IPW

Chestnuts Are Lazy

I have been a bit lax of late providing you four with entertainment, and I don't have time this morning to wax eloquent about pest control or the odd white stuff that returned again yesterday to the fear of the villagers. So instead I will provide you with the funniest monologue of all time from the first Austin Power's movie. If only I could write half as dementedly:

Dr. Evil on his childhood.

Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving
boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for
buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year old French prostitute named Chloe with
webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make
outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would
accuse chestnuts of being lazy... the sort of general malaise that only the
genius possess in the insane lament. My childhood was typical... summers in
Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was
insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds... pretty
standard, really. At the age of twelve, I received my first scribe. At the
age of fourteen, a Zoastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my
testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's
breathtaking, I suggest you try it.