The Other 95 Percent

Brad Wellington returns

So I feel compelled to ask, what first drew you into my homepage? Are you some sort of weird internet stalker or just trying to be funny?

An Open Letter from Wangst McPants

The following is an open letter from Wangst McPants.....

Dear Prince Charles,

CC: Anna-Nicole Smith, Prince Harry and Ms Camilla Parker Bowles the first Princess Consort in British History,

Greetings Prince Charles!


Chuck you old dog! You finally popped the question to that other old dog, Camilla Parker Bowles! Down on one knee and "Will you be my Princess Consort" was it Charles? Well clearly congratulations are in order.

But don't do it Charles. Your youngest son and I have come up with a different idea. Just hear us out ok because we have really thought this through. I am a militant Australian Republican. I abhor the fact that the independent nation of Australia has a non-Australian as its head of state. It is disgusting. I will blow up buildings for this cause. You are my natural enemy Prince Charles, your youngest son, Prince Harry, while also my natual enemy, is on the other hand a stupid, horny, drug-fucked, little, bastard, redhead, nazi. Together we have decided that you should propose to Anna Nicole Smith.

Think about it Charles. Princes Di was a genuine cutie but she didnt have big silicone breasts that bounce up and down as you fuck her in your British manner. And your a Prince dude! Live it up a little!! Let Anna show you what her little baggie of pills can do and to hell with what the people of Britain think. Come on Charles. Don't tell me you would say no to a couple of Viagra/drug cocktail fueled night of partying and sticking your old porksword into that moronic bitch that some journalists still refer to as a "blonde bombshell".

Why my sudden concern for your welfare you might ask Charles? After all I have already outlined that I find you to be a disgusting souvenir of a time in history we would all be better off to forget about entirely. In 2005 people make their way through life on luck and hard work. Privledge doesn't come into it. Why am I so interested in you getting together with Anna Nicole Smith?

Here you are ready to marry the woman who has always been at the center of your affections for the last 30 years and all I can think about is the ashen look of horror on the faces of Prime Minister John Howard and Professor David Flint if you were to marry Anna Nicole Smith. As the true Republican I am I know as well as anyone that one Queen is as bad as another. Queen Diana, Queen Camilla or Queen Anna Nicole: either way it is still a filthy bitch pretending to have some sort of divine authority over the people of Australia. But for John Howard, David Flint and the rest of the poncey, privately educated, old boys in the Constitutional Monarchy Camp this would be a mortal blow to their dreams of an Australia indefinitely tied to the apron stings of Britain. But more to the point they would seeth with anger at the pure affront to their own stuffy conservatism. Sorry boys but it turns out that the Monarchy is now such a joke that even stupid blonde hollywood types can be what will by that time only loosely be called "Queen'.

Harry comes at it from a different perspective. As I have previously said he is a stupid, horny, drug-fucked, little, bastard, redhead, nazi. As Sean 'P Diddy' Combes once remarked "Without Anna Nicole Smith the world would just be boring." Truer words were never said by a stupid hip-hop/pop-star wannabe and the young Prince Harry knows it better then anyone. Harry has a number of reasons for prefering Anna Nicole Smith as his step-mother. First and foremost is the fact that he will have a step-mother who is wicked hot with huge tits that he has imagined holding since he first met them between the pages of a Playboy magazine. The second reason is that Anna Nicole will be able to hook the young Prince up with some well wicked drugs. Won't that be good fun! What manner of stupid shit will Harry get up to when he graduates from weed up to hardcore narcotics and prescription pharmaceuticals?

Think very seriously about it Charles. I think it is a good idea and so do Harry and P. Diddy. Anna Nicole Smith would love to be your wife. Any woman known to publicly compare herself to Marilyn Monroe would love the opportunity to compare herself to Princess Diana. So take the singing pimp's advice Charles and shack up with Anna Nicole. Enjoy those silicone breasts and strike a dagger in the heart of Australian support for the monarchy.

truly,
   Wangst McPants

ISC Script

Wangst McPants is standing in the kitchen, stiring something bubbling away in a pot on a stove. He is wearing a frilly pink apron embroided with the words "Bless This Kitchen". Enter Martin Zygote. He sniffs the air.

Martin: Dude whats that awful smell?

Wangst: A special dish of mine. It is a suprise.

Martin: Dude it smells like fart. What the fuck did you put in there?

Wangst: I will have you know I am an excellent cook. Jamie Oliver once asked me for one of my recipes.

Martin: He did not!

Wangst: He did too!!

Cut to a new scene. Jamie Oliver is standing behind a kitchen bench that is covered with all manner of cooking ingredients and utensils. He is addressing the camera in his trademark cockney-uneducated timbre.

Jamie Oliver: Allo then punters. I am Jamie Oliver, all round hip young Londoner and TV Chef. Behold my cute little speech impediment and endearing cockney vocabulary. Today we will be making smeg cakes. Here is a batch I prepared earlier.

Suddenly a cake of some description flies from off screen onto the face of the British Chef. Jamie Oliver runs around in circles shouting.

Jamie Oliver: Ahhhhhrrgh! What have you done to me! It burns it burns it burns! What did you put in that pie? Is that some sort of acid I can feel eating away at my skin?

Cut to a MCU of Wangst. We are back in the present and Wangst and Martin are in the kitchen.

Wangst: And I said, "Hydro Chloric acid and shards of glass Mr Oliver!! How do you like that for a bit of pucker tucker!??" And that is the story or the time that Jamie Oliver asked me for one of my recipies.

A one second shot of both characters eqidistant to the camera, looking at each other.

Martin (Annoyed): Dude that is not the same thing as Jamie Oliver asking you for a recipe!!

Before they get a chance to continue the argument the phone rings. *Ring Ring* *Ring Ring*

Martin: Yello?

Doctor Laycock: Oh hey, Martin. This is Doctor Laycock.

Martin: Hey, doc! What's up?

Doctor Laycock: I'm afraid I have some bad news...your test results are in...

Martin: Oh my god.

Doctor Laycock: Yes. Your cancer has AIDS.

Martin: Jesus.

Doctor Laycock: Yes. And the AIDS has a tumour. A malignant one with genital warts on it.

Martin: Sweet Jerusalem.

Docotor Laycock: Yeah. Yeah. Tough news to hear, I know.

Long Pause.

Docotor Laycock: Aaaaanyhoo, you probably need some time to digest and so on. Give me a call if you've got any questions. Ciao ciao.'

*Click* The line goes dead.

Wangst: What was that all about?

Martin: I am going to die.

Wangst: No shit sherlock. So am I.

Martin: No I mean soon.

Wangst: Oh.

Just then the phone rings. *Ring Ring* *Ring Ring* *Ring Ring*

Martin: Yello?

Eddie McGuire: Martin mate, Eddie McGuire here from television's Who Wants to Be A Mooyanare. How are you, champ?

Martin: Actually, this isn't really a good -

Eddie McGuire: Great work, son. Listen, I've got your mate Ryan here on the line and he's chosen you as tonight's 'Phone A Friend' for the chance to win SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS. What do you think about that then?

Martin: Yeah, like I said... it's not really a good time to -

Ryan: Martin man? This is Ryan.

Martin: Oh, hey Ryan. Listen, I just got some kind of bad news and I'm not really in the mood for -

Ryan: Dude, you've got to help me out. I need this cash. I gotta pay for my operation. If I don't win this money I wont live longer then a month.

Martin: Yeah, look...

Eddie McGuire: Yes, Ryan is clearly a very sick young man. You going to help your mate Ryan out tonight, Martin?'

Martin: I, uh...

Ryan: Come on, man. Please?

Martin: Okay. Sure.

Ryan: You're a champ, Martin. Now the question we've got for you is: 'You are stuck in a room with Saddam Hussein, George Bush, Osama bin Laden and a dead Kangaroo that has been lying on the side of the road for some weeks. A man is threatening to shoot you in the head unless you make out with one of the aforementioned terrorists or the dead kangaroo. Do you make out with...
A) Osama bin Laden
b) George Bush
c) Saddam Hussein
d) the dead smelly kangaroo.


Cut to a scene with Martin in a room with Osama bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, George Bush and a dead Kangaroo covered in flies and maggots. Martin looks at each of the 3 men very briefly and then at the dead Kangaroo.

Martin: Well the dead kangaroo doesn't seem so bad. Come here and pucker up Skippy.

Cut back to the studio.

Eddie McGuire: You still there, Martin?

Ryan: Dude, you have to help me.

Martin: Uh, I...jesus. I don't really -

Eddie: I'm going to need an answer, Martin.

Martin: You know this isn't really my strong point...

Ryan: Martin, come on! Think of all the shit I've done for you! Remember when I bailed you out after that kiddie porn charge?'

Martin: Yeah, but I...this is a really hard question, bro.'

Ryan: Come on, Marty. My new kidney isn't going to pay for itself you know.'

Eddie: Would you like me to repeat the question, Martin?

Martin: Okay.

Eddie McGuire: For SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS: 'When a nerve message reaches the end of an axon it sends a message or impulse across the space between the nerves to continue its message to the next nerve by a substance best known as: A) synaptic nodes b) neuromotor stimluli c) neurotransmitters or d) intersynaptic dosimeters.'

Martin: What the fuck this is a different question?

Ryan: OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST PICK ONE!

Eddie: Running out of time here...

Martin: Okay, okay. God.

'Need an answer...' 'I said okay! Shit .' 'DUDE! PICK ONE!' 'Alright. Um... .... .... ....intersynaptic dosimeters.' 'That's your final answer, Brendan?' 'I guess so.' 'That's the one you want to lock in?' 'I guess so, sure.' 'Intersynaptic dosimeters.' 'Oh, for fuck's sake.' 'We're locking it in...for SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS...and a very, very sick little girl...' ..... ...... ........ ............ .............. 'Are you ready for the answer, Brendan?' 'God yes.' 'Rod?' 'Affirmative.' 'Right. When a nerve message reaches the end of an axon it sends a message or impulse across the space between the nerves to continue its message to the next nerve by a substance best known as... Brendan, you said Intersynaptic dosimeters... ...the answer tonight is.... ...... Mate, I'm sorry. The correct answer is Neurotransmitters.' 'Oh shit.' 'That's seven hundred and fifty big ones down the toilet for your old mate, Rod. How you feeling about that, Rod?' '......' 'Dude, I'm so sorry. I just got this really bad news and my mind wasn't on the job and - ' 'We'll have to cut you short there, B-fer mate. Little Sophie's being rushed to hospital and...well, who knows whether she's going to make it. Thanks for playing tv's hottest gameshow, WHO WANTS TO BE A MOOOYANARE...' *Click* *Ring Ring* *Ring Ring* 'Hello?' 'Brendan?' 'Yes.' 'It's Lisa here from the adoption agency, and I have a special surprise for you.' 'Look Lisa, I don't know if I-' 'Brendan we've found your real father. And he's on the line for you right now.' '......' 'I'm going to patch him through. You wait right there.' *Click* *Ring Ring* 'Yo.' whl/bg = bg/sml = 1.618 whl = 1024 1024/bg = 1.618 1024 = 1.618bg 1024 / 1.618 = bg bg = 516 whl = 621 621/bg = 1.618 621 = 1.618bg 621/1.618 = bg