“Gentlemen, please. We’re not handling an ordinary man here – not only did he blow up 250 civilians and 4 police officers, but the man still has the gall to act like he did the government a favour!”
“Did he squeal yet?”
“Which is our problem. We’ve tried everything. We tasered him yesterday, and well, he started laughing. He seems to be more wary of Salimbhai’s biriyani than he is of us”
“The man is key, officer. You do understand that. He holds privy to information that could bust the entire terrorist network not just in India, but internationally.”
“Yes sir, and hence we tried everything. Perhaps we need something different. Something that’s unconventional. Something that’ll have him co-operate. Something that’s….”
Murugappan. He was no ordinary Police Officer. He was a force below the Vindhyas. Now think of a man, who not only handled criminals like one handles mosquitoes, possessed a voice that could silence anyone within a 10 kilometre radius but also bore an uncanny resemblance to Vijaykant.
Are you scared?
So are we.
When the man talked, people would listen. Even when he burped, people would listen. And so National Security, when sent an order from this great man, could do little other than despatch their most wanted prisoner to an interior town in Tamil Nadu.
When the aforementioned accused met Murugappan, he was amused. But our man was not.
“Tell me who you work for, and I’ll make this easy for you.”
A sneer spread on the terrorist’s face.
“Really? You think you can just ask me a question and I’ll give you an answer?”
“I’ll ask you one more time. Tell me who you work for. “
“Is that really the best you can do?”
This time, Murugappan sneered. He switched on the device and turned up the knob. And Murugappan knew, he knew that nothing could have prepared the terrorist for what he was made to go through for the next 180 minutes.
The next day, the terrorist was found dead – he had committed suicide, not before writing down all his confessions, and exposing his entire ring.
National Security was in complete awe.
“How?” they chorused.
Murugappan only smiled.
“You see gentlemen – where there’s a Villu, there’s a way.”
PS: Please excuse the mokkai. It is the result of my renewing membership into the International Council of Shenoy-ers.
For more groans, please to click here, here and here.
Previous groans can be accessed here (at your own risk)
The grand daddy of all groans, Mr.Shenoy
PPS: I really didn’t mean for this to be first post of the New Year but oh well. Have a good year, all 🙂
Parampreet Singh, or Pappu as the rest of the world knew him, was like any other man. He craved for the same things everyone did – money, playboy bunnies and red Lamborginis. But the one thing Pappu craved for more than anything was to find his true love. In his quest to find the kudi of his dreams, Pappu traveled far and wide and his mission finally took him to Bangkok, Thailand.
Tucked in a tiny corner of the Big city of Bangkok was Madam Ko’s massage parlour. Pappu had initially gone there to compare Madam Ko’s back massage to Monty ‘Bailwan-ji’ Singh’s back home. But instead he saw the girl of his dreams.
Yes, Lauw feelings ho gaya.
She was no more than 5.2” with jet black hair and jasmine white skin. The Golden Temple in Pappu’s head had immediately lit up. “Masseuse-ji masseuse-ji, I am in love-ji. With you-ji! Please-ji, come back with me to Punjab-ji.”
How could masseuse-ji not accept such a romantic proposal? Pappu whisked her away to Punjab where the marriage took place amidst much pomp and show. Pappu’s relatives however, where a little disappointed over his firangi-ji bride.
“Arre! What is this Bunty-ji! Marrying off your son-ji to a firangi-ji!” exclaimed one particular aunt to his father.
“Haan-ji, that too to a massage lady-ji!” added another.
Bunty-ji simply looked at her, and then the sky. “Kya karoon, Mona-ji. Rub ne bana de jodi”
The fuel crisis today, has pushed many people out of business, but the Gulf continues to prosper. It seems that the Arabs have found an alternative means of finance out of rearing cows. And pretty soon, the Middle East is going to be full of these self proclaimed Milk-Sheikhs.
Speaking of the middle east, the people of the land are completely vexed over the many security issues plaguing them. The locals strongly attribute their trauma to the Bush administration, and more so its inefficient Secretary of State who, they believe, didn’t Rice to the occasion.
Entertainment news now, and apparently a popular Victoria’s Secret Model has admitted herself into the Intensive Care Unit of a prestigious hospital in Mumbai right out of her continuous 20 hour Intercontinental flight. The hospital’s experts have concluded her illness to jetty lag.
In related news, a Calvin Klein underwear model stormed into the premises of the Worldspace radio network today, stating that he wanted to be a Jockey.
On other news, the neighborhood psycho couple have filed for divorce over an unhappy sex life. Sources confirm that their relationship could only have been “absolutely mental”
Source : CNN – Chutney News Network
So everyone’s making noise over the whole Big Bang theory, which is something I can’t quite understand. I thought Bill Clinton proved it years ago. Anyway, I thought I’d do a scientific appraisal of the whole issue and finally conclude to nothing in particular, as it is with all scientific appraisals but unfortunately I don’t believe I’m qualified enough. After all, at one point of time, I was convinced that that croutons were a type of sub-atomic particle.
Although its a little known fact, it so happened that a bunch of Gujjus were living downstairs to Shakespeare’s home. Whenever Shakespeare practised late into the night and disturbed their sleep, they were obviously not happy. Kokilaben in particular, got extremely annoyed at Ol’ Bill. So she went up to his house and told him straight in the face “Ahem.You is the doing too much naaise. Shutting up please”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the Gujjus Ahemmed-the-Bard.
This is original. really.
Please dont hit me.