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"Rude Britain is a 100-long list of the country's most double entendre-riddled towns, villages and streets."
Yes, these appear to be genuine places. Here's Shitterton, Lickey End, Sandy Balls, and the Hole of Horcum. They all seem quite nice, actually.
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Welcome to the Sci-Fi Science Blunders Hall of Infamy, where the lame plot devices and half-baked physics of speculative fiction are savagely dissected under the harsh, glaring light of...TRUE SCIENCE!
I'm glad to see that Gerry Anderson's excremental Space: 1999 is singled out for some special attention. Lord, that show used to cheese me off. A giant nukeylar explosion knocks the moon out of orbit and sends it careening through interstellar space at near-light speed; a convenient deux ex machina that allowed them to visit a new star system every single, friggin' week!
Anderson's shows had a bad habit of getting the near-future totally wrong, which is part of their hinky charm, I suppose (along with the unisex jumpers). However, I have to admit this show fares better in that respect than UFO, which is set in the far-flung future of 1980.
If Space: 1999 had one redeeming feature, it would have to be the totally bitchin' theme song. Best.Wah.Wah.Pedal.Ever!
SFSB page brought to you courtesy of Gravity Lens
Back in the 1930s, this amazing catalog from the DeMoulin Brothers offered fraternal orders such as the Masons, Elks, and Oddfellows a splendid array of truly demented and downright sick gags suitable for use in lodge initiation and hazing rituals.
Now I do love a good prank, and have always had a fondness for old standbys like fake poo and whoopee cushions, but this stuff is so far beyond the pale that I simply can't grok why anyone would subject another human being to this kind of humiliation unless they're closet sadists. Why anyone would ever join an organization that treated its members in such a fashion is beyond my capacity to understand as well.
Thanks, and a sekrit Masonic handshake to the Nonist
Deviled Ham links to the website of the Red Devil Deaf Bikers of Antwerp.
Now some of my best friends are deaf bikers, doncha know, but the fact that they're deaf Belgian bikers has me picturing horny hearing-impaired hellcats humping hot hogs while slamming down 750ml bottles of Kriek Cherry Lambic, then running down stuffy Eurocrats and terrorizing them with insults hurled in sign language that doesn't conform to EU standards.
Yeah, the sinus medication is making me a bit loopy, why do you ask?