The Bugle - Bugle 216 – We’re having a baby!

Episode Date: December 7, 2012

Nothing else matters in the world as "We're Having A Baby!"Kate of the Royals and that William are not the only ones expectant as the planet gets a massive case of baby brain.This Bugle was created in five different time zones, spanning 13.5 Earth hours as John records amongst the stars in Los Angeles and Andy chows down on some choice bovine cuts in Calcutta. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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The Bugle, audio newspaper for a visual world. Hello, Bugleers and welcome to issue 216 of the Bugle, audio newspaper for a visual world with me and his ultimate here in Kolkata, or as I say in these parts, Shalom and happy fanica to one of all. And joining me live from his favourite city by the magic stroke witchcraft that is the telephone. All the way from Los Angeles, it's John Oliver. Hello Andy, hello viewers. And it is another ludicrous combination of locations this week with in Calcutta,

Chris in Hamburg, Pettin London, Paul in New York and me in LA. It is not going to get any less feasible for us to do this idea, so one of us moves to the moon. I'm currently talking to you from my hotel room, which is directly overlooking the Dolby Theatre, which now stages the Oscars every year. And where I presume I will be for the 2014 Oscars for my role in Smurfs 2. What I might do, Andy, is just book this hotel room now in anticipation of that because as we both know, it's a borderline statistical certainty

because I'm gonna be up for that. It'll be a choice between John Oliver for Vanity Smurf, Brad Pitt for playing someone left handsome than himself, and Daniel Day Lewis for playing Princess and in the upcoming biopic that everyone's excited about. I'm actually looking out of my window right now and the at Hollywood Boulevard, where people routinely dress up as cartoon characters and movie characters to pose for photos with

tourists before basically mugging them. And I'm currently looking at Jack Sparrow, a SpongeBob, and a very depressed looking spider man, who's costume doesn't butt-nut properly at the back and who seems to be wearing underneath some kind of Metallica t-shirt. Look, all I'm saying is, if I was the green goblin right now, I would try and take over the earth immediately because from my vantage point spider-man is either drunk about a burst into tears or both. And I will also say that perhaps understandable reasons,

Elmo seems to be keeping a low profile on Hollywood Boulevard at the moment. It used to be there were at least three Elmo's walking around at any one time, but in light of current news events, I think they're probably the process of spraying themselves green and calling themselves curvish. And John, as the Spider-Man managed to lift anything massive because

that's kind of his stick, isn't it? Oh, I think the massive thing he's lifting Andy is the burden of his own sadness as he walks up and down. So it is quite a feat of strength. Holy word. It's a fitting of dream. So I've been having an absolute ball here in India, by which I mean my dress doesn't fit, and my feet hurt from dancing. Thanks again to all the Indian buglers who've come to my show, CIR, not all of the 1.1 billion Indian buglers have made it, but still very decent turnout. Well, thanks very much for coming to those. And especially also, a huge thanks to the Indian cricket team for making England feel so extremely welcome. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP B meet and an audio DIY Doos and Don'ts Guide, part one, we're not to drill.

Oops, that section in the bit. Top story this week, Buckel Royal Special. Stop everything you're doing, everybody on earth, stop everything that you are doing. We're having a baby. Britain is having a baby. And it would have been so easy to not do a bugle this week, without current geographical circumstances. It just may be this bugle will sound a little worse than usual as you are. It has to do it down the phone line. But there was nothing. There could possibly stop us. When the news came out that Kate Middleton has a tiny person in her stomach. It happened, Andy.

You go away for one week, Andy, just one week, and a princess gets pregnant. Don't tell me that that is just co-intident. Yeah, there is absolutely no other news in the world this week. It's basically not the week that the imminent birth of Jesus was leaked to the Gospel Hacks in North BC. And I cannot believe John that I have been 4,944 miles away from home on the greatest day in the history of the British nation since the invention of the sandwich. Yeah. What a day when all the nations, problems and all the cares of the world melted away at the news of the miracle child, the magic tot, who will surely bring a new Eden to all remaining corners of our glorious empire, albeit that the only bits left of that empire are the Forkland Islands, Gibraltar, Memory Service Station and the M4 Motoy, at least since we've rested control back from the Mexicans in a bloodthirsty guerrilla raid, and of course England.

But this is a great day, John. Great days. How's America reacted? Well, you know, I mean, as far as I can see down this spider man has started punching the air and he looks happier, so the magic child is already working his little magic. I mean, the fact is, it's all over the news here as well because nothing else has happened this week or if it has, it frankly doesn't matter because Kate Middleton is the proud owner of some fertilized eggs. She will now, as his tradition, curl up in a nest and Pippa Middleton will sit on her for the next seven months to assist the incubation, occasionally giving her food by regurgitating it into her mouth. The Royal family have some strange but deeply rooted traditions and the as we both know.

The news came out when it emerged that Kate Middleton had been admitted to hospital earlier in the weeks up and from acute morning sickness. Seconds later all the major news agencies were pulling their journalists from Cairo, Damascus and Afghanistan to send them to stand outside the hospital for no discernible reason whatsoever shouting at any doctor who wants past. Where's the baby? We demand to see the baby. Release the baby right now. A shaken doctor's attempting to point out

that the baby would not be born for at least another six months. The journalist finally snapped screaming, why the cover up? Release the baby right now. This is a conspiracy. She's going to try and smuggle that top out inside her womb. The initial scans have shown a a small fetus with a full crown on its head so it is a genuine royal baby. And what is most

amazing, John? So soon after all the fuss about the top-est pictures of Kate Middleton in European magazines, a micro-king will soon be chowing down on those self-synced royal wapplets that cause such an unclothed stir when photographed unmistakably protrubulating from her ladieships otherwise unblemished torso. It just shows how quickly fortunes can change. The hysteria was so intense that when cake was finally released from hospital just yesterday, I was half-experting to see hordes of paparazzi with X-ray machines and ultrasound equipment tackling her to the floor a rubbing gel on her stomach to try and get the first picture of the unborn golden child. I don't think I've ever felt so sorry for a baby before it's even

been born Andy. If I was that child I would try and string this pregnancy out for as long as possible because soon as it sets foot outside that womb, it is stepping into a category 5 shit store. And to mark the momentous moment, if indeed a moment can be momentous, but in this case, that now seems even doubling momentous. There will be special, giant pewter casts of the Duchess's royal thoraciclets. Enormous, breast-shaped public sculptures filled with milk from the royal herd of cows, including her royal cow and her minteroo, the Dowager Lady Cow Buttercup and the Duchess of Momsbury, at whose giant pewter teach the public will be entitled to suckle for 12

months after the royal birth. The birth which will secure British independence for at least another 1,000 years will also be marked in the following ways. All babies born on the same day will have their happy coincidence marked with a free tattoo of Kate Middleton's face on their little faces, free of charge, paid for by proceeds from Prince Charles' biscuit cartel. To show support for the Holy Princess, all British women of childbearing age will be forced to walk around with increasingly large cushions shoved up their tops and jumpers for the next six months and to ceremonially vomit in sympathy every morning, plus they will have to eat weird

meals and snacks that the Duchess might be craving, such as gerkin and marmalade roulard, squid-favourite ice cream with locust eggs sprinkled on top, and cottage pie made with a real cottage, crunchy, but homely. And also all babies born within a week either side of the royal baby will be quarantined on the Sandringham Estate for 18 years to make sure none of the royal sperminants escape during the Osmozing process, an impregnable and ordinary human British woman, which could cause a disputed succession just like in the 18th century. This poor poor rich baby, Anthony, has no idea what it has got installed for it. I really

wouldn't be surprised if the first gun showed an image of the baby with its head in its hands. It's not keen. It's slamming its head into the womb in frustration. This really has been a spectacularly invasive week of turbo overreaction from Britain. I don't know how the birth is really going to top this unless Kate Middleton literally gives birth on the balcony of Buckingham Palace and Prince William then immediately holds the baby up to the assembled crowd like Simba in the Lion King. Just when you thought the Britain had reached its maximum level of hysteria, something pushed it over the top. And that thing was a doctor remarking in an offhand way on TV that extreme morning sickness can sometimes be a sign of twins. Holy shit! sickness can sometimes be a sign of twins. Holy shit! Britain knows how to have twins, Andy. I know that we don't know that for sure. In fact, technically we don't know that at

all, but we're all expecting twins now. So anything less than her popping out, two babies in quick succession is going to be a huge disappointment. And if it is twins, which it definitely will be, if Princess K gives a shit about this country, then it's going to throw up an interesting quandary regarding succession. Because the gender bias of prioritising male aires has now been overturned, meaning that whichever baby comes out first is the direct heir to the throne in the event of a C section, it will of course be up to the doctor who comes out first. So at that point, as is tradition, up to the doctor who comes out first so at that point

as his tradition once more the doctor will be blindfolded and spun around several times. Wherever the birth does eventually take place and the ermine-lined womb finally produces its hallowed produce it will be broadcast on giant TV screens in all public planks and town squares throughout the empire with the duchess's agonised screams drowned out by the dulcet singing of King's College choir, although personally John, I think this is a great opportunity for one of the great pranks of all time, for Kate Minnell to emerge from hospital with a little cuddly toy, to the press call. Not even pregnant. Aaaaaah! You should see the look on your faces. Aaaaaah!

So how then was this Royal Baby conceived? Does John suggested these things go back in tradition for hundreds if not thousands of years? We all know of course that these glorious Royal Blessings not happen in the conventional way that us mere mortals have to put up with the grubby intercourseable frabblings of a prongle and a mademoisette. No royal babies are producing a far more dignified manner as you would very much expect. Prince William is of course the current proud bearer of the Majesticals. The royal nads, the original Crowle Jules, the nutlets handed down from generation to generation since Henry

V captured them on the battlefield of Agingcore in 1415. William took the Majesticals in their velveteen presentational scrotillium to the crypt and Westminster Abbey, where they were warmed to optimum fertilisation temperature on the royal embers that have been kept aflame for just this purpose, ever since a still smoldering virgin Joan of Arc was brought back from Ruan to help the then King Henry VI conceive. The Magistacles were then transported in a donkey drawn carriage, still attached to the Prince by locks of her from the main of the unicorn Henry VIII wrote at his coronation to the Embryonis vault in Winter Castle, where the Lord Royal Gona Deer extracted the

Royal Spermum. The Spermumumum was then in accordance with tradition placed in a George Forman Grill given to the Queen by the former World Heavyweight Champion last year to replace the defunct previous Royal Skelet which had been the receptacle for all Royal Concepts of the ONAs since the early 17th century. Experts say it never really recovered from being used on a weekly basis by all of Charles II's mistresses. The grilles plugged in and set to a low heat setting. The Dutch S-meanwhile held the ceremonial womb of Wessex behind a screen, whereupon the archbishop of Canterbury sang the ancient madrigal touch me, touch me, I want to feel your body covered, of course, in a 1980 style by her exonancy Samantha

Fox, the Countess of Nantwich, the now fully ready spermant Julie Osmoz threw the screen into the womb, which the Duchess then rooted on like a chicken for 40 days and 40 nights to ensure a successful royal baby vacation. That John is how the future of our nation was secured. All we have to do now is wait. Well and I think that Kaye Middleton should play that. Everything you just said through headphones and placed them on her stomach. So the child can be soothed with that level of wave upon wave of bullshit. The impact of the Royal Baby has of course been felt around the world here in India. The government passed legislation allowing Western

Supermarkets to march into Indian cities in a tribute to their former royal family, involving encouraging a more acceptable form of commercial imperialism. Furthermore, also in India, I went to a restaurant last night John with an Indian friend, and we ordered something called a Kiri Kabab that the waiter had told us was from a cow. So we both assumed it was just some standard bit of beef. I ate it, it was absolutely unremittingly disgusting. My Indian friend then received a text message from his own Indian friend, letting him know that Kirikabab is in fact utter. That's right, John. I unwittingly ate a cow's whap. Just days after it became public, they'll soon be a British prince or princess,

suckling on a human whap back home. That's, you know, that cannot be put down to co-interference, John. Oh, my God. Well, you can't un-eat that, Andy. That is something that's happened now. I cannot un-eat that other, which I believe was a song by Perry Coma in the 1950s. The, uh, apparently, one of these side effects of this extreme nausea is constant heavy wretching and I'm sure that Cape Middleton delivered a very ladylike wretching anyway Andy and extremely

dainty wretching like the wretching of a fluttering butterfly. And when she left the hospital yesterday she nodded when asked by reporters if she was feeling better although it must have been very tempting to nod and then flip an elegant bird in a majestic single-digit royal salute. The BBC Royal correspondent, Louis de Boudini, said the Dutch-Strength tentative and less energetic than usual. Well, of course she was less f**king energetic. She just been throwing up the content of her stomach for the last 96 hours. You'd be less energetic too if you'd just gone on a high profile, four day vomiting spree,

only to be welcomed across the finish line by the entire world media. You f**king moron. Ha ha ha. Take that, Baldini. And then go and get a proper job. Ha ha. So what does the future greatest baby in the history of the universe have to look forward to?

Well, he, she or it, will be third in line to the throne and will be hounded tirelessly by the dread of journalism from their first breadth of their last. And the whole world is not wasting any time in getting excited from my window right now, Andy. I think I can see someone dressed up as the fetus on Hollywood Boulevard and if taking photos with tourists. In perhaps the craziest move in a corner copier of creepiness a forensic artist has even engineered images of the yet to be born child with projected likeness for both a three-year-old boy and a three-year-old girl. And I've seen them both, Andy, at the real estate. They both look like Michael Jackson.

I don't know what happened. Yeah, I mean, there are tough times ahead, of course, for the Cilembrio. And, but it has, as I said, inspired amazing things around the world former Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi Has given indications that he will run for office again next year now John this just shows the wonderous inspiration Kate Middleton and her divine womb Have had on the world John she's shown that anything is possible if she can bear a child Just like ordinary mortal women then truly we can all do anything and And Berlusconi has seen this. And he's thought two things. One, if she can do that, I can run for office again, despite having been convicted of various crimes.

And two, Kate Middleton. Oh yeah! I've got a better chance if I'm back in a ballad, Dixert. Ha-ha-ha. It's the bottom-line effect of this magic baby effect is a new spread even further. This week a team of former NASA executives launched a private venture to send two people to the moon for $1.4 billion.

And you can't say that that definitely wasn't inspired by this baby. I think the baby should come straight out with a check for $1.4 billion and have its first words be, take me to the f***ing moon. This has been done to let the happy royal coupling have their special pre-mo genital moment in the privacy of the moon John, this is the only way they can get away from the press by flying to the moon for the birth. I mean it is suggested in various parenting books as well, a moon birth takes a lot of pressure off the body, makes it easier to shove the baby out. The one thing is clear Andy and that is that this child is going to have a lot on his golden shoulders as its birth very well could save the economy in Britain. The Centre for

retail research said that in 2011, £199 million was spent on royal wedding souvenirs and that a baby could prove almost if not more popular. In fact, less than 24 hours after the pregnancy was announced, a Staffordshire pottery firm said it was already starting work on a commemorative mug, which is pretty impressive when the baby currently resembles a kind of blurry tadpole. And this pottery firm started producing blue red and white mugs, which apparently just say a royal baby in 2013. And they started doing that on Tuesday morning.

And they're also releasing some companion mugs saying, who gives the shit about Syria and on the other side, it's royal baby time. She went on to say the owner of this firm said, people want family heirlooms. And I'm sure there's also a massive export market Particularly in America see America the plan demand you want our pottery shit. We will give you our pottery shit Finally Andy the final magic baby influence story was that apparently coffee chain Starbucks Agree to pay more UK Corporation tax and I mean there's

only one reason why they would all of a sudden do that and they fear the baby. They fear that baby. Exactly. It's a special kind of tiny justice and they back the f*** down before that baby took them for f*** out. to the f*** out. MUSIC Newville logo design competition news now and the competition is now closed. We will be analysing and judging the entries this week and announcing the winner on next week's Bugle 217. The prize is going to be £300 in Her Majesty's Royal Baby Faced Cash

plus a signed print of your winning entry if you win and it will be signed by Elvis Presley and any other celebrity of your choice as long as it's me and John and I will pee pee for Elvis if you want that as well. So we'll be announcing the winner next week. No time for emails because well as we suggested the sound quality on this recording probably isn't great. There's been a lot of honking of car horns from the street outside. And if you've been to India, we'll know they love the honk. They have horns on all vehicles here, and they believe that God gave us horns so we could honk. And I think the maximum

that I've heard since I got here two and a bit weeks ago, John, without a honk, is 3.8 seconds. That is, as long as you can go without hearing something honk. It's a kind of beautiful jazz, almost a kind of Morse code of national pride. We'll be back next week with Bugle 217, the result of the competition to get your emails coming in to info at the BuglePodcast.com. Check out our SoundCloud page, SoundCloud.com

slash the hyphen Bugle. And we'll be back next week when I'll be back in Blighty, closer to the Holy Royal Baby Jump. I believe I may be cured of all currents and future diseases just by being within 20 miles of the royal fruit of seeds are truly historic times. So praise be to all the Lords in the known of us for blessing Britain with this holy child. Until next week, farewell. Bye!