Fake Interview: William Shakespeare


Hello everybody, it is with great pleasure that I present today’s interview with a very special guest. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE! Now if you would give me 5min whilst I ‘ave at him with a cricket bat’ …………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………….………………………………… Blimey he is one tough bastard but I got him good.  That beating was for every school kid for the last 1500 years for making them learn your silly plays, with all its extra e’s and made up words. Right!  Questions. 

Hello Will, mind if I call you Bill? I hope your journey through time and space was ok and that your host is a comfortable one.

My dearest Rockster, think you kicked me, did you? Are you sure? Did you really?

Away you three-inch fool! Do you have any idea who I am? Where I´m from? No! Because no-one does! No-one can pin me down, despite being the most famous name on the planet – no-one knows anything about me! Yet you all know me! I sell tea towels and tickets by the trillions! I prop up the English economy, help actors pay rent the world over! You all quote what I´ve written, sing my songs, use my made up words, but you can´t be a hundred percent sure if I even exist!

That last kick in the yard did fair smart though, you plague sore, you. I´ll give you that. 

Q1. 2Bnot2B.  What does it really mean?  When I was a school kid I told my teacher you was trying to find a flat that yer best mate lived in so you could have a few ales with him. She said that was wrong.  Who was right?

Oh, Rocky, you must know that our doubts are traitors – but you, sir, were so wrong thinking it was about ales and flats that you were went past right and carried on back into wrong again. I hope your teacher beat you black and blue. And then set fire to you and stood warming her hands as you cried for mercy – for then, and only then, might you have realised the meaning in my once-heard, never forgotten words. I´m beginning to think you´re unfit for anyplace but hell. 

Q2. Love Mary Kill time.  Your choices are Juliet, Lady Macbeth or Tony Soprano.

The three, the three, all at once, back to front, up and down, in and out – yes, love, marry and kill the three. Party on, Garth. 

Q3. Here’s a question from Abbygayle, aged 6 from Upper Twatton. If you were going to get a tattoo on your lower back what phrase would you pick to be translated into Chinese?

One of two: “I´m serious as cancer when I say rhythm is a dancer” or “As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti, I seek to cure what’s deep inside, frightened of this thing that I’ve become”.

Either of those, Abbeygayle. 

Q4. Have you travelled to any cool places?

Birmingham. Freezing. To be avoided, then as now. 

Q5. Who was the biggest bellend from when you were alive? What sort of things did they do?

Dr Simon Forman, a fan of mine, without doubt, Rocky. He was well known to me – a friend of my landlady, a spectator at many of my shows – but he was also what these days you might call a Weinsteinish sexual predator. He worked mainly as a quack in London back then, prescribing remedies based on the planets and various alchemical and occult remedies – a kind of Paltrow of his day. Paltrow mixed with Weinstein, wrapped up in a dirty bath-towel, then. Forman even predicted his own death by drowning in the Thames. I´ll leave it to your imagination to guess what I did when we heard the news…tottering on the edge of London Bridge, britches ´round the old ankles. 

Q6. Book recommendation.  What book do you think everybody should read?

Ovid, Metamorphoses. Or In the Time of Nick by Nick Owen. Punnery of the highest order, almost Ringo Starr-esque.

Q7. Ever been in trouble with the fuzz?

Many a time, Rocky! But, you know what? Who is a man that is not angry sometimes? Naughty sometimes? Pilfers sometimes? Yeah, have I poached. Nicked. Borrowed. You really think I made all that stuff up? It´s what we do with what we nick that´s important – and you can quote me on that. The first thing we should do, if we ever get the chance, is kill all the lawyers. Word. 

Q8. Either tell me a joke or do something funny on YouTube. (by the way this isn’t a question I know and don’t need to be told….if it helps I’ll put a question mark here —à?)

One I enjoyed on Ye Olde Twitter:


Q9. Can you create a brand new cocktail for me?  I’ll need the name, what’s in it and how do you create it.

Cocktails are for the sick, Rocky! Sick in body and sick in mind! Caudles and possets were the cocktails of my day and only the sick and idiotic drank them then – as now! Ale is what you need. My dear father was the official ale-taster in Stratford and we all had micro-breweries in our house – don´t come to me with your talk of cocktails! Buy a nice bottle of White Lightning and mix it with two Barley Wines and tip in a Tenants Extra. Sup three pints of that goo for breakfast and seven pints with lunch and then come back to me and see if you want to keep talking cocktails! 

Q10. Picture this scene.  You are on stage at the Globe theatre, you are acting as King Duncan (from Macbeth) the play is called a Midsummer Nights Dream, you are a bit drunk.  You look down at the audience and there in the front row is Donald Trump and Kim Jong-Un holding hands.  What do you do?

I would shout at them, “Do you see? Do you see? Do you see how we didn´t and never spoke like plummy upper-class idiots? We speak like farmers! Like nowadays Devon farmers! Isn´t that ironic? That everyone creams themselves over posh-voiced, perfectly intoned, clipped-voice “Shakespearean” speeches, when the way they talk has absolutely nothing to do with the way I ever talked, my actors talked or the way I wanted my speeches to sound!”

I would hope that might convince one of the posing fools to go on and press the button! They´d finally have a decent reason, anyway.

I’d like to thank today’s host James Hartley, author of The Shakespeare’s Hand Series. You can catch him on Twitter.


Fake Interview: John Spadula


Hello everybody, today’s interview is with the great naturalist John Spaduala, the supposed inventor of the spatula. He is also rumoured to have saved the life of 4 people, two by releasing them from his sex dungeon, one was a surfer plucked from the jaws of a rabid shark and the 4th person’s life was saved when John stopped her from watching “I’m a celebrity…” 

Hello John, how are you doing?  What name do you like to go by?

Aye. Some folks call me Johnny. I’ve been trying to get my rap career going so I’ve rebranded myself as Lil Spaddy. Check out my Soundcloud. (Link not provided, use google)

Q1. Let’s get right down to business, Spatulas!  Did you know that Ken Hom gives away a free spatula with each wok that gets sold?  How does that make you feel?  You must be tens of pounds out of pocket over that.

It hurts on the inside but I don’t fault Ken personally. I’ve been screwed out of spatula money ever since I invented the thing. Everyone wants a piece of the pie, and they cut me right out.

Being the inventor of the interview I know exactly how you feel.

Q2. You are organising a party, you only have enough cash to hire one machine, smoke machine/popcorn machine or snow machine.  Which one do you pick and why?

I’d get the popcorn machine ’cause my dudes would come through with the smoke and the snow, you feel me?

Q3. I know it’s only a matter of time before you become married to Scarlet Johannson, what name are you going to give to your first born?

We’re hoping for a girl who we can name Farrah, after Farrah Abraham from MTV’s Teen Mom. Scarlet and I consider her a personal hero. If the baby is a boy, we’ll probably name him Randy Newman.

Q4. Abbygayle, aged 6 from Upper Twatton has a question for you. “WTF is the difference between a Spatula and a fish slice?

The fish slice is a bastardization of my original tool, and you’re a bastard if you use one. Seriously. Go straight to hell, for all I care.

Q5. What toppings do you have on pancakes?

Butter, maple syrup, and Xanax.

Q6. Done anything rad when you were younger?  Who was your best friend growing up?

I had this friend Chris who I used to kick it with all the time. One time me and Chris and a bunch of friends had this really kickass party at the beach. We had lots of beer and started a bonfire. It was a themed party, so we had matching towels and stuff like that. Anyway, at some point I noticed Chris was missing. I thought maybe he went into the bushes to take a leak or something, so I didn’t worry too much about it. About an hour or so later, it’s hard to say exactly ’cause I was pretty lit, I realized he still wasn’t back and I started to get really freaked out. We started looking all over the place for him. I walked up and down the beach calling for him, but he didn’t answer. A couple people went into the woods nearby and they were looking for him. By this point it had gotten dark, and the only source of light was their phones because nobody had thought we’d need a flashlight out there. Keep in mind, this was back in the flip-phone days, so there wasn’t much light. Nobody could find Chris. It was scary as hell. A couple people climbed up a hill to see if he’d fallen off the other side or something. My friend Dave went through all the cars, trying to see if he’d passed out in one. Somebody looked under a dock. There they saw a rock. It wasn’t a rock. It was a rock lobster.

That is a really interesting story, Hopefully one day somebody might sit down and write a song about that.

Q7. Book recommendation time.  Please could you tell me your favourite book for me to add to the fake library?

I’ve always been a fan of Revenge of the Tiger, by Claude Balsac.

Q8. Picture this….The cops have pulled you over, you have something illegal in the car….let’s say it is a pregnant panda stolen from a zoo…each cop is armed with a gun, one of them has an ankle holster too, but you don’t know which one. Explain in detail how you get out of this one.

I’d tell them the panda was my wife, and that she was in labor, and ask them if they could escort us to the hospital.

I hope Scarlet doesn’t find out about this.

Q9. What is your favourite joke?

What’s the difference between a chickpea and a lentil? Well, the chickpea has been a staple of human diets dating back as far as 3500 BC, but folks have been eating lentils since 11,000 BC. Chickpeas are very slightly higher in calories, and have three times as much fat as lentils, plus a lot more sodium. Lentils actually have more protein, with about 18 grams per cup versus the 12 you’ll get by eating a cup of chickpeas. Dried chickpeas take a good couple hours to cook, while lentils are ready in a fraction of the time. Also, nobody ever paid fifty bucks to have a lentil on their face.

HAHAHA  I get it.

Q10. You have met President Trump at a nudist colony, how do you handle that situation?

He’d probably have Secret Service escort me off the premises, because he’d be intimidated by my enormous penis.

I would like to thank George Billions for being the victim for this interview, He is the creation of John Spaduala, so without the hard work of George we wouldn’t have spatulas.  You can thank him on Goodreads  and I recommend checking out his Web Site  It has some great info on the origins of John Spaduala.  Finally check out his books too, I recommend Fidget Spinners Destroyed My Family.


Fake Interview: Elizabeth Bathroy


I am super duper pleased to introduce today’s interviewee, she is the original queen of the damned, known as “The Bloody Countess” and one of the main reason us men saw so many boobies in vampire/horror movies when we were kids. As usual I am using fake Wikipedia to research her and I think she was the inventor of the bath….So thanks for causing the current water shortage on Earth!

Soooo how you doing’? 😉 Is there anything in particular you like to be called?

Artistically I’m known as ‘Lil’ 2 Bloody,’ but my slaves call me, ‘Your Highness.’

Like, OMG, seriously though. These peasants are totally starting to piss me off. I’m currently on castle arrest for allegedly “torturing” my slaves to death and stuff. But whatever, my daddy’s king friend is going to get me off all the charges. I mean, slaves are property and I can do whatever I want with my property, right? #freelil2bloody

Q1. So…..did it work? Did all that virgin blood make you look young? Did it really happen or was it advertising gone mental for Olay?

Like, duh! I don’t even have to use any filters on Instagram anymore my skin is so perfect. All the Hungarian nobles started copying me after I started the #BathoryYourselfInBlood trend on Twatter.

Q2. Who was your best friend as a lass? Did you get up to any crazy shit?

Who needs friends when you’ve got slaves? Everything I do is mandated and approved by God, okay? Because I’m rich, bitch.

Q3. Abbygayle, aged 6 from Upper Twatton has a question for you. “You’re soooo pretty, do you have any tips on how I can grow up to be just as pretty? Also boys are soooooo yucky!”

Thanks peas-, I mean Abbygayle. Why don’t you stop by my castle – alone – and I can show you how I make myself so pretty…

Q4. Seeing as you were born in the 1500’s, have you ever had a potato?

Ew, I haven’t had a carb since, like, 1580. I’m on a strictly organic, gluten-free, haemoglobin diet.

Q5. Another question about blood, I’m thinking of organising a massacre in a brewery whilst wearing white clothes….what’s the best thing for getting blood out?

Great question! The best thing for getting blood stains out is a slave to wash your clothing.

Q6. How about a book recommendation for the Fake Library? Got any favourites the up and coming psychopath could read?

Well, since I’ve been on castle arrest I’ve been putting all of my recent struggles onto paper. Like, how I came up from being a young noble wife at 13 to a successful entrepreneur at the head of a controversial beauty product empire. It’s going to be a memoir recounting all the sacrifices I’ve made along the way and tips on how to start your own beauty line. Things like, how to recruit new slaves from local villages after you’ve killed half them off and the rest live in fear; how to bribe fellow nobles and religious leaders to ignore your sadistic perversions; and the quickest methods for smothering the death screams of a blood donor. It will be called, ‘Suck It Peasants.’

Q7. Born in Hungary eh? Do you ever get bored with being asked if you are hungry?



*checks iPhone*

Q8. Are you hungry? I got some homemade rocky road muffins here.

Just, no…

Q9. What is your favourite swear word?

‘Peasant.’ Or ‘Poor.’

Q10. If you were to meet Trump back when you were in your prime, what would you say/do to him?

OMG. I would, like totally, subject him to a scaphism. But first, shout out to the ancient Persians for coming up with this sick shit! Ok, so, scaphism. Here goes: Trumpy would first be stripped naked (eww!) and fastened securely between two hollowed out logs with his legs and arms sticking out. Then he would be covered in and force-fed honey and milk and left out in the sun. Being attracted to the milk and honey, insects would swarm his egg salad stuffed in panty-hose body, and lay eggs underneath his skin, resulting in larvae slowly eating him alive from the inside out. Each day he would be fed more and more milk and honey to prevent, like, a premature death from starvation or dehydration. Oh yeah – he’d be shitting himself too, marinating in his own excrement, just like a real Trump steak! This would go on and on until Trumpy’s gangrenous viscera and putrefied micropenis are no longer able to support the life cycle of septic vermin.

Are we done yet? Cuz, like, I told all my followers I was doing this interview today and now my Twatter feed is blowing up.


Big thanks to Lady Catfood for being my first female victim on this here enterprise and thank you very much for coming out about your ABDL preferences (Google that everybody). If you wanna find out more about the mad Cat Lady then check out her blog HERE> 



Fake Interviews: The Library

Each of the souls I interview will be giving a book recommendation, this blog post will be used as a storage location…some kind of library if you like.  If you’ve read any of the books you are more than welcome to comment or even post links to your reviews.


scum Prezident Scumbag! by Rupert Dreyfus

My Review is here>

Queen Elizabeth 

orlando Sir John Harington’s translation of Orlando Furioso

Edgar Allan Poe

opium Confessions of an English Opium-Eater by Thomas De Quincey


Stay tuned for additional books.



Fake Interviews: Edgar Allan Poe


For this interview may I welcome the master of the macabre Mr Edgar Poe. Born in 1809 and considered a bit of a rock star in the short story world….and according to Wikipedia the possible inventor of detective stories.  I’m gonna try and ignore all that shit and get to the bottom of what makes him tick.

Hello there, how’s it hanging mate?  What do you like to be called?

I am willing to confess that most days, it, my old serpent, hangs with a distinct slope to the left. Yet tonight I am utterly aghast to find it with a curious sloping to the right. It’s a modest size, perhaps five inches when in slumber, but it can become an altogether different beast when presented with big bosoms, for I am no stranger to the stormy libido which blights the lives of all creatures!

As for the second enquiry: my infinitely preferred cognomen is Ed.

Ah, thanks for all that extra info….I think.

Q1. Is it true you were born Edgar Poe?  Where did the Allan come from then?

Dear boy! Must you conjure up such wicked memories! My foster father, John Allan, was a ghastly figure and it was he who forced Allan into my title; like a fat man forces on his drawers every morning. And just like a fat man’s drawers, Allan would come to irritate my buttocks throughout life. This is why John and I endured a disastrous antibiosis for many years. If only he knew the difference between a family name and a Christian name.

Q2. In 2019 you’re gonna be 210 years old, that is flipping amazing it’s almost like being 21 again, you got any plans for a party? (If you invite me I promise to get you one of those mugs from card factory)

One has never understood those who celebrate the arbitrary passing of time. Regardless, I do have a plan of sorts. You must not tell a soul, Rocky, but in 2019 I plan to return to this mortal realm as… the Poe Toaster! You are invited to bear witness. But only if you promise not to tell a soul.

I’ll try to keep it a secret but when you work with souls it’s going to be tough.

Q3. It’s that old Love, Marry, Kill Question.  Ralph Waldo Emerson, Aldous Huxley and….Queen Elizabeth I.

Good old Ralph! Ralph would, without a shadow of a doubting Thomas, be killed; preferably by a falling tree just to teach him that nature actually hates us and therefore his entire philosophical position was utter nonsense.

I do not love Queen Elizabeth; rather I would have loved her to give me a portion of her wealth. Does that pass?

As for Aldous Huxley; I have never heard of the man. Who is he? What is he celebrated for? Do enlighten me…

Aldous was born and died after you, I thought maybe you might have met him in the afterlife, he was a big fan of yours.  I did expect him to become a stalker at one point. 

Charming! I have just been informed by my superiors that Aldous has never showed up in the afterlife. He took one too many mescaline experiences and is still working out how to operate the doorknob. Apparently he has been talking to it ever since nineteen sixty-three.

Q4. As if I could possibly shut her up, here’s a question from Abbygayle, aged 6 from Upper Twatton. “Dude! I’ve read all your books and I gotta say you are Emo as fuck! My question is about an argument I’ve had with FrunC#sca from Lower Twatton, she says when putting on eyeliner you should use a spoon to get the right shape around your eye, I say she should fuck off and use the curve of a Bowie knife.  Who is right? And do you have any other makeup tips?

I can only apologize, dearest Abbygale, for we do not speak the same idiom. Something, something, emo, something, something, Twatton, something, something, Bowie knife… I have no idea what any of this means. Please may you ask me in good old-fashioned English and I promise you a reply?

Abbygayle: What? That is soooo unfair this is how I was taught at school before I was expelled innit, I’m going to go and read Harry Potter now.

…I have absolutely no idea who or what you are blithering on about.

Q5. There is a lot of speculation on your death, all very sudden and when you got to hospital you were in a really bad way. Are you able to shed any light on what happened?

All the exotic speculations about the cause of my death are damned fabrications, falsehoods and fictions. People have such colorful imaginations about these matters, but I’m afraid that the truth is rather unsavoury: I had a stroke not long after dropping a log into a bucket. I went staggering around the streets of Baltimore, looking for something to scrub my buttocks with. I eventually collapsed and was taken to the hospital where the coroner checked my soiled drawers. He then wrote ‘Edgar Allan Pooed’ on my death certificate but he could not bring himself to file it.

Understandably the theories soon spread like wildfire and to this day nobody knows the real cause.

Q6. What is your opinion on the state of the world today?  Are we well and truly screwed or is there a way we can turn things around?

The state of the world today is a curious affair and nothing more than a nightmare within a nightmare…

Can humankind turn this carnival of despair around? Not before we’re lying dead and rotting in the ground…

Q7. The Raven is one of your most popular poems, are you a fan of it?  Have you seen The Simpsons interpretation of it?  (Here is the clip of it in case you haven’t )

Dearest boy! I cannot answer your enquiries in turn because the second one infuriates me! Poems are not to be “seen”; they are to be read and cherished and loved and relished! What else do people of the future do? Drink music? Grow a game of chess? Throw a book? I want none of it.

Now we have cleared up the confusion surrounding your mysterious use of verbs; I will attempt to address your second enquiry: tonight I have read your clip numerous times by candle light and I simply cannot decipher its meaning. I see a “tube” and a “watch”. Neither of these things appear in The Raven. And how does one even pronounce blixjapqsyy? I can only imagine that this Simpsons which you speak of is a fanciful idiom of the future, a language spoken by the tongues of a forthcoming Age. I am only too glad that I died when I did. Amen.

Ah sorry.  I can ask Abbygayle if you can borrow her smartphone, but it’s an iPhone and I’m worried that might make you spiral out of control.

My head is beginning to hurt. As for the first enquiry; yes. I am a fan of The Raven. It’s the greatest poem written by man. Next question…

Q8. Book recommendations:  What single book do you think people should read?  (I’m thinking of putting a fake book list together featuring all the recommendations by you famous spirits so make sure it’s a good’un)

Confessions of an English Opium-Eater by Thomas De Quincey.

Q9. Let’s talk about enemies now, you seem to have picked up a nemesis in Rufus Griswold.  What happened there, who fell out with who?

Rufus is a devil who never appreciated my superior poetic craftmanship. But one night, while he was hosting a dinner party, I took revenge by placing my old serpent into his glass of port and urinating until my bladder was empty. I then delighted in watching him consume the golden shandy while flirting with Ms Osgood. I never kissed her again.

Q10. If Trump was President when you were alive how would you have dealt with him?  He must been an ideal candidate for one of your short stories.

If Trump had been among the Founding Fathers, I would have conjured up an outfit of intemperate chamber musicians. This outfit would reside in Cumberland, England and would embark on a voyage across the seas to the scorching state of California. Once there they would consume plenty of laudanum and cider before pursuing the wretched statesman across America until his head was skewered on a stake.

Any quill driver who dares to pickpocket this bewildering idea, may he burn in Hell for all eternity.

Well that brings us to the end of this interview I would like to thank Rupert Dreyfus, another talented author also well known for his short stories, for playing the part of host, the numb legs will soon go and after a week or two you should be walking fine again. To find out more about Rupert check out his website, follow him on the twitter @Rupert_Dreyfus and check out his might fine collection on amazon.


Fake Interviews: Queen Elizabeth I


Joining me today is Her royal majesty, the original Lizzy and not the sequel we are currently dealing with. Ya know the one, ginger hair and been in all those movies….the ones about Queen Elizabeth 1…..coincidence? I think not! I thought interviewing Satan was going to be dangerous, but my neck felt at far greater risk interviewing this feisty minx.  Enjoy. 

Hello there, how you doing? What may I call you?

Your Majesty, you worm.

Q1. There is one question I’ve always wondered, what’s with all the chopping off of heads? Is it all down to daddy issues?

Not altogether so. Know that one’s reign saw little bloodshed. I mean, look at my sister, that bloodthirsty harpy. In forty-five years, I killed no more subjects than she in five. Besides, one did not always behead. Look at that papist Margaret Clitherow. We did not behead her; she was crushed beneath eight hundredweight of stone.

Well that makes all the difference.

Q2. A question from Abbygayle, aged 6 from Upper Twatton. Whilst you was Queen who was the biggest bellend you had killed?

My lord Norfolk, forsooth. Every male has made a fool of himself over a woman at one time or another but God’s death, to do so over Mary Queen of Scots! A fat harridan she was by then and good for nothing but the block, and too long did one spare her from it.

Q3. William Cecil, Francis Walsingham and Robert Dudley: Love Marry Or Kill?

Dudley, thou knowest that one loved greatly; and thought him meet to be our consort, till he were widow’d, when poor Amy Dudley was found at the bottom of the stairs, her neck broken, and it were bruited about that he hath done her in; but we reckon Cecil fitted him up. Poor Dudley was perforce content as one’s Master of Horse, tho’ not in the Catherine the Great sense. Thou knowest not of Catherine the Great and horses? No, we shall talk not of that, for it be before the watershed.

Cecil, our good Burghley? Steady, judicious Cecil, uxorious husband of a bookish bluestocking. And a ruthless pillar of the English state. We loved him well, even tho’ he didst bore the bodice off us with the business of the realm. Didst thou know the grip that his issue has had upon our Kingdom? Prime Ministers, Foreign Secretaries, every man jack of ‘em down to your day; why, the seventh Marquess of Salisbury was Lord Privy Seal to John Major. He liveth yet, and is said to be worth a pretty penny. We chose our faithful servant well, and his brains have survived his death, tho’ it pains us to know that they have served the Tory cause.

Walsingham? Speak not of Walsingham, who moveth quietly in the night in defence of our realm; even we know little of his business. Why, just tonight I found him bent over a computator device in the darkness, his face glowing eerie in the light of the screen. What doest though, loyal Walsingham, I asked. Your majesty, he replied, I am online. I seek to rid thy Kingdom of the trolls of Muscovy; and to rid the Virginia colonies of them also, that the colonists follow not the inchoate jester with skin of orange.

Q4. What were your real last words to Mary Queen of Scots?

God’s death! This Mary matter was omnishambolicke. A clussterfucke. Let us speak not of it.

Q5. Did you go and see any of Shakespeare’s plays? Any favourites? Did you actually understand any of his nonsense? Sticking with language do you get angry when Americans miss out the U in favourite?

But of course we loved the good Shakespeare’s pageants, and his odes; and we called upon his company to perform at court many times, though sadly late in my reign, for he was yet unborn  at our crowning and came into the world in our thirtieth year, our fifth upon the throne. It was we who, entranced by his grace and wit, called upon him for a play on Falstaff in love and those merry wives of Windsor floweth from his golden pen. Oftentimes still, good Will and I watch his works together; though of course he cannot abide that bloody Paltrow woman either. Or Marlow. I do not understand this quarrel with Marlow. It is something to do with copyright. Just tonight I bid the wretch Marlow refrain from taking poor Will with his poignard; I impressed upon him that we were in Heaven and not Deptford, whereupon the insolent varlet sayeth that it were not hard to tell the difference.

Americans? One supposes you refer to the Virginia colonists; a hardy lot, if a little fond of the blunderbuss. They may amount to something in time, if they can refrain from blasting each other with buckshot.

Q6. How about a book recommendation, got any favourites that the modern person should be reading?

Verily it shall be nothing by that impertinent knave David Starkey, who claimeth we let our stepfather Seymour see more of us than was proper. We shall chastise Starkey for that when he arrives in this place. He shall not attend Court, neither shall he discourse with our scholars; even that slimy Francis Bacon will abjure his company.

 Should one want to read matter from our reign, may we commend to you our godson John Harington’s translation of Orlando Furioso. May we commend to you also his most excellent invention, the jakes. It seems the Americans still call it the john in his honour.

God’s death, our reign gave thee so much! Seat thyself upon the jakes and read the works of Will while listening to Thomas Tallis. And when thou hast done thy business, think that we have given you the first great nation state, and sown the seeds of empire; and that our godson has flushed the odours from thy abode!

Q7. When you was a young girl what did you want to be when you grew up?

Queen, you idiot. Or at least to keep our head, knowing that our sister might think to remove it.

Though one liketh also to dance a galliard. Dost thou think one might have shown one’s garters to effect on Strictly Come Dancing? Ah well, I suppose that at 484 we are a little old, though scarcely older than that Mr Forsyth was. In any case one wonders if they would appreciate our galliards although I am sure that nice Darcy Bussell would have seen the finer points.

Q8. Was Blackadder real?

Blackadder? Verily. Captain William Blackadder. But he came not to the English court, being but a knavish Scot. Capt Blackadder was hung, drawn and quartered in the year of our Lord 1567, for that it were by his hand that my lord Darnley was done over with enough gunpowder to wake a snoozing Tory peer. Which served Darnley his just deserts; that most disloyal, preening peacock, who did marry Mary, Queen of Scots, and disobey our order to desist from that enterprise; and died with a pox upon him, so many aver, and I’ll wager he got it from her, that popish strumpet. In truth, Blackadder did us all a favour. Tho’ some Scots do believe he was simply taking refreshment nearby, in a public house devoted to that purpose. Believe it not, for ‘twas a cunning plan.

 Or a punning clan, being Scots.

Q9. Where do you stand on puns? Amazing or the devil’s dirty words?

See thou above.

Q10. If Trump was around during your reign how would you have dealt with him?

He would have been hung, drawn and quartered. One starts with hanging, unto near-death; emasculation follows, then disembowellment, and finally the body is cut into four and mounted upon spikes in sundry quarters of the city. We understand, sadly, that this is done not today in London, due to something strange called elf and safety, by which the display of the parts is forbidden; they are held to be noisome and to attract pestilence. Though we are given to understand that the Mayor, our loyal servant Mr Sadiq Khan, may be persuaded to make an exception in Trump’s case.

 Of course that would merely be a prelude to eternal damnation, and one understands they are making preparations for his arrival in the Other Place. One does get wind of what goes on down there when visiting one’s parents – which is always such a bore as Mama will insist on carrying her head under her arm. She only does it to annoy Papa. Anyway, there has been some discussion as to the fate that awaits the Orange One. I believe the Dark Lord had thought to make him share a cell with Richard Nixon, but the imps felt Nixon had suffered enough. There was some notion that he be subjected to the Iron Maiden, but surely eternal damnation is enough without making him listen to them.

I would like to thank the world’s mightiest brit currently living in the USA, Mike Robbins, for allowing Queen Elizabeth I to use him like a ventriloquist’s doll…I hope the experience wasn’t too uncomfortable for you and I’ve been assured you’ll be able to walk straight in a few days.  Fingers crossed David Starkey reads this interview…he should have time to make amends from his slanderous comments.

If you want to find out more Mike Robbins, and you really should you can find him in the following locations.





Fake Interviews: Satan


Hi and welcome to a new feature here at this blog.  Fake interviews with real or imaginary figures from history.  I will be the master interviewer and there will be an amazing guest answering the questions on behalf of the person being interviewed…..or something like that.

Anyways….today I will be interviewing the big red man from below, the beast with a 1000 names, the man who likes to shove pineapples up bottoms, that’s right it is Satan himself!

Alright mate?  How’s it hanging? Is it ok if I call you Mavis? 

Oh, I’m not too great at the moment actually. I’ve got the flu, so I’m sneezing fireballs everywhere, even though Mrs. Satan keeps telling me it’s just a cold and I’m being a big pansy.

And it’s Supreme Overlord Mavis to you. 

Q1. I’m gonna have to start with the big question, God, Jesus and the Holy Ghost….Love, marry or kill? 

Can I kill all of them? 


What about two of them? 


Well, I suppose the Holy Ghost is dead already…

Hmm, O.K. I suppose I’d have to love God, ‘cos I must admit I’d be a bit lonely doing all this deceiving and sinning malarkey without a nemesis to watch me. I’d marry Christ – just to see the look on his face when the wedding night comes. And I’d kill the Holy Ghost, ‘cos I don’t currently possess the metaphysical knowhow to do that. 

Q2. A question from Abbygayle, aged 6 from Upper Twatton.  Who is the biggest bell end in Hell right now? 

Thanks for the question Abbygale! The biggest bell end in Hell at the moment is undoubtedly Margaret Thatcher. When she sold her soul to me in the 80s, I had presumed she’d be the ideal candidate to help me run Hell once she died, but since she’s been here, the old bat’s done nothing but upset all the tortured souls, imps and Hollywood celebs. First off, she took away the free drinkable-blood from the schools for demonic cherubs, and then she started closing down all the fiery pits. But the worse thing she’s done is to repaint Hell with blue paint. Gone are the blood-red walls, vermilion carpets and lava rivers. Honestly, it’s become really embarrassing. I daren’t have the Hitlers over for afternoon tea and cake any more. 

Q3. Ever had a fling with a celebrity? 

I’m proud to say that I’ve laid 98.7% of all celebrities. Why, only last week I had Ben Stiller, Simon Cowell, Justin Bieber, and every girl that’s ever been in The Pussycat Dolls sitting on my half-mile long cock, bouncing up and down on it like it was a seesaw. Although I’ve had to stop inviting Theresa May to my orgies, ‘cos she wants to do things that make even me blush. 

Q4. In the world of literature who would you say is the biggest sinner? 

Well, Dan Brown gave me more blow jobs than anyone else, so I guess that makes him the biggest sinner. 

Q5. Have you ever considered writing a new version of the bible, this time in your own words…..unlesss….noooooo….did you write the original under one of those name de ploomes? 

Who do you think came up with all that whacky end-of-the-world Judgement Day rapture Revelation nonsense?

When Christians say that the Bible is the word of God, they’re absolutely right. They just don’t know that GOD stands for Good Ol’ Devil.

I must say, you’re very astute at picking up on my authorship of the book, and The Holy Bible 2, including the Gospels of Bridget Jones and Howard from the Halifax adverts, is currently being proofread. 

Q6. The Pyramids, being one of the oldest beings around do you know what their original purpose was? 

People might be surprised at just how big I am in my natural state, when I’m not shapeshifting into snakes and estate agents; so it makes me laugh when I hear all of these weirdo theories about the pyramids. They were simply things for me to use to wipe dog shit off the bottom of my sandals. 

Q7. Do you watch those cop shows and do you get depressed with just how pathetic the human race has become? 

Oh, seeing the dumbing-down-ness of the human being makes me quite the opposite of depressed. The more pathetic they become, the more I revel in blissful joy. Who do you think gave the TV execs the idea for such shows as Storage Hunters and Made In Chelsea? And I love influencing those cop shows so that people think all black people are criminals. Hahahaha! People are so darn stupid! The only people that make me depressed are those with original thoughts who watch things like Stewart Lee. They’re all bastards, but I’ll get them one of these days. 

Q8. You are well known for your scheming and tempting, what is your proudest moment? 

Making Christian children dress up as me every Halloween. That cracks me up every time. 

Oh, and it was me that started depicting Jesus as a white man. I’m pretty proud of how much that caught on. 

Q9. Can we have a book recommendation from you? 

Well, Anton LaVey’s Satanic Bible is a must read, as is the Marquis De Sade’s 120 Days of Sodom, but the most engaging thing I’ve read recently was the novella Prezident Scumbag! by Rupert Dreyfus, which is a deadly serious, far-right-propaganda piece depicting stupid peace-wanting crusty hippies as the worthless pieces of shit they are, whilst also displaying how important it is that we have someone like Donald Trump in charge of everything; although there was some weird-ass British humour in that book which, admittedly, I might have misunderstood. 

Q10. Unless Donald Trump suddenly starts saving lost kittens I assume he will be coming to you for a stay one of these days….What you got planned for him? 

I was a supporter of Trump’s from the get-go, but I am a bit worried that when he gets down here, he’ll be trying to take over. In fact, I’ve already heard rumours that he wants to build a wall between Hell and Purgatory, so I’ll need to keep my eye on him. I’m planning to keep him sedated by having Genghis Khan fart in his face every five minutes for all of eternity. Trust me, it’s worse than it sounds – I’ve never known anyone’s farts to be as smelly and debilitating as Genghis Kahn’s. 

Any last words before you get back from whence you came? 

Your cover mucks socks in Hell! 

Er, do you mean ‘Your mother sucks cocks in Hell?’ 

Mm? Oh, um, yes… that’s what I meant to say: Your mother sucks cocks in Hell! 

It doesn’t sound quite as horrifying as when you first said it. 

Really? Oh, should I do it again then? 


I would like to thank the worlds mightiest poet, Harry Whitewolf, for allowing Satan to use him like a ventriloquist’s doll…I hope the experience wasn’t too uncomfortable for you and I’ve been assured you’ll be able to walk straight in a few days.