Special Guest Blogger: Buddy Holly

Oh boy, i'm as excited as an excited man with a particularly exciting reason to be excited to be asked to write a few words here, lil' ole' me, the nerdy looking geek from Lubbock, Texas who gave Elvis Costello his look and was immortalised by the Song American Pie although why the good ole boys were drinking Whisky and Rye at the Levee in my memory i never understood, i was always more of a Sarsaparilla or a Grape Knee-High kinda fella.
Being the most famous of the three of us that died in the plane that day, i am the one usually most remembered for dying and we will never know just how my career would have panned out otherwise but if only i had brought an extra pair of underpants with me on that tour as we only hired the plane because of my constant bleating about having the wear the same pants and wanting to
find a laundrette.
That the Big Bopper and Richie Valens had to die because i wanted fresh undercrackers is a bit unfair but hey, didn't do me any harm, well, apart from the dying which could have put a serious kink in my career but even worse i didn't follow my mum's advice of making sure i had clean underwear on in case i had an accident.
Something i really need to tackle is the nonsense of a curse surrounding me for ignoring a warning given to my sound engineer by a gypsy which has been going on for years, just because of that plane crash.
Just because my replacement on the tour hanged himself and Eddie Cochran and Gene Vincent who had both earlier pulled out of the tour were involved in a car crash which killed Cochrane and left Vincent without the use of one of his legs doesn't prove anything and just because the new singer that The Crickets brought in died in a plane crash, that could have happened to anyone.
That the sound engineer that received the warning committed suicide and the guy who played me in the 1977 film was involved in a near fatal motorcycle accident which left him with brain injuries and the films writer committed suicide shortly before the film's release is weak proof at best.
Del Shannon, after playing a concert at the Surf Ballroom Clear Lake, Iowa which was the location of my last performance Shannon shot himself but i really can't see how any of this can be linked to lil' ole' me.

Special Guest Blogger: Napoleon Bonaparte

Bonjour, je suis Napoleon, you may have heard of me, ze short, overweight guy with ze little hands but massive battle plans.
I may have been a teeny tiny little man but i was ze man who tried to make France great again and i would have done too if it wasn't for those meddling British.
True, people often mistook me for a child as i rode down ze Arc de Triumph saying 'oh look at that little boy’ and pat me on ze head and give me a chocolate bar and i am not complaining about that but it was a real pain trying to get served in ze Paris bars, often i would be sat in ze corner with an orange juice while my Generals got drunk.
Finally discovering that if i wore a really big hat i would be identified, everyone loved me as i romped around Europe invading countries and soon i could not walk around Paris without getting free croissants, garlic and berets, everyone except my wife Joséphine who was having an affair with someone called Hippolyte Charlie while i was away invading Italy and arresting ze Pope.
Ah, Joséphine, i wrote her letters pouring my heart out and imploring her to end zis torrid affair and come back to me and if being usurped in ze love stakes by someone with a name like Hippolyte is not embarrassing enough, ze hateful British intercepted my mail and published zem in ze Daily Chronicle. Les Enfoirés!
Anyway, i decided to divorce Joséphine and ze only person who could divorce us was ze Pope who i had arrested and transported to a French prison so that was a bit of an own goal but i was ze Emperor so i got someone else to do it. Viva la moi!
I did put forward a referendum which asked if i should be made ze Emporer for life and much to my joy i won convincingly although critics will say that the part on the voting form which said that you are free to vote how you want but ze first man to vote against Napoleon being leader for life will be shot helped.
It was all going so well until those damned letter printing British took ze hump because i tried to invade zem and caught me and exiled me first to Elba and then to St Helena.
So my legacy was for me, a teeny tiny man, to make France great and i did for a while although i do regret never having the chance to pass a law which said anyone with the first name of Hippolyte should have a pineapple shoved up their derrière on ze first of each month.   
Bon soir and thank you to Lucy for ze phone books i am sitting on so i can reach ze keyboard.

Special Guest Blogger: Osama Bin Laden

The last time anyone saw me i was slipping off the side of an American battleship with several holes in my head but while i admit that was a personal low-point, i didn't do too bad, i was the World's most famous man at one point.
When i think about it, and not trying to steal any thunder from John Lennon, i was probably more famous than that other middle eastern man with a beard who inspired millions and was killed by those occupying his lands, only with more TV cameras.
Regarding the Holy Jihad against the infidel west, it did kind of lose it's edge slightly, i was all for the murder and mayhem at first but it isn't much fun being the World's most famous man and spending my time stuck in a small cave with only Al Zawahiri for company, especially after beans for tea, and that man ate a lot of beans.
Things got to a point that i was searching through the Koran to see if there is some Sharia law loophole that means i could force him to sit outside but despite there being a rule for pretty much everything else, there was not one for dealing with excessive flatulence.
Although it was widely thought that i hated all things Western, us Al Queada types did have a lot of time for some American actors, i especially liked Mel Gibson and i asked him personally to appear in my next video release entitled "Those Fecking Jews" but we failed to agree on a price. Shame really because i felt we had a real connection.
Despite being dead, i do try my best to keep up with what is going on in the Great and Little Satan and with my reputation i am of course attracted to the religious right in both nations although i don't think any of the current leaders could come close to what Bush and i shared, sending other people to a pointless death.
On the whole i had a few good years but i wish we had a few more make up artists coming over to our side, looking back on those video's i really could have done with a someone giving me a beard trim and dye.

Special Guest Blogger: Jesus

I don't think it is beyond doubt that if i was alive today, i would be a lefty and probably knocking out some cabinets on the side so it has always been with amusement that it is the right wingers who have picked up the religion mantle.
The right are the hunters and capitalists and the ones most likely to be found in dad's house singing hymns about all things being bright and beautiful at the weekend.
Obviously, the whole idea of being a good church goer is to ensure that when you die, you can get through the pearly gates but considering what the Bible says about these matters, i think they may be disappointed, the Bible even has a nifty analogy regarding camels and needles to drive home the point about money.
Without doubt i was a lefty but in a bitter irony, the people i most identify with are the ones who avoid church while the ones who are most opposite the things i stood for are the ones trying to suck up to my dad and i.
There have been many wars and religious movements in my name but i am just like any other guy, i put my sandals on one foot at a time and it's a bit rich to blame me or my dad for what happens in our name, if you get sick from spoilt milk, don't blame the cow!
I never really had a lot of face time with my real dad, and my step dad wasn't really big on the father-son chats so i never really got the chat about girls and things. 
Joseph could tell you all you wanted to know about a dove-tail joint but when it came to how to talk to girls he would suddenly have to go to town to buy a hammer and my real dad would just tell me go stand on a hill and tell people not to covert their neighbours ass and to not forget to mention the meek.  
I did once ask him if he thought that my birth in Bethlehem all those years ago changed the world for the better and made it more peaceful but he just gazed off into the middle distance, stroked his beard and told me the spice rack i made was wonky.
So thank to all people who live by my example today, thank you for your continued support, i know you have plenty of other religions to choose from so it is appreciated.

Special Guest Blogger: Queen Victoria

Being the Queen of Great Britain i had access to all the very best of British things, the finest tea from India sweetened by sugar imported from the Caribbean and the best clothing made from American slave picked cotton and despite eight assassination attempts on my life, i am regarded as my nations most well loved Royal.
With this in mind i was chatting to George Washington on Lucy's sofa and he was saying how he has his nations capital city named after him, his picture on the money, his face on the side of a mountain yadda yadda yadda and all i have for being Great Britain's most beloved monarch is a Train Station. People go to his namesake to see the seat of power, they go to mine to catch the 9.30 to Dover.
I came to the throne early at 18 years old after my father and all three of older brothers died but nobody questioned it because in the 19th Century there were lots of diseases, plagues and rat poison slipped in cups of tea of elder relatives back then although my relatives did prove to be a bit of a sore point.
Apart from my husband Albert also being my cousin, World War One was sparked off by my grandchildren George of Britain, Wilhelm of Germany and Nicholas of Russia so apart from the 17 million dead and the 70 million in the resulting 2nd World War, it also made Christmas family gatherings very awkward.
Something i must mention is the buttoned up, Victorian morals that i represented and imparted onto the nation during my reign.
My cousin/husband died when i was only 42, after 9 children and 11 short years of marriage, and it was said i then plunged into deep mourning but truth is i was horny as hell and i thought if i can't have it and i'm the bloody Queen then i don't want the filthy commoners to have it so i made it so nobody could indulge.
I am glad that my legacy is the best of British which is not bad for a girl with Saxon parents given a Latin name and who married a German.

Special Guest Blogger: Fred Trump

If there is one thing i get tired of hearing is that when it comes to Little Donny and me, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree which is terrible as my son and i couldn't be any further apart.
He lies but i was as honest as the day is long although my saying i was the son of a Swedish immigrant who turned out to be German was a sales manoeuvre, i was trying to buy some land from some Swedes so wanted them to feel i was one of them, dang, in my time i've pretended to be Japanese, Chinese and one time i was even a 17 year old peasant girl from Estonia which wasn't easy considering i had a moustache like a particularly hairy walrus.
Turning to the accusations of racism against my little Donny, he never got that from me because i was as anti-racist as the next guy, the pity was the guy i was stood next to was the Grand Wizard of the Klu Klux Klan at a meeting where i was busted for wearing Klan costume and dancing around a burning cross and inciting a riot.  
The part in the agreement with the estate agency renting out the shoddy apartments that read 'not to rent to blacks' and to 'decrease the number of black tenants by encouraging them to locate housing elsewhere' was just an unfortunate typo.
Finally, i was a businessman and like my rotund offspring, we sometimes had to bend the rules a little to get what we wanted and what i really wanted was to spirit away $3.5 of Government money, they called it illegal profiteering and stealing money from the state, i called it fraud and tax evasion, but you say tomato, i say tuck this away out of sight of the IRS Donny.    
So hopefully i have proved i'm not a racist or liar who partook in stealing money from others and i am as clean as the next man, just that the man happens to be my very own little, chubby Donny.

Special Guest Blogger: Winston Churchill

Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed to so many by so few, especially me because while men were being ordered to run at German machine guns, i was 50ft underground in a bomb proof bunker with enough alcohol to sink a battleship.
I did occasionally pop my head up to make a speech and say we will never surrender whatever the Germans threw at us before nipping back downstairs sharpish but there were some days when i was just to pissed to make it up the stairs safely so we would dress up a bulldog, put a hat on it, shove a cigar in it's mouth and send that up instead.
Considering that i wasn't sober anytime after 1940, i didn't do too bad    and i was made an Honorary American for my services during the war, considering they amounted to being the safest person in England while people dug themselves out of their own houses i decided to keep that bit quiet.
I was even voted 'Greatest Britain', and i did have a great reputation, mainly because as i said 'History will be kind to me as i intend to write it' and though i did call the many wars fought in the name of empire as: 'a lot of jolly little wars against barbarous peoples' who doesn't like a bit of war, i certainly did, especially against the Indians who pathetically screamed 'aaaaah I’m dying', rather than giving thanks for being starved to death on the orders of someone who would later save our nation, so it’s hard to have any sympathy.
By todays standards i suppose i could be a tad racist but i know many who wish they could have been black in 1920, just so they could have had the honour of being racially abused by the greatest Britain that ever lived so maybe the shameful youth with their lack of respect for our steadfast British spirit, instead of being drunk, obnoxious, smoking and being obese, they should be more like me.

Special Guest Blogger: Buddha

When i was asked to write a guest posting on Lucy's blog i considered taking the opportunity to pass on my wisdom on the core of Buddhism and the belief in the Four Noble Truths of Suffering, the Cause of Suffering, the End of Suffering and the Path that Leads to the End of Suffering but after giving it some serious contemplation under another Bodhi tree, i thought stuff it and decided to write about the two things that really grind my gears.
First up is my image of me being a fat, bald guy whereas in reality i was seriously buff. Honestly, i could be found wandering around 6BC India all bulging biceps and a pair of firm, toned buttocks that would crack walnuts.
Not sure how i ended up being pictured as a baby faced chubster unless they got me confused with someone else, Muhammad possibly, he was always first in line for a feast and getting the waistband of his jubbah's let out.  
The second thing is that i quite clearly said that i could live for an eon or until the end of the eon, if i was asked to do so and i said it many times but not one person asked me, for cripes sake guys, i wasn't being mysterious or being rhetorical, it was as plain as the trunk on Garnesh's face that i was crying out for somebody to just ask me.
Instead of dying in a billion years, i popped my clogs at 80 years old and my last words were reminding the people gathered around me that they only needed to ask but a waste of a last breath that was, so i missed out on everything after 6BC so cheers, seriously, appreciate it that nobody could be bothered to ask me, yeah, big thanks for that. 
So i am adding to my four truths and the fifth is i was a ripped hunk of a man and the sixth if somebody tells you that they can live for eons if you ask them to, for crying out loud just ask them!

Special Guest Blogger: Abraham Lincoln

Although i become known as Honest Abe, the truth is i would pilfer all the White House toilet rolls, i had cupboards full of stuff with Property of the White House stamped across it, it was half the reason that i wore a big hat, perfect place to stick rolls of bog rolls which i would sell on the black market.
The other reason i wore a really tall stovepipe hat, despite being almost six and a half feet tall, was because Ismbard Kingdom Brunel wore one and i wanted a hat that i could write 'Make America Proclaim Emancipation Again' on it.
The hat did make me stand out in the crowd though which probably made John Wilkes Booth's job a lot easier, not hard to miss a 6ft 4" man sat with a chimney on his head even in a dark theatre. 
Strangely, on that night of my shooting i told Mary i didn't really want to go and see a play, 'need that like a hole in the head' i said although my joke about being like an 80s sitcom and being shot before a live audience always makes Jesus laugh, JFK not so much. 
I was always a bit of a joker although something i am serious about is the effects of excessive drinking, something which killed my mother.
You see my mother had an addiction, she would drink milk by the bucketful and despite our plea's and the funny white moustache she almost permanently wore, she carried on with the demon milk until it killed her, milk sickness the docs called it, i could never look at a cow again afterwards.
I am ever grateful for the Bill & Ted film for giving me some catchphrases, 'Be excellent to each other' and 'Party on Dudes' which is much more catchier than 'four score and seven years ago' which nobody can ever work out.
I am held up as one of the greatest President the USA ever had which is why the current President is always saying 'What would Abe Lincoln do to make America Great if he was me'.   
I have lost count of the amount of times i had replied 'go to the theater in a really tall hat' but he hasn't yet.
Anyway, Party On Dudes!! Oh, and i have 300 rolls of White House toilet paper if anybody is interested.

Special Guest Blogger: Grigori Rasputin

Any fans of 70's DISCO will know that i was the lover of the Russian Queen but something which Boney M didn't really capture was that i was an early 20th Century babe magnet which considering i looked like a donkey which had been hit very hard in the face with a house brick, was no mean feat.
My story begins when i passing myself off as a mystic and faith healer to get chicks and the Russian Queen heard about my magical touch and hired me to heal her son who was ill, the boy was so ill he almost died following a bumpy coach ride, true story, the kid was permanently ill and was puking up all over the palace and chucking up all in the Kings slippers just after taking his medicine, so i tell the doctors to stop giving him his tablets, mumbled something in Latin and waved my arms around like a maniac, and he stopped upchucking.
Suddenly i was the best thing since potatoes (well it was Russia) and the Queen was so grateful that she allowed me to not only lay hands on her son, but lay them all over her as well, which i did, several times a week.
Sweet deal, the Tsar found out but couldn't stop me from ploughing his wife because if i was taken out his son would die but he got so angry after hearing me being called Russia's greatest love machine once to many times through the bedroom wall, he ordered me be killed.
The first attempt was a woman stabbed me in the stomach several times while i was preparing to give her a Russian Queen special but i managed to escape and then in an eventful evening a few nights later, while recuperating, i was invited to a friends house who poisoned my meal but i actually felt okay afterwards.
Taking the hint that i might not be as welcome as i first thought, i tried to make my excuses and leave but someone pulled out a gun and shot me.
As i stood there with a bandaged stomach, poison flowing through my body and now several gun shot wounds, i thought, actually, i don't feel too bad but i was determined to leave so i jumped out of the second story window.
As i lay on the ground winded and with several broken bones i thought, blimey, i feel okay but as i was getting up the 'friend' arrived and shot me again and after i started to think, holy crap, maybe i'm invincible after all, he hit me repeatedly over the head with his shoe until i unconscious, rolled me up in a carpet and lobbed me off a bridge. 
Of course karma came in to play and the Tsar and his family were all wiped out by revolting Russians a year later (Nicolas killed by a single bullet the pussy) but i got the last laugh because i'm remembered as the almost unkillable Terminator like Love Machine and what's not to like about that!!