Tag Archives: interview

An Interview with Queen Elizabeth II

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Name? The Queen

Occupation? Being queen

What’s that like? It’s a lot like not being the Queen, except with hundreds of millions in inherited wealth and a strong sense of class superiority over everyone else in the country.

What brings you the greatest joy? Eating swans. Who’s going to fucking stop me?

What would be the title of your autobiography? I’m on the Money.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever been given? “Make it look like an accident.”

Prince Phillip is famous for his gaffes, usually involving race. What’s been your favourite one? When he shot our African gardener.

[silence]

It’s okay. He wasn’t hurt. He was absolutely fine. Well, he staved his finger a little, but it didn’t stop him from going out shooting the next day.

Moving on… If you had a tattoo, where would it be? [puzzled look] I do have a tattoo. It’s at Edinburgh castle.

Some would say that your answer to the previous question reeks of privilege. Some should be more mindful of the ‘dark forces’ I keep telling everyone about.

[PHILLIP SHOUTS FROM THE OTHER ROOM] ‘You mean the Indian Army?’

Do fuck off, Phillip!

Who do you miss most? Definitely Camilla. She’s always standing just a little bit too far away when the blunderbuss goes off.

What makes you smile? Nothing. Literally nothing. [thinks] Cows? I guess cows are alright.

Why don’t you smile more often? If you had to sit on a balcony each and every year watching as Joe Pasquale brings the cast of Casualty on stage to sing the hits of Abba dressed as air hostesses, you wouldn’t be smiling either. That, and I’m a 90-year-old woman. Most of my energy goes into not pishing myself. One careless twitch of the lips could turn me into Noel’s gunge tank.

Plus, smiling’s been selectively bred out of my genetic line over the last few hundred years. I can’t tell you how much it’s saved Princess Anne on botox. 

What charity do you support? The ‘Keeping Prince Andrew Out of Jail’ charity.

What is your greatest indulgence? Everything, bitches.

What’s your greatest regret? Fergie turning down those complimentary tickets I gave her for a weekend in Paris.

What is on your bucket list? [shakes head] One calls it a Diamante Treasure Chest list.

There’s that elitist vibe again… So what do you want to do before you die? Find another host body.

What???? I mean… em…visit the pyramids.

What are the last three items on your credit card statement? A Faberge Eggcup; professional hit-man; Canada.

What’s your favourite TV show? Game of Thrones. One loves to remember the good old days.

What’s on your nightstand? A knight. What else would one put there?

You can hear yourself, right? Next question: Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

[PHILLIP SHOUTS FROM THE OTHER ROOM] William’s wedding was definitely better!

Fuck off, Phillip!

What is one thing people would be surprised to learn about you? That I’m definitely *not* an ancient reptile from a distant planet who has come here along with hundreds of my kind to enslave the human race, breed them and eventually devour them like a pile of chicken drumsticks at one of Fergie’s barbecues.

Did you kill Diana? Ye… [wags finger] Nice try, fucko.

Any other fun facts you’d like to share? One’s real name is actually Queeny McQueen Face.

Dogs or cats? Well, one of them is subservient, and the other is cold and aloof. How can one choose between one’s favourite qualities? We’ll call it a tie.

What’s the hardest part about being a mum? Interviewing people for the position of chief nanny interviewer.

Last phone call you made? Elton John, to ask if he had one more ‘Candle in the Wind’ in him.

How do you feel about the controversy with Rolf Harris? Oh disgusting. Disgusting. I don’t know how he can live with himself.

It’s horrible, isn’t it? Of course! It was the worse portrait I’ve ever seen.

No… erm, not the… Not the painting he did of you. The… you know? [blank face] Oh, the thing with the kids? [shrugs] Meh. Yeah. I guess that was kind of bad?

Any plans to retire? [laughs, but without moving her face] When I die I’m going to make sure the staff carry my corpse around and pretend I’m still alive, like ‘Weekend at Bernies’, so that jug-eared cunt of a son of mine never gets the throne.

What’s your strongest feature? My right arm. I do so much waving I’m basically Popeye. It’s left Poor Philip’s cock looking like a crushed Flump.

Who’s your biggest celebrity crush?

[PHILLIP SHOUTS FROM THE OTHER ROOM] Diana!

Fuck off, Phillip!

What do you think when people call you and your extended family a bunch of spongers? We bring in about £55 billion pounds in tourism every year. [scratches head] Or is it £5.68? I have absolutely no concept of money. What I do know is that people will travel thousands and thousands of miles just to stand outside my expensive house waiting for a glimpse of my gloved hand at the window. I’m the Windsor’s Wacko Jacko, Sha-mone! [grabs crotch] Hee hee!

Maybe if the French hadn’t guillotined their Royal Family they’d get more tourists in Paris. Actually, I’ll give the French that. They’re awesome at helping to assassinate Royals…

What did you think of Harry’s wedding? I… eh. I… um. [Queen yanks an axe out from her jacket, spins around, and hurls it at the wall, embedding it in a promo poster for ‘Suits’] It was lovely.

Finally, are you sure you aren’t a shape-shifting reptile? I mean, it makes sense. Elizabeth = Lizard. Camilla = Chameleon. Princess Anne = Princess Anaconda. Don’t be ridiculous. [The Queen’s eye pops out of its socket, and she catches it with her lizard tongue] You should probably just ignore that.  

**DISCLAIMER – IT’S POSSIBLE THAT NONE OF THIS HAPPENED**

Being an Open Spot – The Falkirk Herald

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It must have been a slow news week at The Falkirk Herald back in June. Here’s a wee piece they did about me being an open spot, complete with entirely unnecessary moody picture. And, hey: I AM the news, motherfuckers.

Cunt of the Week (03 Sep 2012) by Ross Leslie

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Matt Bendoris – high quality journalism guaranteed.

I seriously considered making my ‘Cunt of the Week’ the pathological liar and teen romance high school preppy, Paul Ryan, after that performance at the Republican National Convention. I could also have added the embarrassing ‘turns’ by Romney-bot and former American hero, Clint Eastwood, however I remembered Jamie’s normal readership includes such intellectuals as Richard Hunter and Gregor Wappler, so I just left it as I didn’t want their brains to hurt. 

Therefore, step forward future sexual assaulter Matthew “Matt” Bendoris, for your journalistic car-crash of an interview with a fit lady, the super-talented Scottish violinist, Nicola Benedetti. Link to said article is here – http://www.thescottishsun.co.uk/scotsol/homepage/news/mattmeets/4502198/Matt-meets-Scots-violin-queen-Nicola-Benedetti.html – enjoy for yourselves.

Now, of course, you get what you deserve if you happen to read The Sun, hopefully a form of genital warts; that being said, and I believe this to be a true fact, 97 per cent of male Sun readers already have genital warts. Seriously, check it out on the Internet. And I wasn’t reading The Sun in online or print format, so don’t start by saying, ‘Haha Ross, your cock is all warty, too.’ It’s not, and I have photos to prove it, right? Anyway, yes, let’s get back to the cunt. (not with those warts you won’t, dirty – Jamie)

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a red blooded male who likes to have the sex with ladies, and have done so on hunners of occasions, absolute hunners man. I have the humans I have procreated at home to prove it. Because of this I am well aware that Benedetti is a good looking woman; however, I wouldn’t try to mentally prepare her for a sexual assault whilst interviewing her for a national newspaper and then clearly take the huff halfway through because she clearly finds me physically disgusting.

Nicola Benedetti

He then says that she doesn’t take the bonniest of photos sometimes, and she is a bit beaky. Google image this weedy, specky cunt: he looks like Harry Potter in the first movie. He then gives us a blow-by-blow account of what she is wearing, and describes her physical attributes, sweat clearly pouring onto his keyboard as he types the words.

But what does any of this have to do with fucking music!? I am not a classical music fan – I’m more of a Carly Rae Jepsen man – but she is very talented in her field and it might be an idea to ask her some questions about that, eh? I suppose she has to take her share of the blame for agreeing to speak to the cunt in the first place, or at least her agent should be fired, but maybe her agent is still pissed off she didn’t want to get her vagina out for FHM-Zoo-Nuts, or whatever it’s called these days.

He does then ask a little about her music, but this is buried amongst references to her boyfriend being a lucky man, as he somehow snared this one – perhaps by being a man, and not coming in his pants when he first saw her; and then, worryingly in this boozed-up country of ours, he mocks her for only having FOUR drinks on her birthday night out. ‘I bet she didn’t even start a single fight in a taxi queue,’ he thought to himself.

I actually emailed him when I read it to congratulate him on his fine journalistic work, and asked if he had managed to get out the semen stains from his underwear. His response?: ‘Cheers’. Why argue with a fucking moron, Leslie, why do it? In summary: Bendoris – fuck you, cunt.

Ross Leslie

THIS WEEK’S GUEST WRITER: Ross Leslie hasn’t been doing comedy for very long, but in his short-time on the Scottish stand-up circuit he’s already won Scotland in Session’s ‘Fuck You I’m Funny’ competition, been a finalist in The Shack’s Massive Comedy Gong Show, and been violently and lubelessly hate-fucked by the circuit’s premier sexual terrorist, Vladimir McTavish.

Leslie’s first ever gig was a gong show; a gong show being the harshest, most brutal comedy environment known to man. It’s the stand-up equivalent of D-Day. Less a baptism of fire, and more a baptism of the raging and eternal flames of Hell. It certainly doesn’t do wonders for your nerves or will to live, so for Leslie to have spent the majority of his first thirteen gigs gonging it means that the man has balls like space-hoppers. Or he’s completely insane.

Jonathan King. NOT from Fife.

Ross Leslie wasn’t just born in Fife. He IS Fife. If Fife is a Kingdom, then Leslie is its king – much like a blue-bottle is king when it’s perched atop a particularly gooey mountain of dog shite. We continue the royal theme with a little known fact about Ross: he was the disgraced pop guru Jonathan King’s first victim, and the only one of King’s victims not to press charges. ‘I knew he was lying when he said he’d make me a star,’ swooned Leslie. ‘I just wanted that wonky wee mouth gorging on my stauner.’ Leslie still visits King in prison six times a year for conjugal visits, and he always takes with him a Thomas the Tank Engine rucksack containing a jizz-stained school tie, an 80s shell-suit and a giant tub of mashed bananas.

PS: I apologise for the hurtful and disgusting lie I made up about Ross in this biography. Let me set the record straight. Ross Leslie is NOT from Fife.

FOLLOW ROSS ON TWITTER: @misterross  

CHECK OUT ROSS’S BLOG:  http://mum-blings.tumblr.com/