It Wasn't Me!

Hello Playmates,

Mister Squeaky (or should that be Bat A?) here to issue a categorical denial. I was not then and never have been in Norfolk, nor have I ever thought, even when under the influence of Turnip Brandy, that a black brassiere was a suitable nesting place. Although I will admit that wardrobes do offer an ideal roost and there was one occasion where I was mistaken for a rubber brassiere. The Lady concerned won't be making that mistake again I can tell you...she's still in therapy for PTSD and as for her client - well that'll teach him to go to a dominatrix for a bit of BDSM....

The Return of the Bat

Mister Squeaky has returned from Stonehenge with a very wide grin on his face and large haul of booty including a few false beards - one of which is attached to a prosthetic ear, a sword which he alleges is Excalibur , a large smelly hand knitted jumper and last but not least a Wiltshire constabulary issue helmet.
Unfortunately low flying though the trilithions into a cloud of cannabis smoke has done his mental state no good whatsoever and he is currently hanging outside the window giggling to himself and making up limericks, the most recent one of which is..

There once was a hippy called Mike
Who rode to Stonehenge on a bike
But riding for miles
Played hell with his piles
And to bicycles he took a dislike

Come back McGonagall all is forgiven!

Freedom My Arse!

'Ello Mates!

Only me your very disgruntled Giant Rubber Goth Bat. Honestly some people just don't know when to give up. I've just had to chase off a load of of unwashed hippy animal liberationists who broke into the dungeon to set me free. "Here you go you poor creature freedom at last!" they were chanting right up until the point that I sank my fangs into one of the great unwashed and removed a sizeable lump of dreadlocked scalp and my would-be liberator's cries soon changed to "Gerroff you evil minded bastard". Still that'll teach 'em to mess in my affairs. They really should have checked the bestiary before they came cold calling - for the last time I'm a bloody urban species I like to live in towns and cities, I like a regular supply of Bombay mix (even if it's never got enough sev and there are always far too many dried peas in it for my liking) and I don't want to have to go hunting for it. Sometimes animals are happy as they are...

Le Menu Alternative

'ello Mates,

Ces't Moi, le premier chef de cusine Monsieur le Squeakie. Now that the "You've got to be bats to vote for Ken" campaign has finally paid off and we've got Uncle Boris as Mayor and general all-round figure of fun I've turned my attention to all matters culinary. I understand that there is a competition called the Great British Menu in which chefs have to cook a meal fit for Heston Blumenthal - now what I don't follow is why they are all making such a fuss about it, after all we are talking about the man who came up with the idea of crystallised bacon and leather flavoured ice cream here. So anyway as my culinary star is now firmly in the ascendant - look out for the new chain of Little Squeaky restaurants on the highways and byways near you soon - I've come up with the perfect menu for him - seeing as he wants traditional British food with a novel twist And here it is in order as I'm sure Mister Blumenthal would appreciate.

Rhubarb and Stilton Crumble with Mustard and horseradish
Whelks, Winkles and Cockles poached in Gin
Beef seared lightly with an oxyacetylene torch with a medley of nitrogen chilled legumes and laser scorched asparagus

and last but not least for desert..
caramelised onion merangue pie

Who says I don't understand the state of the Emperor's new clothes (whoops sorry that should read) modern British Cooking...

How to Cheat at...

Hi Bat Fans,

you-know-who is back again and this time I'm going to beat Delia at her own game - tinned mince indeed and stickered items all over the supermarket telling you that things are recommended by the estimable Ms Smith.
So Here's how to cheat at cooking the Squeaky way - just remember that as A Giant Rubber Goth Bat I have skills and abilities that you can't even begin to imagine - so what you're getting here is a taste of just how really smart I am (Oh and did I mention I'm really modest too). So here goes:
1. Get someone else to cook for you
2. Get a take-away delivered
3. Go to someone else's place around dinner time and look hungry
4. Persuade someone to take you out for a meal

Who needs to spend 20 quid on a book that tells you to use tinned and frozen stuff anyway?

Mister Squeaky Seeks Employment!

As you are aware Mister Squeaky has decided to retire from the cut and thrust of political life, unfortunately the media have not been rushing to snap him up as either a political commentator, a chat show host or even (the lowest of the low) a panellist on an afternoon game show for sub z-list celebrities. So the problem is that I have a very listless giant rubber goth bat who's currently getting in my hair (sometimes literally)
So with the aid of the venerable Herr Doktor von Squeakenstein we have developed a television format for him which 1.) Plays to the strengths of Mister Squeaky, 2.) Panders to the public's taste to see celebrities "in the raw" (as it were) and 3.) Is dirt cheap to produce.
Development of this has required a certain amount of research and the good Doktor and I have identified a number of key features which we believe will make the show a massive hit. People like things where relatively minor celebrities go and troubleshoot other peoples life crises - dirty houses, inability to cook, rubbish DIY and so on. So we've turned it on its head - Mister Squeaky goes into celebrities homes and wrecks them comprehensively and then the celebrity has to go and learn the skills necessary to carry out the repairs - trust me if it was called Mister Squeaky's kitchen nightmares a certain Mister Ramsay would be waking up in the night in a cold sweat and screaming for his teddy! (especially after Mister Squeaky has napalmed the deep fat fryer)

An Announcement

There now follows a message from the Mister Squeaky the Giant Rubber Goth Bat for Mayor Party:

Dear Friends and Loyal Subjects!
It is with some considerable regret that I am standing down from the race to become the next Mayor of London, however after much soul searching I have come to the conclusion that I'm just too damn honest and good for the job - okay I may do some bad things occasionally (The Master says that if I had a hat like 2nd Lieutenant HRH it would say "I do bad things") but everyone has their faults and I can't help it if the local vicar got upset when I bit his nose - the silly old fool shouldn't have mistaken me for a gargoyle - and as an endangered species I'm trying to do my bit to maintain endangered species status....but I digress. At the end of the day my heart isn't in it anymore and the politicians are making big enough fools of themselves without me flapping around and pointing out their deficiencies to one and all.

Sober Reflections

Hello Loyal and Devoted Followers,

Mister Squeaky here having now lifted the self-imposed press embargo (not a vow of silence as was previously reported) as the Brat awards have now finished. The reason for my silence should be quite clear - the awards were being presented by one of the enemies of batkind (and a self-styled Prince of darkness to boot) and this was too good an opportunity to push my agenda for emancipation of Giant Rubber Goth Bats everywhere.
However due to a very slight overdose of Good Ol' Squeakies No 10 Sour Mash Turnip Bourbon which caused a rift in my personal time and space and resulted in having to be rescued by Captain Jack and the very nice Gwen Cooper from somewhere around Tiger Bay I missed the ceremony.
Never mind...Sharon and the kids should be punishment enough...

A Bat of Great Integrity

Hello Electors

I'm back again, this time to refute all the allegations about undeclared interests and misappropriation of funds.

Firstly I would like to make it perfectly clear that I did let the party chairman and members of the committee know that I had received a donation of £3.95 in crossed postal orders, it was only later that I discovered that it had been a gift from Herr Doktor von Squeakenstein. I am of the understanding that the good Doktor was not aware that he should have declared his donation publicly.

Secondly I never paid my cousin Squeakina the princely sum of £1.99 for acting as my research assistant as she was at university in Bistriţa at the time this payment is alleged to have been made, I think it's some other bat you're thinking of here. Once again we have fallen foul of the stereotyping and institutional speciesism which is so prevalent in today's society and which we of the Mister Squeaky The Giant Rubber Goth Bat For Mayor Party seek to overcome.

Partly Political Broadcast

Hello Prospective Voters

Here I am again your Official Mister Squeaky for Mayor candidate. Now I note there have been a number of disturbing occurrences in the Office of the Mayor in the last few days and allegations of inefficiency, non-declaration of interests and just the teeniest whiff of alcohol related issues.
I would just like to reassure you where I hang on these issues (I'm a bat and let's face it we don't tend to stand...in case you were wondering)
I'm all for free fact finding holidays on your expense, in fact the more of them I go on the fewer the tedious dignitaries I would have to meet. And to prevent the allegation that I am drinking too much turnip brandy whilst on duty I would like to remind you that most experts agree that there is no safe lower limit for the liquor in question and so I'm protecting you all by disposing of it in a safe, controlled and totally transparent way (and avoiding tedious meetings into the bargain)
Remember a vote for me is a vote against everyone else!

New Beginnings

Cower now Brief Mortals for I am returned from the sleep of a thousand tears! Or if you prefer 'ello mates its me Mister Squeaky refreshed from my rather contentious hibernation. The master says that Giant Rubber Goth Bats are not meant to hibernate as it says so in Old Squeakies Almanac and Booke of Ye Days and even if they do they are not meant to take over the airing cupboard or try to bite people if they get mistaken for a coat hanger, still it does you good to get away from it all and now I can reveal my plans for world domination - first of course I have to get some kind of pet with white fur to stroke whilst cackling insanely - again the Master has been a spoilsport as he's put his foot down and said that I can't have a polar bear even if it's mother doesn't want it. Then I've got to threaten the world governments with some kind of international catastrophe - the only problem with this is that they all seem to be trying so hard to do it themselves without the intervention of a Giant Rubber Goth Bat Criminal Mastermind...so I'm going to have to go back to the drawing board on this one...later loyal subjects

Mister Squeaky's Seasonal Blessing

Yo! Seasonal greetings from Mister Squeaky, your festive Giant Rubber Goth Bat (who's ever so slightly tinselly and not at all jolly).
I'm disgusted completely with this whole season of good will to all men crap and don't forget that most of the bloodiest and protracted conflicts have been down to the Christian religion, so why should we celebrate the birth of its founder?
Anyway I've had a good look around the internet and have found a nice carol to share with you all at this festive time.

WHILE SHEPHERDS WATCHED

While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
All seated on the ground,
Some occupying soldiers came
And bulldozed all around.

"Fear not", said one, for mighty dread
Had seized their troubled mind;
"We will not cause you any harm,
For we are good and kind.

We're forced to confiscate your land
To build ourselves a fence
To keep our people safe from all
Your people's violence.

Some fields will stay, cut off from you,
But access won't be banned;
Yes, permits we will give to you
To visit your own land.

However, to your flocks of sheep
This access is denied;
For permits aren't made out to sheep,
So they must stay inside.

You say that sheep need pastureland
To feed or they will die;
I'm just obeying orders here;
Not mine to reason why."

There's more where that came from at http://www.jfjfp.org/campaignfiles/9carols2003.pdf

Read. Learn. Inwardly Digest

Mister Squeaky's Musical Challenge

After minutes of furious planning I am pleased to announce that Mister Squeaky has very generously decided to sponsor a musical challenge, however he's not being quite so clear as to what the prize might be or even, for that matter whether there will be one apart from the satisfaction of having wasted your time in fruitless enterprise.
The challenge in itself is very very simple, although (as most things Mister Squeaky related are) in rather dubious taste. Note that you do not have to be a musician and original music is not required. Very simply all that is required is a list of 10 songs which would go to make up the soundtrack to an imaginary porn movie and a brief synopsis of the plot and when each song would be used. Points will be awarded for skill and originality. Good luck. Yours ears will probably never forgive you.

From the Batcave

Yo! Batfans!

Only me your favourite Giant Rubber Goth Bat reporting for duty. I've discovered that all these serious politicians are desperately trying to appeal to young people with limited success. You cannot convince me that "Call Me Dave" is so hip that he really listens to Radiohead or The Killers without the merest whiff of suspicion that his choices are being made for him by spin doctors.
Anyway It don't affect me at all because I've got loads more credibility without disclosing my musical tastes (but if you're listening Kirsty I'm always free for Desert Island Discs - just make sure that the BBC library has a copy of Theatres des Vampires' Pleasure and Pain hint hint) and if you don't agree I'll be round to dribble horribly in your ears.

Prayers Answered

Hello Devoted Followers,

The Mildly Reverend Mister Squeaky here, seeing as I've been banned form almost all the local places of worship I've just got myself a mail order degree in religion - (I could have been a Bishop but I didn't have enough cash in my paypal account) so that now I can claim that I'm being discriminated against on religious grounds. It's not my fault that all the local churches get funny about Giant Rubber Goth Bats drinking from the font and don't like my choice of alternative hymns ( The Master Says that Procreating Satan is an all time classic) For some reason I don't know the local priests get their maniples all twisted when I come a-knocking on the belfry door. Whatever happened to all this Christian love-thy-brother and peaceful co-existence with other faiths?

It's A Bat's Life

Hello Loyal Bat Fans!

As if you hadn't guessed already it's me the ever lovely Mister Squeaky, here to spread a little bit of misery and gloom into your wretched lives. Just so you're all warned I've been practising being extra evil for Samhain so that I'll be ready for all those nasty little brats that will be out that night demanding sweeties with menaces egged on by their greed driven antisocial parents instead of being sacrificed to make sure that the sun will return. Honestly some people should be given an assessment of suitability before they're even allowed to think about breeding....
So far the local vicar's been on the phone to the Master to complain that I've scared him right out of his cassock and I've desecrated the church by drinking out of the font - not a bad evening's work so far. Oh well onwards and upwards.

The Bat's Not For Turning

Hello Voters,

Just a quick couple of points I want to clarify. The first is that I'm originally from Transylvania and not Scotland, however if it will help to get votes I'll change my name by deed poll to "Mister MacSqueaky you lookin at me stitch that pal"

Secondly, as an afterthought, which daily newspaper is going to have a headline about Ming the Merciless being defeated by Flash Gordon, best answer wins a half-hours supply of nearly new bombay mix

Interview with the Bat

Mister Squeaky has been released from the Lichen Fort having finally admitted to mugging Paddington Bear and nicking his sandwiches, having considered all things I have decided that being made to eat the marmalade sandwiches was punishment enough. Anyway one of our correspondents has asked what naughtiness Mister Squeaky has in store for scaring children now that the nights are drawing in. Needless to say that the terrible bat had the following to say:

"Generally I'd use some kind of sharp instrument - a knife would be good although a cat o' nine tails would make a much better pattern. Oh sorry scaring children I thought you said scarring children has anyone seen a bottle of vintage turnip brandy anywhere?" [Note: The interview was abandoned at this point as Mister Squeaky found the bombay mix and as per usual has had to be extracted from the jar with a liberal application of lard to the ears]

Unfair Discrimination

'ello Playmates!

Only your favourite bat reporting in and I'm not pleased at all. Only the other day I was experimenting in the cellars to bring you a new culinary treat in the frozen instant desert line (marmite ripple ice cream) and what do the ungrateful bastards who make the stuff do? Do they choose me, a cuddly and infinitely loveable Giant Rubber Goth Bat, to be the new face of their product? Of course not. They have to go for a fluffy and deeply sinister bear of uncertain temper named after a London railway station instead. Well I tell you the gloves are now off so you'd better look out Mister Liverpool Street Bear as no one will want to employ you to sell their product when you've had your fur rubbed all over with a certain well-known brand of yeast extract and rolled in crunchy breakfast cereal

It's A Long Way to City Hall

Hello Bat Fans,

I'm very busy at the moment trying to raise the necessary funds so that I can be taken seriously as a heavyweight political Giant Rubber Goth Bat, as having looked at the competition it seems that I need to have a bit more in the way of a campaign than "Vote for Me or I'll dribble in your ears" even though this is a bit more honest than anything my main rivals can counter with. And as for my carbon footprint - I haven't put my feet in any carbon so I won't be leaving any footprints - although the master has said repeatedly that I am less than environmentally friendly....
Anyway to cut to the chase I've launched a new and exclusive range of Mister Squeaky foodstuffs for those of you with discerning palates to enjoy - marmite ripple ice cream anyone?