Monday, February 2, 2009


Yes finally liberation… the shoddy- subeditor is leaving this hallowed shrine - the only sanctified establishment in the universe where a group of uniquely crafted, pieces of crap work together in good will and harmony and rejoice in each other’s venerated company.
Battered, bruised, paranoid, depressed… she has over come all the stages even the last stage - a state of sluggish numbness and now she’s in the pinkest of health and joy that ‘lazy bones’ referred to her as an obese penguin.
The readers would like to know how things are 1 year later – lemme inform you nothing has changed – it still maintains its untainted reputation of hording a group of most revered ass-licking, timid, ball scratching, spineless herbivores.
The gloomy spinster is hornier than ever – so horny that she actually gets multiple waves of orgasms if any one or any being with any slight resemblance to the male species happen to pass by, even a mannequin can set her on fire. Her new sex accessory is a desirable pair of white slippers that makes a wet, sucking noise whenever she comes out of the loo. And her reports still remind me of my 8th standard economics classes.
The fatso is still the walking encyclopaedia here and people seek his valuable counsel for everything under the sun. Ah… who can afford not to give ear to his precious opinion on the ‘how to expand your butt in 5 days with 10 easy moves’? He even flaunts his big lumpy ass as the perfect example. He’s also become an accomplished voyeur – you can see him gazing through the glass door, his tongue hanging out watching the spinster’s phone conversations with palpable relish.
The ice maiden has lost that intense ‘I-have-rotten-bananas-up-my-ass look’, now she has a ‘Someone-just-released-a-fire-extinguisher-into-my-ass’ look and dresses like a starlet from a 50’s horror movie. She still consider herself as the epithet of feminine beauty with that exquisite long nose, so long that I wonder why she doesn’t rent it out as a dildo to some frustrated women and make some pocket money out of it.
Her reports get drier and drier, so dry that one of then actually reminded me of fossilized shit from the Jurassic era.
There is but one unique specimen that I have not introduced to any of the readers so far. Folks, meet the great Stuffed owl, who literally resembles a badly embalmed monstrous owl from the Stone-age.
He’s the personification of all manly virtue, the most eligible bachelor with looks that could launch a thousand girlish sighs and even make the most unimaginative nanny have incredibly erotic, wild fantasies about him (at least that’s what he believes). His fascinating character has made him the chief topic of discussion among the four paparazzis along with the talks of the enviable sex life of Ms Big B, Mr. Lilly’s extraordinary talent of saying the most incredibly long boring stories; Mr. Scum’s amazing eating habits etc.
But compared to all the other captivating characters the Stuffed Owl has certain exceptionally unique talents of gossiping, backbiting and a ravenous interest to know the private affairs of the other colleagues [it is even rumoured that he actually asked our boss if he wears polka dotted underwears and if his wife waxes her underarms with fevicol]. He claims to be the tech god in the office and really made me demented with boredom with his long explanations on his weird theories and opinions. Unlike the spineless, opinion less, soggy shrimps in the office, Mr Stuffed Owl is practically jam-packed with his own opinion on everything under the sun and he makes it a point to catch you unaware and shove it down your throat and rattle your head until you have completely swallowed it.
He has scary schizophrenic tendencies and hordes the uncanny idea that there is a hidden book of secret codes somewhere in the office which the officials are hiding from him. [If he had any sense he’d have already realised how incapable it is to hide anything in this place, it is like trying to hide a cup-cake in the loo, it would at any time be flushed away or eaten up considering the unappeasable appetite of the inmates here – remember Mr. Scum??]
He carries the hopeless delusion that he is the sexiest man in the office, though the popular opinion is that he has the sex appeal of an earth-worm.

Of course our darling little Lilly cannot be left out! The precious little lamb went to Paris and was so overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of that fascinating city that he closed his eyes and kept jabbing the button of his tiny digital camera while holding it as high as his tiny frame would allow him. The results were two dvds full of innovative, artistic picture with such profound depth and symbolism that we mere mortals could only make out vague dark shapes with impossibly white eye balls and teeth that seem to double itself, crazy lines, a few Eiffel towers swimming in a galaxy of paper clips and plenty of Lily’s own pictures blurred with such skilled precision that it was difficult to make out if it was Lilly himself or a undersized albino camel.
He granted us, mere mortals, the privilege of viewing this wonderful series of artistic splendour and so enthralled were we that all the pages were delayed that day and I still get an excruciating buzzing in my ears whenever I remember that day. (I heard that he was abducted and enlisted as a stripper for a gay club from which he had to be rescued)
Scum is still the same ass-licking, food craving and opinionless looser, But he finally achieved a groundbreaking skill – the art of browsing. And dear little scum now loves to show – off his new-found talent by browsing the news websites and playing the audio clip so loud that even the peacocks in the near-by zoo shivered with fear.
And oh – the good old squealing PIG !!!
Well what can I say .. he’s still the conservative, sugar-less vegetable consuming, frustrated mammal taking out his irritation on the Cynic. He burst a blood-vessel when he heard that the Cynic is resigning and almost died of heart failure. Of course, his insane jealousy is quite understandable considering that he’s about 110, spineless, stuck in this shit hole, with a voice like a pig in heat and having a bunch of bleating nanny goats as his subordinates while the Cynic is young, bold and talented.
And of course Comode-face is still his only darling buddy - they have so many things in common that I heared that they even share their tooth brushes and their hand-crafted, organic, 100% vegetarian ass-wipes.
Sigh !! Guess what? I’m gonna miss this enlarged version of a public toilet cum sewage. My eyes moisten with tender remembrance as I look at these computers from the Triassic era that works only when its spanked, dear Scum drooling at the tiny bit of chewing gum stuck on the floor, Lilly spewing his long stories, the stuffed owl snooping around the ladies loo, the Spinster making loud cackling orgasmic sounds, the ice-maiden extending her legs encased in a pair of extremely tight, pink coloured pants that make all the veins and bumps stand out, the Pig shrieking away to glory…. Ah such fond memories of happy moments spend in such lovely company that I cant help those tears of parting trickling down my cheeks.
Bye Bye….. may you rot for an eternity darlings ! I'll miss you all!

PS: There is no news of Mr. Oxford, the last that I heared was that he's gone to Turkey to teach the fascinating art of Grammer to a bunch of mutated cactus trees.

- The Shoddy Sub-Editor

Monday, November 3, 2008

Dreams for all

Disclaimer: Those who have learnt psychoanalysis or have had any experience with dream interpretation, kindly stop reading right here. Others may continue.

This is a rare case of dreams speaking to you. I had this surreal dream last night and felt I should share it with all of you as it was about someone so dear to all of you. A personality, who with his disarming salt and pepper beard and a set of immaculate vegetarian teeth, has won over journalists everywhere he goes.
It was about none other than Mr.Oxford.
But, the dream showcased some of the hidden aspects of his personality which most fail to see. My dreams have never followed the linear narrative mode till date. So this one was a phantasmagoria of his ass, beautifully packed into a tight silky-smooth black shorts. The image kept playing on in a loop until I stretched out my hand (in my sleep of course), with the hope of finding a mouse and click ‘exit.’
The casualty of using too much computer.

Friday, August 29, 2008

The French connection

wakey wakey fellow paparazzis
I have news for you.
Lilli the great, the pocket-size megalomaniac, has got one more feather to his cap. A hip one at that for, he has been asked to go to the land of fashion. Lilli has been busy ever since he got the official order from 'above.' He has been dreaming of walking hand in hand with hot women and sipping sparkling champagne from glasses taller than him. He was even spotted hunting for a foldable ladder that he could take to the land of the eiffel tower. He could then be sure of being captured on camera while standing by the tower.
He has begun shopping for clothes, footwear and stuff. He has already started taking French tuitions and drinking wine instead of water. He walks around with his head held high and talks with a crisp french accent now...

(due to shortage of time, this paparazzi has to rush. Sorry for the inconvenience. Will be continued...)

Monday, November 19, 2007

'Do not put my chastity at stake'

A seemingly harmless absolutely avoidable humanoid form in this organisation has raised alarm among the womenfolk (at least a couple of them) with his sudden atypical behaviour.
The creature in question is puny, balding and emits sounds akin to a factory siren having a bad day, when excited. However, the sudden change in this creature's demeanour has reinforced the ultimate truth ruling this place -- perversion!
He has been showing signs of utmost sexual deprivation lately. Sources say that he has been carrying extra bundles of the holy ash in his bag to keep the surging hormones in check. Looks like the expansive lines the holy ash on his forehead is not helping him.
Attempts at touching and staring at women colleagues in pathetically perverse ways have forced some of them to hide their physical assests under layers and layers of thick clothing.
This perverted humanoid form plans his moves with the expertise of a veteran rapist. Having already created an image of being a GOD-fearing, overtly religious, vegetarian woman-hater, he makes them (women) believe he is sexless. "I cannot give you a lift on my bike as I am a virgin and will die one. Do not put my chastity at stake," he said to one of the vehicle-less woman reporters who was stranded at an assignment once without knowing how to get back.
Duped by his anti-female stand, some women here worship him as a reincarnation of Lord Hanuman.
He is currently undergoing coaching under the uncrowned king of photography, the fatso, to learn the art of licking lips when aroused and focussing on cleavages and belly buttons. Good luck to them both.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Dilbert Principle

Folks.. I found out that there is ACTUALLY a theory that could explain the insane condition that prevails in this sacred organisation. It called the Dilbert Principle - here’s the extract from wikipedia: — 'The Dilbert Principle refers to a 1990s satirical observation stating that companies tend to systematically promote their least-competent employees to management (generally middle management), in order to limit the amount of damage that they're capable of doing.
The term was coined by Scott Adams, an MBA graduate from U.C. Berkeley and creator of the Dilbert comic strip. Adams explained the principle in a 1995 Wall Street Journal article. Adams then expanded his study of the Dilbert Principle in a satirical 1996 book of the same name, which is required or recommended reading at some management and business programs.[1][2][3][4][5] In the book, Adams writes that, in terms of effectiveness, use of the Dilbert Principle is akin to a band of gorillas choosing an alpha-squirrel to lead them. The book has sold more than a million copies and was on the New York Times bestseller list for 43 weeks..'
Now I know why the dear Mr. Oxford thinks and actively promotes the idea that the 1 foot tall, camel-faced, egocentric Lilly [ whose reports literally resembles splattered shit of someone having acute dysentery smeared meticulously across the columns in the newspaper] is the embodiment of the ultimate , hard-core , talented and successful journalist ! and the snorting, screeching Pig is the God of English grammar, the ball-scratching , ass-licking Scum ,the smartest editor [ I recently discovered that he has one large hole in his pocket, not the metaphoric hole, but a real, actual hole so that he can reach up to his balls and scratch it nice and proper] , the snivelling , cackling gloomy spinster [ her reports remind me of my 8th standard economics text book] – the pinnacle of perfect reporting, the ice maiden { with her typical I-have-rotten-bananas-stuck-up-my-ass look remember? ] yet another brilliant reporter [ her reports are like pieces of dry shit strung together across the page] … and many so many, jus so that this newspaper doesnt end up as a mere paragraph in any ‘History of Journalism’ text book , but go on being the voice of the voiceless. And also for all those nose picking , ass licking sacred threads to write endless inspiring articles on how you can make your life more wretched by becoming vegetarian, the advantage of having sex at old age ( Maria Bonita Gonzalez was 80 years old when she had sex for the first time, she had been holding back so long, it all came out in one whoosh and she had a baby the next day. The happy mommy and the miracle baby pose for a photograph taken by our luminous photographer Mr. Fatso …. – this is how that article went ), on the advantage of buying second hand stuff ( Here is how the article went : Last week Madhumitha Nagarjuna Muthuswamyiyer bought a second hand refrigerator, after bringing it home she was thrilled to find out that it still contained left over food which was only slightly mouldy and to her delight pure vegetarian too !. Her ecstatic husband and two adorable children had a hearty meal of fungus-speckled thiyir sadam, mouth watering rasam , carrot–spinach lollypop, lemon rice cakes washed down with a bottle of cucumber juice. This has inspired her to buy only second hand goods. Recently she purchased a second hand toilet seat, a kennel and a washing machine… - the rest was too nauseating to be mentioned here.) And innumerable reports on garbage, sewage and drainage problems faced by this pathetic city that seems to fill the entire paper.
And I’m left to wallow and slowly drown bubbling sluggishly in this swamp of shit and goo. And as days go by the number of bubbles struggling to rise and burst on the surface is going down…. Sadly these little globules of inspiration are dying, so is the rebellious spirit to sneer at the ridiculous, hyppocritic, sad lives of the people here. If u come across a pop eyed, perpetually dazed, chronically depressed, slightly unhinged, paranoid woman who is prone to laugh hysterically, and tear her hair or gaze blankly into the distance at the slight mention of anything connected with journalism – well that is me the shoddy sub - editor.
- The Shoddy Sub-Editor

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

What I learnt from Mr. Oxford’s classes

-Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups
-Old age and treachery will always overcome youth and skill
-Some people are alive only because it is illegal to shoot them
-When people hit the rock they try to climb out, but people here dig deeper
-Everyone ( especially lilly) see the obscure immediately , the completely apparent takes a longer time
-To pass time fantasize getting fucked by a centipede, eaten by a monster, or swallowing a toad….the reality is muck worser.
-It dosent matter what you do, it only matters what you say you have done or what you are going to do
-When Mr, Oxford talks of improving productivity, he’s never talking about himself
-Above all...All this would have been extremely funny if it weren’t happening to me….

(Plagerised slightly)
- The shoddy sub-editor

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Spotlight on Bigpig

The perpetually pissed off paparazzis are suspected to have lost their fervour even for this cathartic release. But, wait a minute, I have regained mine. Thanks to the pig family.
The Bigpig is out to socialise with the half-arsed industrialist friends of his this evening. The fatso will give him gay company. Bigpig is sure to throw his weight around, gate crash at people he doesnt know, scratch their arse and if possible their crotches too. Baby, thats his idea of hard work. And the fatso will click pictures of these, which he will make a profit of by selling them to his grandfather who is a sex maniac.
Fucking bastards ought to be shot in their groins, so that they dont leave behind a legacy of piglets, all true to their patriarchal lineage.