Mood:  lazy

Well I'm feeling f*cking lazy today, so you c*nts better be grateful that I've bothered to put my highly trained fingers to the keyboard so you have something interesting to read this weekend.

I guess the big news is that Harry Redknapp turned down the chance to become the Rabbi at the synagogue. The Press as always get it wrong by claiming he turned down Newcastle...as any secret agent worth his salt will tell you that is the universal code word for a synagogue, particularly an exclusive one such as ours. So the search continues but it looks like they're going for a big name...should be interesting.

Apart from that not much going on...I didn't gather much intelligence at the hospital this week...the wheels on my trolley still squeak, and the place is about as clean as the bog in the Wetherspoons in Tooting at closing time on a Friday night...still we're told the deep clean squad are on the way...maybe they use genuine Domestos rather than that crap our current lot use, I don't know where they get it, in fact after they've been using it the smell is familiar...I think we're back to the bogs in Wetherspoons again.

Anyway I'm going to polish my bike now, got some new chrome pedals for it at Halfords so I want it looking good before I go down the Bagel Bake tomorrow.

Shalom

Mood:  not sure

OK, well what is there to write...the Synagogue had the first of its guest Rabbis in yesterday. It seems in the interests of being cheap, they've decided the guy reading out the Toyah Wilcox lyrics doesn't have to be Jewish. So we were treated to some black geezer wearing bright yellow overalls and Wellington boots that looked three sizes too big, going on about how he was going to take all the Bagel Bakeries into State ownership and replace their current owners with Black ones. I didn't realise but Bagel Baking is a very white dominated industry so maybe he's onto something there. Rabbi Mugabe...I salute you.

Had to take the helicopter for a spin last night to go and drop off some spare part for a boat stuck in ice somewhere cold. Can't remember exactly where but I hope the packet of spark plugs were what it needed. I'm no stranger to air drops for car parts of course, I have an arrangement with the US Air Force for discounted ones for the fastest VW in the West. Not that I use the car that often these days, have you seen the price of Petrol and even worse Uzi clips?

Some of you have asked why someone with my undoubted experience and intelligence isn't running for the US Presidency. Simple answer really is that Mossad overlooked getting me US citizenship when I was working at JFK and it's a bit late to get it now. Plus running for US president is an expensive affair, especially since British Airways put up their fuel surcharge...the theiving c*nts!

Shalom

Mood:  lazy

OK, I'll come straight to the point today. There are a lot of rumours flying around that I had something to do with that hospital fire the other day. Let me put those to bed, then I'll tell you what Mossad have worked out so far.

The fire had nothing to do with the shaped charge class I was attending, a dodgy bottle of Pepsi Max, or the fact I was a bit lax getting rid of my fag. The simplest explanation is that I had been asked by the makers of Milk Tray to get rid of all those Raspberry Truffle ones that nobody likes. The f*cking Cancer patients didn't want them either, even though I told them it was some wonder drug, so I had to try and burn the bastard things. Those are tough old gits, you ever tried setting fire to chocolate it tends to melt before you can do anything with it, nothing like Semtex. In the end I emptied my lighter over this small pile and whoosh up they went. I thought that would be a good time to take a crap as the Marsden has nice soft bog paper, but I forgot about the burning pile of chocolates as there was a rather interesting article on the bog roll about washing your hands. Anyway you've seen the rest on the news...and with all the excitement I didn't wash my hands...nothing new there then.

Off to Synagogue for the first time this year later on. Be interesting to see who they have lined up to do the first service of the year. We're going to be having a number of guest rabbis until they can find some sad f*cker who likes religion and can do circumcisions using a disposable Bic razor. The downside of all this is that the secret message that Goldberg was trying to get to me will probably never be known, so all that Fisher Price stuff I got in for Christmas is all junk now...Goldberg you're a c*nt...I didn't even keep the receipts, so Toys R Us won't take them back.

Shalom

Mood:  not sure

How many of you wankers went down to Trafalgar Square last night, just so you could get crushed, f*cking freezing cold, and not even f*cking drink? I don't know what the big deal is with standing in a big crowd, especially with the main event being over in just a few seconds. Granted we used to do that when we were Mossad cadets, but back then the main event was some Arab dangling from the end of a rope, not some f*cking clock going ding f*cking dong. For f*cks sake, it wasn't even New Year's Eve last night...as I pointed out for the real civilised among us that's not until September.

Anyway I will admit to doing a little partying when I used to go out on the town with Ronnie and Reggie. In between Kneecappings and using the local bookmakers as cashpoints, we'd hit the Brown Ale big time, boy would I have a sore head when I went in to work at the Bagel Bake...after those sessions the Bagels probably didn't meet the normal standards. I never got the chance though to introduce them to Kirk and Sophia. This was mainly because being from the East End, Ronnie and Reggie used to prefer watching their football at Weavers Fields rather than Stamford Cottage, and regarded anything to do with the West part of London as a bit gay...not that we'd ever say that in front of Ronnie mind.

So for all of you with a hangover today may I just say you're a C*NT! For those of us who abstained...well you're probably more Mossad than you realise. I'll be away for a couple of days after this...it's time for my recertification in the use of shaped charges and flying the helicopter...but I'll be back by the weekend so keep the Pepsi Max on ice.

Shalom

Mood:  down

Morning twonks. Well I've spent most of the last couple of days in bed. Haven't felt like that since I got Malaria after visiting the headquarters of the cleaning company a few years back. Still it looks like I'm on the road to recovery, the Mossad Quack - Marcus Welsby - reckons I'll be fit enough to resume undercover operations in the New Year. At first I thought great...next New Year starts in September...then I realized he was talking about the one you gentile c*nts recognize not a Jewish one...senile old bastard.

As a result I'm well behind with what's going on, I didn't even cycle down the Bagel Bake, that should show you how ill I was.

One or two of you have written to ask me if I have a message for the year of 2008. The answer is a big NO. As a part time secret agent, I'm not really allowed to give you any classified information, however I'm willing to make a couple of predictions. Ronnie and Reggie will get their wish and get out of jail this year. Harold Wilson won't call a general election. Finally, Milk Tray will bring out a new selection not including the Raspberry Truffle one that nobody likes. Should make me a bit more popular on the streets of Tooting I reckon.

Shalom.

Mood:  down

Jesus I feel like shit today. It's got nothing to do with a can of Norseman Lager though, I signed up for some experiment with Mossad Medical services, f*ck knows what they've given me but I hope it'll give me a few days off work.

OK, I'm going back to bed...maybe more later.

Shalom

Mood:  d'oh

This week ain't been that bad so far...it's nice and easy at work, plenty of time for a fag or two around by the bins. Also the Mossad hotline has gone all quiet again. Seems that Kirk (Douglas) won't be needing any tickets to Fulham, someone told him Leyton Orient are much better to watch and it's cheaper to get in.

So I'm wandering around the hospital with my laptop shoved under my trolley just waiting for an opportune moment to type a few words. Not much going on as I said, although I did take a sneak peek at the psycho ward. I haven't been there since we had that big eared geezer who had a liking for Reg Holdsworth from Coronation Street and looking up the skirts of Christmas Tree fairies in. That's because I was banned, but seeing as we have a few different nurses working up there over Christmas I guessed I could take a look. Seems like they have some real oddballs up there at the moment, there's one in particular who reckons he rules the Universe or something, looks like that c*nt off of Flash Gordon. Sort of lets himself down a bit by constantly drinking tea and by claiming Gatwick Airport is the centre of the galaxy. I think they have their work cut out with him.

Got a call from an old mate the other day, Frankie Fraser has been running guided tours of the old East End, during the winter though there are not so many dumb Yanks willing to stump up the cash to justify running a coach. He wanted to know if I'd be happy using a tandem or pushing a trolley for those quieter periods. Told him to f*ck off...I'm not introducing Americans to the delights of the Bagel Bake...next thing I'd know they'd ship it off to f*cking Disneyworld...it was bad enough Walt nicking my idea for a Monorail...him and that mouse...right pair of thieving c*nts.

Shalom

Mood:  not sure

Well I guess all the headlines today will be about that Bhutto cow. I would like to make it clear that this incident has nothing to do with the box of Milk Tray I sent her before she went back to Newham...they may have been a few days pass their prime but they've never blown up before.

Anyway, some of you lot have been asking what I really did over Christmas. Did I spend it in a smoky East End Boozer with the remnants of the Firm? Was I out trailing some dodgy Arab lining him up for a head shot? Or did I do an extra shift at the Bagel Bake? Well, I was actually the on call agent over the last few days, you never know when some old Nazi concentration camp guard is going to emerge from the woodwork, or whether Kirk Douglas is going to need a couple of tickets for Fulham. So I didn't really get the chance to relax...getting hold of tickets for Fulham can be a real pain in the arse.

OK, I'm actually back at work now, and I'd better plug this geezers life support machine back in before I have some explaining to do.

Shalom

Mood:  d'oh

F*ck Christmas! That's what I say...I spent all f*cking day checking out that package that was left under my mug tree yesterday for red and blue wires... and what was it? A f*cking ten year old gift box set of Hai Karate that Mrs Mystery Man had found when we moved to the new safe house earlier this year...dozy cow...she should have written 'Not A Bomb' on it...then my keenly tuned Mossad reflexes wouldn't have kicked in. On top of that...that fat bastard Santa Claus never delivers the order I put in. For the last 40 years I've been asking for an engraved knuckleduster...but do I ever get it...no I f*cking don't! The Israeli Air Force didn't even ask me to do a Christmas day bombing of the Gaza Strip this year...I'm f*cking pissed off...next year I'll do all of my shopping online.

Even the c*nts at the hospital didn't get me anything, and I turned in for an extra shift to see Rolf Harris and Noel Edmonds fighting over who gets to see the sickest kid in the childrens' ward. I feel sorry the little bastards...it's bad enough having Green Monkey disease or whatever, let alone having some f*cking warped Australian using your X-Rays as that board thing he uses  and singing a song involving bondage and some jumping animal. Sick f*cker should be locked up for that...and don't even get me started on Rolf Harris!

Still I'm back home now, I've found a box of stuff that I can hang on the wall and impress any visitors...there's the letter that Neil Armstrong sent me from the Moon, an autographed picture of Golda Maier, and my favourite...my gold membership of the Tufty club...now there's an organisation that'll toughen the lazy fat bastard kids up I can tell you. Only the elite get gold membership and it's a short cut to joining Mossad, just remember that when you fill in the form to join.

Shalom

Mood:  don't ask

One of you w*nkers pointed out it's Christmas not Hannakauh or whatever it's called...why do you lot have to be so f*cking picky. OK then c*nts...Merry Christmas to you all, and I hope Santa got you the Reg Holdsworth calendar you were so desperately seeking...I haven't opened the mysterious package under my tree yet...I'm still looking for the red and blue wires.

Shalom

Mood:  not sure

See the message below from Benny, nice of him to think of you lot this Christmas wasn't it. He reckons that's an up to date picture of him, I must admit he looks different with a moustache.

Anyway I've got my fingers crossed that even though I'm Jewish, Santa will still find time to shove a nice polished Uzi down my Chimney, as well as that authographed picture of Valarie Singleton I've been after for years.

Anyway for all you gentiles out there, don't get too drunk, and keep the abuse coming.

Happy Hannakauh

BENNY SLIBOWITZ AND ANNE SCHLUSS 

WISH ALL OF YOU

A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR

Mood:  irritated

F*ck, F*ck, F*ck...I spend most of yesterday writing out some really good f*cking stuff for the Queen to read out on Tuesday and what does the dozy old bat go and do...get one pre-recorded written by some ponce who is almost certainly a raving queerboy...I could say more but I can't afford the court costs.

Mine was a work of art, started off with the line "A Long Long time ago in a Synagogue not far away" now some of you c*nts are going to be thinking I nicked that line off of that piece of crap called 'Star Wars'. Well let me tell you...that geezer Eric Lucas nicked that line off of me...I reckon Sophia must have given it to him after one of those crazy parties we used to have with Ronnie, Reggie and the boys in Stepney. Those things were even better when Fulham/Chelsea had won. Anyway I'd gone into great detail about how Mossad had done a great job decorating that house of hers in London, and how she gets pissed off trying to be nice to f*cking African despots. "Not what we want" is what I was told...I'd even chucked in a line about a special thank you to all the underappreciated NHS trolley pushers. F*cking royalty...you can shove it where you can't put a Bagel.

Talking of Bagels...well OK something fairly kosher...the powers that be have decided to run a contest to find the new Rabbi...something like Z Factor or whatever it's called. They're thinking of calling it something original like Search for a Rabbi. I'm a bit worried about what they're looking for...seems biased toward people interested in religion to me...no wonder the place is so f*cking boring.

No doubt you've all been reading about the NHS patrols round London scooping up all you pissheads out there. I wanted to do a spell in the field hospital thing they've set up at Liverpool Street station, but the wanker that runs it didn't seem keen on my idea of doing a bit of open heart surgery while we had it running. Dozy c*nt...with my experience of MASH units during the six day war, and the Notting Hill carnival I'd have been ideal...serves them right.

OK, tomorrow the last one before you gentiles celebrate Christmas...Benny reckons he has a surprise for you...we shall see.

Shalom

Mood:  lazy

Going to keep this brief today as I've got some business to attend to. There I was minding my own business and reading 'Secret Agent' magazine when the phone rings. Well you could have knocked me down with a stale Bagel...it was the long lost Benny Slibowitz. Now I'm not going to go into detail about our conversation...suffice to say he's managed to get the writing scoop of the year, but he doesn't know what to write.

Anyway to get to the gist of it, he thought seeing as I'm so good with words he asked me to help him out. So when you lot sit down and watch the Queen's speech this year, you'll be hearing my words. I'm fed up with the usual bullshit about family and The Commonwealth, so expect this years speech to be a bit more entertaining than usual. I'm thinking of a couple of references to the Raid On Entebbe and that night me and Reggie went to The Earl Grey pub in Whitechapel and made out we didn't recognise 'Nipper' Read.

So it's pen to paper time, I've only got a day or so to get this together, don't even have time to bring you up to date on goings on at the Synagogue.

Shalom

Mood:  not sure

Sometimes when I sit down to type this crap I don't know what to write. There's some stuff which I can't include for security reasons. Other stuff gets left out because while I was friendly with some of the leading lights in London's underworld, a couple of them might still try and come and kneecap me if I reveal what they did with Ronnie Kray's pet python and a tub of Vaseline. Of course there are also the occasions when life is so f*cking boring because all I really am is a lousy hospital porter who is working undercover for an elite Israeli security agency and don't have anything to say.

Still those times are few and far between, and as I sit here with a warmed up buttered Bagel and my latest Christmas card for Sophia Loren and John Wayne I can think of a few things which are cleared for public consumption.

The Tel Aviv hotline which rang as I was working on this wasn't anything of major importance. Some f*cking retard there still thinks I work part time for Tescos and wanted to tell me he'd spotted one of their shopping carts in the car park at Jerusalem airport. One of life's great mysteries is how shopping trolleys end up where they do, but I think I cracked that one ages ago. They are so f*cking useful, I normally take one with me where ever I go, although it's a bit of a bastard having one strapped to your parachute when you're doing a HALO drop over Iraq for instance. What about the wonky wheels I hear you ask...Israeli Army issued shopping trolleys have been specially designed to combat that problem, however that's a state secret so I can't tell you what they did. So give it a thought...all those shopping trolleys you see lying about might just be leftover from some sort of clandestine operation masterminded by Mossad...in which case we're very active in the UK at the moment.

I also made a big decision about the Synagogue...I think I'm going to lie low for a while and either not go or go elsewhere. To that end I'm just filling out an application for to work in some upmarket Scottish restaurant at weekends. If I'm successful just mention this Blog next time you go to McDonalds and I'll make sure you get a good table.

Shalom

Mood:  mischievious

Well sorry I'm a bit late today, there's been ructions down the Synagogue and we're not talking about someone dropping a 50p piece on the floor either. First off someone brought up the subject of repairing the window I smashed through the other week. The general opinion seems to be that I pay for it...bunch of c*nts...I do them a favour for a week and this is how they repay me. Anyway I got that sorted after I threatened to make public their Mossad files...seems like a few of them have something to hide as they quickly backed down. Anyway the Window Cleaner geezer stepped forward and reckons he knows someone who can get it done on the cheap...problem solved.

The big drama though is Goldberg's sudden disappearance in circumstances which are even murkier than that councillor who was forced to quit a while ago (Not allowed to mention his name...orders from the top). Seems like he took the collection plate with him, and that came to a pretty shekel. I have offered to send a death squad after him, although how current Frankie Fraser's passport is I don't know. Tony Blackburn's off to the caribbean for a couple of weeks soon, maybe he'll do it for me. In the meantime though we are without a Rabbi as we can't even afford to rent one now. Nobody wants me to do it again even though I'm full of interesting tales, and to be honest some of the Muppets who want to do it don't impress me...they all have the religion bug. I suppose we'll end up trawling the streets looking for a circumcised tramp who'll do the job for the price of a cup of Tea, although having seen how much a cup of tea is these days I don't think we can afford that.

Blimey, it's all action ain't it, I've got to cut this short...the Tel Aviv hotline's ringing and it might be important...more tomorrow.

Shalom

Mood:  lazy

My head f*cking hurts. I was so upset about all the stick I got for my performance at the Synagogue yesterday that I opened a tin of Mackeson last night...that stuff has a kick to it I can tell you. Things ain't be helped by the Mossad Hotline going off all the time with angry callers. It seems Hanna Kah ain't an Israeli pop singer after all but some kind of religious festival, and that a Menorah ain't jewish slang for the men's bogs but some fancy form of candlestick. How the f*ck am I supposed to know that? I only had the operation so I could join that elite Jewish security organisation and get the discount at the Bagel Bake.

Talking of Bagels, I don't even fancy any of them today, that should tell you lot that I'm feeling dead ill. If I don't get any better, I can see myself pulling a sickie tomorrow at work...don't think I've used TB as an excuse for a while...might be time to pull that one again.

As for the box of goodies I mentioned last week...well let's just say that it looks like that James Bond geezer gets all the good stuff. My box had nothing in it but f*cking balaclavas that can be turned into lethal weapons, and a little tin to keep your Milk Tray from melting...in other words it was a pile of shit...mind you I should have guessed something when I saw what was written on the box...mentioning no names as such but it began with A and ended in M.

Anyway I'm off to a darkened room to do some comfort polishing of my Uzi barrel.

Shalom

Mood:  not sure

So there I was, lying back on my Israeli Army Camp Bed, dreaming what it must be like to wear proper Y Fronts, instead of these Khaki things that Mossad give me when the phone rings. It was Goldberg telling me he'd been stranded in the Caribbean by a palgue of locusts or something so could I fill in for him today. Now you're probably wondering why he just didn't get on the phone to Rentarabbi and get a stand in for the day. Well he has only so much of a budget for things like that... plus he knows I'm a cheap bastard. Anyway my passion for speaking is renowned and I leapt out of bed as quickly as that morning when I was resting after the Tour De Vicki Park when someone said the dope testers are coming.

Now those of you who regularly read this shit will know I've complained more than once how boring the Synagogue can be. Goldberg rattles on about some religious bullshit when all we really want to do is go and grab a kebab. So today I thought I'd liven it up a bit...a quick phone call to an Underground car park in Balham meant my helicopter was up and running in no time. I'll cut this short but basically I made my entrance dressed all in black, crashing through the window and abseiling down a rope at the same time. That got their attention I can tell you. I have no idea what everyone expected after that, so I just told a couple of stories about when I went drinking with Reggie Kray and what a dopey cow that woman was to name that f*cking teddy bear Mohammed...Abdul or something would have been a better choice...she probably didn't want to get it mixed up with the bloke who run the corner shop or something.

I'm sorry to say the reaction has not been good, everyone kept mumbling about someone called Hanna Kah...I can only guess that she's some sort of Israeli pop star or something and that's who they were expecting to see. Someone even complained that I didn't light the candles on the Menorah...again I don't have a f*cking clue what he's on about...I used the trap in the gents afterwards and all the lights were working...what do I want to waste f*cking candles for? So I suppose when Goldberg finds out I won't be asked to fill in for him again...no loss...can't say I fancy getting the black outfit dry cleaned every week.

Shalom

Mood:  not sure

Well normally I'm normally full of things to say, but this morning I'm really stumped for words...nothing going on...the Tel Aviv and Milk Tray hotline are dead quiet.

Anyway we still have that acting Rabbi standing in for Goldberg, and he's about as straight as a hospital trolley with a bad wheel. I'm not too keen on the crowd he attracts either. Going into the bog for a dump is not a pleasant experience, it seems there are more blokes than normal in there, in fact it's so overcrowded I noticed the other trap had to be occupied by more than one geezer at a time. They must have been pretty ill too judging by the groaning noises I could hear. This has also lead to an outbreak of vandalism...some c*nt has put a hole in the panel between the traps...now while they may have been acceptable at the Mossad academy, I don't think it's right for the Synagogue. Hopefully Goldberg's return will see things back to normal.

It was nice to get home after all that, all the f*cking traffic on the roads with all the Christmas shoppers about, this is where I have a leg up on all you other c*nts, because of the circles I move in I get access after hours...not that it does me much good...not many places sell those knitted Uzi warmers which keep the polished barrel nice and warm and ready for action.

Anyway I have a little box full of stuff  which my masters in Tel Aviv want me to check out, so I'm going to grab myself a warm Bagel and get on with the job in hand.

Shalom

Mood:  irritated

Mossad HQ, like you lot no doubt, gets lots of f*cking shit sent its way. It wastes time as we try and decode everything, just in case someone is sending us Osama Bin Laden's address in a council flat in Stepney for instance, or even better has come across a seasonal discount at some Bagel shop somewhere (Yes we're loyal to the Brick Lane place obviously, but a deal's a deal). So what really pisses me off is those c*nts from Burkina Faso who keep offering me some wonderful deal where I'll inherit millions from some other f*cker who died in some disaster somewhere.

I think I need to make this clear to my yellow overall, rubber booted friends.

I don't know anyone who has died in a f*cking Tsunami, although the roof did blow off of Benny's shed once when it was raining, ruined his porno collection but that's another story.

I don't know anyone who died in the World Trade Centre (at least that's the official line...got to maintain some degree of secrecy).

I don't know anyone who has died in a plane crash either, I might fly all over the place but I've always been able to take over the controls before we've hit a mountain or something. The only guy I know who has been killed in a flying incident was Corporal Liebenstein during the first Gulf War...and that was because the stupid c*nt put his sleeping bag in his parachute bag...bought a whole new meaning to a HALO drop.

I think what I'm trying to tell my Russian based African friends is F*CK OFF YOU C*NTS...stop wasting our codebreakers time. In future Mossad HQ have given me the OK to copy and paste these e-mails received on this page...then we'll show the world what a bunch of c*nts you really are.

OK, rant over, not much else to report, still got the gay rabbi this week so no new message will be forthcoming, and with the decadence of Christmas coming up I've been asked to test drive a few presents for the undercover Mossad operative in your life...more on that in the future.

Shalom