Issue 21           April 2001
Featuring: Editor's rant
Canny Lad of the month
Music News
Lonely Heart
Room 101
Pueblo's page
Pud classified
Arran 'Tynemooth' Mallinson
Let's all laugh at Sun'lun



Happy 21st Birthday

The Pud has come of age! It is no longer a newsletter but a fully grown filth-pamphlet. Fame at last!

Apart from the football, season 2000-01 hasn’t been too bad for the Yorkshiremags as far as publicity is concerned:

  • back in October last year, JT made a (t)fool of himself on Countdown which led to a full page spread in The Sunday Sun
  • not to be outdone, Li’l Bailey also made an appearance (albeit looking like a short Keith Harris) in The Sunday Sun for his fund raising efforts with the Blaydon Races ringtone
  • thirdly Keith gets a slating on BBC1 courtesy of Messrs Fry and Merton (see below and stay tuned for further Courtroom reports
  • fourthly and fifthly (?) excerpts from The Pud are reproduced in a daily national broadsheet

  • What next? JT& Sue on Mr& Mrs? Arran on Question Time? Bernie Rafferty on Food and Drink? Northallerton Si on Country File with John Craven? The Editor on erm... Emmerdale?

    F*ck knows! But I wouldn’t put it past any of us!

    Congratulations are also in order for our part-time Chairman Mr. John Thompson. It was announced on the website on the 13th of March that our “Turkey-necked lothario” had become engaged to his short-term partner Sue. So all the best to them both. Because of this, the competition for the roles of pageboy and best man are up for grabs. The latest betting is:

    Dave Bailey 25/1
    Cock-eyed Fallabella pony from the Durham stables. Would have been odds-on favourite this time last year, however a lengthy bout of p*ss-taking towards JT has drastically lowered his odds.

    Tom Harbord 4/1
    Lean and jig-eared with the distinct silver streak in his mane. Well worth a few quid of anyone’s cash.

    Gordano 2/1
    Bullish nephew of the groom-to-be. Refuses to race on a Saturday. Will become odds-on favourite should the marriage take place at registry office on a Friday afternoon.

    Arran 12/1
    Stocky but powerful nag. Once he gets going, he can go on and on... and on... and on...

    Tex Tucker 500/1
    Gobby outsider from the North West stables. Doesn’t stand a chance after referring to JT as a drunken nonce.

    William Hague 6/1
    Bald, gremlin-faced muppet. A close friend and confidant of JT.

    Ken Barlow 4/1
    Former neighbour of our former taxi driving Chairman. Would have been another favourite had it not been for him recently tampering with one of JT’s old flames, Alma.

    Just before I go, a short note to Mr Nick Harris of The Independent If you are going to reproduce our material in any future editions of ‘The Sweeper’ section on a Saturday, would you please mention the following;

    • who we are

    • what we do

    • maybe publicise us a little more to raise the profile of the Club?  - we’re not bad bunch of lads (and lasses) you know

    Oh, and while I’m on the subject, the next time that you see our Miss Yorath could you tell her that Arran (Tynemooth) Mallinson of Methley in Leeds thinks she’s “totally lush” and would she like to go to the pictures, then on to McDonalds with him next weekend.

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    No 1 - Steve Stone

    This is a new feature in which the Yorkshiremags will nominate a ‘Canny Lad/Lass’ in every issue. There’s no award or anything as prestigious as that, just a note of deserved recognition in these hallowed pages. Alongside this we will run a F*nny Pad of the month, where members will vote for the biggest sh*thouse of the month. If someone in the Club or in football (but not in politics) that really makes your sh*t hang sideways, vote for them on the website. Just leave your nomination on the Message Board. Nominate your Canny Lad/Lass and/or F*nny Pad of the month leaving your nominee, reasons, your own name, and remember that it doesn’t have to be football related.

    To get us started, I’ve nominated Stoney and it’s not just because he’s got the same haircut as me      !

    A mate of mine was lucky enough to obtain a complimentary ticket for the draw against Villa just before Christmas. The package involved the usual; free luxury coach travel to and from Birmingham, free drink on the coach, free drink and 3 course Christmas meal upon arrival, a free £20 betting voucher and a chance to meet and greet in the players lounge afterwards.

    All went well, my mate had way too much of the festive spirit between the hours of 11am and 5pm in spite of the fairly dull game. After the match he stood propped against a wall in the players lounge, dreading the trek back home. A flash of light from the shining pate of Stoney snapped him out of his misery and he staggered towards him hoping for some friendly Gateshead based banter.

    Stoney noticed my p*ssed up pal approaching and welcomed him with open arms, greeting him with “A Geordie! At last somebody wirra decent accent. You cannot howld a conversation with people doon here ‘cause they aall sound stupid when they taalk”.

    Much patter did ensue, taking in such diverse topics as;
    • how The Crown on Low Fell has become sh*te since the brewery decided to change it’s name to Bar Mondo
    • the joys of tapping scallies upstairs in The Cannon on a Sunday night
    • Gateshead Arms or The Jolly Miller for the big screen on matchdays - discuss

    After a while, the time had come for my mate to leave his new-found friend and board the coach for the long trip back home to Gateshead. The friends parted, shook hands, exchanged pleasantries and went their own separate ways. Upon returning to the coach, my mate was advised by the driver that there was no more alcohol available on the coach and that if they wanted more, then they would have to pay for it themselves.

    My mate promptly stumbled back into the hospitality area, staggered to the bar and handed over the cash in return for a tray of 24 bottles of lager. Content, stocked up and hiccuping he made his way back to the coach once more. Then disaster struck. With both his hands full of ale and his co-ordination shot to bits, how the f*ck was he supposed to open the double door from the hospitality area into the coach park? He struggled in vain until a voice boomed over his shoulder “Giz them here man!” It was Stoney, his new friend. My mate handed over the tray of booze to Stoney who took them in both arms and kicked open the door. “Howay! I’ll carry them for yer, ye can barely stand up” he added. My mate followed Stoney to the coach.

    Once at the coach, Stoney barged onto the bus and carried the beer all the way to the roof rack above my mate's seat before saying goodbye for the second time, getting off the coach and heading back to his car.

    As my mate says, and I think you’ll all agree....   What a f*ckin’ star!


    No. I - D*n (Escariot) H*tchis*n

    What more can be said about this streak of m*ckem p*ss that hasn’t been said before? His fall from grace from Canny Lad to F*nny Pad has been nowt short of phenomenal.
    • at Liverpool he showed all the qualities of a Canny Gateshead lad by stripping naked and dancing on a table with only a Carlsberg label to hide his tadger
    • whilst under contract at another club (who shall remain nameless) it is alleged that he played Sunday morning football for a Gateshead pub team (which shall also remain nameless) every other week
    • he also made noises about being a die-hard Toon fan

    Now he:
    • dances antagonistically in front of the home fans (of which he professed to being one) like a 6” tw*t celebrating his equaliser whilst playing for our deadliest rivals
    • constantly waxes lyrical about how Sunderland are going places and how they’re such a big club

    So, Don (or Ducky as he was known at school in Bensham - true!) I hope you realise that the next time you leave the comfort of your caravan and dare to come North of Wearside, the good people of Tyneside (and W. Yorks) will not have forgotten your *****!

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    The ‘muso’ content of the Yorkshiremags has been increased to four by the realisation that Graham Waddington’s moustache was once a member of late ‘70’s disco combo The Village People.

    Graham commented “Glenn Hughes from the Village People saw my photograph in a copy of Stuntman Weekly and took an instant shine to me ‘tache”. He added “Glenn couldn’t grow facial hair on his top lip due to incessant chafing due to constantly performing unusual sexual practices. So I loaned out my pride and joy at a rate of $20 per day, which was a lot of cash in the late ‘70’s”.

    But what started out as an amicable agreement was to end up in a nasty legal wrangle Stateside. Graham explains; “After every tour Mr. Hughes would send me back my ‘tache by air mail with a cheque for the hire of it. I didn’t mind at first, it was nice to get my ‘tache back for a fortnight in every three months and the money helped to pay my way through Stunt School”.

    Then after the Village Peoples Summer tour of 78 disaster struck “I couldn’t believe it! I was really looking forward to my moustache returning for the fortnight and spending some quality time with it, but when it dropped through my letterbox and I opened the envelope, I found that it was caked in what appeared to be semen and faeces. I was livid and decided to take it further”.

    The case took place in San Francisco in the Autumn of 1980. In court, Glenn claimed that the ‘wear and tear’ was simply due to life on the road in a gay band, but then later shot himself in the foot by claiming that maybe a middle man, maybe someone in the post office had covered Graham’s moustache in semen and human excrement.

    The presiding Judge ordered that Mr. Hughes pay Graham $10,000 in compensation, dry cleaning costs for the ‘tache and all legal fees incurred.

    Graham concludes “The compensation set me up canny. I was able to pay off my Student Stuntman loan and buy a few crashmats and helmets into the bargain. I had my ‘tache expertly cleaned and disinfected and have never looked back since”.

    The other three musical members of the Club are; Tommy Stardust of Twist, Keith Blakey of Mirroball who are currently embroiled in a Robbie and Liam style “My band’s better than yours!” type feud. The third is Arran Mallinson who confesses to playing the pink flute at bathtime.

    A bitter row erupted last night after Mirroball bassist and comitted vegetarian, Keith Barclay, caused outrage by donning a leopard skin guitar strap, trousers and wristbands during his band Mirroball’s gig at Rafters. Keith was unavailable for comment, but a spokesman for the band said yesterday “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what all the fuss is about. I could understand the ALF people being upset at Keith if he’d actually hunted the leopard and skinned it himself, but he didn't...his mate works at Flamingo Land and he shot it with a tranquiliser dart then skinned it while it was under sedation. So in effect, the animal didn’t know it was being skinned. The group await a backlash from Animal rights protestors who are threatening to lobby future concerts by the Bradford based band.

    Mirroball’s arch rivals Twist, fronted by Tom Harbord, 49 of Pudsey fanned the flames between the feuding groups by claiming that Keith should have known better than to wear animal skin for a gig. Then, when asked for his opinion on Mirroball’s stage costume, Harbord replied: "Keith’s got a face like a dropped pie."

    This latest comment is sure to add more fuel to the already bitter feud which reminds the writer of the equally childish 1995 feud between Oasis and Blur.

    Here's a couple of ditties penned in celebration of JT's recent engagment:
    (to the tune of Don’t call me baby, by Madison Avenue)

    Sue and me, we have an opportunity
    And we can make it something really cool
    But you lot think, you think I’m not that kinda guy
    I’m here to tell you, fellas,
    I know how to rock her world
    Don’t think it’s all a con,
    I’m the one the lads call Don,
    Don’t underestimate me boys,
    I’ll make you sorry you were born
    You don’t know me the way you really should
    Take the pi~ in ev’ry Pud, don’t call me Brennan
    You’ve got to learn that, fel!as, that’lI never do
    You know I don’t belong to you
    It’s time you knew I’m not called Brennan
    I belong to Sue, so don’t call me Brennan


    Johnny Thompson’s gone to Leeds,
    He’s in the garden pulling weeds,
    When he’s done hell rattle me,
    Bonny Johnny Thompson.

    Johnny Thompson’s short and stout,
    Sue don’t let the fcuka out,
    Stays at home and drains his sprouts,
    Bonny Johnny Thompson.

    Johnny Thompson - divorcee,
    Fat and old and stinks of wee,
    I don’t care, hell marry me,
    Bonny Johnny Thompson. -


    Important Notice

    Would all readers and members kindly note that with effect from 12pm on Friday 30th March 2001. Mr John Thompson of Bramhope and Ms Sue Cookridge from Cookridge should not be referred to as ‘Don and Ivy’. Either in writing or verbally. Offenders may face an instant cash penalty of £50 or the misery of having to sit next to Bailey on the train to the next match.
    Thank You for your cooperation in this delicate matter.

    The Editor

    More music news next month, including:-

    • an exclusive interview with ‘The Dean Martin of Bramhope’ Mr. John Thompson as he speaks of his recent engagement to fiancée Sue and slams his critics for the Don Brennan rumours

    • AMINAM’s new album rated and reviewed.

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    Hi there Yorkshiremags! I’m Melissa, I’m 20 years old and I originally come from Ponteland where I left school with 9 '0' levels and 4 'A' levels. I am studying at Leeds Metropolitan University in the hope that one day I can become the country’s top neuro-surgeon. I live with three other girls at present and I am very broad minded. I have been a season ticket holder at SJP since 1987.
    I enjoy gymnastics and am very supple. My hobbies include smoking, drinking and swearing. I have been diagnosed as having severe nymphomania, however, I strongly believe in monogamy and have never had a serious boyfriend, because of this I am still a virgin. My friends say that I am very naive but have a very suggestive sense of humour.

    So if any of you hunky Leeds based Newcastle fanatics fancy taking a Magpie chick under their wing, please contact me on: (0113) 232 23 23

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    ROOM 101

    .......with Keith 'Blakey' Barclay

    Paul Merton “The Floppy haired fat boy of the BBC....I’d like to wring his f*ck*n’ neck!” says Keith. “He called me an idiot during his Room 101 show with Stephen Fry on March 12th of this year for declining the purchase of a dwelling due to the outcome of a
    negative Feng Shui report”. (Click here for the original Pud p*ss-take about this)

    “I’ll have him know that since we declined to purchase the house that failed its Feng Shui report, the current occupiers have experienced the following tragedies:
    Nov 11th 2000 The Occupiers arose to find that blue tits had pecked holes through the foil tops of their milk bottles and that a cat had used their garden as a makeshift toilet.
    Dec 3rd 2000 A power cut left the occupiers in total darkness and without electricity for most 25 minutes. During this time, the lady of the house stubbed her toe on a skirting board.
    Feb 26th 2001 The corpse of a large spider was discovered in the bath tub.
    March 31st 2001 The occupiers next-door neighbour, 117 year old Mrs. Willis, died peacefullyin her sleep.

    “So what do you make of that then, Mr. Lego Man hair? Feng Shui’s a load of old tosh is it?”

    1 Editors of Supporter’s Club fanzines
    KB - I really think these people ought to get a life, get out a bit more, you know, visit their local launderette, or do some work whilst at work, or something...
    Ed - Or something like what exactly? Not eating meat, living off cauliflower leaves? Wearing corduroy slacks and becoming a hippy? No. I’m afraid that your di~llke of farizine Editor’s is childisti and shallow. I don’t think you appreciate what a sterling job these people do. They will not be put into Room 101. Sorry.

    2 Shortarse Mackems
    KB - Well it goes without saying really, but if they were in Room 101 who could we bait?
    Ed - I know where you’re coming from on this one Keith. Straight into Room 101, plus there’s always the advantage of him not taking up too much space in there. Off you go Mr. Bailey! And anyways, there’s always JT left to bait.

    3 Youths in baseball caps driving warmed-up Vauxhall Novas
    KB - You know the types, straight through exhausts, alloys nicked off an Astra SRI, and their complexion resembling the pimpling on the dashboard.
    Ed - Ah yes! I vehemently agree. We used to call them ‘Skiprats’back home in Gateshead  Straight into Room 101 and take your hard house-techno-gabba boll*cks with you!

    4 People masquerading under assumed email addresses
    KB - A random example:
    Ed - Why does this irritate you so? It can be great fun and you can also pass the blame onto some other innocent party for leaving insulting comments on internet message boards. No. I will not be putting false email addresses into Room 101. Sorry.

    5 Back of the bus singers
    KB - They really need to stay at the back of the bus and not take it on stage, Mrs. Robinson.
    Ed - I feel that this is a direct reference to our club Secretary, Tommy Stardust - am I correct in my assumption? I don’t think this should be confined to Room 101 either for the simple reason that it’s a jealousy thing. Let me explain; You crave the spotlight that a frontman like Tom receives at the front of the stage whilst you skulk about in the shadows plucking at your bontempi bass guitar.

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    Hallo friends. Pueblo here. I haff been the very busy of lately. Pueblo is haffink eine neue hobby. I am likink to make the blue movies mit the Lego people. Meine project das I am been working on recently is called ‘Lego Lesbo Lettuce Lickers’ unt it iss beink hot, hot, HOT!!!!

    Der best thing about directink zese kind of movies mit di Lego people iss zat I am gettink to audition zem all fur ze part, if you are knowink vat I am meanink! I say “Come to Pueblo’s castink couch you 1” high posable, plastic, yellow minx!”. Heh! Heh! Heh!

    Oops! Excuse me now, I must go. I haff gotten eine little excited, unt der lid it hass come off meine glue pot. How clumsy!

    Pueblo’s Pervy Practices. No. 2
    Hum Job. I am enjoyink the 'hum-job’. It iss eine nice practice mit very little of the messy thing. It iss ver much like the Teabagging but mit di hum job, ze recipient should be making ze hummink noise when ze knackers are in ze eating place. Enjoy!

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    Exclusive Knockout Offer to Pud Readers
    Douglas Hall Limited Edition Talking Punchbag TM

    You know that the pompous little rich-boy won’t retract any of his ar*ehole comments, and it’s frustrating.But now you can take out your frustrations by giving him a belt round the head. Speaks 3 phrases when punched:

    Yer aall dogs!
    We’re bigger than Barca, us man!
    Oaf! Not me glasses!
    Also available in the following designs:
    Ruud Gullit
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    Roy Keane
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    Paul Ince
    Kenny Dalglish
    Tim Sherwood
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    Only £24.99
    inc p&p

    Leeds United Executive Travel Club

    • Executive travel in Leeds Official boxcar train ‘The Belsen Bomber’ to the match (sorry, no return journeys available at present)

    • Cleaning facilities and delousing available on arrival at the communal showers.

    • ‘Face-shaped’ pizza (that you can really get your teeth in to) and sauerkraut meal prior to the big match.

    • Courtesy ‘get-away’ car, chauffered by one of our centre-halves after the match.

    Strictly non-home fans only. Please state ethnicity and
    religion upon application.

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    Voice of (Un)Reason

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

    Yer knaa man, that gadgie oot o’ the Independent on a Sat’duh. Hey worra f*ckin’ plagiamaristical numpty, man! He nicks mine and Gaz’s gear from the Pud to put on his own ‘high brow’ football page without even a b*st*rd name check to the Yorkshiremags nor nowt. I tell yer what. If I’m invited to one o’ these posh journalist do’s he’d berra watch oot, cause I’ve got his f*ckin card marked nuw. In fact, if ‘e duzzint name checks us in the next Independent I’ll get the next train doon to the smoke, barge through his door and wrap eez f*cking lap top roond the back of eez rckin’ napper.. just ye see if I divven’t!

    That tw*t what keeps pretendin’ to be me on the Message Board!
    What’s aalItharraf*ckin~boot like?!? Just to set the record streyt: I diddent have nee bum-love off a Spanish waiter on me hollurduz an’ wake up in a pool of blood. Yerz aaII knaa worra think aboot poovery divven’y yuz. An’ I might taalk sh*te burra divven’t dee drugs.. .whey nee class A’s anyways. An’ thordly, I diwen’t knaa what a Bungles Thumb is never mind wantin’ to sell one! So, stop bein’ me or I’ll break yer f’kin’ fingers so yer cannit type nee mair aallreet?!?!

    Nasser Hussein!
    Who the f*cking f*ck does he think he is? Arguing with wor Bobby aboot cheatin’ an’ aall that on BBC’s On-side show. Bobby shudda lamped the Ia-de-dah cricketing bast*rd on the spot. An’ anutha thing. What’s a rckin’ Aussie Arab deem’ as Captain o’ war Nashernul cricket team eh? I’ll tell yer what! If I ever see im mincm’ aroond at Chester-le-Street or Headingley I’ll say “Huw! Nasser! Catch this b*st*rd! an’ yer’II hear the crack of skull on willow from aboot 3 mile away. Nee messin’! Cheeky f*cker! It’s a lassies game anyways is cricket. Tsk!


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    LET'S ALL LAUGH AT SUN'LUN.... (Part 33)

    The following articles were taken from The Sunday Sun on 25th March 2001 and were written by none other than Mr. Chris Donald the speccy milionaire of ‘Viz’ fame. Canny Lad!

    Fine Mess

    Suspicions of corruption have emerged after £18,400 was allegedly found in former Tottenham manager George Graham’s desk. He says the cash came from disciplinary fines on his players, and was due to be handed over to charity. If Sunderland boss Peter Reid was caught with that much cash in his office drawer he could say it was his swear box.

    Playing Offside - Black Cats Wide Trawl For Fans

    These days, thanks to perverts on the Internet, your kids are no longer safe in their own homes. And now they’re no longer safe in their schools either...... because a sinister new evil is threatening them in the classroom.

    Over recent months, numerous schools in Northumberland have been targeted by letters from Sunderland Football Club offering cheap tickets to games at the Stadium of Light. And last week, as Sunderland announced £5 children’s tickets for next season, youngsters from the Duchess’s High School in Alnwick, Northumberland, were being lured all the way to the Wearside stadium for a guided tour. The kids were there to make use of the club’s edu cational facilities. Apparently, they were being taught about crowd safety. Just as well, as they wouldn’t have learnt much about football. But it’s obvious what the fiendish Mackems are really up to. They’re trying to brainwash youngsters into becoming Sunderland fans instead of supporting their local team. And it’s not just he youngsters they’re after. There’s an alarming number of Mackem-come-latelys in my neighbourhood, and the situation seems to be getting worse by the week.

    I live forty miles north of Newcastle, yet I’m surrounded by stray Black Cats. I’m thinking of having them neutered. That’s a bloody big stadium those Mackems have built and somehow they need to fill it. So Bob Murray and his cohorts are trying every trick in the book to convert people to the red-and-white cause. They’re worse than the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Next they’ll be employing door-to-door salesmen. Never mind double-glazing, imagine what it would be like if a Sunderland season-ticket salesman got his foot in your door.

    “Sorry to bother you, but I’m just doing a bit of market research. Have you ever considered supporting Sunderland?”
    “Ooh no, I don’t like the Mackems.”
    “Actually, you’d be surprised how cheap it is. We’ve got a special offer on at the moment. Perhaps I can just come in for a moment and show you a few photographs of Kevin Phillips. You’ll be under no obligation whatsoever."
    Two hours later and he’ll still be there, showing you a video of the 1973 FA Cup Final.
    You’ll be so desperate to get rid of him you’ll sign anything. “Oh, go on then. I’ll have a season ticket,” you sigh.
    His eyes light up as he gets out his order forms. “It actually works out a lot cheaper if you buy four."

    Joking apart, Sunderland know what they’re doing...... off the pitch, at any rate. When I was a kid, thousands of children went to St James’s Park. The Leazes End held 17,000 and the average age in there must have been about 16. But nowadays it’s totally different. It seems that only the children of well-off parents are able to go.

    Which begs the question . . . where is the next generation of Newcastle fans coming from?

    There won’t be one if Bob Murray gets his way.

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