Repel of the Century: Muhammad Hosni Sayyid Mubarak

Here at Sandwich we pride ourselves on providing humanity with the inevitable: repels.  In fact, we wrote the book on repelling (not literally we're too busy drinking vodka, smoking opium and hating on others to do so).  Repelling is an ancient art form, a cultural legacy for some and it is what makes us great.  After all, to err is human, to repel is divine.  So it is fitting to devote our repel of the week to the recent EX-president of Egypt, Muhammad Hosni Sayyid Mubarak.

This guy (I'd just like to point out that Blogger has decided to go militant on italics and won't let me change it, I may start hyperventilating).  Anyway Mubarak put the EP in REPEL!  He repelled a whole nation, his OWN nation, his own people and not only that, but people are actually celebrating his epic repel, WORLDWIDE!


So here at Sandwich we salute you Sir, you have indeed set the bar now.  Repel of the Century and here's hoping more will follow...we're looking at you buddy....

Repel of the Week: Short 'n Sweet

Ext. University Grounds, Auckland - Day

GIRL nervously waits for the one lone BOY in her 'Existentialism: Why Bother?' class to come out.  His blond curls sparkle lovingly as the harsh Antarctic wind tussle it in delight.  She sighs.

GIRL: What are you up to now?  I was gonna go get a coffee if you wanna come?

BOY: Fuck off.*

Fin.

* Technically what came out was "No thanks, I'm going to go meet my girlfriend" which is the universal code for "No I do not want you, be gone you hideous beast and stop soiling my soul with your wretchedness."

Repel of the Week: Repelling with Bunny Ears

Here at Sandwich, we are no strangers to cyberspace (our magnificent is blog is proof of this, no thanks to Chinga, of Minga and Ginga). And it won't come as any surprise to you that I, Christophe, have MASSIVELY repelled on Facebook.

It all happened a few years ago. At the time, I was still living in the Marais, surrounded by my cousins (yes, I'm a homo, and probably a Jew too). One of my homo hotties (let's call her Minerva-Dawn) came to visit.

When she arrived, I was on Facebook, and I didn't see any great need to log off. Desperate to find more Facebook friends, I suggested that Minerva-Dawn sign up. She did, then and there, and went through her list of emails contacts, deciding who she should invite to sign up or be Facebook friends with her. A hundred or so people.

A few days passed. Then, all of a sudden, Facebook told me that this girl (let's call her Calandre Deladrier) had accepted my friend request. However, as far as I knew, I hadn't sent Calandre a friend request. In fact, I didn't even know her, and let's face it: being a big homo, I wasn't exactly going to ask some girl that I didn't know to be friends.

The next few days brought more such acceptances. About five or so. These acceptances allowed me to join the dots: my new friends were all (Facebook and real-world) friends of Minerva-Dawn's. To this day, my theory is that, because I hadn't logged off, my account invited all the people that Minerva-Dawn had invited. This theory is all the more convincing since, when she told me that a few of her (Facebook and real-world) friends had written to her asking why her friend, the Weird Rabbit Man (of course, I was wearing bunny ears in my profile picture), had asked them to be friends.

So there you have it: I repelled a hundred or so people without even realising it.

And it gets better. There's this one guy - a very nice, cute guy - who accepted my request and who I actually got to meet in the real world. I repelled him too. But that's a repel for another week...

Repel of the Week: "Ne partez pas sans moi"

In this week's Repel of the Week, the names of the repeller, the (hot) repellee and the witness to the repel have obviously been changed, to protect their identities. Although Camilien was obviously me.

* * *

Ext. Montreal. A park home to a number of beavers. A sunny Sunday afternoon.

WALTERUS: Lydéric, this is my friend Camilien from France.

LYDERIC: Enchanté.

CAMILIEN: Enchanté.

LYDERIC (to CAMILIEN): So what brings you and your lovely blue eyes that look so much like my boyfriend's to Montreal?

CAMILIEN (coyly): Lots of things.

WALTERUS (to LYDERIC): Will you be coming out with us tonight?

LYDERIC: I will if Camilien's coming.

WALTERUS: Oh, he'll be there. The only thing that he's got planned for tomorrow is a trip to Charlemagne.

LYDERIC: Why?

WALTERUS: Because that's Céline Dion's hometown.

LYDERIC: But Camilien, you seemed cool.

CAMILIEN: But I am!

LYDERIC: I said seemED.

Exit LYDERIC.

Repel of the Week: Pilot Fail

INT.  MINGA'S HOUSE, AUCKLAND CITY - DAY

Minga's Uncle who's a PILOT feels sorry for her.

Uncle:  I have a PILOT friend who asked me if I know anyone, any lovely single girls he could possibly date.  He's a great guy, a bit shy but very decent.

Minga:  Is he a cousin?

Uncle: No.

Minga:  Geriatric?

Uncle:  No.

Minga: Here's my number.

Two weeks go by.  Minga gets a call from Uncle, the PILOT.

Uncle:  So did you two meet up?

Minga:  He never called.

Uncle:  What?

Minga:  Yeah, he never called.

Awkward silence.

 Uncle:  Ah he was too shy anyway and who the hell wants to start a relationship with someone who's shy?  I say you're better off...

So in conclusion, Minga managed to repel a PILOT, who hadn't even met her, let alone even seen a picture of her.

I hate pilots.   They no longer deserve the caps lock.  Bastards.

Repel of the Week: Self Repel

Ext. Auckland City - Day

Minga, a dashingly gorgeous woman, of a particular minority diaspora, with an unfortunate limp, walks to the bus stop.

She looks down to her Ipod to blast more ADAM LAMBERT (you heard right, judge me not, eyeliner ridden Jewish homos get me hot) and lo and behold she sees a massive block of chocolate stuck to her shirt.

It's like fudge trampled in by some hefer. It sticks to her t-shirt. She ponders, thinking that she got this shirt out of her drawer. How did chocolate get in there? Are there sugar high fairies that come at night and take cruel vengeance upon mortals for their own sadistic delight? Is Minga suffering from some sort of unknown amnesia in that she spent the whole of last night stuffing her face with chocolate and stuck a little to her shirt to save for breakfast?  Did that bitch Gladys get high on crack again and raid her drawers for kicks?

Minga is rather startled and like a true hobo grabs a water bottle and in the middle of the street begins pouring it over the culprit. Then she goes to Uni with a wet-shirt but even then can't get any action. Sitting alone once again, with her backpack and solitary thoughts, she thinks:

SO NOW I AM REPELLING MY OWN CLOTHES. 

 [regarding above pic of Lambert and boyfriend...I have no words...but if Burt Reynolds and Ryan Phillippe had a love-child...]

Repel of the Week: 80's Dating

As we're all currently extremely busy campaigning for legislation that will bring back forceful sterilising on people who are legally deemed too dumb to breed, we do not have a fantastic repel of the week for our dedicated readers.  Instead please enjoy this gem from the 1980's which truly speaks for itself:

Repel of the Week: The Englishman who Couldn't

INT. PARIS. THE MARAIS. PRETENTIOUSLY MODEST HANGOUT FOR THE PSEUDO-BOHEMIAN RIGHT-MINDED UNEMPLOYED (Llamame!).

A Frenchman and an Englishman catch each other's eye. Frenchman moves toward Englishman. They introduce themselves to each other and talk (out of earshot). Frenchman buys Englishman several drinks. Englishman recoils at each vile whiff of virility emanating from Frenchman but, enfeebled by the watery beer, submits to a snog.

An hour later, Englishman and a Woman catch each other's eye. Englishman moves toward Woman. They introduce themselves to each other and talk (out of ear shot). Englishman buys Woman several drinks. Woman doesn't recoil at him (although she should) or the vinegar-y wine and submits to a snog.

Twenty-four hours later, Englishman and Frenchwoman catch each other's eye.

ENGLISHMAN: Hello there! This is my friend, *****.

The Englishman motions to *****.

WOMAN: Nice to meet you.

ENGLISHMAN: I gave [*****] your number.

WOMAN: Why?

ENGLISHMAN: Because he likes women like you.

WOMAN: What do you mean, "like me"?

ENGLISHMAN: Oh, you know.

WOMAN: No. Enlighten me.

ENGLISHMAN: Like you.

Englishman outlines the curves of a voluptuous woman with his fingers.

A Homo enters. Woman is relieved. Englishman babbles on about something or other.

ENGLISHMAN: Yeah, I'm not that much of a family man. I only see my father when I need money....

More babbling.

ENGLISHMAN: Yeah, children are my life....

More babbling.

ENGLISHMAN: Yeah, I earn several thousand euros a month....

More babbling.

ENGLISHMAN: Yeah, I'm bad in bed.

HOMO: You shouldn't say that. How do you know anyway?

ENGLISHMAN: I can't get it up....

More babbling.

ENGLISHMAN: Yeah, a while ago, I used to pick up all the time, but recently, I've only had sex with prostitutes....

More babbling.

ENGLISHMAN: Yeah, I'm an asshole....

WOMAN: In my experience, men who say that usually are.

More babbling. Englishman leaves. Woman and Homo talk between themselves.

WOMAN: [Englishman] is a creep, but [Frenchman] is so camp that it turns me on.

Repel of the Week: Vengeance Edition

If you're an avid fan of Sandwich (which I know for a fact one of you is, mainly because you are contracted to be due to genetics, GLADYS, I'm looking at you), you will know we have an unusual perseverance in the art of repelling and continually aim to bring you the latest act of repellance that one of us has undertaken.

Following this, a good friend of Minga's found this wonderous bit of contemporary art in Barcelona and consequently thought of her. 

So, like above, in the many times we face rejection and repel others, we should vow to take vengeance upon them by writing them a really good hate letter.  Observe: If you, like this heroic artist, have been rejected from some degenerate fascist hater, take heed and write to them. 

"Dear BBC, I hate you.  Love Minga". 

You could even get more creative, "Dear British Broadcasting Cunts, I hate you and wish your loins to be infected by a thousand burning STD's for all eternity.  Love Minga."

Or even possibly to a repelled lover?

"Dear Ex-Lover, I hate you.  So does your new girlfriend/boyfriend, because s/he told me last night after we shagged in your bed.  Now you both have crabs.  Love _____"

Repel of the Week

Speaks for himself really...



(from the TV show 'Lost in Austen'....highly recommended by Minga 'Team Wickham 4 Life').

But of course we can't leave it there.  For here at Sandwich, we are in the repelling business and we do what we do best.  So here's the REAL repel of the week.

INT.  BAR, SMALL RANDOM TOWN - NIGHT

Ravishing intellectual GIRL sits in a chilled out funky bar post-pub crawl. Next to her sits GUY and GUY'S FRIEND.  They make general chit chat. 

Suddenly Guy puts arm around back of couch.

Then Guy puts hand on back of Girl.

All three converse as normal, about lusts, passions and the general decline of human civilisation.

Guy begins running hand through Girl's abnormally gorgeous hair.

Conversations continue this time around the fall of the Berlin wall, the demise of Western philosophies and the emergence of the third sex.

Guy starts stroking back of Girl's neck then slowly begins giving her a neck massage.

Girl begins to feel a little awkward but has decided that the guy seems okay (and cute and well let's be frank, she's rather desperate)  so relaxes and smiles.


The conversations are heavenly, the aesthetics pleasing enough and the air is rife with pleasure, so Girl begins to even like Guy.

Then Guy turns to the girl, his face beaming with a gigantic smile.

GUY: Can you imagine how it would feel....

[ wait for it....]

GUY:  If i was massaging your breasts?'

Girl abruptly leaves and decides to contemplate going to Family bar from now on instead.

Repel of the Week

INT.  Romantic cafe, Auckland City - Night

BOY, 20 something year old ravishing blonde with an amazing quiff and extremely tight jeans to rival that of Italians, sits with his friend of a couple of years, GIRL.  Girl is 20 something, brunette and with an air of desperation that drapes around her.
She looks longingly to Boy.

GIRL:  I'm...in love with you.
BOY:  I'm...gay.
GIRL:  Really?
BOY:  Really.
GIRL:  Can't you be bi or something?
BOY:  Uh, no.
[Cue Awkward Moment]

TRUE STORY!!!*

*Note:  Not ours.