Sunday, 10 July 2011

Shit Magazine Dies a Death - Good Riddance!

Bitch Magazine: 168 Years of dog-related investigative journalism down the shitter
Thanks to the tireless efforts of our very own investigative journalist Fluffy, today the last issue of the scurrilous rag Bitch hits the newsstands. It was their own fault, but it was Pussy what done it. Had it not been for our campaign of hatred decency in the face of intimidation, Big Town would never have discovered the awful truth that is at the heart of all dog-related matters around these parts.

For example, we discovered that Bitch was
• A stupid dog-related cash-in on the success of Pussy that sold only a THIRD of what Pussy did.
• Slightly funnier that Pussy, but because it was aimed at dogs and their people, who have no sense of humour about these things because they THINK THAT DOGS ARE ACTUALLY A PART OF THEIR FAMILY, it didn't sell that well.
• Mostly about poo

Now it is gone, Big Town is a better place. The current staff paid for the sins of their fathers. And their fathers' fathers. And their grans. But let's face it, it was shit.

And now everyone can pretend THEY NEVER READ IT OR BELIEVED A WORD OF IT.

 But it's not over, oh no. What we want to know is

• What about THE CHILDREN?
• And THE POLICE? Yeah, them. Where were they, eh? DOWN THE PUB? WITH ASYLUM SEEKERS?

And another thing… oh actually I can't keep it up. I'm confused and sleepy.

Thursday, 16 June 2011

An important message

It is with great humility that we are able to present to you possibly the most important filmed document of our time, of your time, of all time, of time that hasn't happened yet, you know, future time, the sort Dr Who is into.

Yes, there was the notorious Zapruder film, that shocking piece of silent home movie footage that captured the moment Kennedy, the prince of all our hearts, got that firework stuffed up his harris on Bonfire Night, 1963. A nation still mourns.

There was also the alien abduction film, captured accidentally by Fluffy when he sat on his person's iPhone and recorded the moment an alien spaceship landed in the garden and beamed up Fluffy's person using some kind of, I don't know, tractor beam or something. This astonishing footage proved beyond refute the existence of intelligent lifeforms outside of BigTown. Unfortunately, Fluffy then started to bat the iPhone around, thinking it was a mouse or a rabbit or a spider and he knocked it into the fish pond and it got all fucked up and doesn't work anymore.

But this film outstrips them all. Watch, and be awed.

Tuesday, 14 June 2011

Lesbain Cat Blogger

Dave, Pussy's lesbain blogger: A real lesbain.
I'd like to hand over to Dave, our lesbain blogger, to make some observations and assurances in the wake of the revelations about something to do with lesbains or something that happened earlier today. Dave…

Hullo readers. I would just like to make it clear that I, Dave, am indeed a real lesbain, and not a fake lesbain pretending to be a lesbain in order to get other lesbains to follow the blog, OK? All us lesbains feel very let down by the fake lesbain blogger, and the other fake lesbain blogger, both of whom were from Other Town, which is just the sort of place where this kind of lesbain trickery happens A LOT because they're all like totally bad and not lesbains. We are lesbains. And so is Frank.

Thank you.

Tuesday, 22 February 2011

Yeah, damn straight…

The revolution starts at breakfast you useless bastids!

Sunday, 20 February 2011

My Big Fat Gypsy Cat

Boots, in a dress, pretending to be a gypsy, yesterday

Here at Pussy we are very proud of our new media partnership with documentary filmmakers Pussy Pictures Off Of TV. They have made some really weak groundbreaking telly stuff, including the reality show Some Cats, the hard-hitting political doc Some More Cats, and the exposé of so-called alternative lifestyles, Look, Some Fucking Cats.

This means that we will be presenting a major new documentary knock-off series, My Big Fat Gypsy Cat. Each week, we will see Boots dressed up in a really big wedding dress with fairy lights in it, and then he'll eat a huge great cake in the shape of a whale and sick it up. The show's weekly finalé will be a bare claw fight out the back of the butcher's.

The show's director, Dave, says, 'My Big Fat Gypsy Cat is a look at a part of our society that has all to often been ignored and reviled. By working with the Big Town Roma community, we have had unprecedented access to their world, their rituals, and their way of life.'

When asked whether actually the show is just Boots, who is not a gypsy, dressing up in a big wedding dress like off of the popular Channel 4 show My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, and pretending to be a gypsy, in order to cash in on the current popularity of gypsy weddings on TV, Dave excused himself for a quick poo, and never came back.

Thursday, 17 February 2011

Dusty - It's like The Wire in real life

Dusty is just one of literally loads of cats caught up in the vicious circle of 'nip. Call it what you will, catnip, catwort, catrup, catfucker or stink, the truth is that some cats become dependent on the herb and will stop at nothing to feed their depraved habit. Since this report, Dusty has been jailed in gaol for Petty Larceny, Ugly Larceny, Grand Larveny and Eeh Lad That's Not So Grand Larceny for life. He is expected to get parole after four years.


• Catnip is a plant from the mint family, which includes mintus polo, neverhurrya murray mintus and toothus pastus.

• Catnip is grown in small plastic boxes which are kept in small plastic boxes in high places. Probably.

• The most catnip ever consumed by one cat in one sitting was by Syd. He ate his own body weight in catnip last Thursday. It might have been last Wednesday, actually.

• Wozzer was banned from the Sleep Marathon in the last Cat Games when he was found to have taken catnip the night before. 'We cannot condone deliberate monging,' said the umpire, angrily.

• We get ours off Bender. Meet him by the drainpipe in the back alley – half a tin of Whiskas, a quick lick round the ears and Bob's yer uncle.

• Come to think of it, Syd's spectacular catnip session was on Tuesday.

(isn't most of this recycled from a back issue from about six years ago? Oh well, never mind, they'll never notice - Ed)

Wednesday, 16 February 2011

StikkiLeaks: Julian The Strange is nicked by the fuzz

Julian The Strange in the police van just now, yesterday
Julian The Strange, that odd cat who, after a huge fight with Bilbo where he knocked Bilbo off the fence in the garden of Number 7, owns the StikkiLeaks bin bag, has been busted by the rozzers.

Julian The Strange became notorious throughout Big Town when he started releasing diplomatic cables from the Other Town government, which dissed off Big Town's Minister for Foreign Affairs and Purring really badly, calling him all names and that. Them Babylon refused to comment on the arrest but did say, 'We pinched Julian The Strange in a morning raid on his tyre on the wasteground, and we got him banged to rights. Believe. Standard.'

'We don't even know why Julian's been collared by the filth,' said Julian The Strange in a statement read out by his solicitor, Fat Bloke. 'We believe it might be the Big Town authorities enacting a warrant for extradition issued by Other Town. The pigs have to totally become a tool of state oppression in this case. If a cat can't go around handing out fishy secrets to anyone who wants them, then we've got ourselves a serious 5-0 issue, innit? We would question why all this extra Dition is needed, surely it's overkill. Plain old normal Dition would be plenty, I would have thought. The truth cannot be hidden. It might smell of fish juice, but that's because it was in a bin bag with fish bits in it. We have, I'm sorry to report, eaten all the fish bits, so there aren't any left. There's no point in hanging around, they've all gone. Julian ate some, then I had a big head bit, and one or two bits – mostly skin – were scoffed by Ginge and Gobshite. I mean it. It's all gone. And all that's left are these secrets and we're going to keep releasing them. There's nothing anyone can do about it. Watch this space. Who made that smell?'

More on this story as it unfolds. In the meantime we will await vigilantly outside the police station in case any new developments develop. You can trust that, oh yes, we won't fall asleep or anything.




Monday, 14 February 2011

Racism controversy in Big Town

Pawkins off of our cutting edge satellite telly internet live link
We have a report just coming through that there has been an incident in Big Town near the library, and there may be a racial dimension to the trouble. Our Home Affairs correspondent is there, on the scene, with his satellite phone what we got off eBay. We'll go straight over to him now, live, from near the library, where we believe there is an incident, with a racial dimension… near the library… live… incident… racism… possibly…

(Where is that fucktard Pawkins? I can't keep flanneling on like this forever, you know… - Ed)

Ah! Here he is now… Pawkins? Can you hear me?

Pawkins: Yes, yes, hello, Pawkins here… can you hear me?
Moggins:  Yes we can hear you… can you tell us what is happening there?
Pawkins: Hello? I can't quite… shall I tell you what is happening here?
Moggins: No. Tell us what you had for lunch, you fucking arsehole.
Pawkins: Really? OK, I had Whiskas tuna flavour…
Moggins: Seriously, where do we get these halfwits from? No. I don't care what you had for lunch. Do you think our masses of reader wants to know what you had for lunch?
Pawkins: I don't know… you said…
Moggins:  Oh for crying out loud. Just tell us what is happening.
Pawkins: Hello? Can you hear me?
Pawkins: You fat tool? Why is he saying that?
Moggins: Give me strength.
Pawkins: I think I'll just tell him what's happening…
Moggins: Oh, praise the lord.
Pawkins: Shocking scenes here down by the library where there has been some racism in an incident that police suspect might have a racial dimension when Eric saw Flaubert coming around the corner and Flaubert didn't see Eric and walked straight into Eric and hissed and spat and then Eric racisted him in the face.
Moggins: What?
Pawkins: Yeah, Eric racisted Flaubert in the face.
Moggins: Racist isn't a verb. You can't racist a cat.
Pawkins: What's a verb?
Moggins: It's doing word, Pawkins. Racist is a noun or an adjective. You can be a racist, or you can make a racist comment, it describes the noun. But you don't racist something.
Pawkins: That's right, Eric racisted Flaubert. In the face. Down by the library. It was well racist.
Moggins: In what sense was it racist?
Pawkins: Because of all the racism…
Moggins: You're an idiot. Switch the telly off. How much did that satellite phone telly internet thing cost? Was it a Buy It Now? We shouldn't have bothered. Seriously.

Saturday, 12 February 2011

Puppy fainted by the Kitten's intimidate!

Kitten used Rest! Kitten's Attack and Defense rose!
Puppy used Approach! Puppy is hit by recoil of the Kitten's meow!
Kitten used Glare! Puppy's Defense lowered sharply!
Puppy is frightened! Puppy fainted by the Kitten's intimidate!

Friday, 11 February 2011

Food - Parrots: Should We?

Parrot - delicious and repulsive


It's a great honour to be asked to contribute to the Pussy Blog with some of my insights into cuisine. (Get on with it, you preening, self-regarding nobhead - Ed) I have traveled all over Big Town, sampling the delights of local foods produced by local growers locally with local ingredients all sourced locally. But recently, I ventured to Far East, aka Other Town, where I found some extraordinary and exciting new approaches to eating. The first dish I explored on my exploration of exploratory new eating experiences was Parrot. It was a delight, and is a cinch to create this signature dish in just twelve minutes. Here is the recipe:

• 1: Kill a parrot. Rip its face off and munch its spindly little legs until they crack and splinter. Spit them out, they're horrible.
• 2: Kick it around in the air for a few minutes.
• 3: Leave it off to one side for about six minutes, sitting near it with your tail swishing back and forth.
• 4: Pounce on it and kick its liver out through its nose.
• 5: Bite its head off.
• 6: And its fucking wings.

And there you have it. One delicious parrot dish to impress your friends at your next dinner party. Serve with some dust that's got all mushed up with the seeping blood and a few bits of grit, and you will really give your guests a taste of something exotic.

Bon appetit! 

Wednesday, 9 February 2011

StikkiLeaks Revelation! OM and literally G!

StikkiLeaks revelation: 'Twat' and 'fucking anus'

Diplomatic relations with Other Town are probably in tatters this morning as fresh revelations from the StikkiLeaks bin bag are made here, in a minute. A high level memo from Basher, that one-eyed ginger thug who is security adviser to Tyrant, the de facto president of Other Town on account of his massive fish shop leftovers monopoly, seems to be a direct attack on Softy, Big Town's Minister for Foreign Affairs and Purring. It's a devastating blow to Big Town/Other Town relations as it's revealed that Other Town is full of bastards and gits who were horrible to Softy.

Full contents of memo after the jump (that's clever blog speak which means click where it says Read More, you halfwit), with the redacted content reinstated by our forensic team of highly trained specialists who looked at it for a few minutes and said 'I reckon that probably says 'anus'…

Tuesday, 8 February 2011

Social Media

I've been the office five bloody minutes and I'm already being told by Our Great Publisher that I need to be 'more positive about our social media presence in order to lever our print offer…' I mean, really. WTF and ROFL and LOL and whatever the fuck all that means. I'm blogging aren't I? And Tweeting. And posting rich content off of YouTube. What more does he want, the twat?

Coming up, more revelations from the StikkiLeaks farrago embargo lumbago. Ever since Bilbo discovered that sack of old printouts all smeary with fish juice when he unexpectedly found himself in a bin (see video, that's modern, isn't it?), things have gone bonkers here in Big Town.

 Bilbo put in bin, yesterday.

But we are committed to THE TRUTH, and we will continue to publish extracts over several months IN THE NAME OF INCREASED SALES TRUTH!

Keep watching the skies, kitty kats.





Monday, 7 February 2011

Hello and welcome…

Me, yesterday

Anum, the pointy faced git who lives in the bin behind the halal butcher, reckons that there is a place where cats were once worshipped as gods. Gods. Now, I'm not being funny, but why don't we all just do that again? Makes a lot of sense.

Anyway, while we await the reintroduction of the cult of Basti, let me introduce myself, My name is Moggins McMoggins. I used to be the features editor of Furtive Magazine (don't bother looking for it, it's been axed, it was shit anyway), but I was headhunted by Fur Cough Publishing, and now I'm the editorial director of Pussy Magazine, Big Town's number one magazine by cats for cats. It's the only magazine by cats for cats in Big Town, as it goes. Actually, it's the only magazine in Big Town. Apart from that stupid dog one, and the stupid hamster one. And that one about insects. But none of them count.

Where was I? Oh yeah. So, I was asleep in the drawer with the stapler in it when the publisher prodded me and said, 'Oi you, fuck face, we need to get ourselves sorted with a blog and Twitter and all that. Get on with it or you can forget your catnip expense account.'

So here I am. Writing a blog. And doing Twitter. Personally, I think it's all arse and won't get any of us anywhere. But then, I think that about magazines, too. And most other stuff.