I was cleaning out my hard drive, and I found this crap joke I wrote many years ago. While it is crap, it is still a lot better than that crap Andy B comes up with.

I woke up this morning …

That was a real eye opener.

Ha! I bet you didn’t see that coming.

For Sale:

1 Motorbike.

This is something I am seriously considering, but gee it is a hard decision to make.

You see I don’t have a want to sell my bike. I don’t need the money, I haven’t lost my licence, I don’t have a desire to sell my bike. I love riding it, I love the feeling of being on a bike, there is nothing I don’t like about the bike, and I have put a lot of time and effort into this bike, getting it just the way I like it. But I think I have to sell it.

The reason is, I’m having issues with my back. Mainly in the form of a herniated disc, which has stopped me from riding my bike. If I do ride, it isn’t long before I am losing the feeling in my hands, and my back is killing me. So it is coming down to selling the bike before I do some serious damage, to either myself, or the bike or both.

Non bike riders wont understand, but a bike is a part of you. It is not a mechanical device, it lives and breathes, it has a life, and when you are together, well it s better than any sex. So to part with a bike is a hard thing to do. It is also something I don’t want to do. But at the end of the day, a decision has to be made.

If I do sell this bike, it will be the end of my riding days, and I’m not looking forward to that. Bikes cost a lot to get and to run. If you get some kind of decent set up, it costs just as much as a car to run, and I have a car already. My long term plan when I retired was to get a cruiser, like a Goldwing or some thumping big BMW, and just ride until I can’t ride no more. So to sell this bike now, sees me not ride again. Oh sure you might say, I can always get another bike when I am older, but riding is something you have to keep on doing, or you lose the ability to really ride, and you just become someone on a bike, not apart of the bike, and the bike being apart of you.

So what to do? If someone here wants a bike, or knows someone who wants one, let me know, and we can talk turkey. But for now, I am just going to sit on the fence, and admire my bike.

Once again I have outdone Andy B, and gravity at the same time, by turning that frown upside down, with yet another Crap Joke.

What do you call a drummer who can stand up?

A bass guitarist.

Check 1, 2. Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!

So the challenge was on. Was it possible to be entertained in Adelaide for $20? Could I get there, see my beloved Cronulla Sharks play, and get back, for $20? Read on to find out.

As I headed into Melbourne to begin my journey on Saturday night, to the shit hole that is Adelaide, my budget was blown already. As I walked to Brunswick from the station to view a hockey game, one of my runners decided to call it a day. As these were the only shoes I had with me, a new pair had to be purchased. That in itself is not an easy thing to do at 1830 on a Saturday night.

Once new shoes had been acquired, I decided that as I had not yet started on the train that would take me to the bus, that would take me to Sleepytown, I could justify this shoe purchase as not part of the challenge.

The train departed for Ballarat at 2038. All went well until Sunshine, when two junkies, fresh full of battery acid and other crap which is combined to make home brand heroin, boarded the train, with pram in tow. This meant an hour and a bit of avoiding eye contact, and clutching my bag closely. Thankfully Ballarat was the end of the line for them.

The bus to Sleepytown departed at 2210, and was one of those double decker things, with a full deck up the top, and a half deck down the bottom. I managed to have two seats to myself, and to get a pretty good nights sleep, only waking a couple of times briefly, before calling it a morning as we descended the Adelaide Hills.

Now at this point, credit where credit is due. Sleeptown has a new bus terminal, and it was first class. Obviously they had got someone from interstate to design it, and the shower facility was nothing short of what you would find in a 5 star hotel. After a nice freshen up, it was time to hit the streets of town, by walking up the the train station, to do some gunzelling of sorts.

As I walked out onto the street, it was a good couple of minutes before I saw a single car. It was at this point I realised, this was the first vehicle other than the bus I had seen under motion since waking up in the Hills. Yep, Sunday morning is a slow start to the day. As I walked along King William Street, some nutty woman tried to tell me she was a Tarot reader, and that my mother is ok (oh how much I laughed on the inside, and wanted to just punch her on the outside), and for a few dollars, she could tell me more. I just kept walking.

I got to the train station about 0645, and here I made my first purchase, that of a train ticket (total cost $8), before heading down to catch the first train to Gawler. As I boarded the train, my phone slipped out of my pocked, broke on the platform, and the battery ended up down in the pit. Not a good start to the day. I spoke to the local Ballast Bug, and he got the battery for me, after the train had departed. This was good because my phone still worked, but bad because I now had to wait another 45 minutes for the next train to anywhere.

So I headed down to the skate park which offers a half decent view of the railmotor yard, to get a couple of pictures. With that done, I wandered back to the station, to enjoy some breakfast. I took with me some tins of baked beans, and while it may make some of you squirm, I enjoyed a cold tin, while waiting for the next train.

As that train was heading to Noarlunga, I decided having done that line last time I was in Sleepytown, I would instead wait a few more minutes for the Gawler line. The Gawler line (or as I prefer to call it, the train to Fuckville), passes through some of the most boring landscape you will ever see on the face of any planet. If it wasn’t for the fact you pass a bunch of freight yards on the way there, your head would explode through sheer boredom. I used this time to try and work out the signalling system used in Sleepytown, and I think I pretty much got it. The only thing I didn’t understand was the “P” and the “A” lettering on signals. I am guessing that means Passive and Active, or something like that.

On the way back from Fuckville, some of the local inbreds boarded the train. Now before someone thinks I am just having a cheap shot at the locals, the woman was there with her husband, and her boyfriend, and their combined 4 kids. For the next hour, all aboard the train endured this woman, and her 4 year old son conversing in an argument that went along the lines of the following:

Kid: Get fucked, I’ll fucking do what I fucking want to do. Now change my fucking nappy, it’s wet you fucking bitch.
Mother: Don’t you fucking swear at me you little fucking piece of fucking shit, or I’ll fucking slap your fucking face fuck ya.
Kid: Get fucked, I’ll do what I fucking want.
Mother: Stop fucking swearing, every fucking one on the train can fucking hear you….

I’ll end it there, I want to try and keep my PG rating. Needless to say, after 45 minutes of this, I was glad to be carrying some panadol.

From that experience, and due to a complete lack of services running to anything less than a snails pace, a change from the trains was sort. I headed out to catch an O-bahn bus, on the guided busway. From what I have been told, this poor excuse for a service will be closed in the next couple of years, and converted to a tramway. I last rode on it in 1991, so I thought I would see if it had changed much. While the scenery hadn’t changed much, still as boring as ever, the ride was mega-crap. In all seriousness, it was worse than riding on a buckled old train line, in something with shot suspension. You may as well have been running on cobblestones.
The other surprising thing about this run, was being spotted by one of the (in)famous Bounds Brothers, foamers of note from Melbourne. While it was only a 15 minute ride to Tea Tree Interchange, he did manage to chew my ear of with tram facts from 1896-1956. I was glad to get away.

By now it was time to take a casual wander out to Hindmarsh, by means of a ride to Bowden station. At this point in time, another credit where credit is due. Hindmarsh is a very good facility, well designed, and with great seating. I would have no issue returning here to see another game of rugby. It was a real pity that less than 9,000 people took the time to turn up to the game. The Sharks have a two year deal, so they will be back again next year, but I really hope they do this on a longer term. I wont be mentioning the actual game, as I think there has already been enough swearing in this post. Needless to say, I wasn’t happy. While there, I decided to partake in the consumption of a bottle of powerade, as the day was warming up. I was quite surprised to see the total cost of a nice cold, full sized bottle was a very decent $3.50.

With the game over, and my vocal chords a bit sore from explaining to the locals what a knock on, forward pass, 40/20, and various other rules are in rugby, it was time to head back to Bowden station. I still had some time to kill, so instead of heading back into the city directly, I waited on the outbound platform for the next Grange or Outer Harbour service.

I waited for ages, then waited some more, before finally waiting a bit longer, so that I could wait just a bit more, after which I waited, then got on a train to Grange.

If you ever have the misfortune of being in Sleepytown, I recommend a ride on the Grange line, just for the pure laughter factor. Grange is a short single track branch line, which consists of the same level of boredom as the rest of Sleeytown, but with one feature. The line runs through the middle of the middle of a golf course, where the trains have to slow down to 25km/h, so as to not disturb the golfers, before finally terminating at a location that can only be described as a tarted up couple of milk crates.

Upon arrival back at Central station, there was a service to Belair departing soon. I decided to catch this train, despite having done the line many years ago, as it is being closed down next Sunday, for major line improvements. I could think of a few improvements they could do, but with the price of petrol on the rise, it would be cheaper to just upgrade the line.

Heading back into town, I departed the train at Goodwood, and jumped on a tram back to town, where I planned to partake in a pie floater, before heading back to the bus station. A not here about the seats on the Flexity trams running through Sleepytown at the moment. The padding on the seats is just painted on. These seats are crap, and not even the scumbags of Sleepytown deserve to sit on these things.

When I got into town, there was no pie floater van. Dejected I headed back to the bus station, for another quick shower to freshen up. I then crossed the road to China Town, which is more South East Asia town, where I grabbed some dinner, for the price of $7.80.

As the departure time approached, so too did impending doom. There was two buses on the run, one could hold 50, the other 62. All up there was 113 passengers for the trip back to Melbourne, which meant they were overbooked by one. As part of my free travel conditions, it means I am the one who gets kicked off, and have to wait for the next service. Thankfully just as this was happening, one of the other passengers became ill, and removed himself from the bus. Thus ensuring I could escape back to civilisation, but not for long.

At the first town along the way, there was a late booking. Which meant I would have to wait out the night in some dark foreign place, that while not Sleepytown, was still on the wrong side of the boarder. But the bus driver took pity on me, and allowed me to sit in the jump seat at the front all the way home.

By the time I got back home, I was tired. I had had about an hour of sleep on the train from Ballarat to Footscray, but had pretty much pulled an all nighter after chatting with the driver all the way. At Footscray, I got on another train, before finally getting another bus which finally dropped me home, 37 hours after I had left.

Al in all, it had been a long trip, and one that will hopefully be forgotten. I had taken $20 with me, to see if it was possible to be entertained in Sleepytown for just $20, and I was proven wrong.

You can’t be entertained in Sleepytown for $20, instead you can do it for less. I only spent $19.30.

*Post title from the Ben Folds song Adelaide.

If you are someone who regularly participates in peak hour traffic (known as rush hour to those strange alien creatures known as Americans), and does so of your own free will, then you are nothing more than a fucktarded knobjockey.

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It’s time for me to once again steal this fantasticly original great idea from Andy B, which I am sure he stole from somewhere.

Why did the illusionist cross the road?

He didn’t.

Fuck yeah!!!!! Sit on that one Andy B and rotate, you’ve been out crapped again.

Berlin Zoo visitors try and save the woman.

Dramatic footage has been released of a German woman trying frantically to escape a polar bear enclosure at Berlin Zoo — home of superstar polar bear Knut.

The woman had jumped into the pen, reportedly because she wanted to play with the animals.

Zoo keepers managed to save the woman’s life by pushing away the bears and dragging her from the cage, Britain’s Telegraph newspaper reports.

Knut — the polar bear who became world famous when he was abandoned as a baby in 2007 — was in the same enclosure at the time but did not attack the woman.

Police have not confirmed why the woman, who suffered serious injuries on her arms and legs, decided to enter the enclosure.

“The woman has proved herself to be careless by jumping into the enclosure,” a police spokesman was quoted by the Telegraph as saying.

“Logic tells us that polar bears will do this type of thing in this situation.”

In order to get inside the cage the woman had to climb over a fence, a line of prickly hedges and a wall.

Despite the challenges, it is not the first time a zoo visitor has broken into the same enclosure.

Last December, a man who described himself as “lonely”, jumped into the cage.

Zoo keepers managed to distract the bears with chunks of beef.

http://news.ninemsn.com.au/world/800425/polar-bears-attack-zoo-visitor/?rss=yes

Some users of the intermawebbymajig claim that if it wasn’t for them, the whole thing would stop spinning and implode on itself, in a rotting corpse of p0rn, spam and Russian wives, like the swimming career of Nick D’Arcy in a night club.

But here at Beclakia we prefer quality over quantity. That’s why we have been out researching posts for the coming winter season of fun and frivolity.
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Despite threats of legal action, here we go again with another crap joke.

What goes hoppity clank, hoppity clank?
The Easter Bunny with polio.

Hey, it fits the season. Have a happy Easter all you pricks who can eat eggs. Fuck you lactose, go to hell.

Here in the nation of Beclakia we don’t have a financial crisis. You need to have some finances first for it to be a crisis.

Regardless, we have thought long and hard for at least 3 seconds, on a way to kick start the economy, and finally we have found the solution.

What we need is something which will benefit the country, help the environment, and give everyone the chance to make an income.

Why not put a bounty on feral animals, and a decent one that will make people want to get rid of national pests? So I propose the following fees payable to people who help to improve the country in a big way:

• Cats: $100.
• Foxes: $500 ($3,000 if it can be proven to have been from Tasmania)
• Cane Toads/European Carp/Rabbits/Pigeons: $5 each.
• Pigs: $300.
• People walking slowly, No fee, but you are still doing the world a favour.

You may be annoyed at my plan if you are a one eyed animal lover, but to get rid of theses pests would be doing everyone a favour.