Interview with Michael Jackson (via Uri Geller)
In his first interview since dying, the King of Pop Michael Jackson sits down for a chin-wag with Coddle Pot, via the psychic ducting of Uri Geller’s frontal lobe. I shit you not. Enjoy!
Michael Jackson
Me: Welcome to Coddle Towers Uri. Sorry for keeping you waiting.
Uri Geller: It’s not a problem. I bent this spoon while I was waiting.
Me: Where did you get it?
Uri Geller: It was here, on the table.
Me: So it’s mine?
Uri Geller: I don’t know. It was here on the table.
Me: Bend it back now.
Uri Geller: Ok, calm yourself. I was just trying to demonstrate…
Me: Bend it back, right now.
Uri Geller: There. It’s back.
Me: Ground rules Geller.
Uri Geller: Ok.
Me: You don’t touch the cutlery…
Uri Geller: Fine.
Me: You don’t look at the cutlery…
Uri Geller: I understand.
Me: If I give you tea, you stir it with your hand. Capiche?
Uri Geller: I apologise.
Me: What kind of cretin waltzes into another man’s home and attacks the cutlery?
Uri Geller: I said I was sorry.
Me: Channel Michael Jackson or get the hell out.
Uri Geller: I’m channelling, I’m channelling. Mmmm. Mmmm. Mmmm.
Me: Uri?
Uri Geller: Mmmm. Mmmm. Mmmm.
Me: Is that still you Uri?
Michael Jackson: Uri’s not here right now.
Uri Geller
Me: To whom am I speaking?
Michael Jackson: Michael.
Me: J Fox?
Michael Jackson: Jackson.
Me: Prove it.
Michael Jackson: HEE-HEE.
Me: Ok, your story checks out.
Me: We’ll begin then. Thanks for sitting down with Coddle Pot Michael. We know you’re a busy man.
Michael Jackson: Not really. I’m brown bread.
Me: Not keeping yourself busy down there?
Michael Jackson: Down there?
Me: Up there. I meant ‘up there’.
Michael Jackson: There’s not a whole lot to do. I’m hoping Bubbles dies soon.
Me: Oh, chimps go to heaven?
Michael Jackson: No. I just hope Bubbles dies soon.
Me: Eh…ok. So, your demise. Suicide? Murder? Natural causes?
Michael Jackson: Do I look like a CSI cop?
Me: You look like Uri Geller. And you smell like wet dog.
Michael Jackson: Listen man, I don’t know what happened. One minute I’m moonwalking into the bathroom to take a shit, and the next I’m at the pearly gates, trying to skip the queue, giving St Peter the old ‘do you know who I am?’
Me: So you can’t shed any light on your passing?
Michael Jackson: Until they find a cure for death, I don’t even want to think about that day.
Me: Grand so, we’ll move on. Elvis’ daughter. Did you stick it in her?
Michael Jackson: My penis?
Me: Yes.
Michael Jackson: Good heavens no.
Me: Debbie Rowe?
Michael Jackson: No.
Me: MacCaulay Culkin?
Michael Jackson: Ah, MacCaulay Culkin. Star of Home Alone.
Me: That wasn’t really an answer. You just seemed to…
Michael Jackson: Yessiree, MacCaulay Culkin. Star of Home Alone.
Me: Rightio. Plastic surgery.
Michael Jackson: Never had any.
Me: You’re dead. Why not tell the truth?
Michael Jackson: Fine. I had 864 operations.
Me: 864?
Michael Jackson: 865 if you count the gills.
Me: Gills?
Michael Jackson: Yeah. Bit of an overreaction to seeing Kevin Costner’s Water World.
Me: Did they work?
Michael Jackson: Yes, but only when they were connected to a two-stroke engine.
Me: That doesn’t sound very practical.
Michael Jackson: They’re freaking gills man. What do you want from me?
Me: Quick fire round. List your siblings in order of preference.
Michael Jackson: La Toya, Janet, Tito, Marlon, Jackie, Jermaine.
Me: Now list your parents in order of preference.
Michael Jackson: Mom, Dad.
Me: Now list Hitler and your Dad in order of preference.
Michael Jackson: Hitler, Dad.
Me: Interesting. Tell us a funny showbiz story.
Michael Jackson: One time myself and Tito beat the shit out of a gardener at Neverland, for no reason. We had to buy his silence afterwards.
Me: Jesus. How is that funny?
Michael Jackson: Well, I was dressed as a clown.
Me: What was Tito dressed as?
Michael Jackson: Some manner of otter.
Me: I see.
Michael Jackson: Do you?
Me: Don’t I?
Michael Jackson: Touché. But do you?
Me: Eh…Uri, I’m getting a bit freaked out now. Can we wrap this up?
Michael Jackson: There is no more Uri. There is only Michael.
Me: Uri?
Michael Jackson: Tell me, have you ever seen an Israeli mentalist channelling a dead white African American man naked?
Me: Wait…what? SNAP OUT OF IT URI. HERE, TAKE THIS SPOON.
Michael Jackson: Sp…oon?
Uri Geller: Sp…oon?
Me: That’s right, spoon. Good to have you back Uri.
Uri Geller: Can I keep the spoon?
Me: You can borrow it.
Uri Geller: What did Michael say? Did he mention me?
Me: Yes. He said spoon-bending is for dorks.
Uri Geller: It’s at time like these, I’m glad he is dead.
Me: What? That’s an astonishing thing to say. I thought you were his friend?
Uri Geller: Spoons are my only friend.
Me: Eh…
Uri Geller: You know what you remind me of?
Me: A spoon?
Uri Geller: Yes, exactly. You share many qualities with cutlery.
Me: Eh…I’m going to leave now because I’m a bit frightened. You stay as long as you want.
I must say, I find Wacko far more entertaining dead than alive.
AOL keeps running headlines that say “GET ALL THE LATEST NEWS ON MICHAEL JACKSON, INSTANTLY!” And I’m thinking “What fucking ‘Latest News’ can there be? The bugger’s deceased. You’re a pack of mendacious cunts, and I’m not clicking on your link, I wasn’t even interested in news about him when he was alive! Why don’t you put up the latest news on Princess Di, she was lovely, wasn’t she?”
But you, sir, you truly have the latest news on Michael Jackson. I commend you.
I cant believe you let uri geller into your house Flann. Dont you know that hes infected with..ah….whats the name of that disease….Wankitis?
You’ll have to call the HSE immediately, or Ireland AM at the very least. Mark Cagney will know what to do.
We put our faith in Mark Cagney.
Hola Flann!
Do not listen to MRB. Poor Uri is infect with a talent that makes it impossible for him to wank. Every time he rub his cock quickly, it bends.
Michael Jackson is not dead: He is just revisiting his “Thriller” period.
Besos
Manuel
Jaysus, I would have asked him what his problem with Jermaine was. His least favourite sibling? But Jermaine seems like such a nice person. Plus he was on Big Brother that time.
Michael was never on Big Brother. Perhaps he’s jealous.
I know what his problem with Jermaine was. Jermaine called his son Jermajesty which even my Jacko standards is just way to fucking far
Fat Sparrow, I believe Jackson and Tupac are collaborating on a new album as we speak. Genghis khan has agreed to write the album’s sleeve note.
I agree with you on Princess Di though, she has been quiet of late. GET BACK TO WORK DI. WE DON’T PAY YOU TO LIE AROUND.
Hey MRB, I admit, it was a risk letting Geller into Coddle Towers. It was only when he left that I discovered he’d killed, cooked and eaten our budgie.
I immediately rang his phone to confront him, and he told me Sir Chirps Alot is in a better place now. I then heard him belch. Disgraceful etiquette.
Manuel, Uri chronicles his struggle with erectile dysfunction very well in his autobiography, ‘Taming the Spoon’. He details how he has to maintain an innner-mantra of DON’T THINK OF A SPOON, DON’T THINK OF A SPOON, DON’T THINK OF A SPOON… during all sexual encounters.
Sweary, do not be fooled by Jermaine’s suave, gelled exterior. Within, beats the cold, callous heart of a jay-walker, or a litterer even.
White Rabbit, what’s wrong with Jermajesty? My own son is called His Royal Flannness. And my daughter is called Flannella. And they’ve had relatively few psychological problems that could be conclusively linked to the bullying caused by their oddball names.
Flann,
You remind me of the Liverpool footballer Emlyn Hughes who called his son Emlyn (fair enough) and his daughter Emma-Lynn!
Hes dead now as well, God rest his soul, but maybe he can punch Hitler in the face? Will you ask Uri to channel this request to him?
Cheers…..
I’ll go you one better VinnyK. I’ll ask Uri to channel Michael Jackson, to stitch Hitler a loaf and say “‘ave it…that’s from Emlyn Hughes…and to a lesser extent, the Jews.”
My lame claim to fame is that I was at a Halloween party, dressed as Axl Rose, and when I walked out of the kitchen, Joe Jackson was standing there. He looked at me, said, “Axl Rose, my man!” and gave me a fist bump. If I’d known then that he was worse than Hitler, I’d have definitely left him hanging.
I wouldn’t necessarily leave Joe Jackson hanging, but I certainly wouldn’t give him any “down low”, or anything on the rebound. It would be a straight high-five with no frills, covered in frost.
Michael died….. You shittin me brother? I thought I saw him in supermacs the other evening with Lorraine Keane. She was stuffing her face with garlic chips and a go large whopper thing, and a burger too. Mike was drinking water.
Are you covering Andrea’s wedding for VCM ? Or did she die too ?
Hey Sniffle, I’m in talks to cover Andrea’s wedding for VCM. Unfortunately, those talks are taking place exclusively between two of the voices within my head, one of which is of the opinion that Andrea should be kidnapped and held for ransom. It’s a very, very technical negotiation between myself and myself at this juncture.
Wow. Hardcore. Uri isn’t afraid to go where no woman has gone before. But the spoon? That’s just wrong.
Uri is gas in Louis Theroux’s search for Michael Jackson. He acts like his pimp. Couldn’t you have asked Geller to channel Hendrix or something?
Liv: Uri told me that himself and Jackson would often lie in bed and spoon. I can’t be certain what he meant by that.
C’est La Craic: Hendrix isn’t dead. Himself, Elvis and Sinatra have an incognito, three piece jazz combo just off the Vegas strip.
Michael Jackson used to be black, then he became white, now he’s kind of grey….
sorry, context is for pussy’s, couldn’t be helped