“A Target On His Front? – The Humorous Case Of Tubes Vs Lurr” (A Farcical Short Story)

By Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com copyright owned by Martin Smith Creations Ltd All Rights Reserved

(Note This Story is inspired by a real-life story I saw in the headlines M.A.S. )

I M.K. Smithki report the following for the case of Tubes Vs Lurr for the day 15/12/2022 at Doondon City Courthouse, Nu Zuland.

Those Parties Involved:

The Plaintiff: T. I. Tubes

The Defendant: Ms Sally Lurr

The Plaintiff’s Lawyer: Mr I.T. Aintright

The Defendant’s Lawyer: Ms H. Ardboiled

The Presiding Judge: B. Igball KC

Key Witness/The Driver: N. Wittheld

The Disreputable Reporter: Peter Out.

The Plaintiff, Mr T. I. Tubes is a Paramedic who has laid a charge of ‘illegal groping’ vs the Defendant – Ms Sally Lurr – a supposed ‘drunk woman’ that he was attending to in his day-to-day activities as a Paramedic in his Employer provided Ambulance. In short Mr T. I. Tubes alleges Ms Sally Lurr his patient at the time of the incident, illegally groped him in the groin as he was treating her. This is a highly unusual case as usually in these cases the genders are reversed – a male offender & a female victim. This case is already known around the ‘traps’ (to use colloquial language) as “Drunken Woman Gropes The Medicine Man”.

The Plaintiff’s case had been going well, until the point where a ‘Key Witness’ was called by the Defendant’s Lawyer – a Ms H. Ardboiled. This spanner ‘thrown in the works’ was when the Witness – a Mr N. Wittheld -who was the colleague of the Plaintiff and also the Driver of the Ambulance at the time – Mr Wittheld alleged that (referring to the Plaintiff) “He wanted it, as he did not move away from her groping hand”. In response to this charge the Lawyer for the Plaintiff – Mr I.T. Aintright – states his client simply decided to not move, so as to keep treating the Defendant as any ‘Experienced Paramedic’ would.

The Defendant’s Lawyer – Ms H. Ardboiled – then drew gasps from the gallery when she produced a pair of trousers with a three ringed “Circular Target” painted on the crotch area. She then asked “Mr Tubes – are these the very trousers you were wearing during the moment you allege my client ‘groped your genitals’? The now much sweating Plaintiff Mt T.I. Tubes under such expert cross examination from Ms H. Ardboiled, held a long pregnant pause. The tension in the courtroom & public gallery became so thick you could cut it with a knife, and not very easily so. He said “Yes those are my trousers”.

Then the Defendants Lawyer Ms H. Ardboiled asked for permission to approach the Plantiff Mt I.T. Tubes – this was duly granted by the judge My B.I Igball. Ms H. Ardboiled then approached the Plaintiff and showed him the trousers & asked “Can you read the words on the outer ring of the ‘Target’ that is painted here on the crotch? The Plaintiff Mr T .I. Tubes answered meekly “it says the word “Almost”. Ms H. Ardboiled then asked “And what does the next inner concentric ring say?” The Plaintiff mumbled “Nearly There” – the gallery then had to be asked to compose themselves by the Judge Mr B Igball KC.

Then as the Plaintiff T.I Tubes was frantically perspiring and wiping the sweat from his brow – which incidentally he did with his bright yellow tie, Ms H. Ardboiled then asked the decisive question of the case: “And finally Mr Tubes can you recount to the gallery the words written on the bullseye” Mr Tubes’s white shirt was now so sweat filled his nipples were clearly showing through – his barely audible words that were weakly shoved from his trembling lips were – “Bullseye”.

The Public Gallery – who naturally were majority Lurr & Ardboiled supporters were on their feet throwing a large array of peanuts, balled up paper & rotten vegetables. With such wild scenes of emotion & anger on display, the Judge B. Igball KC banged his gable many multiple times & with acute veracity so as to eventually quieten the baying gallery. He also shouted loudly “Order, Order I say, Order I damn well say, Order!”.

When the roar turned to whispers & murmurs & then a rustle, he said “Ms Ardboiled, please continue”. Ms H. Ardboiled assuredly replied “Your Honour – I have no further questions – I rest my case”. While the case would not yet be over until Mr T.I. Tubes’s Lawyer – Mr I.T. Aintright had his closing statement – all present knew without a doubt that the case was over, the result was now a formality.

Other anecdotes from the day:

After the brilliant & cross examination, the Defendant Ms S. Lurr was allegedly often seen smiling sweetly at her lawyer Ms H. Ardboiled. A reporter named ‘Peter Out’ from the disreputable media outlet called LISTENUPJACK said in his radio report that saw Ms Lurr reach repeatedly and take a swig from a small hipflask in her breast pocket. Though plausible in this case, I believe this to be just another one of Mr Peter Out’s many wildly entertaining but not very true furphies.

The Plaintiff Mr T.I. Tubes was reprimanded by the Judge B.Igball KC for wearing a “Garish yellow tie also bearing a cartoon like figure’ totally inappropriate to the seriousness of the case”. Strangely KC Igball did not force him remove it – and I can’t but help wonder why.

The Judge B. Igball KC seemed to suffer from a terrible itch throughout the day & at 3:15 he adjourned for “five minutes to apply ointment”. Afterwards no scratching was observed.

At the end of the court session Mr T.I. Tubes fainted wearily in his chair & his Lawyer Mr I.T. Aintright had to be fetch a wet cloth, a glass of water & some smelling salts to regain his client’s vitality. When Mr Tubes finally came to, he slowly raised himself and said quizzically “Where am I?” to no one in particular & as he looked around himself. This of course garnered a few chortles from the public gallery. Shortly thereafter, Mr Aintright regained his usual state of composure – that is, nervously & fidgety but totally aware of his surroundings.

Ms H. Ardboiled who is a sassy & performative young lawyer in her mid-thirties, had as usual her “cheer squad” in the public gallery, which I understand is normal as she is quite the celebrity lawyer, largely owing to the success of her popular Podcast “Break Some Eggs & Win Lifes Omelettes”.

The Plaintiffs lawyer Mr I.T Aintright seemingly had a terrible cold, and was heard to sniff violently every minute or two – for some reason he never produced a hanky – much to the chagrin to all around him. Eventually late in the day Judge Igball KC motioned for a court staffer to wipe Aintright’s nose directly – and the staffer did this in much the same fashion as a mother would to their toddler age child. After seeing this unsavoury scene – which was before Ms H. Ardboiled’s wizardry – I had the distinct inkling that the Plaintiff might lose this case.

The rain was heavy & was a low audible rumble on the tin roof throughout the day – I overheard a wag in the public gallery say as he pointed to a bucket cin the corner of the courthouse “That’s not the only drip in this case” – I stifled my laughter with aplomb – a skill every serious court reporter must learn in these veritable ‘Madhouses of the Law’.

The End

“Music 1 Soccer 0 Children 2” (A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

We Had A Child

During The Soccer World Cup

I wanted to call him Rolando

My Wife Ivana Horz-Schitt

Wanted Ronaldo

Ronaldo It Was

Soon We had An Ultrasound

After Viewing His Wild Unruly Kicks

I & My Wife Agreed He’ll Be Crap At Soccer

But A Good Punk-Rock Drummer

We Silently Rejoiced

Later She Fell Pregnant Again

Me Being A Typical Male

I started To Panic

I Kept Hearing A Vocal Line

Repeating In My Head

There’s Too Many Of Us There’s Too Many Of Us There’s Too Many Of Us

There’s Too Many Of Us There’s Too Many Of Us There’s Too Many Of Us*

I’m Glad to Say The Fear Passed

Well Over The Metaphorical Crossbars

Of Our Strange But Interesting Lives

P.s. My Six-Foot German Wife, Ivana Horz-Schitt While Being Imaginary, Is still quite intimidating none the less.

(*My regards to the Punk Album named Fear – The Record (1982) for inspiration)

“The Landlord, The Weed & The Warlords” (A Poem)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

My Gardener Read A Lot About Napoleon

When I asked Him To Pull Weeds He Refused

He Said He Hadn’t Yet Finalised Battleplans

For The Eastern Portion Of My Yard

I asked Him “But Are You Up For It?”

He Said “It May Be My Demise”

I Turned Around & Went Back To My Silly-Screen.

& Left Him To Turn the Pages Of His ‘Parallel Lives’

When I Returned An Hour Later

A Russian Gardener Had Usurped Him

I Was About To Celebrate My Weeds Death

When I Saw He Too Was Holding A Book

“The Brothers Karamazov”

Oh No I Thought As I Realised That

My New Gardener Was Reading Stalin’s Favourite Book

I Tested Him

“Would You Mind Pulling Those Weeds” I Asked

He Simply Pointed Over To the Garden

My Landlord Was Pulling the Weeds Out

But They Were Also Tied to a Stake

I Went Back Inside to My Silly-Screen With A Broad Smile

It Was Nice To See Societies Roles Reversed

And Soon the Garden Would Look Great!

For Garden Work Is Just Like the History of Tyranny

The Ends Justify the Means.

“Polite 21st Century, Post Pandemic HR Advice For The Job & Interview Hunter – Australian Edition” (Satire/Prose)

By Martin A Smith (Bcom – “Bachelor Of Complaining“) martinantonsmith@gmail.com

None of us like Job Interviews – But let’s face it – You are not a Royal who sneaks cash from your millions of subjugated serfs – you ARE A SERF – so you NEED A JOB FROM THE GLOBAL SOUL SUCK MACHINE. That Housekeeping over let me get right into the nitty gritty. Note this advice is set in the PARIS OF THE SNOUTS aka MELBOURNE AUSTRALIA – But it could be ANY WESTERN CITY – They are all slices of the SAME SH*T SANDWHICH

In general – always remember to always be positive, wise sounding, graceful, strategic & f*cking hilarious during a job interview. As such simply Follow these 11 steps to SUCKCESS & you’ll do AOK.

1. open the door handle with a swift quarter turn – if you push instead of pull don’t keep pushing – this will make the recruiting agent think you suffer from ‘Einsteinian Insanity’ (doing the same thing over & over again & expecting a different result).

2. Congratulations you finally got in the door! Now make good eye contact with the Recruiting officer – don’t overdo it & stare them down like ‘Crocodile Dundee’ did to that Steer in the Outback – 5 seconds is fine – and then break eye contact off, then repeat process.

3. You a can now walk the 5 meters to the chair, again walk with good posture – imagine you have an ironing board strapped to your back, what’s that? You tripped over the ‘not yet rigor mortised’ carcass of the previous employee? Just imagine it was a small dog & kick your heels up in confidant ‘cabaret style’.

4. Ok great – you reached the interviewee seat – but wait, OH NO!!! It’s a tiny Vietnam Street Food style plastic seat! It’s 2ocentimeters high & only covers one chubby Westerners butt cheek! Never mind – simply squat like that seat is your CEO’s seat in your Penthouse Office overlooking that filthy, stinky, sh*t brown colored, Yarra river.

5. Ok now it’s time to shake hands with the Zombie interviewer – don’t let their appearance upset your composure – so what if patches of their hair are falling out, we all age – don’t we?; so what if their rotten eyes bulge as they view your giant university educated brain-holding cranium – can you blame them for wanting to feast on your juicy tangy frontal lobes?; so what if you can smell their maggoty, rotten, half drooping off flesh – can’t they be individuals too? Just smile broadly and say the following “Hi I’m Ann Arky (Or Bob Upindown or Jock Ular etc etc), and I’d make a wonderful modern day “Klaus Schwab Style 4th industrial Revolution Slave” for your ASX 200/300/500 Company – DoneyGiveeAF*ckiebouteeCustermeree Ltd.

5. (Note that there are two ‘Fives’ in this checklist as the World is F*cked Up & so is full of the most risible duplicitous legalistic chicanery) Now that you have That Zombie Skunk F*ckwit Interviewer in front of you all impressed & sharing a black toothless grin – it’s time for you to listen. The Zombifux Interviewer(s) will now speak endless brain-numbing ‘corporate gobbledygook’ for about 17 minutes – don’t worry, just nod and daydream of how in 20 minutes time where you will be – at the Kebab Shop facing the blunt end of a FAT HOUMOUS & LEMON LADEN KEBAB – Near the Beach in St Kilda. If during your tasty daydream the Zombiefux Interviewer suddenly look at you quizzically – simply laugh heartily and say “Well I’ll consider it, I mean I love to help cunstomers, we I mean customers! The hearty laughs will mask your totalised lack of poise & attention.

6. It’s now the end and you have shaken the Zombie’s sweaty, pale, cadaverous hand (Yes, their hand fell off but you handled that with aplomb – simply placing it nonchalantly on the desk in front) and said “I’ll look forward to the weird one-sided slavery document to arrive in my inbox, so as I can sign my soul away to your ruler – Beelzebub – I mean to say I’ll wait for your next stage telephone call or email”.

7. You reach the door – remember to not do the same stupid ‘Einsteinian Insanity trick’ – If you fail at this – not only will they have confirmation you are f*cking insane, but they’ll also know you have a very shitty goldfish type memory.

8. Now get your well-toned deadbeat’s arse down to the St Kilda Kebab Shop, and treat yourself with a post interview dinner – double up on everything so as to allow those lashings of trans fats of help combat the stressful thought that those Zombie f*kwits might actually offer you that Klaus Schwab sponsored, Dictator Dan organised Globalist Fake Carbon Credit Salesman, Soul -Sucking probably Money-Laundering Job.

9. Finish delicious Kebab meal, wipe mouth – run outside & puke in the bin. See Zombie c*nt Interviewers walk by – say to them as you wipe the puke off your face “I guess I’ve got no chance now” feel relieved when thy say “no no no – not at all !!! We are looking for soulless regurgitators with a penchant for impulsivity! You start Monday”

10. Wipe the remaining sputum from your mouth, do a final “mouth puke & swallow” and say *Gulp* Great!!! Can’t wait to start my new life at “WontGiveAF*ckee Intl.” ….then, with horror, you realise you said the wrong company name…before you can correct yourself the Zombie DontGiveAF*Ckee ltd Interviewer (s) say –“Sorry you got our name wrong – We Kunts at DontGiveAF*Ckee ltd may be the “Evil Dead” but we love attention to detail – your f*ckin’ fired”.

11. As you marvel at the fact you have just been fired from a job you had for only 23 seconds, you snap to and throw your hands up crying “easy come easy go”. You about-turn & return to Kebab Shop to celebrate – after all -you didn’t really want that job anyway. . . – You’re more of an ‘Ideas man’ & ‘Entertainer’, than a simple salesman.

(P.s. I hope you enjoyed this Aussie style humour, my dear old Melbournite (& St Kilda) people – written from exile & across the ditch in NZ – Martin A. Smith 23/11/2022 martinantonsmith@gmail.com)

Women are Warlords On Ice (Just Waiting For A Big Thaw) (A Poem + Features on Episode 44 of Podcast)

I -Burt Jones – was doing some Garden Laboring for a 90-year-old woman – Lois Schrub.

We ambled onto the topical subject of ‘War”.

Namely: Putin, Ukraine & the associated madness that is “WAR”.

As an aside the War is sometimes weirdly comforting to me,

But I’d never say that to any neuro-typical.

This must be due to “Past Childhood Trauma” –

& also as I am on the opposite side of the Earth.

For this feeling can’t come from a healthy place –

That is self-evident – but I also squash this minor worry with utmost ease.

Back to the Garden: As I’m wielding a spade about to dig a plant – hole, the old lady says

“Oh it’s all THESE SILLY MEN that Create War”.

Out of politeness I simply and truncatedly said:

“I dunno – Thatcher gave it a good crack – She Invaded the Falklands without much of a thought”.

Silence then propagated around the tussock-filled hills.

The Crickets heard Crickets.

The back Breaking Work Continued

The Holes were all Dug & The Money I did gather.

Later on, at home, I though how ridiculous her proposition was:

This very common proposition – put out there by many Feminist-oriented women.

That by virtue of being Female – this means you Can’t be a WARLORD.

I’ve learnt a few things in my life, and one of them is this:

WOMEN LOVE RESOURCES & WILL FIGHT FOR THEM.

All the better if they can be ACQUIRED economically.

Attractive Women Won’t Marry old ugly men – UNLESS they have cash/resources.

Women almost NEVER marry a POOR MAN, perhaps will, only if he has POTENTIAL for WEALTH.

A woman will often “UPGRADE” her man based on his ACCESS to RESOURCES.

Have you noticed how a Woman’s allegiance to her “Sports Team” wavers very easily & she will regularly & unemotionally exchange her LOSING TEAM for a WINNING ONE?

This OF COURSE – is at root due to the biological programming of the child bearer – the SURVIVAL NEED to provide for the child.

You cannot wisely ignore or minimise the biological programming of our species or any other – to do so is folly.

I ASK YOU – Has anyone ever seen a Woman who ISN’T Interested in GAINING RESOURCES?

Perhaps only when they are carefree young and collegial from the ages of 16-22.

At Age 23, they ‘Don the Invisible War Regalia’ – cloaked inside the psyche.

To continue the Debunk:, The “Snapped” Murder themed Tv Show tells us:

Women are only too willing to send a man out to kill another man, always in order to GAIN RESOURCES.

I ASK YOU – When a Politician/Warlord “Sends In The Troops” to “Invade & Kill the Enemy” – isn’t this just the exact SAME EFFECT – A RESOURCE GRAB? – FOR LAND – OIL – FOOD – MONEY – TRADE ROUTES?

Thus, in answer to the “Women Aren’t Warmongers Thesis”, I say this:

If you put a Woman in charge of a relatively strong country…

Add a Military

Add Willing Soldiers

Add Plenty War Funds,

Add a BIG Crisis i.e. A LACK OF RESOURCES

Add a DOPEY WEAK Neighbouring country that HAS SAID RESOURCES REQUIRED TO END SAID CRISIS:

SHE WILL INDUBITIBLY INSTRUCT HER TROOPS TO INVADE IN A SPLIT SECOND.

SHE WILL TELL THEM TO DESTROY THEM, OBLITTERATE THEM & TO TAKE NO PRISONERS!

SHE WILL GATHER, LAUGH HEARTILLY & WALLOW IN THEIR CAPTURED RESOURCES, DEATH & DEFEAT.

CONCLUSION: Woman Leaders Can Be Warmongers & They will probably be MUCH WORSE than MALE Leaders.

AFTER ALL – Many, Many Men couldn’t give “Two Shites” about resources other than Beer, a few Tools, & Occasional Sex – whereas practically ALL woman feel they need RESOURCES.

I REST MY CASE, never let a Woman tell you Women ‘Aren’t or Can’t Be’ – WARMONGERS WARLORDS DICTATORS or AUTHORITARIANS.

Women are WARLORDS ON ICE – just waiting for a BIG THAW or a Dopey Man with a GIANT BLOOMIN’ PICKAXE TO WALK BY.

The FEMMINISTS all know this fact – I am 100% sure of it – but it is great Propaganda for them:

TO GAIN MORE RESOURCES CHEAPLY.

P.s. Yes, I Will Keep Digging Deeper Holes both literally and figuratively – Why would I give up now?….and besides, I also need the cash, and unfortunately in the Gardening game – those Gnarly Warlords hold the purse strings – and continue to ask for discounts.

,