My name is Craig. I do have a surname, but it’s a secret.
My mother carried me in her womb throughout the arduous summer of 1976. This year is famed for being the hottest summer ever recorded in Britain. In fact, in some parts of the country (places like Croydon, Norwich and Scunthorpe) the temperatures recorded were equal to or greater than those on the surface of the sun! Now that’s bloody warm. You could, quite literally fry an egg in a pan on a cooker. We’re talking seriously hot!
I was born in December of that year, when, ironically enough “When A Child Is Born” by Johnny Mathis was at the top of the charts. Thanks for the dedication Johnny, that’s terribly kind of you.
In my early years as a toddler, I shone as a bit of a philosopher. I argued at kindergarten the existence of a universe in a fifth or sixth dimension which polarises our own. I compared the play featuring Bottom in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, to Romeo & Juliet, and questioned whether Shakespeare was simply parodying his own work, or the traditions of theatre in general. I also developed synthetic penicillin made from complex artificial compounds that could be injected into the bloodstream. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.
At school I dazzled and shone out among my peers, displaying levels of intellect never-before thought possible in a six year old. It was at this age I published my first autobiography “My Brain Won’t Fit in My Head” and finished work on my first opera- “The Virgin of Castleford.” I also exhibited a portfolio of neo-classical art at Le Louvre, and theorised the mystery of the Mary Celeste.
At the tender age of nine I graduated at Oxford University, where I became a lecturer on French Baroque Art from the age of ten, before writing my second autobiography “My Brain Won’t Fit in My Bed.” In the same year, I became the youngest person to walk on the moon, and worked on developing the new one-pound coins.
My teens were a period of rebellion. At the age of fourteen I disproved Einstein’s Theory of Relativity and proved the existence of poltergeists. I developed an oxygen powered fuel injection system, which caused uproar in the government, because the tax they earned from standard fuels would not be enough to support the economy should my idea progress. That, my friends, is why it won’t happen until the earth’s natural resources have been sucked dry.
At fifteen I published a work comparing birdsong to the musical output of Beethoven, and concluded that he plagiarised the lesser-spotted robin-finch and the blue-tailed thrush. This caused uproar in the world of classical music, until a certain Mr Charles Blackton from the British Ornithological Trust pointed out that neither of these birds have ever existed.
I was ruined. Every ounce of credibility was taken away from me. I was left writing TV adverts for double glazing companies, and playing bit-parts in Casualty and The Bill (for American readers, that’s ER and, erm… TJ Hooker).
At seventeen I retired from public life, donated all my money and belongings to the Hospital for Thirsty Children, and started to live as a hermit in the hills and mountains of Holland. It is here where I started experimenting with Lemonade and Popping Candy. It’s what I call my Sgt Pepper era, and John started messing about with Yoko, Brian died and I loved Jane Asher. And stuff.
At the age of twenty-three, I was blessed with a son, who is showing all the signs of developing my genius, but thankfully without the insanity, and to this day he is the most precious thing in the world to me.
These days I am a male model and knight of the realm. My latest book “How To Stop So Many Damn Women Flinging Themselves At You” is yet to find a publisher, and I am starting work on “My Brain Is Too Big For My Street” in the next few months.
In the meantime, I am the genius behind The Whistler.
Thank you, dear readers, for your support, friendship, kind words and hate mail.
I will update this section as and when I do something else great!
Your friend,
Craig.
Hello, everyone.
My name is Tamara, but for reasons unknown to me, after choosing this lovely, sophisticated name for their daughter, my parents decided to call me Tammy. No one has ever called me Tamara, so as an adult woman I am still called by the name that conjures up images of a 12 year old in pigtails and braces. We all have our crosses to bear I guess.
I live in the United States, which is apparently the most hated nation on the face of the earth. To make matters worse, I live in New Jersey, which is notorious for being the armpit of the nation. When I mention that I live in New Jersey the first things that come to mind for most are The Sopranos, Bon Jovi, and an alarming number of chemical plants and toxic waste dumps. Let me just say that I have no mob affiliations, I am not currently, nor have I ever been a fan of Bon Jovi (although the doctor that delivered my son, who has just turned 5, delivered Jon Bon Jovi’s children as well), and I live in the southern part of the state, which is free for the most part of chemical waste, most of that is confined to the north.
So what else can I tell you about myself? I have nearly completed my BA in social sciences, and I expect to have my degree early next year. Completing my degree has taken longer than expected as much of my time has been devoted to caring for my son, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.
I currently work in retail, in a male-dominated sector of retail actually, which brings me endless amounts of frustration on a daily basis. I work in the swimming pool industry, and even though I can take apart a pump and replace the mechanical seal and impeller in under 10 minutes, the level of patronization that I receive knows no bounds. I am called honey, sweetie, and doll probably 100 times a day, though my boss assures me that men discredit my knowledge only because I have boobs. Yes, he actually said boobs. Well, as long as that’s the reason, then I guess I am okay with it.
So why do I want to contribute to The Whistler? Simply put, because Craig asked me to. Oh, and I suppose that I might have an intelligent thought or two in response to Craig’s Commentaries. Who knows? I might even write a commentary or two of my own, and leave it up to Craig to do the responding.
A man responding to something written by a woman… what is the world coming to?? Enjoy the site, everyone!!!
Tammy.
A while ago I was sorting through some questions on Yahoo! Answers and came across an interesting question. If I recall Craig, I think your question was “Any Australians interested in writing for a website?” So I checked out The Whistler website and I thought that it was pretty cool. I also thought that I would like to put my little mark from my corner of the world on the website for others to read. So with that in mind I hope to bring all the readers out there, my thoughts on various issues, my news from the Land Down Under and anything else that comes to mind.
My name is Johnny and my parents were originally from Greece. I was born in Melbourne in the state of Victoria and I must say we are quite proud of our city. We seem to have an ongoing rivalry with Sydney over which is the better city. Needless to say it is Melbourne. We didn’t get voted the world’s most liveable city recently for nothing.
I work as a real estate consultant. I will admit I am quite passionate about property and seeing how people set up their houses and their yards. You would be surprised at how beautifully some homes are kept. I am probably one of the few people that actually enjoys what they do for work.
The biggest news for me I suppose is that I finally got married to a beautiful woman in November 2005 and married life is sensational. As of yet I have no children. The wedding day was a fantastic event. We had nearly two hundred guests and a great mixture of Australian and Greek cultures. My wife is Australian. Her lineage originates from Wales, England and Ireland. I am trying to trace my wife’s family tree so if any of you out there know of any British websites that I can search for birth, death and marriage certificates or information let me know. I am in the process of trying to teach her the Greek language and my wife is picking it up quite well. I think I just have to get more organised and actually set up a better timetable and program to teach her from. I suppose I didn’t mention that I could speak Greek like the natives. It is a great asset when I am in Greece visiting family.
I do share the same passion for football (or as the Aussies say soccer), as Craig and I was absolutely ecstatic that Australia were involved in the 2006 World Cup. The Aussies although being knocked out by Italy did well, as it will be a great boost for the sport here in Australia which is dominated by Australian Rules Football, which is basically in its purity is similar to Gaelic Football. I have a great passion for sport in general and I am also a big Minnesota Viking fan in the American Football. As you will see I do love my sport and Melbourne is known as the sporting capital of Australia. I will make sure in future articles I don’t make too much reference to sport but I dare say something will creep in every so often.
Enjoy The Whistler,
Johnny.
So now, The Whistler presents a brief (and moderately sarcastic) guide to my acquaintances. This will be updated if I ever make any more friends, or any of my current friends fall out with me, or die.
Davis is my best mate in the world ever. I even wear the same kind of top as him. He is great. His total facetiousness impresses me greatly, and his jibes at colleagues, particularly the incredibly weighty Jeebs and Preck are a constant source of amusement.
Davis is the kind of person that finds all sorts of great websites- everybody knows a person like this. Someone who has a far greater respect for the World Wide Web than ourselves. The reason is because they find things to enjoy on it. Davis’ computer is memory-packed with downloads of games and quizzes from dubious websites. Occasionally, he will email me some of the more interesting ones, but that’s because I’m his mate.
Davis likes boiled ham. I like boiled ham too!
Sprinkles is my best mate in the world ever. He shaves his head and it looks very cool. He has the opposite sense of humour totally to Davis. Sprinkles is dry and sharp, whereas Davis is, erm… wet and blunt.
Everyone carries the utmost respect for Sprinkles. He is a dedicated professional who carries a worrying arsenal of protective equipment around with him, so if he is ever attacked in the street, or spots someone not cleaning up after their dog has fouled, he can reach into his sock and produce an automatic firearm, which he uses to blow the perpetrator away. In case of any retaliation from the perpetrator, Sprinkles can press a button in his chest, which creates an invisible impenetrable force field around him. He has a dog, which is a savage beast, and we are not allowed to approach it. He is Max from The Tweenies.
Jeebs is my best mate in the world ever. In spite of the fact that Jeebs weighs in at over 400 lbs and is orange in hue, he is a massive hit with the ladies (although during intercourse, most of them suggest that they go on top for safety reasons).
Jeebs is incredibly computer illiterate. He doesn’t know a microchip from a coat hanger. Day after day he plants his huge cumbersome frame into the reinforced chair at his computer desk, where he stares blankly at the monitor in front of him for nine hours, occasionally moving the mouse slightly with one of his trotters, then watching hypnotically as the cursor on the screen moves. When he tries typing on the keyboard, he usually presses a number of keys at a time due to his fat fingers. Sending a simple email can take Jeebs up to three weeks, four if he doesn’t have the address in his address-book. I can write what they hell I want about him on this website because he’s never going to be able to log on to it anyway. Jeebs is one of the hundreds of haemorrhoid sufferers in the UK. He is a martyr to his shitter.
PRECK
Preck is the other of my two fat friends, and he has the added bonus of being ugly and smelly as well. Preck has difficulties grasping some of life’s most basic concepts (such as washing), but nonetheless talks to people as though they are lesser mortals than him. Which of course they’re not.
I could write a book about Preck, based entirely around his rather primitive intellect. Albeit unintentionally, Preck comes out with some of the most hilarious comments, questions and phrases I’ve ever heard. He once truly asked Jeebs why a room needed a door! The ‘man’ has rotting shit for brains.
Carl is my best mate in the world ever. He plays Rugby League and resents the singing of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”. He is much bigger than me, stronger than me, harder than me, a better fighter than me, and he knows how to use a computer and successfully browse the World Wide Web. He may be reading this right now. Hi, my mate Carl!
He is a wonderful, considerate, intelligent man, and I won’t hear a word said against him. He does, however, dance like a homosexual.
Megane, although from Yorkshire, has perfected the Geordie accent through years of watching Big Brother. He has very strong political beliefs, which he vocalises eloquently in a loud voice over the music in pubs, nightclubs and rock concerts. He has a shaved head, which makes him look cool.
In spite of his general appearance, Megane is quite intelligent, and has recently written a book on the fall of Constantine. He is very good at colouring in and wordsearches, and when he grows up he wants to be like Geoff from Byker Grove. “Who’s done this graffiti?”
Rhop is very close to nature. A lover of the great outdoors, he likes nothing more than throwing a few of life’s essentials into a large tin box, attaching it to some wheels and then dragging it behind his red Fiat Panda to the distant reaches of Yorkshire. It is here, where he sits in the aforementioned tin for weeks on end with his dog, Stella, listening to the heavy rain pitter-patter down upon them. Then, they pack up and go home.
Joyce is my best mate in the world ever, and one of the oldest people I know (yet she does look remarkably youthful in spite of her advancing years). She is also incredibly tiny, and actually lives in a doll’s house, where she is having an affair with Ken (Barbie’s ex). She drives a Fisher-Price Easy-Skate and for a living she nibbles around the edges of stamps to give them that serrated look.
Joyce is the only person I know who has webbed legs. It’s true! A flap of skin, starting at her ankles joins both her legs together. For this reason she can only wear long skirts (usually made out of a pocket handkerchief). She believes she is part fish, and has applied to the council to be re-housed in an aquarium. She likes it when you find a shoe, just on it’s own, in the street.
Bayer travelled to England as a small boy in an egg, from the Planet Wales, where sheep are worshipped and men roam around the valleys singing hymns. He just LOVES Kellogg's Common Sense, and is a huge fan of American Rap Superstars, such as Will Smith and Vanilla Ice.
Originally from the ghettoes of Swansea, at the age of seven, Bayer smacked up his bitch mom and popped a cap in his dad's ass, hopped into the Benz, put on his Ray Banz and hit the gas. He was out of his head on Faygo, and had his bitch in the trunk. Bayer drips with bling, and likes speaking with an American accent. He can dance like MC Hammer, and wears very similar trousers to the rap king. He's as American as leeks and rarebit. He is the ultimate ghetto superstar! He carries a four-ten and wears his hat backwards. He's pretty fly (for a white guy). And what's more- he can get hold of cheap underpants for you.
Casey-Lou
What can I say about the ultimate chav dwarf Casey-Lou? She is unimaginably beautiful, too pretty to walk the face of this earth, immensely intelligent, talented and witty.
That's a joke, of course.
In reality she is approximately 5 inches shorter than my elvish friend Joyce, and has a gob like the Mersey Tunnel (except the Mersey Tunnel has been known to close on occasions). She reminds me, in many ways, of a lollipop lying on the road. You want to pick her up but she's probably covered in germs.
The Emster
The Emster is my celebrity pal. Known for her fantastic portrayals of Buttons in Cinderella at Barnsley Civic Hall, and her part of "staring stranger" in Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Emster has also written a number of hardcore pornographic novels, including "The Lady and the Mongoose" and "Any Way The Horse Spurts". She is a sexual pervert who loves being spanked and recently had a statue of Mick Jagger erected at her Mock-Tudor flat in East Grinstead. She likes the bubbly wallpaper as opposed to the flat stuff.
Her hobbies and interests include sticking her hands up cows bottoms and introducing minors to drugs. She collects tab-ends, and puts them in a large fish-tank in her bedroom where she prays to them regularly. Her feet get very cold, sometimes.
Racy Mary
If ever a flower bloomed in the desolate landscape which is my life, then that flower would be Racy Mary. Closely related to the badger, Racy collects gardening memorabilia, and now boasts of having almost three spades in her collection. Her nose rotates 360 degrees thanks to some experimental work carried out by a plastic surgeon friend. She spends approximately £12,000 per month having her nails cut, and £11,000 every two months to get her ears permed. In the pub, her toilet-to-sips ratio is 2:1. Her favourite TV star is Tony the Tiger from the Frosties adverts, but she also liked the Smash Martians, and wrote many strongly-worded letters of complaint to Midge Ure when they stopped using them in their ads. She is not over-keen on estate agents. She is an utter psychopath and I fear for my life.
Crosby Stilzen
Twat-brained, sausage-chomping, turd-burgling body-popper Crosby Stilzen has a stupid hat and a tendency to throw boxes at retards. As a dancer he throws some mean shapes, but as a thinker he is best leaving well alone. He is convinced that antipodean entertainer Rolf Harris wipes his arse on his lunch, and has been known to sniff his egg sandwich prior to eating it in order to confirm this assumption. When he grows up he wants to work in a sweet shop with his mum. He lists his favourite songs as "Shaddapya Face" by Joe Dolce and "anything by Chas 'n' Dave." I think he may be a bit "backward" or spasticated. Or a gay.
Jaxx
Former erotic lingerie model and Scuba-Diving instructor Jaxx has an unusual claim to fame: The original 'flypaper' was modelled on her unusually adhesive tongue. She once appeared as Barry White on 'Stars in Their Eyes' but unfortunately her performance (where she blacked-up and wore a fat-suit) went down like a shit sandwich. In spite of her young age, Jaxx appeared in several Laurel & Hardy films from the late twenties, using a self-devised time machine which, as well as allowing you to navigate your way through history, makes your eyes light up and your hair go all spiky. I think she likes avocado, but I'm not sure.
***
So there you have it, my nearest and dearest friends all introduced to you. They are pleased to make your acquaintance.