Friday, April 23, 2004
i have no connection with eire whatsoever by the way, no great-aunts who lived next door to someone scottish or any of that shit. im no plastic paddy. although i would get a tit-job if i had the money.
but i am a believer in joining in, so ireland is going to have an eager new boy in the class next week, hands up for every answer and sharing out his lunchbox at breaktime to make friends quickly.
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but i am a believer in joining in, so ireland is going to have an eager new boy in the class next week, hands up for every answer and sharing out his lunchbox at breaktime to make friends quickly.
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Thank you to all the kind people who picked up on my subtle hints of boredom and frustration last week and linked to this site. Thank you to all who followed their advice and visited me. Thank you to all who have been entertained. Last week was started so slowly for me and now i'm full of delight with all the new friends i've made. But i'm moving country this week and doubt i'll have anything to say for a while. In truth ive been moving since december but this week i really am moving. there is no going back. I'll say this once and never again since it's unpleasant and unnecessarily offensive, but i'm moving to IRAland because it's nicer than my country which im proud to say on this st bulldogs day. this country's a bit of a joke and we took a wrong turn around about 1066. london can fuck off. the north can fuck off. the south east can fuck right off. i'll be resuming normal transmission in a few days, where we can all join together and laugh as i take back every last thing i've just said in an imperial fit of revisionist homesickness brought on by some random citizen of the irish republic (YES! A REPUBLIC! AT LAST!) gently taking the piss out of me for being what i am: some cunt from england of the highest and most ridiculous order.
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10 days since my last sexfuck up the lovecunt, getting hairy palms, calouses on my willy and stains on my belly.
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Thursday, April 22, 2004
I hope you'll all join me in a big slow handclap for Ron Atkinson, celebrity racist and lump-faced prick.
Clap
Clap
Clap
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Clap
Clap
Clap
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Wednesday, April 21, 2004
You know something? With all the biology I studied in school, all the observations and investigations I made in my leisure time and all the explanations I've received from friends and strangers, it still puzzles me as much as ever:
How in FUCK'S NAME can fish breathe underwater?
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How in FUCK'S NAME can fish breathe underwater?
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Tuesday, April 20, 2004
So it's come to this. I'm going to rewrite that karma sutra cookbook after all. It's here and honestly, all the recipes have been tested. You can tell how long ago I wrote it - it was before knocking Jamie Oliver was fashionable, and that's a LONG time ago now.
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Now I re-read it I see that Late and Never have attained equal valu. oh well. you'd be better of trying my Raw Chicken Fondue
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found crusting at the bottom of my hard drive, 4 and a half years old now:
FAUX ITALIANO pasta di porcini di smoka di piscina di salmona di
v.simple, and probably utterly derivative - i don’t know because i’m cuisnically illiterate and very drunk as i write this. It’s very simple - chop a white onion very finely, and fry it slowly with a chopped clove of garlic in butter and a drop of olive olio. Then chuck in a glass of lovely white wine, ideally a semillon chardonnay which just cost me £3.50 from my local sainsburys, and bring to the boil for a little while. then reduce slowly and add a big pile of cheap chopped mushrooms and saute the bastards. Then crumble some of that orange stilton shit ointo it and mix it around a lot. Thgen cover in good pepper, and finally add a whole pot of creme fraiche. Leave it on heat 1, and do the bloody pasta. If you’re like me and only want to mix the best with the worst, then use fresh pasta, idealy tagliatelle. Then when all is cooked and done with, chop up a fat slice of smoked salmon and add it to the sauce for a inute or two, sitrring on a low heat. Then add to the by now plated pasta and win the battle to cook yourself a fucking great meal. Drink the rest of the bottle of wine while you’re eating, and then finish with a cigarette. The final touch is, of course, to write the recipe down in a similar format to me in the sure knowledge that it will never be published, for a multitude of reasons, but mainly becuase you’re never going to send it off to any bloody publishers for consideration because you’re not some arrogant mockney cunt that slaved himself silly at the river cafe for a few months.
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FAUX ITALIANO pasta di porcini di smoka di piscina di salmona di
v.simple, and probably utterly derivative - i don’t know because i’m cuisnically illiterate and very drunk as i write this. It’s very simple - chop a white onion very finely, and fry it slowly with a chopped clove of garlic in butter and a drop of olive olio. Then chuck in a glass of lovely white wine, ideally a semillon chardonnay which just cost me £3.50 from my local sainsburys, and bring to the boil for a little while. then reduce slowly and add a big pile of cheap chopped mushrooms and saute the bastards. Then crumble some of that orange stilton shit ointo it and mix it around a lot. Thgen cover in good pepper, and finally add a whole pot of creme fraiche. Leave it on heat 1, and do the bloody pasta. If you’re like me and only want to mix the best with the worst, then use fresh pasta, idealy tagliatelle. Then when all is cooked and done with, chop up a fat slice of smoked salmon and add it to the sauce for a inute or two, sitrring on a low heat. Then add to the by now plated pasta and win the battle to cook yourself a fucking great meal. Drink the rest of the bottle of wine while you’re eating, and then finish with a cigarette. The final touch is, of course, to write the recipe down in a similar format to me in the sure knowledge that it will never be published, for a multitude of reasons, but mainly becuase you’re never going to send it off to any bloody publishers for consideration because you’re not some arrogant mockney cunt that slaved himself silly at the river cafe for a few months.
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How long do you think you'd survive being locked in a bathroom? Let's say it's got a wide range of creams, pastes, 'poos, oils and unguents. It's obviously got a good supply of water and some household plants. I'll allow ants, moths and spiders too. You'll have your toenails, bogies, scabs at your disposal too. You got some crumbs in your pockets and a big bag of rhubarb and custards (the sweets, not the 90's rave pill) with a sell by date three months hence. Any and all answers considered. Not that i'm researching for a book idea or something.
But if I was, what would that book be called?
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But if I was, what would that book be called?
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Sunday, April 18, 2004
Somebody, somewhere knows the answer to the question of my boredom. But she's too busy supping vine and courgettes with her cochonnette d'inde (that'd make a fine photo) in a land far away. I, on the other hand, have just eaten a pot of basmati smeared in butter and piment. It don't half sting.
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"I want to live among the clouds" - that was the most sinister thing the marriage module ever said in her sleep.
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I want to do a poo that's as long as a snake and writhes, coils and rasps as it hits the water. I'll take great pleasure in flushing it away and then I want to be poo-free for at least a fortnight. My heart demands it. My stomach demands it. My toilet demands it.
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And then I'd like to walk down a busy street with a dog humping each of my legs, hanging on and rutting for dear life. I shall strut along the pavement and visit every shop with fragile goods balanced precariously throughout the floorspace. Then i'll perform the famous waggledance of the double dog-tails, shrugging my shoulders like I give a shit every time something falls to the floor.
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I want to smear myself in vaseline and get a giant girl's hand to wank my entire body until my head explodes. It's that kind of a Sunday.
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My plan for the weekend was this:
Find out about tax implications about living in a different country to your employer
Work out how to get my salary without losing on exchange rates
Find the best available broadband service and order it for our new home
Research cable / digital for new home
Send father list of cheap-flight websites and explain how to use them
Empty garage of my life and disperse to charity, friends, dump, recycling etc.
Open bills and work out how to pay them
Tidy my bedroom
Poo
Wash
Brush teeth
Put in contact lenses
Inform friends this may be my last weekend in the country and go say goodbye to some of them
Catch up on a week's missed work
Write something pithy, droll, urbane and vaguely condescending about Dublin - something that'll catch a newspaper editor's eye perhaps
And so far I've managed to drink grappa and schnapps, eat toasted cheese, squeeze out the pus from my blogspot, squeeze out the pus from my real spot, squeeze out the pus from 'down there', sing at the top of my voice for hours on end and break the only house rule we have - smoking a fag inside- in the lounge and not even bothering to cover up for it.
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Find out about tax implications about living in a different country to your employer
Work out how to get my salary without losing on exchange rates
Find the best available broadband service and order it for our new home
Research cable / digital for new home
Send father list of cheap-flight websites and explain how to use them
Empty garage of my life and disperse to charity, friends, dump, recycling etc.
Open bills and work out how to pay them
Tidy my bedroom
Poo
Wash
Brush teeth
Put in contact lenses
Inform friends this may be my last weekend in the country and go say goodbye to some of them
Catch up on a week's missed work
Write something pithy, droll, urbane and vaguely condescending about Dublin - something that'll catch a newspaper editor's eye perhaps
And so far I've managed to drink grappa and schnapps, eat toasted cheese, squeeze out the pus from my blogspot, squeeze out the pus from my real spot, squeeze out the pus from 'down there', sing at the top of my voice for hours on end and break the only house rule we have - smoking a fag inside- in the lounge and not even bothering to cover up for it.
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I wish I did like sticking things up my bum. I doubt i'd ever get bored. Jaded maybe, but never bored. Tried it a few times long ago when I preferred avant-garde sex and i found it overrated, quite frankly. Even with my lovely assistants. If an okra doesn't thrill, i can't imagine what a man's bendoscope must feel like. I don't think I ever fully surrendered to it, which felt erotically necessary for that kind of thing. Letting your guard down is one thing, turning your exit into an entrance is quite another. More power to those who can't get enough of it, but the spasming gap between feary and prolapse has once again conkered me. I prefer to experiment watching other people do it.
I think i'll use that from now on when (because not a day goes by without....) someone asks me if i like a particular sexual practice.
"Do you like punchfucking, mate?"
"I like it when other people do it, yes"
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I think i'll use that from now on when (because not a day goes by without....) someone asks me if i like a particular sexual practice.
"Do you like punchfucking, mate?"
"I like it when other people do it, yes"
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Bawd beyond relief. To paratroop that famous song,
its just another manic sunday,
my-don't-have-no-fun-day,
a stick-things-up-my-bum-day,
i wish it were monday,
cos that's when i go to work.
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its just another manic sunday,
my-don't-have-no-fun-day,
a stick-things-up-my-bum-day,
i wish it were monday,
cos that's when i go to work.
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I've got Nougat Wrist. Comes from playing with my hot sticky nuts. Mind you, who doesn't come from that?
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Saturday, April 17, 2004
Thanks to a little bit of pressure from a few readers i've decided to try the comments thing. I'm not happy about it but I like positive feedback almost as little as I like negative feedback, which i hope gives you some idea of why i dont like it. nobody reads this shit and i'm trying to change that, so by some mystical process that i dont understand, im sure putting a comments form on the page will generate readers. and what's trackback?
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More no-no's from the smug-pile:
Almost one in two believe William Wallace, the 13th-century Scottish resistance leader played by Mel Gibson in his film Braveheart, was invented for the silver screen.
I think most Wallace scholars would agree with them, actually
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Almost one in two believe William Wallace, the 13th-century Scottish resistance leader played by Mel Gibson in his film Braveheart, was invented for the silver screen.
I think most Wallace scholars would agree with them, actually
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If the Palestinians had their own State tomorrow, give them fifty years and they'll be treating some minority residents like shit. It's the hand-me-down oppression that's forgotten about when people think that simply coming to a political settlement will be enough for everyone to be friends again. May as well blame the Nazis.
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Have you noticed the only people who level the accusation that such-and-such a person is a media-manipulator and therefore (!) cannot complain when things do not go right for them in the media are newspaper editors on the defensive. Last time I checked, they are THE media-manipulators.
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And another. In case you hadn't guessed, these are very much MY italics:
Les Dennis has revealed that he has come through a testicular cancer scare.
Poor Les, so jaded now his wife’s left him, nothing less than life-threatening ball cancer’s worth having a wank about.
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Les Dennis has revealed that he has come through a testicular cancer scare.
Poor Les, so jaded now his wife’s left him, nothing less than life-threatening ball cancer’s worth having a wank about.
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Another from the middle of the reject pile:
A new study has found that the more time preschoolers spend in front of the tube, the greater their risk of having attention problems by school age. In fact, U.S. researchers found that for each hour of television watched daily, youngsters boost their chances -- by about 10 per cent -- of developing attention, or concentration, problems by the age of seven.
That’s rubbish. My parents let me watch TV all day and it never did me any harm. And now over to Clive for the weather
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A new study has found that the more time preschoolers spend in front of the tube, the greater their risk of having attention problems by school age. In fact, U.S. researchers found that for each hour of television watched daily, youngsters boost their chances -- by about 10 per cent -- of developing attention, or concentration, problems by the age of seven.
That’s rubbish. My parents let me watch TV all day and it never did me any harm. And now over to Clive for the weather
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3 times to a gym last week for the first time ever. Most embarrassing moment has not been my lumpen uselessness at all the instruments but that old childhood fear of the showers. I just can't bring myself to go in there and have everyone staring at me. You see, I was born cursed, cursed with a remarkably big willy. Oh yes.
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When was the last time you found yourself saying "Pain. Some pain in my life. Excellent. At last. Now I can be creative again"?
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And now I think about it, I can't even console myself by identifying with the ugly duckling:
I'm the Ugly Swan
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I'm the Ugly Swan
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Which makes me the realise the only other eternal truth of my life:
I’m a love egg trapped in a lesbian’s body
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I’m a love egg trapped in a lesbian’s body
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Which makes me realise the one eternal truth of my life:
I’m a chicken, trapped in an egg, trapped in another chicken
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I’m a chicken, trapped in an egg, trapped in another chicken
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A place IS its people, they say. In which case, Dublin is maybe the friendliest city in the world. Here's my rewritten memory of 9am Tuesday in a Regus cybercafe:
Good morning
Good morning
Have you seen the swans this morning?
Erm.....no.
We have the swans in the river back there, just round the back of the building, and you know, I havent seem them since thursday. They’re really lovely you see, nice things to have around here and every lunchtime I like to take a little walk just up to the coast and see them on the river there. Well know, there’s a school just opposite the mouth and those kiddies, you know, boisterous, 14, 15, 16 they’re of an age, they’re of an age where, well, you know we have to keep an eye out for the swans, you know?
Perhaps you should recommend a day where all the boys have to spend a day in the river and the swans can throw things at them
Aah, that’s a good idea there.
A FEW HOURS LATER. SAME BLOKE.
You love that computer there don’t you?
Well, it’s my job. I can’t do much else right now.
Talking about those swans, did you see the telly the other night? What with being Easter, they decided to devote a whole day to chickens, you see. So they had all these programmes on chickens and eggs and the significance to Easter and all, and they got all these big experts in, the chicken experts like biologists and philosophers and everybody to try and find out once and for all which came first, if it was the chicken or the egg.
Really? That sounds great. Did they come to a conclusion? I’d love to know.
They didn’t get everybody to agree but I tend to go with the biologists on this one and say it was the egg that came first.
Really?
Yes, the egg would have come from something not quite chicken but contained something a little bit more chicken, you see. Of course the philosophers and all the others weren’t happy with that but that’s what I think.
That's fascinating.
Bye now
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Good morning
Good morning
Have you seen the swans this morning?
Erm.....no.
We have the swans in the river back there, just round the back of the building, and you know, I havent seem them since thursday. They’re really lovely you see, nice things to have around here and every lunchtime I like to take a little walk just up to the coast and see them on the river there. Well know, there’s a school just opposite the mouth and those kiddies, you know, boisterous, 14, 15, 16 they’re of an age, they’re of an age where, well, you know we have to keep an eye out for the swans, you know?
Perhaps you should recommend a day where all the boys have to spend a day in the river and the swans can throw things at them
Aah, that’s a good idea there.
A FEW HOURS LATER. SAME BLOKE.
You love that computer there don’t you?
Well, it’s my job. I can’t do much else right now.
Talking about those swans, did you see the telly the other night? What with being Easter, they decided to devote a whole day to chickens, you see. So they had all these programmes on chickens and eggs and the significance to Easter and all, and they got all these big experts in, the chicken experts like biologists and philosophers and everybody to try and find out once and for all which came first, if it was the chicken or the egg.
Really? That sounds great. Did they come to a conclusion? I’d love to know.
They didn’t get everybody to agree but I tend to go with the biologists on this one and say it was the egg that came first.
Really?
Yes, the egg would have come from something not quite chicken but contained something a little bit more chicken, you see. Of course the philosophers and all the others weren’t happy with that but that’s what I think.
That's fascinating.
Bye now
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Come to think of it, I don't think any Jew in the world has the right to preach anti-immigration.
Yes, i'm talking to YOU mother.
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Yes, i'm talking to YOU mother.
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Did you notice how quiet Michael Howard's been over the whole Romanian asylum seeker 'scandal'? He's left all the shouting to David Davis and just lurked in the background. Couldn't be connected to this from the BBC website, could it?
...the Howard family, who are Jewish, settled in Llanelli after fleeing from Romania between the two world wars.
No, this isn't some pathetic joke i'm trying to make. it's just the kind of bullshit that annoys me since, just yesterday, a older guy i've become friends with started slagging off the right of Somalians to be hanging around a street-corner in Dublin since "it's not like they're fleeing from a war or anything". What's most annoying? That I'm a child of economic migrants? That it turns out HE is too? That my beloved marriage factor is? OR THAT SOMALIA HAS BEEN AT WAR WITH ITSELF FOR THE LAST THIRTEEN YEARS?"
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...the Howard family, who are Jewish, settled in Llanelli after fleeing from Romania between the two world wars.
No, this isn't some pathetic joke i'm trying to make. it's just the kind of bullshit that annoys me since, just yesterday, a older guy i've become friends with started slagging off the right of Somalians to be hanging around a street-corner in Dublin since "it's not like they're fleeing from a war or anything". What's most annoying? That I'm a child of economic migrants? That it turns out HE is too? That my beloved marriage factor is? OR THAT SOMALIA HAS BEEN AT WAR WITH ITSELF FOR THE LAST THIRTEEN YEARS?"
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in a new feature, there now follows a selection of unpublishedable shite from last week's topical climate.
Billy Bob Thornton has a secret health tip: he says he never gets sick because he takes cayenne pepper-laced water three times a day.
The eccentric star has cut back on his smoking and drinking, and now has a holistic doctor who advises him on what herbs to take. Thornton has found regular doses of cayenne pepper help his system flush out parasites.
He says: "My doctor told me I have fewer parasites than any patient he'd ever seen."
- I can think one, Billy Bob. You call him ‘doctor’
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Billy Bob Thornton has a secret health tip: he says he never gets sick because he takes cayenne pepper-laced water three times a day.
The eccentric star has cut back on his smoking and drinking, and now has a holistic doctor who advises him on what herbs to take. Thornton has found regular doses of cayenne pepper help his system flush out parasites.
He says: "My doctor told me I have fewer parasites than any patient he'd ever seen."
- I can think one, Billy Bob. You call him ‘doctor’
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I'm putting out a tender for giving me a kick up the fucking arse. Any interested parties are requested to submit an application stating company history, business approach and shoe-size. Formal qualification, foreign languages or experience of cuntbusting will be looked upon favourably.
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Friday, April 16, 2004
I see the Queen went to the Louvre last week. I'm very surprised since i was always brought up to believe she doesn't actually go to the toilet
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They say everyone has a novel in them. It's true. Unfortunately mine's Lord of the Rings and that's already been written by someone else.
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Never know how much I love you
Never know how much I care
When you put your arms around me
I get a Jesus that's so hard to bear
You give me Jesus
when you kiss me
Jesus when you hold me tight
Jesus! ... in the mornin'
and Jesus all through the night
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Never know how much I care
When you put your arms around me
I get a Jesus that's so hard to bear
You give me Jesus
when you kiss me
Jesus when you hold me tight
Jesus! ... in the mornin'
and Jesus all through the night
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Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Which came first: the chicken or the egg?
The chicken. But only because it suffers from premature ejaculation
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The chicken. But only because it suffers from premature ejaculation
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You know, the firemen, no, not the firemen, comment tu dit, the other ones, the ‘mad firemen’?
Arsonists?
Yes
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Arsonists?
Yes
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I don’t think no-one’s as sensitive as me. It’s tough being a man, an husband, a father in this day and age. I can look at a flower in the park or a film like Schindler’s List and feel like nobody can feel as deeply as I do about it. Nobody. Not Tonya, not the kids, not Steve, not Baz, not Jimbo, not even Dave The Cunt.
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Curious sight I witnessed today. I was standing at the traffic lights waiting to cross. The little red man changed to a little green man and all the Irish people standing around me started to cross, but there was this big group of men in bowler hats and dark suits who just stood there, resolutely waiting for something else. And then, just as the little green man changed to a little orange man, they all marched across. And they didn’t even look left or right.
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Jesus mothering fuck, it gets worse every time I turn on the tv. Crown paints new slogan is “What colour do you want to feel?”.
Let’s put that to the test then:
When I walk into this room I want to feel like my Uncle never raped me. Do you have a colour for that?
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PRICKS
Let’s put that to the test then:
When I walk into this room I want to feel like my Uncle never raped me. Do you have a colour for that?
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A third of all seats in the Philippino parliament are held by celebrities of some description. The biggest action hero film star in the country is currently running joint-favourite for President. Of course, you have every right to sneer. I mean, it could never happen in the West, could it. The idea of a film star becoming a politician is just too ludicrous to imagine. You’d have to have a very dim view of the electorate to think that people would vote for you based on the status of your fame
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Tuesday, April 13, 2004
If you already have an idea of a perfect society you’d like to live in, you won’t find it here. Ireland is going through a massive social upheaval and no-one really knows how it’s going to turn out. You can find it exciting to watch or join in, or you can go find somewhere else to live.
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You’ll like Ireland. It’s a very tolerant place. Sure, we got our eejits like anyone else, but it’s a very tolerant place.
Well that’s good to hear – because I’m a Jew and she’s a Hindu.
(GENUFLECTING FOR IRELAND)MARY MOTHER OF GOD WOULD YOU FECKIN BELIEVE IT? AND ON EASTER SUNDAY AN ALL
(What is she doing in a pub then?)
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Wha? The pint is 3.90 but the half is 2.50? How does that work?
It doesn’t, luvvy. The pub landlords round here have forgotten how to divide by 2, you see. It’s cos they never went school.
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It doesn’t, luvvy. The pub landlords round here have forgotten how to divide by 2, you see. It’s cos they never went school.
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Saturday, April 10, 2004
Goodbye Cruel Britannia, hello Dubley - city of noise reduction and breathable pubs. This is one time I don't fancy the 'lingus going down.
Was going to propose to the marriage module that she dye her down-there-hair a nice russety red to fit in better, but having pictured it in my mind I realise, such is her melaninity, she'll end up looking like a Rothko.
And I won't fancy emptying my Pollocks over that
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Was going to propose to the marriage module that she dye her down-there-hair a nice russety red to fit in better, but having pictured it in my mind I realise, such is her melaninity, she'll end up looking like a Rothko.
And I won't fancy emptying my Pollocks over that
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Friday, April 09, 2004
4. Saying that, this girl Janet has her anus insured for a billion dollars with Lloyds of London in case it comes loose.
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Facts you didn't know about the Adult Entertainment Industry:
1. The vast majority of people don't masturbate when watching pornography. If you do, you're considered weird.
2. 95% of all sex scenes are done by one woman, Janet something (i forget), who's 36 years old now and an absolute master of disguise. She's also the richest woman in the world and genuinely bilingual (although she prefers women).
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1. The vast majority of people don't masturbate when watching pornography. If you do, you're considered weird.
2. 95% of all sex scenes are done by one woman, Janet something (i forget), who's 36 years old now and an absolute master of disguise. She's also the richest woman in the world and genuinely bilingual (although she prefers women).
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I know a guy...
He's a HELL of a guy
With the smell of a fly
And the skin of a pie
He's a regular guy this guy
He's a poke in the eye
And a pig in its sty
He's a toss of the die
And the spirit in the sky
He's the white of the lie
And the knot in the tie
He likes to get high
And get frisky on rye
He don't like sci-fi
Or Rastafari
He no gay nor bi
Excepting for I
But the question remains: WHY?
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He's a HELL of a guy
With the smell of a fly
And the skin of a pie
He's a regular guy this guy
He's a poke in the eye
And a pig in its sty
He's a toss of the die
And the spirit in the sky
He's the white of the lie
And the knot in the tie
He likes to get high
And get frisky on rye
He don't like sci-fi
Or Rastafari
He no gay nor bi
Excepting for I
But the question remains: WHY?
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Looking back over last night, I think I have legitimate cause to wonder why on earth it's called Chivas Regal. It's anything but Regal, believe me. I'd like to apologise to my bed, my pillows, my spirit guide and especially my toilet. I can barely look it in the face this morning, let alone smile, open my cheeks and stick my brown tongue out at it.
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Thursday, April 08, 2004
Still pizzled, mouthing every word i write and every word i mouth, this could last a whole lot of while
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CRUCIFIXMAS! Did you hear me? I said CRUCIFIXMAS! Come on! Someone! Please! Tell me that's funny. Please. Please . The mood im in right now i need some yessing from anonymen.
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fucky shitty im a titty
drunken skunken telefunken
whisky frisky now a pisskey
pass the vim im going to vomit
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drunken skunken telefunken
whisky frisky now a pisskey
pass the vim im going to vomit
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Wednesday, April 07, 2004
Of all the pointlessly inclusive advertising slogans of the last few years, it's hard to beat this from Capital One - "What's in your wallet?"
But let's see, anyway:
Money
Cards
Driver's License
Receipts
Cyanide
Photos
What did you expect? Cyanide?
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OH FUCK OFF
But let's see, anyway:
Money
Cards
Driver's License
Receipts
Cyanide
Photos
What did you expect? Cyanide?
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Tuesday, April 06, 2004
Amidst all the hoo-haa over a survey showing British people are a bit ignorant of history (NO SHIT SHYLOCK!) I think the oddest statistic is this one:
11 per cent of the British population believed Hitler did not exist and 9 per cent said Winston Churchill was fictional
That means there are 2% of people walking around this country (more than 2 million people?) who must think the very real Winston Churchill led Great Britain through World War Two against that well-known fictional bad-guy 'Adolph Hitler' leader of somewhere called 'Nazi Germany'!? No wonder we won!
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11 per cent of the British population believed Hitler did not exist and 9 per cent said Winston Churchill was fictional
That means there are 2% of people walking around this country (more than 2 million people?) who must think the very real Winston Churchill led Great Britain through World War Two against that well-known fictional bad-guy 'Adolph Hitler' leader of somewhere called 'Nazi Germany'!? No wonder we won!
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Given that most avowed Nirvana fans' average age is 16 or so, I wonder how many of them have the bare-faced chutzpah to claim they remember the day he died and how it affected them, like what I did with, er, Ziggy Stardust
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Monday, April 05, 2004
Sunday conundrum: If a Rabbi is driving through the countryside and hits a pheasant, severing its neck in one quick, fatal blow, does that make the bird fit for Kosher consumption? What if he said a relevant blessing at the moment of impact? What if there's an Imam in the passenger seat map-reading? Does that make it Halal as well?
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I woke up this morning to find the words "Front Haddock" scribbled on my hand. Absolutely no clue as to how they got there nor what was their significance. Later on I remembered that I had dreamt last night that someone used the phrase to refer to their vagina. I don't know why but i'm truly pleased with this.
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Saturday, April 03, 2004
Friday, April 02, 2004
Im not the pheasant plucker
Im the pheasant plucker's son
Im only plucking pheasants
Til the pheasant plucker comes
And then im going to fuck them
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Im the pheasant plucker's son
Im only plucking pheasants
Til the pheasant plucker comes
And then im going to fuck them
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