Don't know how true it is - but it's bloody funny

Judy Wallman, a genealogy researcher in southern California, was looking into her family tree. She discovered that Senator Harry Reid's great-great uncle, Remus Reid, was hanged for horse stealing and train robbery in Montana in 1889.

Judy and Harry Reid share this common ancestor.

The only known photograph of Remus shows him standing on the gallows in Montana territory.

On the back of the picture is this: 'Remus Reid, horse thief, sent to Montana Territorial Prison 1885, escaped 1887, robbed the Montana Flyer six times. Caught by Pinkerton detectives, convicted and hanged in 1889.'

So Judy recently e-mailed Senator Harry Reid for information about their great-great uncle.

Harry Reid's staff sent back the following biographical sketch:

"Remus Reid was a famous cowboy in the Montana Territory . His business empire grew to include acquisition of valuable equestrian assets and intimate dealings with the Montana railroad. Beginning in 1883, he devoted several years of his life to government service, finally taking leave to resume his dealings with the railroad. In 1887, he was a key player in a vital investigation run by the renowned Pinkerton Detective Agency. In 1889, Remus passed away during an important civic function held in his honor when the platform upon which he was standing collapsed."

I think this is all made up, but would you trust Harry Reid? The face is the mirror of the soul.

Talking of which I derived great joy from the story - definitely true - about our own dear Chancellor of the Exchequer's coke-snorting fun and games with a lady of the night. What a total dick he looks in the pictures. I wouldn't trust him to run a whelk stall, let alone what's left of our tattered.economy.

On the other hand, how could he do worse than the Bliar and Twat McBroon?

Is truth stranger than fiction? Here's another dash of religious fervour - true this time

Curvin O'Riellly who used to work at Ogilvy and before that Y & R tells a true story relating to the one I posted earlier:

This reminds me of something that happened years ago at Y&R.

My creative director, Tony Isidore, and a couple of his partners, Bob Elgort and Marv Lefkowitz, had created an absolutely sensational campaign for the NY Urban Coalition. The tagline was famous: “Give jobs. Give money. Give a damn.”

Predictably, the network censors objected to the word “damn.” So the agency said, “Okay, tell you what. Go see Father O’What’s His Name (I was never told his name) at the archdiocese.”

The good father talked with the network censors, nodding his understanding of their problem with the word “damn.”

“You know,” he said in his brogue as he leaned forward, “I too have been having a problem with ‘damn.’ I think it’s completely inappropriate for a cause as serious as the Urban Coalition. I think the tagline should be ‘Give a shit.’”

What a pleasure to see idiot censors done down for a change.

A little religious enthusiasm from my friend George

A crusty old man walks into the local Catholic church and says to the secretary, "I would like to join this damn church."

The astonished woman replies, "I beg your pardon, Sir. I must have misunderstood you. What did you say?"

"Listen up, damn it. I said I want to join this damn church!"

"I'm very sorry sir, but that kind of language is not tolerated in this church."

The secretary leaves her desk and goes into the priest's study to inform him of her situation. The priest agrees that the secretary does not have to listen to that foul language.

They both return to her office and the priest asks the old geezer, "Sir, what seems to be the problem here?"

"There is no damn problem," the man says. "I just won 20 million dollars in the damn lottery and I want to join this damn church to get rid of some of this damn money."

"I see," said the priest. "And is this bitch giving you a hard time?

Getting sex when you're ugly - and a tale of my imcompetence

Someone wise once said that life is not only stranger than you imagine, it is stranger than you can imagine.

My friend George Machun, trapped in the deadening toils of academe at San Francisco State University, recently put up some photographs of stupid things done by idiots. One of them was a picture of a gas stove on which some fool had put an electric kettle.

Well, I actually did that in his house in San Francisco and nearly burnt the place down. George and I worked together for years in Hong Kong, Portugal, California and various places in South America. He is a splendid chap, but has to be corrected occasionally

For instance, he recently put up this quotation: A member of Parliament to Disraeli: "Sir, you will either die on the gallows or of some unspeakable disease." "That depends, Sir," said Disraeli, "whether I embrace your policies or your mistress."

I had to point out to him that it was actually John Wilkes who made the remark, and he didn't say "an unspeakable disease" - he said "the pox". By Disraeli's time they had mistresses but didn't talk about them.

I think it was to Lord Sandwich - a famous lecher - that Wilkes addressed the remark.

Wilkes was famously ugly, with a squint, famously funny and famously successful with women. When someone asked him how he did it, he replied, "It takes me ten minutes to talk away my face."

God's holy trousers! Your brilliant wit can cause real problems. I think it cost me a client

The other day John Walsh let fly a blast of condemnation in The Independent about the latest Diesel campaign, which he headed A dose of something unlovely.

Here's what he said:

Do you ever see an advertisement that really turns your head? I recently did, and not in a good way. I nearly crashed the motor while driving past a bus-stop hoarding that featured the new fragrance from Diesel.

It showed a tempestuous-looking naked woman clutching to herself a giant, heart-shaped bottle of pink perfume. It was called Loverdose.

Who in the name of God's holy trousers thought that a good name for a perfume? What marketing department brainstorm produced that misbegotten collection of syllables? But wait, here are the product notes: "Loverdose ... represents a woman who is sexy, playful and irresistible. She receives an overdose of love from those around her, but she wants more. She desires pleasure, adrenaline and passion."

Oh I get it, it's an overdose of love, do you see? Although, when you see the word, you don't pronounce it "Loaver-dose" do you? You'd say "Love-a-dose" as in the phrase, "Would you love a dose of the clap?" The marketing people go on to tell us that the Loverdose bottle "represents a beautiful but deadly weapon of seduction". I think I'll pass, thanks.

Now John is not a stupid man, but it has clearly escaped his attention that Diesel advertising, which has been running for a good ten years, takes the piss out of the kind of ludicrous claims many ads make.

All this was lost on him. He is not a likely Diesel customer.

It reminded me of one of my own many stupid mistakes. Years ago I went to see the boss of a new firm called Telephone Warehouse. I was met at reception by a man whose face I couldn't quite place.

Then I realised it was Ernest Saunders, former marketing head of Guinness, and a notorious name in his day. He was advising the new company. He introduced himself, adding, "I've been reading your book. Very interesting."

I was flattered; but I've never been able to handle compliments and often pass them off with a joke. So I replied, "Why, can't you sleep?"

This shaft of wit was lost on Mr. Saunders, and I suspect I blew my chances with that firm there and then.

By the way, here's the Diesel TV spot http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UyWfun8HY0&NR=1