ROCKFLOUR

Get a life, piss-junkie, incompetent tit, fascist turd burglar. These are some of the random and curious insults that are thrown at recruitment consultants on a daily basis Rockflour reveals. A report commissioned by John Cosgrove, Managing Director of Audit Recruit, believes these jibes are 'completely justified' citing 'ubiquitous ineptitude' and 'a systemic culture of lies, false promises and poor man-management'. "Recruitment consultancies are run by in-bred fascists...the service offered is terrible, well below par. In fact it’s a double bogey" , John Cosgrove observed. However, Chairman of Recruit This , James Vince, refutes the findings vehemently: "The report is toss; we run a crack team of committed target driven individuals. It’s a cut throat business; we may crack a few eggs to make an omelette, but who doesn’t. It’s a bloody good omelette. There are lies then there are porky pies, there’s a difference. The report neglects this point&qu

Cat-like and grizzled, captive by a charmer Awaiting the roadside show A Hindustan spectacle, a carnivore fair Rikki-Tikki and snake in a gladiatorial affair Armoured impervious to the serpent’s saliva Agile and fast one hell-bent survivor Attached to a rock, a rope, a leash A reoccuring circus act, a cultural niche Cat-like and grizzled, captive by a charmer Repeating the roadside show

The forest is a labyrinth of hunger thanks to my small-minded cousin – the grey squirrel. I don’t know where my next meal is coming from and I’m suffering. I’m going mad, I can tell. I need nuts. I hate the grey squirrel and its monstrous appetite. An unwanted guest, eating me out of house and home. There’s no clarion call; there’s no cavalry. The red squirrel population has been decimated and morale is low. Fundamentally my North-American cousin is inbred, dumb and greedy. It’s not a bully just a gluttonous child leaving nothing for its more diminutive, red-haired cousin. I can see them now from my lofty perch, scavenging like starved hyenas. I crossed the road the other day without looking. It wasn’t my time but death doesn’t scare me; I know the smell of it, the feel of it, I see it in my dreams and I’m not intimidated. I’m living a Native-American nightmare - a victim in my own home.

Thomas Yau, ‘star’ of the Halifax commercial -“I’m into something good” - has become a scapegoat for the current recession, ROCKFLOUR reveals. Almost 50 000 letters have been written to the Advertising Principles Agency venting their anger over the one-minute commercial. One viewer from Bradford wrote: ‘Frankly I just don’t know who to blame. That commercial however embodies everything that is wrong; it’s a farce. When I see it on TV I literally feel like my brain is hemorrhaging. The cheeky b*****d has the temerity to sing ‘we’re into something good’. Are they balls!’ The Advertising Principles Agency recently released a statement: ‘There is a growing antipathy towards the Halifax advert especially in light of the credit crunch. We appreciate the commercial is beyond annoying but we simply don’t have the power to ban it. Please stop sending Mr. Yau hate mail and forward it to the Halifax marketing team instead’.

ROCKFLOUR presents an exclusive interview with the long-haired and controversial frontman, James Trevor, from the rock band - Halcyon Days. Interview by John Monty. How did you choose your band name? We debated a number of names John. We tried flicking through a dictionary to find a suitable name, but that wasn't very helpful. First time - we landed on the word 'chandelier' - a lovely word, but goes against the very ethos of our dark satanic music and possibly too obtuse. Second time around, it landed on the word 'generic' and let me tell you my friend, we are anything but generic. So how did the name come about? I'm coming to that John, you're very impatient, almost bordering on impetious. Do mind the manners. I was reading a myth recorded by Ovid that depicts Halcyon days. In a nutshell a wife, grief stricken by her husband's death, jumps off a cliff. Instead of perishing she is carried to her husband by the wind. So we decided on the name Halycon Days

A bird watching enthusiast was rescued by firefighters yesterday after falling into a disused well. Patrick Woods, 58, from North Talon, in Suffolk, fell into the well whilst searching for Skylarks. He was saved by a rambler after he was heard blowing on his bird whistle. “I was looking for birds, binoculars in hand when all of a sudden the ground collapsed beneath me. Thankfully I had my Skylark Signal Whistle with me - it produces over 122 decibels of sound so I just started blowing. It was strangely reminiscent of Kate Winslet’s character in Titanic where she’s blowing for her life. All I had was hope and that trusty whistle”. "I’m a keen reader of Andy McNab so realised the importance of staying calm and focused. I tried to eliminate any negative thoughts but no-one knew I was bird-watching, so no alarm would be raised. In short I thought I was going to die a horrible death. Fortunately I was heard by my guardian angel - Keith, a humble rambler. My skylark prayers were answer

Aries March 21 - April 20 Learn to ask for help and assistance during an intimate act with a loved one. This will make a difference in your life. Taurus April 21 - May 21 You’re overwhelmed this week. Have a good cry and tell no-one - it’s pathetic. Gemini May 22 - June 21 Your decadent lifestyle is making you look, with the greatest respect, like a bum. Do 10 squat-thrusts. Cancer June 21 - July 23 Your family may have made you feel emotionally vulnerable this week, tell your Uncle to stop it. Leo July 24 - August 23 If you have no experience with plumbing, then don’t do it yourself. Get a quote and pay a professional. Virgo August 24 - September 23 Stop drinking and you’ll feel more sober. Libra September 24 - October 23 Cleanliness is next to Godliness. Have a shower. Scorpio October 24 - November 22 You give too much when you have little. Smarten up, it’s unsustainable. Sagittarius November 23 - December 21 Don’t shout on your mobile when you’re on a crowded train. It’s discourteou

Hello my name is Dietmar and today we are exploring the Blutwurst otherwise known as the German Blood Sausage - now that is good eating! Without further ado, here is the recipe: 1) You must find fresh pork blood by any means possible. If you do catch a pig, cut its jugular and catch the blood in a bowl/bucket. 2) Add pork fat, cooked rice, marjoram, salt and pepper. I remember my mother taught me this dish when I was a small boy and she would always say “Dietmar mix it well, mix it well Dietmar. We don’t want the blood to coagulate”. She was a wise woman. 3) Once mixed thoroughly, stuff into casings and tie. Then cover in water and boil for 25-30 minutes. Serve on a bed of sauerkraut with some lean pork and have plenty of strong german mustard. Guten Appetit!

We stand here today to offer our respects to Geoff, a great monkey and a wonderful friend. I remember when I first met him in the early 90’s, when he first got the role as the Coco Pops monkey; he was raw but talented. First day of shooting he turned up to work with a spoon and everyone knew there and then we had a star in the making, what a character. This personality captivated tens of millions of people around the world and he became a star over night. He was even responsible for the catchphrase "Coco Pops and milk make a bowlful of fun". Oh how he loved those chocolate rice crispies. Over the years though it’s fair to say he started to resent his success as he inevitably became typecast as the coco pops monkey. What people don’t know is that he had a wonderful acting range and always talked of walking the hallowed boards of the theatre. As we all know this dream never became a reality, producers simply wouldn’t take that chance, all except Big Brother. He despised that sh

I lie in bed wondering how the sequence of events in my life had culminated in this choice of vocation – a gigolo. I’m not allowed to dwell on this thought for long though as my naked client barks her orders. "Talk dirty, get me in the mood". "Oooh, you’re breasts are like…". I pause for thought as my mind lists possible similes. Fried eggs? No. Melons? No, too passé. Oranges? I like oranges. "You’re breasts are like oranges". "What does that mean?" "I honestly don’t know. Dirty talk isn’t my forte". "So what is your forte?" "Probably squash". "I mean in the bedroom". I pause for thought, can’t decide so close my eyes and lean forward for a kiss. We kiss. She smiles that horsey smile. Then I offer her a mint from my gigolo kit bag. Unfortunately she declines. "What else is in the bag? Sex toys?" "No sex toys I’m afraid. That said I’m a sex toy of sorts". "Really? How’s that then?&q

First day. Nervous. I sit in my car in the warmth and have another chocolate digestive. It feels like my first day at school, the anticipation, the fear. That's the only similarity. I check my gigolo kit bag. Mints, stop-watch, condoms, water-based lube, wet wipes and whistle. This game isn't for mugs. I meet the woman in a Holiday Inn car park she's wearing a black dress and she's bra-less. Nipples like exposed steel core bullets. I was a military man. She's a giant, taller than me at 6ft 2 inches. I look up and say hello, she smiles a horsey grin and whispers " you must be the escort". " Indeed I am, you must be my date" . Date I hear her think and she reveals her horsey grin. My stomach turns, I attempt a smile then we walk together hand in hand to the reception. "We've booked a room for 11" she declares to the receptionist. "The name is Johnson". We're early and the beds haven't been made. I sigh. My stom