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Wednesday, 13 June 2012

Auntie's Return

It had to happen.

Auntie Twisted returned to see us after her sojourn in parts foreign.

I don't really know where she's been. I asked her and she said I didn't have the "Need To Know"

Now seeing that Auntie works for the government under some rather special circumstances and was dropped off at Chez TSB by some rather large blokes in a green SUV, I discovered that not only did I not have the "Need To Know", I no longer had the desire to.

Auntie's Taxi

Auntie has been to many strange and foreign places during the course of her career, met many varied and interesting people, and (reportedly) removed many of them from the face of this Earth.

You don't want to mess with Auntie, so when she said she'd be dropping round to see us and her grand-nephew for a few days, I didn't object.

Then after she'd finished over half of my whisky, she said "You still do that blog thing Bastard?" (Believe it or not, this is a term of endearment)

"Yes Auntie"

"Good, then I'll do another special Auntie Post" "Those spineless Kiwis need to get told a few home truths and I can do a problem page, just like last time"

"But Auntie" I protested, "The last time you did that we had 3 separations, 1 divorce, a visit from the Police and a mention in Bestiality Monthly"


Here's Auntie.

'Morning you load of colonial tosspots, Auntie here.

I tell it as it is.

If it's not as it is, it will be.



Stop buying rabbit food. We all need more rich red meat.

A meal without at least ½ kg of animal protein is just a light snack. A kg of cheese now and then may be substituted, but cut right down on the vegetables. All they do is make you fart and sh*t a lot.

Meals should be accompanied at all time by at least ½litre of strong red wine or 1 litre of good beer.

Water should not be consumed unless under the direst of conditions.

Always handy.  Also good for removing leeches.

Lying in a ditch returning fire from the Fuzzy-Wuzzies while bleeding from several bullet wounds is NOT dire enough, although in that particular case, whisky can be substituted for the wine. (I also used the smallest drop to sterilise the injuries before cauterising them with my handy portable butane torch. NOTE don't waste the whisky. If you're wondering what I was doing with a portable butane torch on my person in the middle of Fuzzy-Wuzzie land, it was to properly caramelise my Crème brûlée . High standards are always to be strived for, regardless of the conditions, and a proper crisp coating on my desert while in deep jungle is always enjoyable)


See above.

Plus, alcohol should be consumed in moderation at all times.

Don't get drunk.

Being drunk effects your aim, and that is not a good thing.

Trust me, I can say that from bitter experience.

Another trophy

Last time I got drunk was in Vietnam, and the 3 bottles of vodka I'd just consumed, taken from the pack of the Russian полковник (Polkovnik) I'd just garrotted, effected my aim so badly that my 700 metre shot at the Chinese Commissar merely removed his balls. While in retrospect that was a good thing, I was aiming for his bloody chest, not his goolies.

Be warned.

While on the subject of drink, whisky is the thing.

Not that abomination known as Bourbon, or Rye whisky, but the real stuff, distilled from pure Scottish water, malted Barley by the heat from a peat fire. Irish whiskey can be taken at a pinch, but it's not the same as the real thing.


Never trust a politician.

Never believe what a politician tells you.

Always count your fingers after shaking hands with a politician, and wash them immediately.

The one and only time I ever trusted a politician led me to being in Maralinga in 1963, just before the bastards dropped a 20kt nuclear device. I was not pleased. He had told me that I would be perfectly safe and that I was just supposed to find an incriminating letter being used for some sort of blackmail for "his cousin's deviant behaviour"

He paid the price.

It took me 4 years, but I got him. And everyone thinks that Harold Holt drowned by "accident"
So believe me, Auntie knows best.


Never felt the need of it, truth be told. Always plenty of nice young blokes about if I need my ashes hauled. I've never been turned down yet.

My favourite

I find that a Fairbairn dagger held diagonally across the jugular helps win any romantic request, and I've always got my old friend Rohypnol if all else fails, but I don't like to use it.

I'm a silly old romantic really.

Now you lot, if you have any questions or comments about anything that you think that Auntie can help with, just drop a comment on m'nephew's blog, and Auntie will do her best to offer sage advice, strong direction, or in the last case, one of my friendly 7.62mm messengers of death.

Have a nice day and don't do anything I wouldn't do, because I've already done it.

Please note YONKS.

Not one picture of a bare breasted beauty.

Just for you.


  1. Replies
    1. Oh Austan, you know not of which you ask.

      She might just come over for a visit, and I'm not sure The Shire is ready for her heady mixture of romance, ruthlessness and sheer bloody minded violence.

    2. Might be just what we need!

  2. I'm chewin the carrot on this one.

  3. Hello Auntie!
    Good to meet you, sans breasts.. Don't know what all the fuss is about them but your nephew has a bit of a penchant methinks. I always wanted to be a paid assassin when I grew up, I think we would get on well!

    I think I'll put the bastard back on the blogroll, but one sight of tits or arse and he's off again. I have delicate ladies visit my blog, not Welsh tarts like me!

    1. Auntie here, m'nephew is off "teaching" his bunch of ferals today. I must say I'd rather face down a company of Spetznaz than his mob of urchins, but each to his own.

      Glad you put your foot down to exert some control. I've found that men really need a firm hand, otherwise the beggars think they're in charge. HAHAHA But we ladies know better.

      May I just point out that I'm not a "paid assassin" as you so quaintly put it, just a well trained officer in HM Forces, who is occasionaly "lent out" to help certain allies.

      I can understand that ladies of a delicate and genteel nature would object to a pair of bouncing breasts in a picture, but why the objection to arses?

      I've always found a well packed arse most becoming. It's one of the reasons I like coming down here to the Antipodes, seeing large muscular men running about in tight shorts during a rugby game, or straining mightily in a scrum

      Dan Carter...yum-yum

    2. No, I didn't mean you were a paid assassin, I know you are in the military but I would be a paid assassin, hiding on rooftops, sniping at targets? I've been watching too much tv yes? Also, with my knees I wouldn't be abl to ven get up on rooftops. Ah well, maybe in my next life :-)

      As for the arses, gluteus maximus, yum, yes please - hanging hemmoroids (sp?) NO! It is wrong, did you see what he did? Didn't go down well with my morning grape nuts.

      Enjoy your visit with bastard. You're doing a grand job!

    3. Auntie here: Yes my Dear, you've been watching too much of the brain-rotting babble box. Sorry to hear about the knees.

      Hmm..I'll have a wee word with the bastard about the piles...that's going a bit too far.

  4. I'm jealous - I want an Auntie like that! We have suspected friends of being spies through the years but only because they were shifty, non distinctive and always moving. (Apparently the profile of a spy) Now Auntie - she's real storybook spy!

    1. Auntie here Dear.

      I thank you for the compliment, but I'm not really a spy, although I did once go undercover in Northern Ireland during the "troubles".

      Quite stimulating really, especially the time I...but no, I'm not allowed to speak of that for another 20 years. Security you know. I like your taste in clothes, I might call and get some tips.

      Look out for an extra bush in the garden. That'll be me.

    2. Yes like you told me last year yourAUntie and my Uncle would be a matchin heaven. Well they truly would be now if your AUntie would die and join my not so long departed Uncle,. He said even on his 90th birhtday to me last year he was "still waiting for hte one" ..aka that one special woman. Sadly Uncle died waiting.
      BUt omg they had so much in common. His abyonnet is still safely hidden in my home and his war medals take pride of place on my wall of fame in my home along with all our collective university degrees. Readign about your Auntie Twisted makes me miss my Unlce even more. Treasure her visits TSB and don't worry too much it she scoffs your whisky. One day soon she won't be around anymore and then you will truly miss her.

    3. Auntie here: God that's morbid. Twice you've hinted that I should be dead?

      Be careful VG, you may be a friend of the bastard, but the last person who told me I was going to die was found buried up to his neck in quick setting concrete, and they never did find his head.

  5. Apropos of nothing (quiet day at work today) I tried anagrams of 'Aunty TSB' and got:

    Nasty but.....
    Tasty Bun
    Busty Ant

    Laugh? yes.....don't shoot me Aunty.

    1. Listen you Untouched Germ, with a Cede Rung Mouth, the last time I talked to Decent Guru Ohm, he said Reduce Thong Mu, Reduce Gnu Moth
      and Codger Menu Hut. I have no idea what Ohm meant by all this , but that's life.

      So Much Tuned Ogre, what's next?

    2. Untouched Germ - I like that

  6. oops. Just noticed that old Aunty likes to be known as Auntie Twisted. This is much richer soil:

    Wine Attitudes
    Swine Attitude
    Untidiest Weta
    A Wittiest Nude

    or, my favourite:

    Sauteed Nitwit

  7. Apropos of nothing (quiet day at work today) I tried anagrams of 'Aunty TSB' and got:

    Nasty but.....
    Tasty Bun
    Busty Ant

    Laugh? yes.....don't shoot me Aunty.

    1. Auntie here again: Don't you take a hint?
      Do you really want to keep on breathing?

      Don't tempt me.

      I know you're probably bored at "work".

      Bloody hell, marketing wine isn't f*cking work, it's just playing with yoursef you naughty boy.

      Go and buy a Swani.
      Go kill a wild pig.

      Be a mensch.

  8. Auntie should be a politician herself (himself?).

    I hate to spew my thickness all over your nice, clean blog, but I don't know what to make of this. An exercise in fiction? If so, a damn good one. Or can this be an actual living, breathing person?

    Here's a question for "auntie:" Internet romance. Does it count as cheating if it only exists in the ether?

    1. TSB here. Auntie's passed out after finishing 1½ bottles of Laphroig. Thank goodness she's leaving tomorrow. I think she mentioned going to NJ, New York. I really, really hope you haven't pissed her off.

      Do you possess a flak jacket or some other type of body armour?

      Wear it.

      I'm going to switch of the computer after this, and blow th main power supply fuse.
      Just for you.

      Because the last time Auntie tried Internet dating it matched her with a Woody-Allen-type stockbroker from Hoboken who expressed an interest in Dahlias and Coprophillia.

      I believe the state troopers are still lookong for some body parts.

    2. Oops, I noticed I never actually answered your question: " An exercise in fiction? If so, a damn good one. Or can this be an actual living, breathing person?"

      To which I answer: Possibly

  9. I understood roughly half of that. :-)

    What a strange bunch you have over here. The more I know of your part of the world, the more I enjoy it... (I've added you to my blogroll so's I can keep a better eye on you...)


    1. Thank you Pearl.

      Auntie is still snoring the snore of the semi-terminally drunk, so it's TSB who's answering.

      We/I/All are a bit strange I'll admit, but We/I/All mean well.

      Auntie only visits about once a year, so don't be too afraid, she's not really that bad, but please don't tell her I said so.

      Auntie confuses everybody. She looks so mild and debonair, and then she's got somebodies guts lying on the ground. It's her gift.

  10. Has Auntie gone?
    I am a bit scared tackling her as she seems to be a bit volatile, even more so with at least a litre of highly inflammable spirit inside her but I need someone like her at present. I have been dealing with some Russians recently who need a bit of a rark up. When I say Russian, they are really from the Ukraine but have been trading in Russia. Dealing with them using standard business protocol seems to be a waste of time. They are still stuck in the 1940's I think where any approach across their borders brings back bitter memories. We are straight up and down, honest to the 'n'th degree but I do think that a .50 round up the arse from an AW50 fired by Auntie a mile away on a signal from me would have a much better result.

    1. Sorry Wino,
      Auntie doesn't visit the ex-eastern bloc countries (officialy) since that little bit of unpleasantness concerning the Panda, the Premier of Russia and the vial of VX (Nerve gas).

      But, she suggested contacting Jack Meiland at who has extensive contacts throught Russia/Ukraine/all of the other ex-soviet countries.

      Auntie left yesterday, and it's taken until today for me to get over the hangover. You wouldn't believe how much of my precious Laphroig she consumed.

      All I know is that in the immortal words of Big Arnie, "She'll be back"

  11. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.


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