Issue 18            The Pud           December 00
Featuring: The Puds
Consternation Street
Advertising feature
A Christmas Carol
Memory Lane
Ali G versus Peter Reid
Yorkshire Mags look-a-likes
Arran 'TyneMooth' Mallinson
Hughies's Christmas cocktail recipes
Let's all laugh at Sunlin




The Annual Pud Editor's Awards 2000

In no particular order….

Goal of the season: The Jock lummox volley against Man Ure at The Leazes

Speech of the year: Uncle Bob’s infamous “cakes and buns” statement

Best song: The “Who let the chimp out” song against the Mackems at home…probably the only highlight

Best act of total tolerancelessness: Arran imposing a Hizbollah-type fatwa on Alan Shearer

Duck Breaking Award I: Rob Lee’s Wembley semi-final goal. At last!, I was beginning to think the place was cursed!

Comedy Artifact at a match award: Big Ish for his WWII gas mask at The Riverside in October

Most inappropriately named Yorkshiremag: Anthony (Non-homing) Pidgeon who manages to get lost in his own kitchen - somebody buy the lad a compass for Christmas!

Player most likely to get a slapping: Don Hutchison….Gatesheed born and bred…..Effin’ Mackem Basket more like!

School Janitor of the year: Mr Thomas Harbord (43) Esq. Of Pudsey

Best drink of the year award: Scrumpy Jack & McEwan’s Lager snakebite at the Printer’s Pie…er, sorry, Fleet Street

Best Dressed Yorkshiremag Award: Goes to Dave Bailey for his Littlewood’s matchday trainers - class

Scar of the year: Martin Bare after his lass thought he was a Jehovah's Witness and slammed the door in his face upon returning home a day late from the Bradford Cup game

Pre-match boozer of the year: Has to be Wetherspoons in the Toon

Duck Breaking Award II: JT for “gittin’ it oooownn!” with Sue (and Vera)

Nickname of the year award: Hizbollah

Travelling companion of the year: The lovely Sue Thompson (nee Tilsley)

Bus Driver of the year award: Definitely not Keith

Tallest Vegetarian of the year award: Mr Keith Barclay

Best New Outspoken journalist: Arran “Tynemooth” Mallinson - the voice of unreason….Altogether now: “Five feet-two, eyes of blue, Mallinson is after you, la, la, la” etc…..

Best TV Comedy actor: JT for his hilarious “Jack Cunningham / Wilfrid Bramble” impersonation on Channel 4’s Countdown - tops!

The Greenpeace sponsored Recycler of the year award: goes to Wheelie for his sterling efforts at Gordano’s mam’s house in Tad

Best impersonation of a dictator (under 5 ft category): Dave Bailey

The ‘Old-habits-die-hard’ award: JT, back on the snouts again… last

PS. If you’re stuck for buying a prezzie for a male member of the household this Christmas, I can recommend “Newcastle United - A Pictorial History of a Fantastic Decade”. It’s not your usual fawning load of cack you get from a Club publication and it’s got a picture of our own Malcolm Clark wearing a sombrero in Barcelona in it. Malcolm will be pleased to sign copies at the January meeting.

STOP PRESS…STOP PRESS… Arran’s in charge for the next issue.

STOP PRESS…STOP PRESS… Malcolm won't be signing copies of the book at the January meeting, he'll be skiing in Italy.

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While I enjoyed the web-site's sympathetic handling of JT's short-lived romance you really didn't manage to give the full story. Did he not tell you why she binned him?

Apparently they were having a romantic evening the night before the Villa game when she mentioned that she needed to get a better job in order to increase her income with Christmas coming up, and did the Countdown wise one have any suggestions?

Quick as a flash the perfect solution came to him through the Broon-induced haze. "Ah knaa", says he "Ah pays wor cleaner fowerty quid a munth which, when yer look at it is wasted munny. Why divant ye dee it and ahll give ye the fowerty quid."

Apparently Lady didn't feel that clearing up Thompson's sh*te wasn't the "better job" that she'd had in mind and so she promptly binned the befuddled get!

Oh cruel world!

Hilda hated
cleaning up
JT's pile of
used "noddy's"
on a Monday


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Featuring all of his hits including: Shout featuring LuluWhat’saalltharraboot Pussycat featuring Tom JonesAll That She Wants (Is A Good F*ckin’ Howkin’) feauring Ace of BaseI Am A Rock / Scarborough Faireenuff featuring Simon & GarfunkelThe Laughing Gnome featuring David BowieSaturday Night’s Alright For Fightin’ featuring Elton JohnDon’t Look Back In Anger featuring OasisStreet Fighting Man featuring The Rolling StonesLittle Willy featuring The SweetShut Up featuring MadnessEnjoy The Silence featuring Depeche ModeBurning Down The Housefeaturing Talking HeadsRabbit featuring Chas & Dave… many more…..


“The ‘Dean Martin of Bramhope’ is back to his best on this fantastic collection of Lounging Classics”.
Jenny Tilwarts - NME ( 9 / 10 )

“Fantastic! If you only buy one album this year, make sure it's this bugger!”
Chris Peacock - Sounds ( 8.5 / 10 )

“The gravel-voiced, fat, old, turkey-necked lothario delivers the goods once again! Truly spectacular!”
Mary Hinge - Smash Hits ( 5 / 5 )


Future Releases from Yorkshiremags Audio ©

* King Of The Road - Graham Helling

* Show Me The Way To Go Home - Anthony Pidgeon

* Following Through EP - Gary Foster

* Dirty Linen - The Dave Wheeler Quartet

* My Name Is Basil - Bernie Rafferty



Helling's Haircare Products Ltd



Fed up of being a shorta*se? Does everyone seem to tower over you? Lacking in self confidence? Ever considered buying a pair of “Bailey Boosters”? Please allow me to explain……….

“Everyday I had to put up with the usual insults; Dwarf, Mini-me, Stumpy, you know, that kind of thing. So one day I decided to do something about it and now I have great pleasure in presenting to you the patented “Bailey Boosters”. Guaranteed to add an extra 6” to your existing height. Shortar*e? Moi? Not any more bonny lad! I can almost touch the sky!”

Bailey Boosters
Off Stainbeck Lane, Leeds

Wheelie's Launderette & Dry Cleaners
Heavy Soiling a speciality!
Experts in removing:
from delicate fabrics

We'll clean any 5 items of bed linen
for just......
offer ends
Jan 01

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Don Brennan and Old Ivy
To the tune of: The Holly and the Ivy
Don Brennan and old Ivy, 
Are always on the phone, 
Of all the divorcees that were in the Fox, 
Don Brennan gave her bone.

So Ivy bared her bosom, 
As white as lily flower, 
When old Don he saw her knickers pink,
He was stiff for an hour. 

So Ivy asked old Don lad;
“Fancy fillin’ my mates crack?”
And Old rampant Don, he could not refuse,
“If it’s good enough for Jack.....”

The next day they went shopping, 
To buy themselves new gear, 
Ivy couldn’t get any shopping done, 
For Don nibbling on her ear.

And on the train to Charlton,
Old Ivy took the huff,
“You’re not sitting with your mates Don,
You’re a wrinkly, peg-legged puff”

Ivy’s son came one Sunday,
She said they call him Brian,
“But if Brian’s here, I won’t get me oats”
Said Don almost cryin’


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Seeing as it’s the end of the year, we’ve trawled through the Yorkshiremags archive of photographs to produce a short retrospect of the year 2000.

Dave (left) hands over the
 role of Club Secretary
to Tom Harbord

Bernie Rafferty keeps an
eye out for the mini bus
at Wetherby

JT reassures Sue in The
Fox after she accused him
of flirting with another old
boiler the night before the
game at West Ham 

Big Issue gets to grips with his “packed
lunch” during one of his pi** stops along
the A1

The Yorkshire branch of the Mackem
Supporters Club were a common sight
at Leeds City Station during 2000

Short a*se Bailey has 40 winks in his
suitcase in the Guards Van on the train
back from the FA Cup Semi Final
in April

Wing Commander Si Martin powders
his nose before his secret liaison
with Dave Wheeler after the game
at Man City 

Shortly after this photo was taken
Keith Barclay imposed a strict “No
Drinking” policy on the mini-bus 

JT (left) and Sue chat about perms,
tampons and shopping over a spot
of lunch in Wetherspoons in

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Is it cuz I is black (and white)?
Hear me now! I know I is from Staines an’ I know I isn’t runnin wiff da Geordie Massive, but today I is interviewin’ none uvver dan me Maine man Peter Reid.

Ali: A’ight Pete? Dat was a gag. Maine, as in Man. City.
PR: Yes. Very good, thank you.
Ali: You must be feelin’ pleased wiff yo’delf after yo’ win ag’inst Newcastle.
PR: Yeah. Great result. They were the better team in the first half but we just scraped through.
Ali: Is dat wot you fink? You must be well fick man! Well how  come all of da Geordie Massive is sayin’ dat you is ‘spawny b*st*rds’?
PR: Well, I suppose they’re just a bit miffed at having lost a local derby. I’m sure the Sunderland fans would have been the same if the score had been reversed.
Ali: Fo’ real! Now I ‘as watched da game on Match of da Day, over me Julies shoulder while I is givin’ ‘er one, and I is finkin’ dat your boys was fightin’ an’ kickin’ like a pack of bitches man.
PR: Well, I’d prefer to call it good old fashioned grit and determination, but…..
Ali: And you was keep hoofin da ball forward. Dat is well rank an’ borin’!
PR: Well, I’m a firm believer in servicing the big fella….
Ali: Ha! Ha! Now you is soundin’ like a batty. Is you a batty Peter?
PR: No! Definitely not. I have nothing against gay players or people.
Ali: Well is it true den, dat 50% of yo’ fans is batty boys an’ lezbo’s?
PR: I don’t think it’s that high a percentage. I think that is a statistic that the Newcastle fans have fabricated.
Ali: A’ight! Now on da box when I is watchin da match, I is ‘earin’ da Geordies singin a tune ‘bout how you is got a monkeys ‘ead. Dat is well mingin’! Is the RSPCA not on yo’ case? Is you usin’ it as an ashtray or sumfink?
PR: No, no, no. It’s not like that. They mean that I look like a monkey. I don’t actually own a monkey’s head!
Ali: Aiii, fo’ real! And dey is singin’ dat you is able to peel bananas wiff yo’ feet. Is dis true? Cuz me mate Dave, he smokes spliff wiff his feet.
PR: Ho! Ho! No, I can’t say I’ve tried it.
Ali: Me mate Nigel, he sayin’ dat you has been drinkin’ from Micky Grays Mums hairy cup. How true is dat?
PR: It’s not true at all. That is yet another fabrication from the Newcastle fans.
Ali: So, is you sayin’ you is not likin’ da punani? Dat is well batty!
PR: Can we change the subject please?
Ali: Aiii, fo’ real. What does you fink of me main man, Bobby Robson? I fink ‘e is well wicked.
PR: I think he’s a credit to the game. He has achieved everything that a manager can achieve. I hope that I can emulate him and if I can achieve half as much as him, I’ll be happy.
Ali: Ha! Ha! Wick’d! Sorry Pete, but I is doubtin’ you will cuz you is proper sh*t! Is you ‘appy wiff bein’ da fird biggest club in da Norf East?
PR: I think that you’ll find that we are the biggest club in the North East. Newcastle used to be regarded as the North East’s number one club, but we have taken seven points of them during the last three encounters.
Ali: I is sorry, an’ I is no brain sturgeon, but da term “biggest club” means ‘ow many fans you is getting’ at da matches an’ I seen in da Staines Gazette dat you only got about free grand for da Luton game. Dat is well rank!
PR: I can’t possibly comment on that. I just assume that it was because of bad weather.
Ali: Okay. So Pete, is you all hatin’ Newcastle den?
PR: No. I just like to think of it as a friendly rivalry between two local teams. It’s been going on for well over a century.
Ali: Aiii, fo’ real. Dat is a bit like when Darren’s Gramps from da East end Massive called me Nan a slag back in da day. Me Gramps went an’ whacked him an’ dey bin fightin’ ever since. Rispeck!
PR: Yes. It’s a bit like that.
Ali: Why is Sunderland called da black cats? Is it because the Sunderland bitches they is all got dirty punanis?
PR: No. It’s an old nickname from years back, and readers of the Sunderland Echo voted for it in a poll, which I think was rather nice.
Ali: Yo’ is playin’ Newcastle again in April aye?
PR: Yes, April the 21st I think.
Ali: So is dere goin’ ta be a ruck den?
PR: I hope not.
Ali: So, lemme get dis right. If da Geordies start singin’ “You just a town full of batty’s” da Sunderlan’ fans won’t ruck? Dat is well gay.
PR: As Manager of Sunderland AFC, I cannot condone violence.
Ali: Aiii, sorry Pete. Increase da peace! So dis Super Kevin Phillips, ‘ow old is ‘e? Him only look about twelve man! He even got da lickle ‘tache! Has ‘is balls dropped?
PR: (Chuckles) Well, I would certainly hope so. He’s 28 years old.
Ali: So in da ‘ season 96-’97 why is you reckonin’ Sunderland was relegated?
PR: I tell you what that was: f**king men against f**king boys all over the f**king park. They were f**king weak as p*ss, they were, f**king weak as p*ss.”
Ali: Big rispeck to Pete…..Westside! Bo! Bo!

For the “older” members of the Supporters Club who don’t know who or what Ali G is, there’s a website that provides an Ali G translator at:
If you stay to have a look around there is also a “Drunkifier” that translates normal everyday phrases into a drunken slur. This could come in handy when you’re listening to JT at the next meeting. It can be found at:

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Bash Street Kids

A. Plug         B. Smiffy        C. 'Erbert

Can you work out which Yorkshire Mags have look-a-likes from the Beano's Bash Street Kids?


A.  Jim Philpott
B.  Dave Stead
C.  Bernie Rafferty

Big Issue Look-a-like no. 2

Now  I’ve thought that Graham looked like this bloke from the first time I seen him. I didn’t know him at the time (I still lived in Gyetsheed) but I used to see him at every home match skulking about at the Leazes End bar with a pint at half time.

In case you're wondering “Who the f**k is Brian Hibbard?!” Let me tell you:

He was in Coronation Street. He played Dougie Murphy and the “lucky” bugger was knocking off Deirdre B for a while.

He also used to sing in The Flying Pickets and had a UK No. 1 hit with them in ‘83.

And he played Chunky in BBC1’s Making Out in the late 80’s / early 90’s.

Bizzarrely, both Graham and Brian have given that blonde, scouse gobsh*te Margi Clark one……………allegedly.

Talentless Graham

Multi-talented Taff
Brian Hibbard

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Voice of (Un)Reason

A monthly feature in which our very own "Raging Gnome" discusses life, the universe and...

Migratin’ bords! What’saalltharraboot then? They hop aboot in yer garden when it’s waahm and sunny in the Summer an’ aall that but what happens when the wind an’ snow comes alang? They f**k off that’s what they de! De us a favour. F**k off an’ divven’t come back if it’s not good enough for yuz in the Winter. Oh aye! They’re keen enough to come back hyem an’ eat aall wor breed an’ worms an’ that when it’s mild ootside but at the first sign of a cowld wind they’re up an’ away. Migratin’ bords want their hollow  f**kin’ wingbones snappin’ the ungrateful little, tweetin’ b*st*rds! F**k ‘em! 

Santa F**kin’ Claus! Who the f**k does he think he is? The bone idle, fat old tosser does one neets work a year an’ he expects ev’ry bugger to like him. Wey I’ve got news for ‘im…I f**kin’ hate ‘im! I mean faireenuff an’ aall that, he brings joy to loads o’ kids aall ower the world an’ aall that…but if he tries to get doon my f**kin’ chimbley on the 24th he’s in forra f**kin’ shock coz I’m ganna have a big f**k off fire on the gan. That’ll sort ‘im oot! An’ if ‘e lets his f**kin’ reindeers sh*te aall ower me garden, I’ll snap their f**kin’ antlers off, lift their tails up an’ drive their antlers up their f**kin’ a*seholes! Just see if I divven’t!

People who keep spellin’ me name wrang! For the last f*c*in’ time it’s A-R-R-A-N. As in the Isle of Arran, in f*ckin’ Jockland an’ that. It’s where me Mother an’ Fatha conserved us in a tent an’ aall that soft romantatic stuff. Ye knaa, like Brooklyn Beckham was med in Brooklyn an’ Barry White’s Mother an’ Fatha shagged on the Isle of Wight. The next fu*kin’ b*st*rd ti spell me name wrang’ll gerra f*ckin’ tin of Alphabetti Spaghetti stotted off their thick, f*c*in’ napper. Oh, an’ by the way, while I’m on. People caalled  A-A-R-O-N are aall dyslexic puffs...except wor lad Hughesy….He’s f*c*kin’ nails!

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The THT's Hughie

THE TONGUE WAGGER: Scrape the build up of plaque from the back of your tongue with a teaspoon then stir the spoon into a pint of freshly pulled Carlsberg or Strongbow…Delish!           SPECS ON THE BEACH:
I have really bad eczema on the top of my ears where my spectacles rest. Some of this flaky mess adheres to the arms of my specs. I simply stir each arm into an ice cold Gin and Tonic until clean. If the customer complains, I simply tell them that it must be some sediment from the bottom of the bottle of  tonic…an absolute corker!
Heh! Heh! Heh!
You may have to go to the toilet to make this one! Using a small slip of paper (I like to use bus tickets that I find on the pavement at the bus stop outside) carefully wipe any moisture from the area between the base of your spine and the crack of your buttocks. Then roll the bus ticket into a tube and apply some spittle to hold it in place. Place this “straw” into any spirit and mixer concoction and watch as the fun unfolds… favourite!
I Grab a handful of my own pubic hair just before depositing a customers change (and my stray pubes) back in their hand….A Classic!
Using a cocktail stick, carefully remove some of the whitish build up from behind your big toenails. Transfer this “duckmeat” to an ice cube tray. Fill tray with water and place in freezer. When frozen, add cube to a single measure of Bailey’s or vodka and coke. This works best in dark or opaque drinks!
Add a camphor block from the Gent’s urinals to a glass of Blue Curacao and Lemonade. The drink is blue and so should camouflage the “blue ice cube” Ha! Ha! Haarrgghh!
SCREAMING ORGASM: I can’t tell you what I put into this one!

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In a train carriage there was a Geordie, a Mackem, a spectacular looking blonde and a frightfully awful looking fat lady. After several minutes of the trip the train happens to pass through a dark tunnel, and the unmistakable sound of a slap is heard. When they leave the tunnel, the Mackem had a big red slap mark on his cheek.
(1)  The blonde thought - “That Mackem son of a bitch wanted to touch me and by mistake, he must have put his hand on the fat lady, who in turn must have slapped his face”
(2)  The fat lady thought - “That dirty old Mackem laid his hands on the blonde and she smacked him”.
(3)  The Mackem thought - “That effing Geordie must have put his hands on that blonde and by mistake she slapped me”.
(4)  The Geordie thought - “I hope there’s another tunnel soon so I can smack that Mackem tw*t again”.

"F*ck me Kevin!", shouted Peter, "Which
f*ckin' idiot brought black and white
balloons for the SAFC Christmas party?"

Mr Higgins wasn't best pleased
about having his cosy Christmas
Eve rudely interrupted by the Reid
family carol singing.

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