Joe Collidge vs. Oy, Rodney! Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots [Amazon Exclusive] : Toys & Games

[Editor’s Note: I have just discovered that I have forgotten (so far) to post Joe Collidge today. It’s not my fault! White supremacists snuck in and made me think I’d already done it. Normal service will be resumed ASPA.]

Well! I amb mad “as” Can be! I jist fowned auot that this hear Vilet Corpuscle she sayed “bad things” abaout HILLERY “the” bessed And Smartist wimmyn “in the” Whorld!!!!!

Thats becose HILLERY! she has rote “a” Book!!!!! and she bin on TV awl “over” The Plaice!!! and That fule Vilet she “is” crayzy jellice!!!! She Is pittafull! HILLERY! she has rote abauot Terrarists whoo got nuculer boms witch “thay” whil Use “to” stopp chillren fromb Larning “abeout” Cryptical Race Theory and Trands-Ginder!!!!!!! butt of coarse thay whil “be” Foyled by reel Smart wimmyns in the Stait Depotmint!!!!

I nevver reed that stopid Vilet’s doapy book abute Oy Roddney, waht kinda naime “is” That???? “And” yiu know waht?? SHE CAINT EEVIN SPEL GOOOD! And her Grammer it “is” Reedickulus!!! And aslo it Trigures peple whoo Has Cold Soars!!!! So we got our Stoodint Soviet “to” Bann it!!!!!!!! How grate is that?!?

Ennyboddy who “dosnt” lyke HILLERY! thay “Are” a Terrarist!! Waytill Pressadint Jobydin fyndes Ouat abaout This!!! He whil Put “that” Corpuscule doap In Jale!!!!!

Who’s Been Spying on Violet? (‘Oy, Rodney’)

39 Romance novel cover parodies ideas | romance novel covers, romance, book  humor

Chapter CDLXXXXI of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney, crashed to a suspenseful end with the sudden arrival of Thir Lanthelot the lisping knight from King Arthurth Thecret Cathtle. She introduces Chapter CDLXXXXII with an unexpected gambit from Lord Jeremy Coldsore.

“How do we know you’re really Thir Lanthelot?” he demandth. (Stop that, Lee!) “You’re in full armor, with your visor down. You could be anybody, in there!”

“Tho itth like that, ith it?” parries the knight. “Very well! Hold thith lanthe while I take off my helmet.”

Off comes the helmet. Underneath it is a woman. Constable Chumley’s mother, in fact.

That anguished scream you just heard is Ms. Crepuscular, who has just discovered a comment made by a reader last week suggesting that the lisping knight will turn out to be somebody’s mother. We can allow publication of only a small part of Ms. Crepuscular’s lament.

“How dare you spill my plot? I’ll murder you, whoever you are! Everyone who read your ham-faced comment last week knew exactly what was going to happen! How did you gain access to my notes? Eeeeeyaaaah!” And so on.

(“Mum?” says Constable Chumley. He is still hanging on by his fingertips to the edge of the cliff. We don’t call these stories cliffhangers for nothing.)

In any event, Violet is too upset to continue. “It’s times like this when nothing but a floating ball of toothpaste in a tall glass of Jack Daniels can get you back to normal!” she obstreporates.

Tune in next week to see if she’s back to normal.

A Cyclops in Scurveyshire (‘Oy, Rodney’)

In Chapter CDXXXIII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular puts everything on hold because of a cyclops sighting in the unexplored wilderness surrounding Scurveyshire. We are fortunate to have video of this creature. We don’t really have much video from the 1860s.

Constable Chumley has been dispatched to arrest the Cyclops. He points out that half the gaol was broken down a week ago–he ought to know: he provided the elephant–and there will be insufficient room to house the Cyclops.

“Well, whose fault is that, then?” roars Lord Jeremy Coldsore. He’s still mad at the constable for locking him up because of a feud between a whelk and a crayfish.

Consulting ancient tomes, and more than a few cereal boxes, Johnno the Merry Minstrel discovers that the Cyclops is another one of the many curses placed on Scurveyshire by the medieval sorcerer, Black Rodney. “He was really mad at us for putting him to death in 1226,” procrusteates Johnno, as Ms. Crepuscular adds another word to the lexicon.

“What about all those Arabian chaps in the video?” Lord Jeremy asks. “I haven’t seen any of them around.”

“You haven’t been to The Lying Tart today, m’lord. They don’t want to chase the Cyclops anymore. They just want to have some root beer and then go home.”

Meanwhile, Lady Margo Cargo chides her crusty old butler, Crusty, for taking so much time to replace her upholstered wooden leg. His last effort was six inches too long.

“If you think I’m enjoying this, think again!” barks the lady. “I mean, how hard can it be to fashion a wooden leg? Oh, get out of the way–I’ll do it myself!”

At this point a Cyclops strides past her drawing room window. Instead of drawing it, Lady Margo faints.

And Johnno has discovered that the only thing a Cyclops fears is… Sea Monkeys.



Thanks to Unknowable for recovery our traditional book cover, albeit in a somewhat truncated form. But Violet likes a lot of truncated things.

Jailbreak in Scurveyshire (‘Oy, Rodney’)

Tanystropheus - Facts and Pictures

[Editor’s Note: I cannot find the image of a book cover that is usually displayed with an ‘Oy, Rodney’ episode. The closest I could come was this picture of a Tanystropheus–which I admit is not that close, but what can one do?]

Chapter CDXXXII of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney, finds Lord Jeremy Coldsore and his fiancee, Lady Margo Cargo, both locked up in gaol, Constable Chumley having arrested them for reasons best known to himself. But behind the scenes, Lady Margo’s crusty old butler, Crusty, is plotting to break his mistress out of gaol.

All he needs is an elephant.

“Only an elephant is big and strong enough to break down the wall of the gaol so Lady Margo can get out,” he confides to Constable Chumley (of all people). Chumley happens to know where he can rent an elephant. There’s a man in Plaguesby who keeps a few in his stables.

Having rented the elephant and fortified her with a swallow of grog from The Lying Tart, Crusty and the constable turn her loose on the wall. Neither of them has remembered to forewarn Lady Margo, who is almost killed when the elephant batters down the wall.

“Hurry up, you lazy old bat!” cries Crusty. “Before the police come!” He then remembers that Constable Chumley is already there. They have to help Lady Margo out of the rubble–she will need a new upholstered wooden leg–and Crusty helps her hop back home.

In the adjacent cell, Lord Jeremy is beside himself.

“You just wait until the next time you ask me for a raise!” he bellows at the constable. “You copepod! You wretch!” Only then does it dawn on Chumley that he may have done something not strictly in accord with normal police procedure. He apologizes with genuine exfoliation (her word, not mine!).

“Ayn yerk nee fluzzin’, M’lord!” he groans.

“Oh, forget it!” growls Lord Jeremy.

Queen Victoria Loves Willis Twombley! (‘Oy, Rodney’)

We cannot find our regular illustration today. We hope this field guide to insects will be a satisfactory substitute.

Peterson Field Guide To Insects Of America North of Mexico 1970 Paperback  Book | eBay

[Editor’s Note: Thanks to Phoebe for her profound Shakespearean insight.]

In Chapter CDXIX of Violet Crepuscular’s immortal, epic romance (Did he just say “immortal”?), Oy, Rodney, we learned that Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad, had fallen passionately in love with Queen Victoria. Today in Chapter CDXX we learn… she loves him back.

Ms. Crepuscular explains: “Dear reader, who can unravel the exfoliations of the human heart? Some subtle nuance in Mr. Twombley’s love letter has lit a fire under Queen Victoria! Not literally, of course–you mustn’t take that literally. I prefer not even to imagine it!”

How do we know the queen returns Twombley’s passion? She has sent a special messenger to Scurveyshire: a servant with two heads and a hand, just like the one in Titus Andronicus. He is rather conspicuous, but his message is for Twombley’s eyes alone.

“Dear Mr. Twombley” (writes the Queen) “I yearn for you so bad, I could plotz! I love Albert, but oh, you kid! We must arrange for us to make whoopee. P.S.–I love your idea of me abdicating the throne of the British Empire and taking up a new career as a saloon girl! Mr. Disraeli will have a kazoo.”

Ms. Crepuscular temporarily suspends the story to address an issue raised by a superfluous–“vole,” I think she said.

“I have been accused of many things in my life,” she says–“barratry, counterfeiting, wasting police time, treason–but to be accused of willy-nilly blending the dress and customs of several different eras–! This is the most unkindest cut of all. Let anyone who thinks she can do better… just try! I triple-dog dare you!”