy she had slept with.
However there then followed a parade of teenaged boys claiming that they had slept with Chantelle, at her home, with her mother’s knowledge and implicit consent.
A bit like that scene in Spartacus really.
“I slept with Chantelle nine months ago.”
“I slept with Chantelle nine months ago.”
“I slept with Chantelle nine months ago.”
It was at this point that social sevices stepped in, right on the ball, as usual, and an injunction was obtained banning any more reporting on the story. DNA samples were taken from all the boys involved and it now turns out that a lad called Tyler Barker is the father.
Tyler would have been fourteen at the time of conception, which is really a tad young to be doing anything more than sniggering over your Dad’s secret porn pile, wouldn’t make half such a good story.
He also looks like a typical teenager, spiky hair, cheeky grin, a bit of a twinkle in his eye, not nearly as interesting as the almost infantesque Alfie.
Makes you wonder about the motivation for bringing the story of Alfie and Chantelle onto the front pages really, doesn’t it?
Was it public interest or was it the lure of The Sun’s chequebook and the chance for the infamous fifteen minutes of fame.

Suffice to say I’m sure anyone with half a brain was, like Boggartblog, extremely sceptical of the claim in the first place.

THE DAILY STIRRER
and don’t forget all the other Greenteeth Multi Media pages…
Greenteeth Multi Media
bogboggart
Greenteeth Comedy Pages
A Tale Told By An Idiot

Wonder of Woolworths and the The Pick And Mix Recession.

It is turning into the pick and mix recession, bad news is hitting some hard but bypassing others. As some banks go under and others get bailed out, as the car makers beg for a bailout while makes of wind turbines are protected from the chill winds of the credit crunch by subsidies, house prices tumble while heating costs soar.

The only recession proof industries, according to Tony Soprano, are gambling, prostitution and organised crime but even so purveyor of shite usually prosper. It is a measure then of how bad the current recession truly is when we learn that the nation’s favourite purveyors of pure unmitigated shite, Woolworths, have gone belly – up.

Throughout my life and the lives of my parents Woolworths has been a High Street institution, the number one supplier of cheap tat. Now they find themselves squeezed in the jaws of the credit crunch and impaled on the twin horns of global Wal-Martisation and the availability of cheap imported tat from China. Say what you like about Woolworths tat but it was good, sound British tat. Our tat is the equal of any in the world and we should defend it.

Not only did Woolworths successfully sell shite, they made it acceptable for middle class people to shop there, giving a veneer of respectability to a bag full of rubbish by enabling people to strike a virtuously thrifty pose against the chavviness of other cheap retailers.

Two things stick in my generation’s assembled minds about Woolworths, the records and the pick and mix. The records were terrible own-label cover of big hits of the day attributed to unknown singers with ludicrously uncommercial names. An Elvis Presley song might be covered by Stan Gomersall or somebody, one Cliff Richard sound-not-very-much-alike was later revealed as Tony effing Blackburn. This is a measure of how uncool Woolworths records were. To own a Woolworths record was social death for teenagers. I even heard that someone called Reg Dwight had covered hit for Woolworths. How could anybody with a name so dull have any musical talent?

The Pick and Mix counter was a different matter altogether. Bizarrely flavoured and coloured sweets, chocolates and candies were displayed in plastic bins, customers collected a bag and moved along the display adding a few of these, a few of those until they had collected their own bodyweight in the various concoctions of sugar and toxic chemicals many of which were so unnaturally coloured one felt they would probably glow in the dark. The colours and the foul aftertaste did not change the fact that Woolworths Pick – and – Mix was gloriously addictive. Where will sugar addicts get their fix if the chain closes. Sorry about that rhyme, I’m not up for poet laureate, it was entirely accidental. I’m not mental, a job like that is inconsequential.

As addictive as the pick and mix choices were, the records were equally repellent so we who sucked saspirella tablets while listening to tuneless and lacklustre recordings of Satisfaction or Please Please Me will not come over sentimental. Woolworth promised much but in the end neither pleased not satisfied. A metaphor for life really.

Goodbye Woolworths, we’ll miss you but not much.

Odd Socks The Cause Of Teenage Angst

I was on the phone to our dear old Mum the other day and the conversation turned to my offspring.
I launched into my habitual moan about BBC’s lifestyle, lying in bed ’till 11 or 12 o’clock, or even later, stumbling into the office mid afternoon, disappearing off to the pub at about 9pm and not coming home ’till 1 or 2 in the morning, just the usual teenage behaviour really, and my moaning about it is just the usual parent behaviour I guess, after all we used to stay out till the small hours, however we did get up to go to work, but there were plenty of proper jobs about in those days.
Anyway she listened to me banging on and then she came out with, “It’s all your fault he’s turned out the way he has, letting him wear odd socks when he was a toddler and talking to him as if he could understand!”
Stunned silence from me, yes I did talk to him as if he could understand, because he could, but let him wear odd socks? Never!
I reckon she’s getting BBC confused with The Rolling Stoned reporter, after all Ian’s a bit of a rebel when it comes to socks.

I’m Moving to Nebraska

The global economy continues to melt, which is obviously an unforseen effect of global warming, although you have to say that with everything getting warmer we all should have seen it coming.
Gordon the Terrible thinks he can convince everybody to follow his flagship economic rescue package and so save the world. Hopefully les powers that be will not forget that during the previous 11 years it was Gordon at the helm of our financial ship and we’re in no better state than anybody else. Just wait until the world finds out that Gordi has been investing our hard earned taxes in Iceland, what you didn’t know?, why do you think he so vociferously asked Iceland to give it back the other day?
Anyway that’s not the reason I’m moving to Nebraska, I fear they are in an even worse situation than we are and very shortly they are going to have a plonker for President, yet again. (I have to say America, just look at what electing Tony Blair did for us,and for the other candidate you’ve already had W for nearly eight years, you don’t need to go through it again.) Vote for Yogi Bear or somebody like that; Tom with Gerry for VP, T.C. and Choo-Choo, Officer Dribble for Attorney General there must be oodles of viable candidates out there, it’s a big country.
But I digress, you need to know why I, and probably very soon, thousands of others like me, from all over England, will soon be moving to Nebraska.
You know that in certain countries they have “baby safes” at hospitals and convents, where mothers can go and deposit their unwanted babies, anonymously, with no fear of legal or social reprisals?
There’s a little door in an outside wall, which opens onto a space furnished with a crib and blankets. The mum places the baby in the safe and closes the door. This activates an alarm within the convent or hospital and the baby is collected and taken in to be cared for. Civilised innit?
Now apparently in America, all ot the individual states have passed legislation allowing for the same principle, parents can place unwanted children in the care of the local hospital. Some states will even accept children up to the age of five or six.
But not Nebraska. Oh no. For all of you out there who procreated back in the ’90s, Nebraska is the place to be.
They have raised the age at which children can be taken to the hospital and left, no strings (particularly apron strings) attached,
just leave your kids and walk away, no further contact, ever
no charges of abandonment or neglect, just get back on with living your own life,
tempting isn’t it?
well Nebraska have raised the age limit, as I was saying
up to……EIGHTEEN !!!!!!!!

Yo!

Sir Hector Gobbett-Broadsides on Child Labour

Austrian Nannies Take Babies To Vote.

This week’s election in Austria is the first election in Europe to extend voting rights to sixteen year olds,

There have been moves to extend voting rights to tenagers in other nations but these have been scuppered by teenagers themselves, when asked for whom they might vote the young people replied:
“What does it matter, nobody understands me anyway.”

Despite finding that nihilism is the most popular political stance amonst they young, leaders of the International Politically Correct Busybodies Group is determined to press ahead with reducing the voting age throughout the western democracies and then pressing ahead with a plan to progressively enfranchise younger children.

A spokesman for the group said “Our slogan til now has been “Old enough to fight, old enough to vote,” but now we are moving towards an “old enough to wipe, old enough to vote with the aim of giving children the vote once they are out of nappies.”

The Group contend that children have traditionally been denied a voice in government and must be allowed to play a part in deciding what kind of world they will inherit.

The leader of the Teletubbies party which will benefit most from a change in the voting age told Boggart Network News: “ This change in the Austrian voting age is a great step forward towards achiving our aims. In a future hung parliament we would hope to become part of a coalition government. That would enable us to push our key policies, cheaper sweeties, no VAT on bubble machines and equal rights for Teddy Bears.

More humour every day from Boggart Blog

Teens Binge Drinking Crisis (humour)

If the style seems a little odd its because the article was written for one of my American gigs.

Politicians, medical experts and church leaders here in Britain are panicking about the binge drinking antics of teenagers. All around the country young people are getting rat-arsed and behaving in an offensive and embarrassing way. I’ve read things are pretty much the same in the other English speaking nations so we must wonder is something going on, is there some social trend that is driving the under twenties towards alcoholism?

Aside from the general crappiness of everything and the prospect of having to work in a call centre or fast food outlet for fifty years because our leaders exported all the proper jobs to India and China, there is no obvious reason for the lack of manners and self respect we see in young people.

A lot of the blame can be placed on psychology. It is criminally irresponsible to let psychologists loose near impressionable young people. Kids are resilient and can bounce back from most things but ten minutes with a shrink can so traumatise them, their lives are irredeemably damaged. Teenagers of my generation never suffered trauma, in fact we did not even know how to pronounce it. Do you want to know how beneficial psychology can be to young people? Three words, Running With Effing Scissors.

So psychology has done a lot of harm by encouraging the idea that children should be wrapped in cotton wool and protected from reality. Is there anything else?

We need to examine education policies, not so much dumbing down as dumbing up. It used to be that the stupid kids were laughed at and bullied. Other kids would spit at them, pin insulting signs to their backs and make them eat snot sandwiches. And a few years ago that was an incentive. The dumb kids had a choice, either get smart or get hard. Mostly they got hard and beat all the bullies to a pulp.

Modern education policies hold that nobody should be allowed to fail. So the stupid kids get As and the bright kids get marginalised. Nobody likes a smart Alec, this makes the smart and even the in-between kids act stupid just to fit in. Then everybody gets competitive, trying to be the most stupid. How can kids develop self esteem in such an atmosphere.

Thirdly, liberal parents do not help their kids. If your early teens want a sleepover party do not offer to let them have light duty alcohol with your approval. This will not teach them to respect alcohol. What you have to do is come over Tipper Gore (oops, pardon!) on them, give a two hour lecture on the evils of sex and drugs and rock & roll and warn them they will end up like Ozzy Osbourne or Paula Abdul or with a liver the size of Alaska and a brain the size of a pin if they touch a drop of booze, say a bad word in their mind without even moving their lips or look at a picture of Lindsey Lohan getting out of a limo. On second thoughts scrub the pin, we don’t want the little darlings thinking sex and booze will make them more intelligent.

Before you go out make sure the drinks cabinet is securely locked. This will test their resolve and their ingenuity and if they have had to work hard for their booze you can be sure they will not treat it lightly.
Kids need boundaries, if there are no boundaries there is nothing to rebel against and they become confused and antisocial. Think about this logic; they have light duty alcohol, spritzers, breezers or alcopops and think threy can handle booze. On the other hand if they raid the drinks cabimet success will go to their heads and they will polish off several bottles of Jack Daniels, Gin, Bacardi and Brandy. And then they will learn to respect alcohol. And your local carpet cleaning contractor will love you.

Teenage boys of my generation did not provoke and fears about binge drinking. An education in the University of Life had taught us to respect both booze and ourselves. You would not have seen us being brought home in a police car, wearing our trousers on our heads and singing the chorus to Spirit in the Sky over and over. We had been brought up to know when we had HAD ENOUGH. Make sure your kids read this; when you have you are lying in the gutter choking on your own vomit you are getting close to your limit, so only have a couple more beers. After that, nothing – except a few shots maybe.

I am not being a killjoy, even young men who know when they have HAD ENOUGH can have fun and do crazy things. A friend of mine once tried to eat a young turtle he mistook for a meat pie. He managed to get most of it down before the Chinese takeaway shop owner noticed. Why do they have fishtanks in Chinese Takeaway shops? Its just asking for trouble.

The current crisis is not just about young men of course. Young women on a night out are just as capable of behaving like sluts; getting their boobs out in the street, showing their knickers to the CCTV cameras. And they get worse when they have had a few drinks.

All the projectile vomiting, falling asleep in dumpsters and having sex with inflatable animals is avoidable with a little self discipline of course. Its easy to know when you have HAD ENOUGH, when lying in the gutter choking on your own vomit then you should only have a couple more beers. After that, nothing … except a few shots maybe. If young people can just remember that they will be OK – well OKish.

Modern kids are just not learning to be responsible with drink because they are overprotected. They just do not develop the emotional maturity to be able to handle themselves. Here is the message that should be spelled out to all young people: If you can’t stand on your own two feet you should not be drinking.

Life On Mars ( space technology )

Following the news that astronomers using the latest technology have recently discovered several planets in distant star systems that could possibly support life, the Boggart Blog news team have been out and about learning how you, the punters, feel about the possibility that we may be about to make contact with aliens.

Fatsally in the Midlands, spoke to Dairyman John Farmer who said:

Aliens, we don’t want none o’ them round here, don’t know what they’re carryin, could be worser’n Baaadgers spreadin’ bovine TB. Some o’ they got six heads and twelve legs I ‘eerd. How faaast would foot an ‘ mouth spread if we had a few o’ them running round eh? No, the faaarmin’ community don’t want no aliens. ‘cept in carrot picking season. How faaast would they ‘aaarvest a field o’ carrots with eight aaarms each? But you don’ want to go letting they in willy nilly, got to be careful. I mean we don’t want none from the moon, all that free cheese, what’s that goin to do with wholesale prices eh? And as for them buggers from the milky way, well if they gets in it would about kill the dairy hindustry.
Unless the government was to increase our subsidies of course. Yes if the subsidies were raised that might ‘elp.

The Boggart Blog reporter then put it to Mr. Farmer that he was not quite conversant with the difference between foreign nationals and extra – terrestrial life forms and asked would he be prepared to pay both foreign nationals and extraterrestrials minimum wage for working on his farm. Mr Farmer then became aggressive, saying:
Minimum wage, you bloody communist, we don’t want no minimum wage here, its hard enough to make ends meet as it is. Is you from The Guardian? Get Orf Moi Laaand!”

Next the BBC (Boggart Blog Cub) Reporter asked teens at the skateboard park how they would feel if aliens landed..

Teenagers (speaking at once):
Aliens, sick
Yeah, bare – live
Safe
Yeuch not, they’re well munty
My rents are aliens
Aliens are gay
They’re random, they got pointy ears.
Make some phat drugs I heard
They slime and have dogbreath, rank
I went to a gig
They come out of your guts, I seen it in a film
Eugh, thak would mek you puke
That was a film, real one grow in pods
Praps I’ll get to shag one

Finally Ian spoke to London cabbie Sol Glickstein:

Aliens mate, naw, I don’t mind aliens coming to London, Poles, Czechs, Scroats, s’long as they pays its all the same to me. I don’t like them Alike Ad though, you never know what they got under their hats. You can hardly say to someone, “’ere are you a sewer side bomber” can you, so I gives them a swerver.
Wot? space aliens. Well that’s different, why didn’t you say. I’ll tell you who I had in my cab last week, that Captain Jean Luc Picard. Gin’ t’see his Mum in Barnsley he was.
I says to him Jean – Luc mate, I dunno how you puts up with them aliens in your nice shiny spaceship, wot wiv them drippin slime all over the place. I wouldn’ want ‘em in my cab mate.”
Anyway, he’s a decent geezer that Jean – Luc Picard, a French starship captain from Barnsley, you don’t meet them every day, anyway, he give me the lowdown on them space aliens. They got great technology and their women can have five hundred babies at a time and the entire family can live for months on a handful of Cassiopian lentils. And they don’t have no national health in space you know, I reckon they only comes here to get free hearing aids. But we don’t want them coming in do we? Takin our jobs and seducin our women. And them teleporter things they have, what’s that going to do to the cab trade eh?

So there we have it. If the aliens do arrive they will be greeted with mixed feelings by the people of Britain. This has been a Boggart Network News on the spot report.

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