Sleazy Tiger and the Holy Grail

As Sleazy Tiger looked out over the world that he had not created because he couldn't be arsed but was more than happy to take credit for, he felt pride. Everywhere he looked he could see reflections of himself. In the brothels of Nevada he saw himself. In the gin palaces of Soho he saw himself. In the poppy fields of Afghanistan he saw himself. In the Parliament of Westminster he saw quite a lot of himself. This was pleasing to Sleazy Tiger, as he had not laboured long and hard for six days and six nights to create such a fertile land. But yet, Sleazy Tiger felt that something was missing. In this near imperfect land there was something less than sordid. Sleazy Tiger felt it in the hole where his heart should have been. And lo! The answer came to him in the white hot flash of a sparked reefer.

One of his disciples was much holier than thou should have been and was failing to spread the word through deed. Sleazy Tiger looked down on this apostle and was displeased. EVIL JOE SPURNS THE LOVLIEST OF THE THINGS I DID NOT CREATE, THE WOMAN. Sleazy Tiger thundered. IN DOING THIS EVIL JOE FAILS TO HONOUR ME PROPERLY. HATH I NOT GIVEN HIM ALL HE COULD WANT? A JOB IN A PROFESSION DOMINATED BY WOMEN? A POSITION IN A UNIVERSITY WHERE THERE ARE MANY NUBILE YOUNG FEMALES? I EVEN MOVED HIM TO THAT LAND OF PLENTY, ESSEX!

Sleazy Tiger was greatly angered and considered vengeance against the renegade disciple in the form of a plague of STDs. Eventually his wrath cooleth. NO. Said Sleazy Tiger. EVIL JOE HATH BEEN A GOOD SERVANT TO ME. HE HATH SWORN. HE HATH STOLEN. HE HATH DRUNK TILL HE WAS LEGOED. HE HATH PUSHED AN OLD LADY UNDER A BUS. I MUST DO MORE TO GUIDE MY SON (Paternity Suit Pending) IF HE IS TO FIND HIS WAY. Sleazy Tiger decided this, and it was good.

Sleazy Tiger then appeared unto his most loyal and favourite disciple, Tristan the Rock, in the form of a burning bush. I AM SORRY TO DISTURB YOU MY SON, BUT I HAVE A DIVINE TASK FOR YOU. Sleazy Tiger charged his disciple to come up with 10 chat-up lines for Evil Joe at the British Juggling Convention. FOR IF HE CAN NOT PULLETH THERE, WHAT HOPE HAVEETH HE? Tristan the Rock agreed and sought Sleazy Tiger’s patience to allow him to finish what had been interrupted. Sleazy Tiger assented, but insisted that Tristan might want to get checked out after that burning bush. Tristan did so, and it was not good.

Tristan the Rock made a pilgrimage to the holy castle of Nottingham and stayed forty days and forty nights in the caves beneath its mighty walls, surviving only on Ale and Pork Scratchings and waiting for inspiration. On the forty first day he emerged, and with him he naught but a biblical hangover and stone tablets proclaiming the 10 chat-up line commandments of Sleazy Tiger. They read thus:

I - Want to see my Two Ball Mess?

II - You look like you’ve got experience in handling a long staff.

III - Come on, what better offer are you going to get round here? Aside from him. And him. And him.

IV - I’ve always loved a girl in a Hula Hoop.

V - You do realise random underage girl, that I could buy you booze & fag?

VI - I’m a unilateral American invasion force and you’re Afghanistan. Prepare to be liberated!

VII - Yet another drink?

VIII – I’m like Saddam Hussein. Well hung.

IX - You look like a supermodel. Yeah, one of those plus sized ones.

X - I’ve always thought Poi could just as easily be used as restraining chains.

Sleazy Tiger read of the commandments and was pleased. He ordered Tristan the Rock to deliver them unto Evil Joe. Tristan did so, and was rewarded by Sleazy Tiger with Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh, which were their stage names.

Sleazy Tiger also sought out another apostle, James the Just. JAMES, YOU HATH USED YOUR STAFF SKILLS TO PULLETH A FINE JUGGLING WOMAN. YOU MUST GUIDE EVIL JOE THROUGH THE TRIALS THAT ARE TO COME. LET HIM NOT FALL INTO THE TRAP OF THE UGLY, THE OBESE OR THE INSANE (THOUGH GOOD LUCK FINDING ANY SANE JUGGLERS). YOU WILL BE REWARDED FOR YOUR SERVICE WITH THE STAFF OF MOSES, WHICH CAN DO SOME REALLY SWEET STALLS. James heard Sleazy Tiger’s proclamation, and vowed to follow it faithfully.

The Romans came unto James and offered him thirty pieces of silver if here were to ruin Evil Joe’s chances. James the Just considered their offer, but deemed that, whilst getting crucified was the closest Evil Joe would get to being nailed, it was not worth it for less than fifty. The Romans offered forty, then forty five pieces, but demanded a 30% share of the betrayal. James the Just would not give away more than 25%, and so decided to go it alone. James was pleased with his resilience, and declared that he would not deny Evil Joe three times before his cock could crow. Sleazy Tiger blessed this statement and stated that he held great hopes for a Second Coming.

Sleazy Tiger supports prayer. Specifically, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God Yes, Yes Yes Yes Yes!

More Sporting Shenanigans

The newly formed Office of Sleazy Sports has published this message on behalf of Sleazy Tiger.

This is a message from the Office of Sleazy Sports, established 2010. More precisely, yesterday. ST himself has deigned that he has been irresponsible in ignoring the sporting field. This is mostly due to ST watching some of the Athletics over the weekend and realising that women in small outfits getting sweaty and at times handling poles was well within his remit. But mostly ST has found that the sporting world has become more and more a reflection of himself in recent times. Distant cousin Sleazy Tiger-Woods doing the dirty with what seemed like any women he could land a golf ball within five yards of (and bear in mind, he is very accurate) was a clear sign to ST that it might be time to watch Sky Sports a little more often and XXX TV a little less.

But in the last week, another figure has made a massive contribution to dirtying the good name of sport. An early contender for 'F**king stupid f**k of the year' 2010, stand up and take a bow John 'Tiger' Terry. The England Captain and Chelsea defender made a spirited effort to improve dressing room banter by doing the dirty with teammate Wayne Bridge's (now former) girlfriend. This was backstabbing of a compatriot on a scale not seen since a juggler with the initials AH nicked his flatmate's girlfriend. The similarities end there however, as Tiger Terry has not since been back to the scene of the crime and mercilessly mocked the broken ex-boyfriend.

Public condemnation of Terry has flooded in, not least because he is married with two children (or 'Unwanted Side Effects' as ST refers to small humans) and is Captain of the England football side and therefore expected to set an example. ST feels that much of this criticism is unwarranted and that Tiger Terry deserves a defence counsel. To this effect, ST has released this list of points in support of Terry:

1) The England Football Captain needs to be representative of England football fans everywhere. Therefore being a complete arsehole and shagging his best-mates girl is the least he should be doing. Terry should also be drinking 15 pints of Stella a night, getting into fights and generally being a loud wrongly-opinionated tit.

2) The lady herself (a Ms. Vanessa Perroncel) was an absolute dog of the sort not seen since the last time Evil Joe passed the Colchester branch of Liquid at 2am on a Friday night. If Terry in any way contributed to the break-up of Wayne Bridge and Ms. Perroncel's relationship then Bridge should be buying him a beer and thanking him profusely. ST does not mind a bit of ugly in his women (by and large the munters don't even force him to use the chloroform), but orange with a face like a bulldog that has been kicked repeatedly in the balls is too much even for the Master of the Slip Away Before The Light Comes On Only After Destroying Any Evidence of Where You Might Be Found.

3) In the last World Cup, many critics blamed the England WAGs for distracting the players and reducing their performance on the field. Tiger Terry was clearly working to a plan, that he would take one for the team and make sure they could not disturb the players. Here is an example of how Terry's masterstroke would work (and surely secure the World Cup):

[Date: The night before the Big Game. Location: Chez Rooney]
Colleen: Come on baby, don't you love me?

Wayne: Not tonight Sugar Lump, I need to be on top form for tomorrow's game. The boss said if I score a goal he'll give me back my Tickle Me Elmo.

Colleen: But Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaayne I'm horny! Since we are in South Africa and no one knows who I am I need to get my attention from some other mentally retarded audience, and you fit the bill perfectly.

Wayne: (To himself) This is not good. She's going to touch my special place soon and I'll lose all my frustration and rage for the game. And then how will I manage to do something stupid and get myself sent off? I know, Captain Terry told me if I had a problem like this I should call him.

[Rooney walks over to the phone and punches in a short number. After five attempts. And after realising that he was using the remote he manages to get the right number]

Wayne: Skip? Yeah it's Mr Potato Head. The wife is bugging me and I need help. You'll be over in five minutes? Great. What's that? Condoms? I prefer pulling out but if you want Skip I can get you some. What? No its pretty light in here Tez. Yeah I've tried turning out all the lights and shutting the curtains. Several paper bags as well, right you are Skip.

[Terry does his Captainly duty (with the help of a bottle of Sambuca and a picture of David Beckham taped over the paper bags), Rooney gets a good night's sleep and wakes refreshed the next day. He gets sent off, England finally stop playing like a One Man Team and pull together to bring the game and the Cup home. Stirring rendition of God Save the Queen and the scene fades to black]

4) Terry was upholding the noble traditions of the 'Right de Seigneur' also known as the Captain's Prerogative. This gives the skipper the right, nay, the duty to nail his team's women if he sees fit (though Lord knows where he saw the fit in Perroncel). The last time this ancient custom was used to such good effect was in India, where an injured England Cricket Captain Michael Vaughan was rumoured to have been stroking Marcus Trescothick's wife through the covers. A distraught Trescothick returned home, leaving the openers bearth open for Alastair Cook to make a sublime debut. And then decline into mediocrity after a couple of seasons. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

5) At the end of the day, who really gives a shit what mischief the England Football Captain gets up to. He'll still be an overpaid, under-brained narcissistic twat of the highest proportions. It would be a better to give him a checklist of naughty things to accomplish when he takes the job, getting rid of the surprise and shock when they become public knowledge. Suggestions for suitable bawdy acts on a Postcard to the FA please.

This has been a proclamation from the Office of Sleazy Sports, on behalf of Sleazy Tiger. We urge you to support Team GB for the 2012 Olympic Games. Assault an opposing athlete.

Cambridge Real Ale Festival

Last night I found myself drawn by the smell of yeast and beards to Cambridge where I found a charming ale festival in full swing. And who did I bump into but Nottingham’s very own Mathematics post grad. Dan had made the trip down to his old haunts in order to sample such delightful ales including ‘Double Momentum’, ‘Transforming Tomorrow’, ‘Golden Shower’, ‘Old Stoatwobbler’, ‘Trip Hazard’, ‘Yule Fuel’ and ‘Granny Wouldn’t Like It’. Dan it would seem has done magnificently for himself rounding up his post grad thesis in the coming weeks and with a place secured on a post doc although he is slightly concerned that this is a bit too much like a real job as he will be forced to pay taxes! In any event that is avoiding the major news which is that Dan is now engaged! The date is due to be set shortly with venues being scouted out. He seemed less than impressed with my suggestion of The Victoria but there is still time for him to come round. All toasts will be done not with the conventional champagne rather with something all together my aley and delicious.

Now to get back to nursing my hangover. Over and out.

ST

Some things I heard...

Exciting news gang, I just started up my own investment company ‘Sleazy Tiger’s Investments’. We mainly deal in the transportation and distribution of goods from Eastern Europe, free samples will be sent to you all soon. Please treat them nicely (Joe I am looking at you)

This Tiger has heard that a young juggler/spinner/actor/DJ/all round nice guy is doing rather well for himself north of the boarder. An interview today for some sort of marketing managerial position. Additionally he is going in for some acting roles and attempting to launch a fire spinning business. Good luck to him! ‘Fingers in pies’ as he said.

Speaking of fingers in pies a certain ex-estate agent turned creative numbers man met a lovely young lady although upon the revelation that she is 15 and from Essex swiftly removed his finger from said pie and passed her details on to the Head Librarian in my library of sleaze. No doubt she will be catalogued and dealt with appropriately.

The sad (but delicious) news I am forced to share with you is that you are all invited to the funeral/dinner party of poor Stew. A certain law student picked him up, loved him for a while and has since got bored discarding him like a piece of meat. Webmonkey – you have been warned…

That only leaves me to say a very happy birthday to Nainesh, I do hope I put enough air holes in the present I sent you otherwise you could be receiving three dead hookers. When you are done with them I tattooed on a return address so just pop them in the post, thanks.

Sleazy Tiger
(Director of STI)

Sleazy Tiger's nomination for 'Man of the Year'

This is an approved message from the Office of Sleazy Tiger:

As all of the readers of this Blog will know, Sleazy Tiger is the King of all that is immoral. He is the Sheikh of Swearing, the President of Promiscuity, the Rajah of Rampaging and the Dean of Drugs. ST's position in these areas has never been challenged and never will. Like a tenured professor, he bestrides his chosen arena like a God. However, and unlike a tenured professor, this Lord of Lechery occasionally recognises and praises lower mortals who have done not-so-great deeds.

Of recent, Sleazy Tiger's attention has been drawn to one such man: a well known man, a rich man, and clearly a distant relation of our own ST.

That's right, it's Sleazy Tiger-Woods.

Until the last few weeks, Woods was considered by ST to be pathetic, contemptible even. He was the kind of goody-goody golden boy who'd never tried a joint, never nicked a chocolate bar from a shop, never tied a Malaysian Ladyboy to a rock and whipped them till they died. However, when Woods managed to forget his driving lessons and hit not just a tree but also a fire hydrant whilst reversing (a feat only bettered by Evil Joe who managed to take out an entire school of orphans whilst in neutral) the lurid stories that followed caused him to quickly climb in ST's regard.

First he lied to Police. Did anyone, ANYONE, in the world anywhere really believe the official line that his wife was trying to rescue him by breaking that rear window with that golf club? Golf Clubs are useful for two things only:

A)as an excuse to get away from your significant other.
B)and being used by your significant other to beat you senseless when she finds out what you were really doing when you were out 'golfing'.

So STW had started sticking it to the man. This impressed ST. But then he kicked it up a notch. Mistresses Tiger thought he'd lined up, putted and then left in a hole covered in Tiger-Love started crawling out into the light of day. At the last count STW was nearing a double figure round of cheating*. This tickled ST so much that he sent STW a congratulatory telegram. In the form of a hooker with 'Way to go you son-of-a-bitch' tattooed in a personal area that a frisky Tiger would surely discover.

[*ST is however distinctly disappointed that so far none of these floozies fits the 'Hugh Grant Theorem.' This states that any celebrity that could have any sexual partner in the world will voluntarily sleep someone who wouldn't get nailed in the world's worst-looking bar with a five drink head start and an entire Tesco's worth of paper bags over their head.]

So Tiger Woods is dead, long live Sleazy Tiger-Woods. But what does this mean for the philandering golfer? Well, his sponsors are deserting him like alcoholics from an AA meeting. But ST feels that when one door closes, another opens. And whilst that door for ST is generally one to a brothel, for STW it may just be an opportunity.

Picture the scene. Tiger is lining up a long putt for the win on the 18th. Suddenly, his eye is caught by an attractive female marshall, who draws him out of shot into the long rough off the fairway. The crowd begins an appreciative murmur, a rising crescendo punctuated by occasional shouts of 'GET IN THE HOLE!' Suddenly, the masses go wild. STW strides out of the grass, zipping his fly with one hand and acknowledging the crowd with the other. His ball lies unnoticed and unmolested on the green. The picture fades to black and the simple message is left:


'Just Do Her'


This has been a message of support for Sleazy Tiger-Woods. When no one else will stand beside you, Sleazy Tiger will do. Though he may pick your pocket at the same time.

10/12/09

Okay sleaze fans, ST here, plenty of things to update you all on…



In no particular order then, Spin Doctor. To my knowledge not many major developments of late. I understand he has discovered the joys of graphic novels. I have a new favourite but I will give you more details of that one later. I am recommending anything by Alan Moore and for those interested in History Maus, Red Son and From Hell make for particular highlights. In other news the Spin Doctor has evidently proven himself to be a shining star in the office gaining a 30% pay increase. This tiger speculates the addition weekly cash will be blown on blow and beer.



From one spinner to another then as we delve into the wonderful world that is the life of Reuben. He has asked me to draw your attention to a special beer, Adnams ‘Christmas Star’. This beer scores 7/10. Sleazy Tigers ‘Beer of the Week’ winner however has got to be ‘Santa’s Wobble’ mainly for the name but also for the deep complex flavours and high alcohol content. 9/10. Further more we wish Reuben the best of luck with his music which can be found somewhere on the internet.



All that talk of beer has reminded me of another man who enjoys the odd tipple. Evil Joe has no doubt been partaking in the occasional drink whilst not busily making up excuses to explain the lack of books on shelves to final year students panicking about impending deadlines. I suspect that the drinking and slow reshelving rate may have some correlation? Joe has been attempting to juggle at least once a week although does feel a little cheated by the cunning marketing ploy of the club to get more members. Turns out the cute female juggler that signed him up no longer attends regular club sessions. Better luck next time. One final note on our budding young photographer, it seems that he has been on a little trip to Ipswich. Photographs are improving with each upload however I have to wonder if the secret to his success is taking over 1000 photographs in order to get the four worth keeping?



Who is next… Mira – Milo, Miley, Malaysia. Yes, Mira has gone back to Malaysia for the Christmas break having suffered months of complicated law questions and the constant drain of living with the threat of being stuck by an errant juggling club. One particular incident that may have scarred poor innocent Mira forever is a certain sleazy book about the ‘adventures’ of Dorothy, Wendy and Alice. When will you learn? If Tristan says something is ‘amazing’ then I advice not opening the pages that can only contain depravity on a level you could not imagine in your worst nightmares. Speaking of another Tristan – Mira misunderstanding for some unbelievable reason Mira thinks Tristan will be in a coherent enough state to collect her from the airport on 1st January. How long have you known him?! He has plans with a Romanian girl so that could lead anywhere. Incidentally I may have stolen your keys and gone on a sleazy road trip, your car is somewhere in Bulgaria.



Tristan then, he is, as ever, having a turbulent time of it. Back to the joy of unemployment. Well actually worse, working in the job that he aimed to avoid at any and all costs. He is now a trainee accountant working for the worlds most demanding boss. Still at least it is not lettings consultancy. On a brighter note Tristan has plans for fun and games in London toward the end of next week including what looks to be a great night out in a gay club. As we know, often the best place to meet the ladies, no competition and guards lowered – I predict a wondrous evening.



That just leaves me to wish Adam a happy birthday for next week. Now I am off to find myself some Yates Girls, do not wait up kids.



ST

Watchtiger

Watchtiger – saving you money to spend on hookers and blow

We now bring you this exclusive. Watchtiger has received numerous reports of shady dealings in London’s world of property rentals. A firm, who we may not name for legal reasons, have been accused of dirty practices in the promotion and leasing of houses. One particular employee has been identified as being wholly and solely complicit in such underhand acts. We are not authorised to name this individual, however in this article he shall be known under the pseudonym ‘Rristan Tedburn.’

Watchtiger decided to collect evidence of these alleged misdemeanours. Two of our investigative team, posing as a prospective couple, used a hidden camera to record shocking footage. The misleading descriptions and outright falsehoods they received are documented in the transcript below:

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

Rristan Tedburn (RT): Pleasure to meet both of you. [Flashes pearly white winning smile] Are you ready to see your new house?

Targeted Watchtiger Anonymous Team-man (T.W.A.T.): I thought you said this was a nice area?

RT: But it is. Or at least it will be. The current residents...
Subtle Lady Uncovering Turpitude (S.L.U.T.): A tramp pissed on me on our way here!

RT: The current residents are slowly being pushed out by the influx of young urban professionals. Take that gentleman for instance. [Points at a suited man across the road] A fine example of the standard of tenant you can expect in this neighbourhood.

T.W.A.T: He’s a drug dealer.

RT: I doubt that.

T.W.A.T: Then why did he offer me some ‘Brown Sugar’ when he approached us before you arrived?

RT: Because he is a Pimp and not known to diversify. Shall we go inside? [Hurriedly moves couple into house]

RT: So, as you can see it is a Victorian terrace, tastefully furnished and kept to the highest standard.

S.L.U.T: Tastefully furnished? It’s practically empty!

RT: That is what is so tasteful about it. This house has been furnished to appeal to a wide range of design opinions. Take the living room for example; it has a minimalist look whilst having all necessary fittings to fulfil any requirements.

S.L.U.T: It’s got a plank of wood balanced on two boxes.

RT: A rustic, minimalist look. Shall we check upstairs?

RT: As you can see, it is an open plan attic bedroom, with skylight and en-suite facilities.

T.W.A.T: By en-suite facilities you mean that bucket?

RT: And so close to the bed, such convenience!

S.L.U.T: And when you say skylight, do you mean that hole in the roof? [points to 1.5x1 metre gap in ceiling]

RT: Hole? Calling that a hole defames the groundbreaking vision of the architect. This is an Immersive Skylight. It brings the outside environment in, involving you in your surroundings. If you want to feel closer to nature then this is the feature for you.

S.L.U.T: And what happens when it rains?

RT: You get really immersed in nature.

T.W.A.T: I can’t believe this.

RT: It shocks me too. Such opulence for just £350 a month. An absolute bargain even if I say so myself.

T.W.A.T: You really expect us to pay that much to live here?

RT: For the first year yes.

S.L.U.T: First year?

RT: Our standard contract is laid out as follows. You pay the base rate for the first year, in this case £350 a month. [RT speaks very quickly] For every further year you pay the standard rate multiplied by the distance from the Meridian line, divided by the number of times your wife consents to lay with me (Biblical style) and then multiplied by the number of grains of sand in a cubic inch. [Back to normal speaking speed] Just the normal contract conditions really.

S.L.U.T: How long would we be tied into this contract?

RT: That depends.

S.L.U.T: On what?

RT: Do you believe in an everlasting soul?

[END TRANSCRIPT]