Sunday, February 29, 2004

damn. the website where i get all my ideas from has closed down so i may as well wrap this one up until further notice. see you on tv.

its that time of the night when its day again and quite frankly im not up to sleeping let alone writing this bullshit so i can fuck off and take my shitty blog with me, can't I.

what am i doing? what AM i doing? WHAT AM I DOING?

well i cant say im too proud of myself. ive been an absolute fool on so many occasions and acted like the twat i am. and i feel much better for saying it now. at least im supposed to. but i dont yet and i dont know why i should. whats so great about confession? never helped any good catholics get over guilt as far as i know.

It's all or nothing on this one. If I get it right I can carry on, if I'm wrong, I'll lose my eyes this instant. Ok. Here goes....

Hey Cock, I've got a question for you
Who's really torturing who?
Who wears the pants?
Who raves and rants?
Who is it that stops me from sending
These poems to a dignified ending?

Shortly after the fall of Ceaucescu, I met a Romanian whilst on holiday in Turkey. He told me, in all seriousness, that Romanian was a more beautiful language than English because, for example, whilst we say "Car", they say "Owtowmobeel". I didn't have the heart to argue. The poor guy also told me that in 25 years of living in Romania the only western music he'd ever heard was "The Brotherhood of Man". My heart bleeds for him.

The next time someone tells you the french language is more beautiful than english, perhaps you ought to remind them that whilst we put "Conditioner" in our hair, the french tend to use something called "Apres-Shampooing".

I'm feeling a little gruntled this morning. Unfortunately there's no such word in the dictionary so I can't be sure.


Saturday, February 28, 2004

3. Insect Repellant

taken from the book Strange Uses for Spunk (2003) by Fawn Britain

2. Yoghurt for gays

taken from the book Strange Uses for Spunk (2003) by Fawn Britain

1. Shoe Glue

taken from the book Strange Uses for Spunk (2003) by Fawn Britain



Friday, February 27, 2004

You say I'm orally fixated? You can suck my dick

I wish I could say the same about www.jesuschrist.com but I can't because they're a big bunch of pricks.

I couldn't be happier. Look what happened to www.jesus.com

I'm going to bed now and rest assured, as soon as i turn off the computer and get settled in, the perfect blog entry will arrive in my head and seep out like molten earwax through the night.

Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly me to the moon
If you can use some exotic booze let me play among the stars.
There's a bar in far Bombay on Jupiter and Mars
In other words, in llama land there's a one-man band
And he'll toot his flute for you are all I long for a flying honeymoon, they say
Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly me to the moon

A virus is a living thing. It's a parasite but the relationship can be symbiotic to some extent. It's raison d'etre is to exist and if you identify yourself with it, then you two will get on fine until you start questioning whatever goes wrong in your life.

Your problem is like a virus. It lives inside you and feeds off you, altering your actions to perpetuate its replication above all else. It doesn't care what you do to feed it. Productive or counter-productive, it doesn't matter just as long as you're working for it and not the other way round. It would destroy you rather than starve, but this marks its weakness as well as its undeniable strength. That is your point of attack. But it will convince you it has a hold over you but never allow you to see it for what it is, throwing up decoy problems that get in the way. It will never allow you to see it clearly or you might be able to identify it and destroy it. So many of your problems stem from it that it becomes too close to analyse properly. You become it if you're not careful. And if you're not careful you'll spend all your time convinced that all your problems are disparate, unconnected entities with no common root. That'll keep you so busy you never get time to address the big one.


Thursday, February 26, 2004

Another David Bowie winter-warmer, with thanks to ginsterlad for the first verse:

I meet mein host at the old schloss inn
The snow capped hills that cleanse my sin
I unpack my best suit and ski into town
Meet her at the après-ski in her new silk gown

She's a snowcat, cool and dusky
We start up the sleigh and whip up the husky
The bells of st stanislav render my soul
A shower of reindeer fly us to the pole

We dock at the station, research into snow
Find tracks to our memories and fears below
Holed up in a cabin, fur coats and a fire
Bevilled in crystal and finest sapphire

An old friend just e-mailed me this. I make no apologies:

No it shouldn't - that's Millwall FC's motto. I like you; I was thinking about it this morning; I recently heard Tessa Jowell say that if she could be anyone in Shakespeare, she'd be Portia. So that's a smug racist bitch who hangs out with a bunch of deadbeats and messes up other people's lives, then. What's the 'could' exactly? Or am I being too obvious. Anyway, I have to like you; I need a reason to empathise with Washington...and I can't hold Abraham and Moses personally responsible for everything I'm unhappy about

A well written testimony of friendship and political clarity in these confusing times.

As I grow older I realise I no longer need to argue with anyone. Argument is for people who don't know they're right and need to convince others that they do. I know I'm right and don't need to convince others that I do. So I don't argue.

Would it be too much trouble to stop being so fucking cynical all the time? What's so great about cynicism that you have to wear it like a badge or a medal of honour? It's hardly the most attractive personality trait and usually quite transparent. Who of us is cynical for purely and spicifically empirical reasons? Don't you really just use it as a way of venting your frustration with yourself and with the world? You and your kind are like a game of top trumps where every interaction you have is structured around a minus-point game of one-downmanship. Anyone not willing to play or not conversant with the rules is automatically shut out or subsumed into the deck. You should try something healthier to channel all that negativity. Why not keep a blog?


Wednesday, February 25, 2004

And the award for Best Oscar goes to....?

More Spong


Think about it: War, hatred, torture, bigotry, country+western music - all these terrible stains on the human soul are just facets of man's eternal quest for the unachievable. It's god's cruel, cruel joke to watch us run around hurting eachother for no other reason than that we can't have a mono-parallelo-doubledicko-duofemino-bumfuck. It's no wonder that gay men are so often found to be more peaceful in their lives because they, at least, have approached and assisted eachother in approaching this ultimate goal. Another reason for homophobia no doubt.

In response to Girlwithaonetrackmind's poll, I can quite conclusively say that the whole impossible enigma of male human existence is this: We want to have full, penetrative anal sex with two women at exactly the same time. Until that is accomplished, we will not be satisfied, we cannot be diverted and we will not rest. The problems are manifold:- having two dicks. Persuading two women to have anal sex. Persuading one woman to have anal sex. Persuading the other woman to have anal sex. Persuading both women to have anal sex at the same time. Persuading both women to have anal sex at the same time with a double-cocked man. Having two cocks sufficiently far apart to reach two arses. Trying to time your orgasms (suprisingly difficult with having two dicks, even if they're coming from the same balls). Trying to time your orgasms with the two womens' anal orgasms. Anal orgasms. Persuading them to allow this with the minimum of lube and the absence of protection. Avoiding poo juice. Avoiding blood. Embracing poo juice. Embracing blood. Retaining even the tiniest thread of respect for these two women after you've stuck your dicks up their arses.
Until you've done all that, I put it to you that you haven't really accomplished anything. You certainly won't be able to be at peace with yourself. I know I wouldn't.


Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Look what I found! Another classic new Bowie song. I don't know what it's called yet. David, if you're out there, let me know...

Istanbul I feel your pull
But Budapest is best for rest
Switzerland we hardly knew ye
Meet me there at my behest

I suffer this Intercontinence
On the boat from Chad to Mali
I'm just a gypsy's kiss away from
Soiled grapes in the Napa valley

Did you get the love I sent you?
DHL'd from Cubaguay
Try it on it's never fit me
Blinded hearts in a blink of eye

Let's all fuck for famine-relief. It's the thought that counts.

Thanks to all the Duchess-fuckers who've written in. I'm going to compile all the stories together into a book and laminate them.

I am become pretentious

It's a little known fact, even amongst those in the know, but Aynsley Harriot is actually the best chef in the world. Who'd have thought it?


Monday, February 23, 2004

Spent the weekend hammering away at the terpsichord. Nothing else.


Friday, February 20, 2004

Mel Gibson says, in defence of his traditionalism, that he hasn't left the Church behind, it's the Church that has left him behind. That's right Mel. You. Just you. The billion other Catholics in the world? Well, I guess you're calling them fools. Which is fine but what makes your minority opinion count? It couldn't be that you think you're an equal to the church, surely? Mind you, you ARE an internationally known movie star so maybe you ARE more important than most other people.

So the secret's out at last. Mel Gibson's dad has exposed us once and for all. You're right, mate. There was NO holocaust. We made it all up, including the disappearance of 9 of my great-uncles and aunts in 1943, all to gain sympathy so we could take over the Catholic Church . Fiendishly clever. And now look what we've done to the world with our post-Vatican council church. We've told everyone to, erm, worship Jesus. How dare we?

Say it loud


Thursday, February 19, 2004

D'you reckon there's someone so gay he only eats cock-and-ball shaped foods?

Hitler and his Amazing Friends. That's be a cool cartoon. Someone give me the money.

I especially like this: The Best of Dave .I wouldn't think the music is up to much though.

And why do French artistes give themselves single names? There's no explanation for it. Here's a few of my favourites:


Heard a discussion on the radio this morning between Jack Lang, the former French minister of education and Alain de Boton, the English philosopher. It reminded me that i'm obsessed with foreigners with english names and english people with foreign names. Why? I haven't got the slightest idea. Why else would I be so interested in Bud Spencer and Terence Hill? It certainly isn't for the quality of their films (although I do love them). Why else would I be interested in Johnny Hallyday and Eddy Mitchell? It ain't the music, that's for danged sure. I wish i didn't speak english as well as what these guys probably don't. That'd be cool.

Saw an advert last night for the Book of Mormon. Aside from the unfortunate choice of words they used "to receive this book free of charge call this number now. You are under no obligation. To believe in the Book of Mormon is....". Imagine that being said in a monotonous voice with no obvious punctuation. But what fascinated me was that I had no idea that Jesus appeared in the Mormon book. I thought it was just a story about Brigham Young and his herd of wives. It turns out they actually believe that Jesus appeared to others at other times and this book is like a fifth gospel. This reminded me of my previously aborted project - to make a cartoon series called "The New Adventures of Jesus", showing their Lord's travels through the east in the lost period of his life (the little bit between his barnyard birth and his hilltop death). All I ever came up with to be honest was a ludicrous idea that he goes to India and trades secrets in magic with the Yogis, maybe goes to China and fights a dragon, gets chased by ninjas etc. All episodes would have a clear moral thread running through them so in essence its like The Littlest Hobo meets The A-Team. I firmly believe its a winner, but what would I know? I'm a jewish atheist.


Wednesday, February 18, 2004

For you, I mean

I know I am

Do you surf the web for porn? I'll bet you do. Well do you like men? Do you like transvestites? Do you like men who've had sex-changes? What? You don't. Oh. Well, i think if you check the facts, it turns out you do. Because according to a recent study 95% of women in porn are actually post-op transexuals. That's right. Men with boobs and no willies. And that's what turns you on. I hope you're ashamed


Tuesday, February 17, 2004

Here, you wanna suck my cock? Go get a straw!

Also, Americans consume 9/10ths of the world's pornography and yet they're only 1% of the world's population, which means that if they carry on at this rate the world's supply of cumrags will run out by 2016 and we'll all be the poorer for it. Selfish wankers.

Another excerpt from the OLTTW:

I promise that the next person that says "Bring it on" in my presence will get 'it' brought on more violently and illegally than might be deemed strictly necessary. I accept that. But I've given you written notice so there's no excuse.

What I find so confusing about Americans is that they produce more pornography than all the other countries in the world put together and yet if you call one of them a 'fucking cunt' they take great offence. Fucking cunts.

A big hello to all my Muslin friends out there and let me wish you all a happy holyday for Wednesday. Last one down the shrine's a limbless queer!

Pretty baubles, Sir, buy my pretty baubles. God bless you Sir. Red bauble, Sir? How about a nice red bauble? Goes a treat with a nice blue bauble. Have a good bauble there, Sir. Brightens up a lovely green bauble does the red and blue. Three for a price, three for a price. Tis a pretty little spangle, Sir. Tis a pretty little fancy. Such fandangle as this you won't see nowhere finer. Come, feel the bauble. Feel its heat. You want it, don't you Sir. Sir with the kind face. Sir who wants a pretty bauble for who knows what. For the sake a poor old dear like me, Sir. A humble trader whos bauble is her life and not two florins to rub between her. OH GOD BLESS YOU SIR, GODBLESSYOUVERYMUCH. Here. Call it hundred. You heard me. Cash. Thank you boss. Mind how you go now, yeah?

You can look, but don't rape

so you're excited about Mel Gibson's new film "The Passion of Christ" are you? Well I'm hoping my own effort "Not without my Yamulka: The Barabbas Story", released on the same day, will become the people's favourite. Let's put it to the mob


Monday, February 16, 2004

If vegetables are so fucking healthy, why don't they live til they're a hundred? My grandpa ate monkey brains and dumplings every day of his life for 82 years and he lived til he was 90. I've never met a broccoli that lived past 6 weeks. Now what does that say?

From the first day of BBC war coverage in Iraq, March 2003, the viewers' complaints log - Select highlights:

Objected to the use of the term 'Palestine'. "I believe there is no such place."

Felt it was inappropriate to show footage of a United States helicopter with 'Beast 666' written on the side, due to the religious connotations.

Claimed that an on-screen graphic used a lowercase "i" for Iraq and was annoyed by this.

Felt that the reporter's English was of a poor quality. "The reporter referred to the 'amount of young people' in Iraq, but I felt that it should have been 'the number of young people'."

Felt that the programme was biased in favour of the anti-war perspective, as it showed footage of Iraqi children suffering.

who said this:

"I am angry that so many of the sons of the powerful and well placed ... managed to wangle slots in Reserve and National Guard units. Of the many tragedies of Vietnam, this raw class discrimination strikes me as the most damaging to the ideal that all Americans are created equal and owe equal allegiance to their country."

I'll give you a clue: it was Colin Powell


Saturday, February 14, 2004

"The girl over there with the funky pants on ha!
She can ah! do the chicken all night long "

James Brown - Hot Pants (1971)

Why wasn't this song banned?

“I am the buggerer. You are the buggeree. Let’s bugger. Let’s practice buggery. Let’s perfect buggery. Open up your anus. I’m going to bugger it. With my bugger-stick. I am King Buggery. I am the Bugger King. I supply the quarter-pounder and the cheese. You provide the bun. And the vaseline.”

What are the politics of Buggery? What processes do you go through in order to get the buggering underway. And then what is the etiquette during the buggery itself? Most importantly, can you ever really respect someone after you've buggered them? If you've stuck your dick into someone's shithole, at their behest no less, then how can you ever love them as an equal again? You've just buggered them.

I've been thinking about Buggery today.

Ive always thought “get thee behind me Satan” was more of an invitation to do it doggie-style than any serious challenge to his supremacy.
Anyway, the devil’s cock is red, hot and barbed so you’d have to be pretty jaded to want it up you – not forgetting, of course, that HE'S THE DEVIL. It’s always struck me as bizarre that anyone can be a Satanist and want to invite him to fuck you, of all things, to FUCK YOU – because surely it’s a tacit admission that God must really exist too. Nobody’s claiming Satan created the universe, are they? Course, I don’t believe in him anyway, and if I did I’d have to say he’s god’s right-hand man, or that he lives only in our hearts – there’s no hell, is there. What would be the point?


Friday, February 13, 2004

Oooh, look, a politican and a journalist may or may not have done sex with eachother. Really. Who gives a wanking fuck if John Kerry and Alex Polier (anybody got any pictures? Is she tasty?) had sexual relations? I don't. You shouldn't. Mrs Kerry, maybe. But that's about all. I notice it's mainly Republicans who don't have affairs. And it's obvious if you think about it. They spend all their time sticking their cocks into other countries affairs, they don't have time for their own. And their wives are ugly.

If you give up sex, you've got to channel the urges somehow. Usually you invade some countries that won't fight back too hard. Actually, that goes for the aptly named Missionaries as much as US Presidents. And if you only practice the missionary position, then you already HAVE given up sex.


Apparently my new David Bowie song "International Man" is in incomplete. At least, according to the Ginsterlad74, professor of Japanese Influence at Imperial College, Oxford, who informs me he also holds the Schneider Chair in Bowie Studies at the Dusseldorf-Funken Institute of 70's Technology. He has unearthed this verse for me:

I'm an International Man

Champagne luggage and hearts on hold

I pick up the keys from the concierge

Mercedes Benz through the Prussian forests

A wintertime schloss where my love awaits me

Oh how can I explain?

Tickets and heartache but where tomorrow?

Downtown Tokyo or the heat of LA?

Wherever I wander I drink in new knowledge

In my search for a veiled mysterious girl

Oh I'm an International Man

Champagne luggage and hearts on hold

The world is my oyster and I'm always at home.

Thanks again to the lad with the 74 Ginsters for this controversial expose of the world in which you live:

A warning to international businesses.....

There is a very real danger that if you compose a document and then have it
translated to send to a foreign branch of your firm, you may one day find it
translated back into English and landing back on your desk. The problem? The
document now bears no relation to the one you originally composed. It has
been translated from English to Gromanian, then back to English. It used to
be a document about sales targets, now it is a report on ophthalmic
opticians in East Kent. The reason - no one can really translate or
interpret foreign languages. Even professional interpreters can't really
speak any foreign languages. It's largely guesswork, although it is believed
that around 57 words of French vocabulary are properly understood by English
experts. This leads the table, with German second at 43 words properly
understood, Spanish (29 words), Dutch (17 words) and American (2 words).
Every other language on earth is still utterly oblique. No wonder there are
wars and terrorism. So, be careful in international business.

Ginsterlad74 has kindly solved the Royalty issue for us all (my italics):

Royalty - what heraldic warnings could you ever have been given in advance
of the lowering of the drawbridge of Modernity? None, for you are royal. You
be king or you be queen. You be forty, perhaps, before the arse-throne is
sculpted and people are coined-off with your head. The swan and the tower
are branded on your monarcho-slap, and jewelzy, ruby-crust, diamond-shank
plati-glare are your eternal sumpti-brethren.

Or shall I simply take her up the snatch? Make a nice change, I suppose.

Valentine's is coming and the noose is getting tight. What do you buy the girl who's only interested in one thing (which I give her every night)? In the past few years of Valentines, I've given her a champagne colonic, a night out in Cippenham, a lovely toolkit and an abortion. Quite frankly I've run out of good ideas. Shall I just buy a hotdog bap, slather it in ketchup, mustard and onions, then stick my cock in it and serve it to her on a silver platter like in that shit film I forget the name of?


Thursday, February 12, 2004

Drummers. All they do is hit things.

What is Royalty? What is the office of a royalous duchy of this or that after all? Is it the pomp and circumstantial evidence of all the hither and thither, the frippery and fancy of ye olde Olde? Is it any more than a velveteen cushioned seat at the pewter table, a couple of boxes of Cavendish chocolates for Chislemas, an fief of unruly Picts and the odd ballotine of Whimsy steeped in runnymede? I cannot but think not otherwise and contrary so

What is the measure of a man? Is it merely that he has created wealth, fashioned a hearth for himself and his dependants? Is it that he learns not to flinch, not to cry but to annul his senses when faced with risk, danger, emotion? Or is it that he has been confronted with the eternal conundrum of first-degree murder and walked down the cobbled path of unarguable logic

A man is the sum of his parts. A man is a thinking, breathing, decision-making vessel who makes life his business. In the business of life a man is a leader and a follower. He is decision. He is not waste. He has no time for weakness. He has no time sentiment. He is Logic. He is God. A successful man is his own messiah. His body is his church. His mind is his congregation. His soul is his priest. His bones are his prayerbook. And his success is his blessing. Nowhere does it say within his bones to kill a man for the sake of business. And nowhere does it not.

A man may do many things in his life. Some of them will be great triumphs. Some not so great. There may be some that society chooses to condemn. A man can make many mistakes and still be a good man. That is the essence of Man. That is the sum of Man. A man may not wish to kill but sometimes a man does kill. And man will always kill. That is Man.


Wednesday, February 11, 2004

I can smell Jazz

Why am I so fascinated by the brazen, ignorant, pig-faced underclass of this horrible little cuntry? I've always been fair and despised people for what they are and who they are irrespective of social strata, but I do hold a special place in my prolapsing bile duct for the true descendants of knuckle-dragging english peasantry. And maybe that's why I've just found true delight looking at this sophisticated lady and her breathtakingly elegant world-view

Sorting through a whole bunch of old papers today I came across a recipe I wrote back in school for Peppered Wi. I'm going to share it because, even after all these years, it still sounds tasty and I think you'd like it.

Peppered Wi

Take a 12 oz cut of Wi and cover it in a mixture of butter and crushed black pepper. Heat a frying pan or griddle up to the point where it begins to smoke, then slap on the Wi and cook on each side, searing it for a few minutes. Serve straight from the pan with some steamed Ubu and a pot of brown Aaaaaaaa.

I love the name of this director - i'd send him a packet if I could get hold of his address


Tuesday, February 10, 2004

The saying "Piece of cake" is meant to denote something that is easily accomplished, but have you ever tried to make a piece of cake? It's very difficult. Much easier in fact to make a whole cake and then segment it so that you can extract a piece as and when. And if you think i've completely run out of ideas, you'd be very right.

I fancy a bit of gay tonight. How about you?

I'm desperately looking for a Jewish Bestiality website. Something with a good array of God's chosen chicks and some (often literally) horny non-Kosher beasts of the field, the air and the sea. Surely, surely there's got to something out there.

There's a book on Amazon called "Hitler's Table Talk", said to be a faithful record of the Fuhrer's conversations over dinner from 1941 to 1944. But what's most fascinating is this customer review that features underneath:

41 of 53 people found the following review helpful:

5 out of 5 stars I couldn't put it down.., June 11, 2002
Reviewer: anna (see more about me) from Stuttgart, Germany
This is a rather large book, but I devoured it literally overnight. The intelligence Hitler displays in his conversations is almost overwhelming. Even his harshest critics cannot deny what a brilliant mind he had. A self-educated man, he possessed knowledge of a broad range of subjects, sometimes knowing even more about certain things than men who were educated at universities. Before I read this book, I knew he was smart. After having completed the book, I was convinced of his genius.
There are 3 books which I personally consider "essential reading" to students of Hitler's life. The first is an out-of-print masterpiece written by August Kubizek (and the fact that it is out of print in the USA is really an indicator of the general public's blissful ignorance when it comes to matters of the TRUTH about Hitler's early life). The second is "Mein Kampf". Last but not least is "Hitler's Table Talk". I also strongly suggest to all bilingual readers out there to read this book (entitled "Hitlers Tischgespraeche") in the original German, as Henry Picker offers some really insightful remarks on the Fuehrer as a person. Hitler's Table Talk promises not to disappoint!


Monday, February 09, 2004

Ginsterlad74 informs me he's recently pioneered a new sexual preference which he casually describes as Paedophiliphilia: in other words, the love and sexual desire of Paedophiles. Children he can't stand. Never has. You would never be able to describe him as a Paedophile. But he just loves those Paedos. Child abuse? He's the first in line to condemn it and wouldn't be out of place among the angry, ignorant mob of medieval-minded Sun readers who protest so inarticulately at the injustices of paedophilia. But Paedophiles themselves, well, he just can't stop himself, can he? Between you and me, I think he might even be abusing them.

You know the old saying:

Whiskey makes you frisky
Brandy makes you randy
Gin makes you sin
Beer makes you queer
Cider makes you wider
Rum makes you come

Well I don't really want to go into the details but let's just say that saturday night was the last time I'll ever mix my drinks

Open Letter to the World excerpt 12:-

...on reflection, it's probably better not to say "Oh Bless" in my company. It's only one point on the cuntometer away from "Bless him" which gets a maximum score on the selfsame meter and a withering look of disapproval from me.


Sunday, February 08, 2004

More from that Open Letter to the World:-

Just say "Fried". Don't say "Pan-Fried" unless you can tell me what the difference between the two is. And I'm guessing you can't.

Fish for Sale:-

Haddock £4
Cod £4
Skate £5
Rock £5
Huss £5.50

Send Cheque or Postal Order payable to The Mail Order Fish Company, Old Skegness, Brighton. Please allow 28 days for delivery. If not completely satisfied simply return the fish in its original condition for a full refund. All transactions are final. This does not affect your statutory rights.
All fish come fully packaged in sealed quality plastic container with fresh sea water and sachet of fish food. Certificate of origin, petcare instructions, veterinary insurance voucher, suggested name guide, recipe book and batter mix inclusive.


Saturday, February 07, 2004

Have you seen the muffin man,

The muffin man, the muffin man,

Have you seen the muffin man that lives in Drury Lane?

Yes I've seen the muffin man,

The muffin man, the muffin man

Yes I've seen the muffin man who lives in Drury Lane.

Will you tell the muffin man,

The muffin man, the muffin man

That bitch better have my money or I'll have him fucking shot

Bum, Cunt, Mouth - those are the three official sexholes, in order of supremacy. But what actually IS the unofficial 'fourth hole'?

If everybody in the world gave me 1p, donated through Paypal, what would make me most happy is not the fact that it would cost Paypal more to process the transaction than the sum of money itself thus bankrupting it. It's not even the fact that, maybe for the first time in human history, our species all did something with the same purpose. No, what would make me most happy is the fact that i'd have gained 6,000,000,000 p or so. For nothing. I'd be straight down the penny arcade, I can tell you.

I see that Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck have split up. I also note with interest that Armin Melwes, the German cannibal has been sentenced to 8 years for eating another man's willy, then killing him. Coincidence? I think not....



Friday, February 06, 2004

Help me! I'm addicted to rehab! Don't let me near the Betty Ford clinic again or I'm liable to OD.


Thursday, February 05, 2004

I hope Pachelbel's contacting his lawyers. I just heard "All Together Now" by The Farm and fuck me backwards if it isn't a complete rip-off of the Canon.

Does anyone have any idea why going to www.mybum.com takes you to News International's site?
And do you have any idea about how I discovered this?

More craziness from the outer fronds: -

JJJJY01: what would you do if Justin Hayward appeared on the news, having discovered the Lost Chord after 30 years of searching
faraa3: !!
JJJJY01: ....in Stoke Poges
faraa3: wwydi it had been hiding in a pile of white satin he'd forgotten about ?
JJJJY01: wwydi if he was a raving gayer and had a thing about suits of armour, and had actually written 'Knights in White Satin' about his love of all things knighty
faraa3: wwydi he'd actually been a nazi devil worshipper all his life and actually wrote "Knights in White Satan" aout his love of the nazi high-command and their racist eviltude?
JJJJY01: wwydi if you found out he spent his rough teenage years in Wales and was actually writing about his 'Fights in Prestatyn' ??
faraa3: i think i'd 'go now'
JJJJY01: he's actually from deepest Cornwall and advocates intense inbreeding - that's where the idea for 'Children's Children's Children' came from
faraa3: he also believes in rewarding all the well behaved ones with a free rapper: Every good boy deserves Flava Flav
JJJJY01: (trying to think of more Moody Blues albums......)
faraa3: (hoping you can't....)
JJJJY01: fuck!

Let me just qualify that: If you're writing a blog, and your name is Girlwithaonetrackmind, Belle du jour or Dave Fuckmachine or whatever then please go right ahead, i understand what you're doing, and you know, i kinda like it. No, i'm appealing to you if you simply think that sex gives you self-worth and earns you respect in the eyes of your peers. if you think that sticking your bits in the vicinity of a wide range of animals, vegetables and, indeed, minerals is somehow a rebellious, artistic or even political act - then it's you who need to fuck off. And quickly.

Excerpt number million from the Open Letter to the World:

...if you have erotic boundaries that extend to the whole world then that's very nice and i'm happy for you and everything, but could you possibly just keep it to your fucking self and not advertise the quite uncommercial fact that you like to fuck things a lot? I like fucking things too: girls' holes mainly, my rigid fist on occasion but except for this humble blog which nobody reads (can you see a connection here?) I don't bother telling the world because it's not that interesting. Please, I'm begging you: take off those silly clothes, remove those ridiculous bits of metal from your face, grate those bloody tattoos off and above all, try and establish some kind of distinction between public and private - then fucking stick to it, ok?

Alright, no more poesy for a while. Perhaps I can invite you to judge my new David Bowie song though?

I'm an International Man
I straddle across the Time-Zones
It's a mix of business and pleasure
Hotels, Jet-Planes, that's my leisure

See me stumble in old Shanghai-o
Fishing like a junk at sunset
Try and catch me, I'm in Moscow
Ancient city: rust and love
Turning inside out at check-in
At the check-in desk above

I've been to Africa, I've been to Thailand
Fallen thru love in each place
Kissed in twisted moonlight
Drowned in sacred, holy waters
I would like to know you naked
Naked with Arabia's daughters

International Man
International Man
International Ma-an
International Man

I'm stressed
I'm depressed
Not blessed
With a rest
From this weary, teary world

I want to start again
Same time
Same place
Same folks
Same race
But this time,
As the Director says
With feeling


Wednesday, February 04, 2004

Have you ever sung this? :-

“Celery! Celery!
If she don’t come
I’ll tickle her up the bum
With a stick of celery!”

Would you ever sing it? Do you have a friend who might sing it, grinning like a twatted goon and braying loudly all the while? Have you ever heard it sung and not immediately and violently put a stop to it?

Then you are on the wrong side. Leave the world. Leave it now.


Did you think "Get Ur Freak On" by Missy Elliott was the best song you've ever heard? Well then, you're a wanker. You're a fucking wanker. You're worth dirt.

This Open Letter to the World is full of surprises:

Hands up who used to wear their sunglasses perched coyly atop their head, betwixt pate and fringe, and act nonchalantly whilst sporting them thus?
Now if you'd just like to form a queue behind the meat-grinder and please roll your sleeves up, this won't take a minute.

And more:

...never, ever, in a million years must you ever, ever say "we love it" or "we like that" when referring to, well, anything, as if you have an entourage of like-minded people all happy for you to speak for them and, more importantly, as if I give a flying wank what you and your kind think. FUCK OFF!

More from that open letter to the world:

...and while you're at it, don't EVER refer to giving birth as "dropping baba's" because it's a tiresome phrase and it makes you equally so.

Open letter to the world (excerpt):

....and please stop saying "Ickle" instead of "little". It's crushingly annoying and adds precisely nothing to whatever you're saying, ok? So DON'T DO IT.

good old google, take me off the lists just because i explicitly announced that i was trying to lure people here by putting a few swearwords and celebrity names in. What's wrong with that? This is the internet, baby. Morals don't apply.

I've removed the offensive, offending words for now.

But how often do you read about cuntbusting anyway?


Tuesday, February 03, 2004

Do you think, just this once, the US could make a special exception and let everyone who isn't an american citizen have a vote in November's election? I'm sure the result wouldn't be that different. Actually, I'd be happy if they only let Iraqis vote in the US. If they just let them vote in Iraq it would be a start.

This may well be the funniest thing i've read this decade. An interesting constitutional matter with a twist, taken from the AP and found on a so-right-wing-they-hate-George-Bush-for-his-'socialism' website called Sierratimes.com.

Bob Stewart: Appeals court overturns machine gun conviction
Associated Press

SAN FRANCISCO - A federal appeals court Thursday overturned a Mesa man's federal conviction of possessing five machine guns.

A three-judge panel of the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals of San Francisco reversed the conviction, ruling that the congressional ban does not apply to homemade machine guns and their parts because they were never in the stream of commerce.

The court ruled that there was neither a transfer nor sale of the weapons or their parts, so Congress did not have the power under the Commerce Clause to regulate homemade guns crafted from scratch.

Robert Stewart was sentenced to five years imprisonment for being a felon in possession of firearms and of possessing illegal machine guns last year.

His attorney, Thomas Haney of Phoenix, said the decision doesn't mean much for his client or for the gun movement. Few people have the skills to build a weapon from scratch, as Stewart did, Haney said.

Haney said most states, including Arizona, also have state bans against rapidly firing machine guns that would withstand judicial scrutiny regardless of whether the weapon was homemade. "It might not be viable for anyone to think they can start making their own," Haney said.

Stewart, meanwhile, faces about a 20-year sentence next week after being convicted this summer of soliciting a fellow prisoner at the Federal Correctional Institution in Phoenix to kill U.S. District Judge Roslyn Silver, the judge who last year sentenced him to five years on the weapons violations.

Imagine if pigs laid eggs. Wouldn't that be cool? Oily pigs eggs. A full english breakfast in one. Let's do it

It's tuesday and in honour of this, the greatest of the early-midweek days, i'm going to chew things. Starting with your face. Ending with Cud, the indie band.

Tune in same time next week to see me masticating over a picture of someone sexy and getting arrested for doing it on the train.


Monday, February 02, 2004

Ate lunch at Chez Fancy yesterday. They do the best Hot Cock Salad i've ever tasted

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you: the NEW England

BOSTON (Reuters) - At least one person was killed when a motorist plowed a vehicle into a crowd of revelers after the New England Patriots' 32-29 victory over the Carolina Panthers in Super Bowl XXXVIII, Boston police said on Monday.
The driver, Stanley Filoma, backed his sport utility vehicle down a crowded street near Northeastern University and struck at least four people before driving away, police spokeswoman Mariellen Burns said. One person was killed while another was in critical condition at a nearby hospital.

Filoma was one of four people arrested overnight in Boston, where hundreds of rowdy fans overturned cars, broke windows, set fires and pelted police with bottles and other objects following the Patriots' second Super Bowl victory in three years.

The 24-year-old motorist was due to be arraigned later on Monday in court on charges of motor vehicle homicide while operating under the influence, leaving the scene of an accident and other violations, Burns said.

"It's outrageous that this happened, but what's really astounding is that these people were acting this way while officers were filming them," Burns said, adding that police hoped to make further arrests after reviewing the footage.

It was not the first time New Englanders have turned violent following a major sporting event.

Last fall, drunken baseball fans overturned several cars and clashed with police in Boston after the Red Sox beat the Oakland Athletics to advance to the American League Championship Series.

Less than two weeks later, a riot erupted in the college town of Durham, New Hampshire, after the Red Sox lost to their arch-rivals, the New York Yankees, in the ALCS.

it doesn't mention whether they were wearing burberry, firetrap and hackett or shouting "no surrender to the IRA" but i'm presuming someone got their fucking head kicked in, oi! oi! oi!

I see Janet Jackson's exposed a little tit to the world. Well done the pair of you!


Sunday, February 01, 2004

Big shout going out to all my friends who are a little hard of hearing.

I'll split the prize with whoever sends me the answer. It's a pair of chopsticks. Ideally you'll be left-handed.

One last clue and I've finished the Sunday Financial Times Cryptic Prize Crossword, which i've never done before. Unfortunately it's a bastard. Any ideas?

"Brass Homunculus in grave diplomatic incident, we hear" (5,6,12)

I thought it was "Bobble broth epistemology" but it doesn't fit. What else could it be?

I'm not gay. I'm just not that choosy


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