It's Monday morning.
It must be "over-running engineering works".
And here's the angry commuter with Fracas Monday Melee .
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
This week I have been mostly hating everything and (almost) everybody.
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
I've said it before and I'll say it again: that shitty little bit on your broadband agreement that says "service may vary according to your location and the distance from your exchange" which means that you pay through the nose for fast broadband and get a worse than dial-up speed, when it connects at all.
I have managed around two minutes of dial-up speed "connection" this weekend; just enough to post one quick, crappy post but not enough to even read your blogs. It doesn't matter which ISP I use, the crappy fucking BT exchange for my village is made from twigs and mud and powered by an ailing donkey and they have "no plans to upgrade it." And living somewhere remote and beautiful means no cable is available and no digital signal.
Fuckers!
3: The Malcontent:
(Name something you're unhappy with).
I currently pay £9,070 per year (that's around US$18,000 for our colonial friends) to One Anglia railways just so I can get to work (this is the company that claimed it put up fares by no more than "an average of" 4% each year, yet mine went up 10% last year and 11.3% this year).
And what do I get for that? The worst service of any rail line in Europe. Guaranteed delays, no trains at weekends, over-running engineering works every Monday, constant breakdowns and signal and points failures … In the past eighteen months I have been on two (count 'em) trains that have arrived dead on time and three that have caught fire.
Whether I die of a heart attack or of apoplectic rage (probably a combination) it will be those fuckers that kill me.
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
No.
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
I am remarkably calm and easy-going.
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
A big fucking asteroid to smash into this poxy planet.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Day Of The Triffids
I hate my so called internet "connection".
So far this weekend it has allowed me no more than two minutes at crappy dial-up speeds before disconnecting me, which is why my miserable, bile-fuelled missives have not been appearing in your comments boxes.
BT Broadband. Utter fucking shite.
So I've had plenty of time to do the housework and the gardening (no, Robyn, I have not yet ironed my boxer shorts and tea towels; that joy is waiting for me this afternoon … and just what's wrong with ironing boxer shorts and tea towels? I like my tea towels folded nice and flat so they fit in the drawer, and my balls are wrinkly enough without having to subject them to wrinkly boxers!) …
And my garden has declared war on me.
This is the view from my bathroom window. The white lilac probably smells as gorgeous as the Dutch honeysuckle outside the dining room window, but being anosmic I'll just have to take other people's words for it.
The clematis has decided to riot.
Somewhere under there is my shed.
I think.
I've not seen it for a while.
The garden ate a team of naturalists and a TV crew last year.
I look down at my secateurs.
Who am I kidding? I need a fucking chainsaw and a flamethrower.
If I don't come back, I bequeath my boxer shorts and tea towels to Robyn.
So far this weekend it has allowed me no more than two minutes at crappy dial-up speeds before disconnecting me, which is why my miserable, bile-fuelled missives have not been appearing in your comments boxes.
BT Broadband. Utter fucking shite.
So I've had plenty of time to do the housework and the gardening (no, Robyn, I have not yet ironed my boxer shorts and tea towels; that joy is waiting for me this afternoon … and just what's wrong with ironing boxer shorts and tea towels? I like my tea towels folded nice and flat so they fit in the drawer, and my balls are wrinkly enough without having to subject them to wrinkly boxers!) …
And my garden has declared war on me.This is the view from my bathroom window. The white lilac probably smells as gorgeous as the Dutch honeysuckle outside the dining room window, but being anosmic I'll just have to take other people's words for it.
The clematis has decided to riot.
Somewhere under there is my shed.
I think.
I've not seen it for a while.
The garden ate a team of naturalists and a TV crew last year.
I look down at my secateurs.
Who am I kidding? I need a fucking chainsaw and a flamethrower.
If I don't come back, I bequeath my boxer shorts and tea towels to Robyn.
Friday, April 27, 2007
More Pointless Crap
The main reason I blog is megalomania …
Why be ignored / casually despised by the people around me when I can be ignored / casually despised by the whole fucking planet?
Today's totally self-centred post is a result of my proof-reading of yesterday's effort and the realisation that the line:
"Now I'm a reasonable man, but a reasonable man with kittens and a gun." is probably the only funny thing I have written in months.
It is also a lie … I am not a reasonable man..
I've not done a "let's take some quotes out of context" post since my first attempt to insult all my blogpals.
So I've donned some swear-proof protective clothing and waded knee-deep into my fœtid archive to bring you a selection of "out of context" quotes that have seeped from the leaky brain of Dive.
If you can be arsed, and you really have nothing better to do, feel free to read them and attempt to psychoanalyse me.
Here we go then: the random thoughts of chairman Dive:
"Fact: Wood only floats when people are looking."
On spending so many hours of every day stuck on a train:
"After the crossword, there's only so much you can do before you give in and start masturbating furiously to relieve the boredom (I refuse to stoop to Sudoku)."
"Walking backwards actually reverses time. Try it!"
On "mature" love:
"Two middle-aged people entwined in the throes of passion, bellowing and thrashing like a couple of dinosaurs drowning in a swamp …"
"Roll on death (which is a bit like roll on deodorant, only a lot bigger and heavier)."
"Oh crap, I'm awake … Once more to suckle at the bitter teat of life."
"Natto: Stickier than a whole mountain of sticks, with an aroma like a tramp has wanked into a bag of dry roast peanuts."
"What she's doing is this: she is very furtively and alarmingly erotically, sucking her thumb."
"Mary Hopkin, Witchfinder General."
"It's "Dawn Of The Dead" with party dresses on!"
"A little virgin sacrifice, some dancing with goats, hog wrestling, dwarf tossing … you know the kind of thing."
"I'm going to go home and slam every door in the house …
Shitty shit."
""Emma is a member of our Church. She doesn't have a young man …"
WHAT?
I mean WHAT THE FUCK?"
"Why does my head hurt so MUCH?"
"Here's my porker. You're more than welcome to give him a squeeze …"
"There is no God and no afterlife."
"Stop breeding, you ignorant fuckers. The world cannot possibly feed your snivelling, ugly children."
"Christmas Day is an anagram of Mad Scary Shit"
"Kerblooey!"
"Blam!"
"Luke, I am your father."
"Pow!"
"Flash Gordon approaching! Open fire ! All weapons!"
"Boom!"
"Mwah hah hah haaa …"
"Fuck America. Let's Party!"
!Hasta La Victoria Siempre!
"Please spare a thought for the ugly this Christmas."
"I dance like your Dad, only worse."
"My menu for today:
One bottle of chardonnay
One bottle of Rioja
One bottle of malt whisky (Macallan)
One bottle of vodka
Four cans of Adnams Suffolk Stong Beer."
"We go on stage and play (SOBER) until three in the fucking morning, sometimes backing some fucking washed-up chart has-been who thinks they're God, all the while having to stare at disgusting fucking drunks who are ripped to the tits, pawing and slobbering over equally pissed pretty girls, trying pathetically to dance and falling all over the monitor speakers (I hate you all forever)."
"Bugger, bugger, bugger …"
"Sheesh! What's a guy gotta do to drop dead around here?"
"My ideal date? Anything that still twitches when you kick it."
" …following that police car round and round Norwich with a fucking great spliff on the go."
"Fuck, I feel old …"
"Let's talk about ironing."
"Digging through my second edition of Boswell's Travels With Doctor Johnson, I stumble upon the earliest known literary reference to the practice of puffin frottage."
"As men get older, their dancing becomes more sexually alluring … To what, however, is still a mystery."
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in
possession of a bloody good job and a nice house (and who also irons), must be in want of a wife/partner/girlfriend/shag/good cuddle/whatever."
"Hi. My name is Dive and I want to kill you."
On music shop staff:
"A bunch of pathetic, whingeing failures who frankly can't play their way out of a paper bag and are probably the world's worst shop assistants (that's right, you jerks; you're fucking shop assistants, not rock stars. Get over it)."
"Men who sit with their knees as far apart as they can possibly stretch them. You know who you are:
Listen up, guys!
The ONLY people who are allowed to sit like that are old ladies who have wee'd themselves.
That's just what you look like, opposite me on the tube, taking up three seats.
Why do you sit like that? Eh? Why?
Is it to show the whole carriage that you're hung like a cashew?
Twats!"
On Valentine's Day:
"Yet another Hallmark Shareholders' Smirk Like A Twat Day.
A day when I'm filled with hatred and bile toward a disgusting capitalist shithole of a company that thrives on people's guilt.
Every year sees yet more spurious Hallmark Days where we are suddenly made to feel like uncaring or uncharitable asswipes unless we cough up and pay the cock-faced Hallmark tax.
Fucking hypocritical, profiteering, wank-brained, manipulative, thieving, shit-headed, emotionally blackmailing cocksuckers!"
"These are the basic ingredients:
1 bar of Green and Black's Organic Dark Chocolate.
1 tube of wasabi paste."
"God, I need a woman …"
"A couple of weeks back I catch sight of my flabby, middle-aged body in the mirror and reel back in horror!
All of my once fit muscles appear to have sneaked out while I wasn't looking.
My six pack has melted into a bowl of wobbly goo.
I can sense the onset of man-boobs … Man-Boobs! Yikes!
And what's that? … That "thing" sticking out in front?
It can't be! No!
Am I pregnant?
There's a definite bump developing.
Holy crap (as Robyn would say)!
I panic …
No! NOOOO! I can't be pregnant! Not at my age!
And then it all comes flooding back …
That drunken night with Knudsen … The infamous "cock ring" episode …
Oh, fuck!
That awful moment; standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror, holding my 'bump' as the realisation hit me …
Had we taken precautions?
Shit, we'd been sniffing petrol and amyl nitrate all night and watching the Krankies' Honeymoon Video. Anything could have happened!"
"Bugger!
Another year of watching everything else in the world have sex but getting none myself …"
"Crumbs …
I hate the little fuckers!
If genetic engineering is so good, why haven't they made toast, croissants and biscuits that are safe to eat in bed? Eh? …
Useless buggers!"
"The sooner global warming and viral pandemics wipe every last one of us fuckers off the planet, the better."
"Up until that point I had never really considered dressing up as a maid."
Make of that lot what you will.
I've just read them and they scare the willies out of me.
Roll on death …
Why be ignored / casually despised by the people around me when I can be ignored / casually despised by the whole fucking planet?
Today's totally self-centred post is a result of my proof-reading of yesterday's effort and the realisation that the line:
"Now I'm a reasonable man, but a reasonable man with kittens and a gun." is probably the only funny thing I have written in months.
It is also a lie … I am not a reasonable man..
I've not done a "let's take some quotes out of context" post since my first attempt to insult all my blogpals.
So I've donned some swear-proof protective clothing and waded knee-deep into my fœtid archive to bring you a selection of "out of context" quotes that have seeped from the leaky brain of Dive.
If you can be arsed, and you really have nothing better to do, feel free to read them and attempt to psychoanalyse me.
Here we go then: the random thoughts of chairman Dive:
"Fact: Wood only floats when people are looking."
On spending so many hours of every day stuck on a train:
"After the crossword, there's only so much you can do before you give in and start masturbating furiously to relieve the boredom (I refuse to stoop to Sudoku)."
"Walking backwards actually reverses time. Try it!"
On "mature" love:
"Two middle-aged people entwined in the throes of passion, bellowing and thrashing like a couple of dinosaurs drowning in a swamp …"
"Roll on death (which is a bit like roll on deodorant, only a lot bigger and heavier)."
"Oh crap, I'm awake … Once more to suckle at the bitter teat of life."
"Natto: Stickier than a whole mountain of sticks, with an aroma like a tramp has wanked into a bag of dry roast peanuts."
"What she's doing is this: she is very furtively and alarmingly erotically, sucking her thumb."
"Mary Hopkin, Witchfinder General."
"It's "Dawn Of The Dead" with party dresses on!"
"A little virgin sacrifice, some dancing with goats, hog wrestling, dwarf tossing … you know the kind of thing."
"I'm going to go home and slam every door in the house …
Shitty shit."
""Emma is a member of our Church. She doesn't have a young man …"
WHAT?
I mean WHAT THE FUCK?"
"Why does my head hurt so MUCH?"
"Here's my porker. You're more than welcome to give him a squeeze …"
"There is no God and no afterlife."
"Stop breeding, you ignorant fuckers. The world cannot possibly feed your snivelling, ugly children."
"Christmas Day is an anagram of Mad Scary Shit"
"Kerblooey!"
"Blam!"
"Luke, I am your father."
"Pow!"
"Flash Gordon approaching! Open fire ! All weapons!"
"Boom!"
"Mwah hah hah haaa …"
"Fuck America. Let's Party!"
!Hasta La Victoria Siempre!
"Please spare a thought for the ugly this Christmas."
"I dance like your Dad, only worse."
"My menu for today:
One bottle of chardonnay
One bottle of Rioja
One bottle of malt whisky (Macallan)
One bottle of vodka
Four cans of Adnams Suffolk Stong Beer."
"We go on stage and play (SOBER) until three in the fucking morning, sometimes backing some fucking washed-up chart has-been who thinks they're God, all the while having to stare at disgusting fucking drunks who are ripped to the tits, pawing and slobbering over equally pissed pretty girls, trying pathetically to dance and falling all over the monitor speakers (I hate you all forever)."
"Bugger, bugger, bugger …"
"Sheesh! What's a guy gotta do to drop dead around here?"
"My ideal date? Anything that still twitches when you kick it."
" …following that police car round and round Norwich with a fucking great spliff on the go."
"Fuck, I feel old …"
"Let's talk about ironing."
"Digging through my second edition of Boswell's Travels With Doctor Johnson, I stumble upon the earliest known literary reference to the practice of puffin frottage."
"As men get older, their dancing becomes more sexually alluring … To what, however, is still a mystery."
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in
possession of a bloody good job and a nice house (and who also irons), must be in want of a wife/partner/girlfriend/shag/good cuddle/whatever."
"Hi. My name is Dive and I want to kill you."
On music shop staff:
"A bunch of pathetic, whingeing failures who frankly can't play their way out of a paper bag and are probably the world's worst shop assistants (that's right, you jerks; you're fucking shop assistants, not rock stars. Get over it)."
"Men who sit with their knees as far apart as they can possibly stretch them. You know who you are:
Listen up, guys!
The ONLY people who are allowed to sit like that are old ladies who have wee'd themselves.
That's just what you look like, opposite me on the tube, taking up three seats.
Why do you sit like that? Eh? Why?
Is it to show the whole carriage that you're hung like a cashew?
Twats!"
On Valentine's Day:
"Yet another Hallmark Shareholders' Smirk Like A Twat Day.
A day when I'm filled with hatred and bile toward a disgusting capitalist shithole of a company that thrives on people's guilt.
Every year sees yet more spurious Hallmark Days where we are suddenly made to feel like uncaring or uncharitable asswipes unless we cough up and pay the cock-faced Hallmark tax.
Fucking hypocritical, profiteering, wank-brained, manipulative, thieving, shit-headed, emotionally blackmailing cocksuckers!"
"These are the basic ingredients:
1 bar of Green and Black's Organic Dark Chocolate.
1 tube of wasabi paste."
"God, I need a woman …"
"A couple of weeks back I catch sight of my flabby, middle-aged body in the mirror and reel back in horror!
All of my once fit muscles appear to have sneaked out while I wasn't looking.
My six pack has melted into a bowl of wobbly goo.
I can sense the onset of man-boobs … Man-Boobs! Yikes!
And what's that? … That "thing" sticking out in front?
It can't be! No!
Am I pregnant?
There's a definite bump developing.
Holy crap (as Robyn would say)!
I panic …
No! NOOOO! I can't be pregnant! Not at my age!
And then it all comes flooding back …
That drunken night with Knudsen … The infamous "cock ring" episode …
Oh, fuck!
That awful moment; standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror, holding my 'bump' as the realisation hit me …
Had we taken precautions?
Shit, we'd been sniffing petrol and amyl nitrate all night and watching the Krankies' Honeymoon Video. Anything could have happened!"
"Bugger!
Another year of watching everything else in the world have sex but getting none myself …"
"Crumbs …
I hate the little fuckers!
If genetic engineering is so good, why haven't they made toast, croissants and biscuits that are safe to eat in bed? Eh? …
Useless buggers!"
"The sooner global warming and viral pandemics wipe every last one of us fuckers off the planet, the better."
"Up until that point I had never really considered dressing up as a maid."
Make of that lot what you will.
I've just read them and they scare the willies out of me.
Roll on death …
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Freebird? FREEBIRD?
Hokay; I'll admit it. I thought it was Rich.
Sorry, mate, but you seemed to have set yourself up as prime suspect for kidnapping (old man napping?) and brainwashing …
And then Old Knudsen himself popped into my comments box with:
"The only one that held Old Knudsen was the hate in his own heart he is free like um a freebird."
Now I'm a reasonable man, but a reasonable man with kittens and a gun.
I was prepared to spare them until he mentioned "Freebird".
Freebird? …
FREE-FUCKING-BIRD??????!
Even a reasonable man has limits …
Sorry, mate, but you seemed to have set yourself up as prime suspect for kidnapping (old man napping?) and brainwashing …
And then Old Knudsen himself popped into my comments box with:
"The only one that held Old Knudsen was the hate in his own heart he is free like um a freebird."
Now I'm a reasonable man, but a reasonable man with kittens and a gun.
I was prepared to spare them until he mentioned "Freebird".
Freebird? …
FREE-FUCKING-BIRD??????!
Even a reasonable man has limits …
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
A Plea
To the sick, perverted terrorist group that is holding Old Knudsen hostage.
What you are doing is WRONG.
He is a helpless old man.
For the love of all that is decent, please release him and stop posting that disgusting sicko stuff on his blog.
By the way; I have your kittens …
Release the old man or I will not be held responsible for my actions.
You have twenty-four hours.
What you are doing is WRONG.
He is a helpless old man.
For the love of all that is decent, please release him and stop posting that disgusting sicko stuff on his blog.
By the way; I have your kittens …
Release the old man or I will not be held responsible for my actions.
You have twenty-four hours.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Solutions To A Hard Problem
It's pretty much accepted now that women are smarter than us blokes, what with the ability to multitask and to turn their handbags into the Tardis, and that nifty way they ask for directions when they're lost instead of pretending they know where they are, yet they still ask the stupidest damned questions …
My girlfriend asked me this morning, "When you get a stiffy in a public place, how do you make it go down, and how long does it take?"
Which, come to think of it is actually a pretty good question as I tend to think about her on my packed commuter train and the weather's too warm now to cover my … ahem … with my big coat.
My own personal favourite stiffy-softener is to think of "the saucepan".
Way back around the time of the Boer War, I was at my then girlfriend's house and reached up to get a suacepan that was stuck up on top of the kitchen cabinets. Only to find it was half-full of week-old baked beans, covered with a thick, vigorous growth of green mould (I never let her cook for me again). Tilting the saucepan to see the mould slowly burst and the stinky orange mess ooze out has given me a pretty good way to cool my ardour ever since.
I'm kinda glad I have this method to hand, otherwise I might be tempted to more drastic action, such as that featured in this morning's headline "Man Cuts Off Penis In Restaurant."
Yikes!
So, guys; what method do you use?
And girls? How do you hide that flush and those dilated pupils?
My girlfriend asked me this morning, "When you get a stiffy in a public place, how do you make it go down, and how long does it take?"
Which, come to think of it is actually a pretty good question as I tend to think about her on my packed commuter train and the weather's too warm now to cover my … ahem … with my big coat.
My own personal favourite stiffy-softener is to think of "the saucepan".
Way back around the time of the Boer War, I was at my then girlfriend's house and reached up to get a suacepan that was stuck up on top of the kitchen cabinets. Only to find it was half-full of week-old baked beans, covered with a thick, vigorous growth of green mould (I never let her cook for me again). Tilting the saucepan to see the mould slowly burst and the stinky orange mess ooze out has given me a pretty good way to cool my ardour ever since.
I'm kinda glad I have this method to hand, otherwise I might be tempted to more drastic action, such as that featured in this morning's headline "Man Cuts Off Penis In Restaurant."
Yikes!
So, guys; what method do you use?
And girls? How do you hide that flush and those dilated pupils?
Monday, April 23, 2007
Monday Melee With Boris
So Farewell then Boris.
A fellow drunk;
A fellow Marxist;
Like me, as disillusioned with Communism as with Crapitalism.
I'll always remember watching you clamber up on that tank during the hardline coup to rally the soldiers to the cause of democracy.
I have a nice vodka here.
Here's to your big fat memory, Comrade!
…
And I've also got Fracas Monday Melee .
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
This week I have been mostly hating mankind's headlong rush to greed.
When Boris dissolved the Communist state and opened up markets to private ownership, he stupidly allowed a few corrupt and greedy fuckheads to grab what they could and become obscenely rich; the Berezovskis and Abramovichs who now live like kings in the West while billions of Russians starve.
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
Two today: Capitalism and Communism.
Bogus, twatty and responsible together for almost as many needless deaths as religion.
Arse on all of them.
3: The Malcontent:
(Name something you're unhappy with).
Totally unrelated to Boris, those annoying Swiss people at Toblerone.
You know those HUGE bars of Toblerone they sell off cheap in W.M.Shits on Liverpool Street Station?
Thought you did.
Nowhere … and I've checked thoroughly … NOWHERE on the packaging does it state "Do not eat this entire bar in one sitting, you twonk."
I don't feel so good.
Irresponsible Swiss bastards.
Oh, and twatty Russian so-called "oligarchs". Fuckwits!
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
Boris, for dismantling the Communist state and for being an amusing drunk.
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
I am a Marxist.
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
Justice for the Russian people and an indigestion tablet, please.
And if I may I would like to append my personal eulogy for Comrade Yeltsin:
Fuck politics! Let's get drunk and dance!
Farewell, my fat friend.
A fellow drunk;
A fellow Marxist;
Like me, as disillusioned with Communism as with Crapitalism.
I'll always remember watching you clamber up on that tank during the hardline coup to rally the soldiers to the cause of democracy.
I have a nice vodka here.
Here's to your big fat memory, Comrade!
…
And I've also got Fracas Monday Melee .
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
This week I have been mostly hating mankind's headlong rush to greed.
When Boris dissolved the Communist state and opened up markets to private ownership, he stupidly allowed a few corrupt and greedy fuckheads to grab what they could and become obscenely rich; the Berezovskis and Abramovichs who now live like kings in the West while billions of Russians starve.
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
Two today: Capitalism and Communism.
Bogus, twatty and responsible together for almost as many needless deaths as religion.
Arse on all of them.
3: The Malcontent:
(Name something you're unhappy with).
Totally unrelated to Boris, those annoying Swiss people at Toblerone.
You know those HUGE bars of Toblerone they sell off cheap in W.M.Shits on Liverpool Street Station?
Thought you did.
Nowhere … and I've checked thoroughly … NOWHERE on the packaging does it state "Do not eat this entire bar in one sitting, you twonk."
I don't feel so good.
Irresponsible Swiss bastards.
Oh, and twatty Russian so-called "oligarchs". Fuckwits!
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
Boris, for dismantling the Communist state and for being an amusing drunk.
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
I am a Marxist.
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
Justice for the Russian people and an indigestion tablet, please.
And if I may I would like to append my personal eulogy for Comrade Yeltsin:
Fuck politics! Let's get drunk and dance!
Farewell, my fat friend.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
"The Only Good Meme" Redux
Yesterday's meme reminded me of the only truly entertaining (and occasionally slightly sinister) meme I have ever filled in, which I purloined from my lovely VPA, 外人ガールさん。
As this was so long ago that only our original reprobate blog gang got to play with it I will resurrect it here for the newbies.
These are actually my original answers to the meme, but reading through them I find I cannot possibly improve on them, so they stay.
And in the same way that bands release "Greatest Hits" packages that include a few "previously unreleased" tracks to force you to buy the stupid things, I have inserted a few "previously unasked" questions to force those who have done this one already to revisit it.
I know; memes are boring and I'm a bastard, but what else are you gonna do on a Sunday? Go to church? Visit family? Surf for porn?
Fill in the meme. You want to because you are weak …
1. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?
Me.
2. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist out of existence. Which one will it be?
Bono. Can I do it now, please?
3. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?
Tony Blair.
4. What is your favourite cheese?
Stilton or smegma (easy to confuse the two).
5. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your immediate disposal. What kind will you make?
Stilton and mango chutney, toasted on half a baguette. Mmmm …
6. You, Elvis and Princess Diana (yeah, I know they both smell a bit now but you'd still give 'em one; right?) are in a dog sled, fleeing across the Siberian wastes with wolves in hot pursuit. The wolves are catching up fast. Who would you throw out to gain speed and why?
Diana, because she was a pathetic, loathsome, self-serving imbecile and (even if by marriage only) a member of our hated and parasitical so-called "Royal" family.
Plus, she can't sing like the King.
7. You have the opportunity to sleep with the movie celebrity of your choice. We are talking no-strings-attached sex and it can only happen once. Who is the lucky celebrity of your choice?
Is Marge Simpson a movie celebrity? If not, then Akiko Wakabayashi from "You Only Live Twice".
8. You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who do you pick?
Any member of Morning Musume (actually, ALL of 'em).
9. Now that you’ve slept with two different people in a row, you seem to be having an excellent day because you just came across a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk. Holy shit, a hundred bucks! How are you gonna spend it?
Unwisely.
10. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?
Harajuku, Tokyo. For the weemen …
11. Upon arrival to the aforementioned location, you get off the plane and discover another hundred-dollar bill. Now that you are in the new location, what are you gonna do?
Eat whale sashimi (again).
12. Your dream date. Who, where and why?
Wednesday Addams. In a graveyard. Because that's the way I am.
13. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. It is…?
It's gotta be a top Islay malt, probably cask strength Talisker as I've only got a little left in the cupboard.
14. Okay; girls and gay guys stand over here; guys and lesbians over there (I know and love my readership) …
Girls and gay guys first: You're in bed with Marilyn Monroe, Doris Day and Salma Hayek. Who's gonna be the lucky girl? (you're only allowed one).
And similarly, guys and lesbians: You're in bed with Cary Grant, Paul Newman and Johnny Depp. Who's gonna be the lucky guy? (again, you're only allowed one).
Give your reasons.
Much as I fancy Johnny Depp, it's gotta be Newman … For the eyes and the free salad dressing.
15. Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-travelling phone booth. You can go anytime in the PAST. What time are you travelling to and what are you going to do when you get there?
I'd go back to Biblical Jerusalem and bribe Pilate to let Jesus off.
Then I'd tell Jesus about all the shit that's been done in His and His Dad's names so he'd tell the disciples he was only joking about the son of God bit and then slope off with Mary Magdalen and run a nightclub.
16. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?
Women must not wear denim skirts or jackets (ick).
17. You have been given the opportunity to create the half-hour TV show of your own design. What is it called and what’s the premise?
It's called "I'm A Celebrity, Beat The Crap Out Of Me" and stars every "celebrity" on the planet.
Every episode, a bunch of 'em are brutally beaten and tortured for twenty minutes in front of a live audience, then put to death in amusing ways by cute Japanese girls in bikinis.
You just GOT to love a show like that!
18. What is your favorite curse word?
Arse!
19. You have a choice of two doors, one of which you MUST go through; the first leads to a roomful of spiders, the second to a roomful of clowns. Which is it to be?
Spiders. they're cute.
20. Your house is on fire! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object (that's "inanimate" … leave your kids to burn; you know you want to). So what’s the item?
My old Les Paul. No contest.
21. One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?
Start wanking. An endless supply of tissue paper must be standing there for a reason.
22. You have George W. Bush and Osama bin Laden locked in a small room together. It's airtight so both the fuckers are gonna suffocate anyway, but what amusing weapon do you give them to make it more entertaining?
Handbags and a jello-wrestling pit.
23. The Angel of Death has descended upon you. Fortunately, the Angel of Death is pretty cool and in a good mood, and it offers you a half-hour to do whatever you want before you bite it. Whatcha gonna do in that half-hour?
Kill everybody else on the planet.
24. Truthfully, what underwear are you currently wearing?
None. I blog naked. Be thankful my webcam is off.
25. You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What’s it gonna be?
I already have a somewhat awesome Superpower (it's about halfway down this post).
26. You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?
Judith Flaxman. 1977. Just about any half hour. Mmmmmm … Nuff said.
27. Moses trips on his robe and drops the stone tablets. Commandment number eleven is broken off. He leaves it there as his back is killing him. What does it say?
"Only kidding! Go on; enjoy yourselves!"
28.You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?
Most of the first forty-eight years.
29. Rufus reappears with the time machine and a custard pie. Who's gonna get it?
A pretty, dark-haired girl standing in the Loaves and Fishes pub in Beccles in the late seventies, who turned me down with the excellent line "Piss off, creep."
SPLAT!
30. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-travelling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But you can move to anywhere else in the world! What country are you going to live in now?
Japan.
31. What part of your body would you change (no, you are NOT perfect; you gotta answer this one) and why?
Everything from the waist up. Below it I'm Johhny Depp; above it I'm the elephant man.
32. You have been eternally banned from every single bar in the world except for ONE. Which one is it gonna be?
Rick's Bar in Casablanca or Moes' Bar from the Simpsons … It's gotta be Moe's; I hate nazis.
33. What's the last thing you ate?
An oat bar.
34. Hopefully you didn’t mention this in the super-powers question…. If you did, then we’ll just expand on that. Suddenly, you have gained the ability to float. Who are you going to show this to first?
Jesus. Then we'll do the helium balloon voice thing and scare the shit out of the disciples.
35. The constant absorption of magical moonbeams mixed with the radioactive vegetables you consumed earlier has given you the ability to resurrect the dead celebrity of your choice. So which celebrity will you bring back to life?
No celebrity is worth bringing back to life.
36. The Celestial Gates of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, once again Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person, etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?
Nobody. Life sucks. They're better off dead.
37. What’s your theme song?
Prayer To God by Shellac.
38 When did you last have sex?
Sometime in the Cretaceous era.
39. Buffy, Willow or Xander?
Willow; every time.
40. Who’s up next?
All of you who've not yet done this meme and any of the old gang who fancy giving it another go.
As this was so long ago that only our original reprobate blog gang got to play with it I will resurrect it here for the newbies.
These are actually my original answers to the meme, but reading through them I find I cannot possibly improve on them, so they stay.
And in the same way that bands release "Greatest Hits" packages that include a few "previously unreleased" tracks to force you to buy the stupid things, I have inserted a few "previously unasked" questions to force those who have done this one already to revisit it.
I know; memes are boring and I'm a bastard, but what else are you gonna do on a Sunday? Go to church? Visit family? Surf for porn?
Fill in the meme. You want to because you are weak …
1. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?
Me.
2. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist out of existence. Which one will it be?
Bono. Can I do it now, please?
3. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?
Tony Blair.
4. What is your favourite cheese?
Stilton or smegma (easy to confuse the two).
5. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your immediate disposal. What kind will you make?
Stilton and mango chutney, toasted on half a baguette. Mmmm …
6. You, Elvis and Princess Diana (yeah, I know they both smell a bit now but you'd still give 'em one; right?) are in a dog sled, fleeing across the Siberian wastes with wolves in hot pursuit. The wolves are catching up fast. Who would you throw out to gain speed and why?
Diana, because she was a pathetic, loathsome, self-serving imbecile and (even if by marriage only) a member of our hated and parasitical so-called "Royal" family.
Plus, she can't sing like the King.
7. You have the opportunity to sleep with the movie celebrity of your choice. We are talking no-strings-attached sex and it can only happen once. Who is the lucky celebrity of your choice?
Is Marge Simpson a movie celebrity? If not, then Akiko Wakabayashi from "You Only Live Twice".
8. You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who do you pick?
Any member of Morning Musume (actually, ALL of 'em).
9. Now that you’ve slept with two different people in a row, you seem to be having an excellent day because you just came across a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk. Holy shit, a hundred bucks! How are you gonna spend it?
Unwisely.
10. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?
Harajuku, Tokyo. For the weemen …
11. Upon arrival to the aforementioned location, you get off the plane and discover another hundred-dollar bill. Now that you are in the new location, what are you gonna do?
Eat whale sashimi (again).
12. Your dream date. Who, where and why?
Wednesday Addams. In a graveyard. Because that's the way I am.
13. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. It is…?
It's gotta be a top Islay malt, probably cask strength Talisker as I've only got a little left in the cupboard.
14. Okay; girls and gay guys stand over here; guys and lesbians over there (I know and love my readership) …
Girls and gay guys first: You're in bed with Marilyn Monroe, Doris Day and Salma Hayek. Who's gonna be the lucky girl? (you're only allowed one).
And similarly, guys and lesbians: You're in bed with Cary Grant, Paul Newman and Johnny Depp. Who's gonna be the lucky guy? (again, you're only allowed one).
Give your reasons.
Much as I fancy Johnny Depp, it's gotta be Newman … For the eyes and the free salad dressing.
15. Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-travelling phone booth. You can go anytime in the PAST. What time are you travelling to and what are you going to do when you get there?
I'd go back to Biblical Jerusalem and bribe Pilate to let Jesus off.
Then I'd tell Jesus about all the shit that's been done in His and His Dad's names so he'd tell the disciples he was only joking about the son of God bit and then slope off with Mary Magdalen and run a nightclub.
16. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?
Women must not wear denim skirts or jackets (ick).
17. You have been given the opportunity to create the half-hour TV show of your own design. What is it called and what’s the premise?
It's called "I'm A Celebrity, Beat The Crap Out Of Me" and stars every "celebrity" on the planet.
Every episode, a bunch of 'em are brutally beaten and tortured for twenty minutes in front of a live audience, then put to death in amusing ways by cute Japanese girls in bikinis.
You just GOT to love a show like that!
18. What is your favorite curse word?
Arse!
19. You have a choice of two doors, one of which you MUST go through; the first leads to a roomful of spiders, the second to a roomful of clowns. Which is it to be?
Spiders. they're cute.
20. Your house is on fire! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object (that's "inanimate" … leave your kids to burn; you know you want to). So what’s the item?
My old Les Paul. No contest.
21. One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?
Start wanking. An endless supply of tissue paper must be standing there for a reason.
22. You have George W. Bush and Osama bin Laden locked in a small room together. It's airtight so both the fuckers are gonna suffocate anyway, but what amusing weapon do you give them to make it more entertaining?
Handbags and a jello-wrestling pit.
23. The Angel of Death has descended upon you. Fortunately, the Angel of Death is pretty cool and in a good mood, and it offers you a half-hour to do whatever you want before you bite it. Whatcha gonna do in that half-hour?
Kill everybody else on the planet.
24. Truthfully, what underwear are you currently wearing?
None. I blog naked. Be thankful my webcam is off.
25. You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What’s it gonna be?
I already have a somewhat awesome Superpower (it's about halfway down this post).
26. You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?
Judith Flaxman. 1977. Just about any half hour. Mmmmmm … Nuff said.
27. Moses trips on his robe and drops the stone tablets. Commandment number eleven is broken off. He leaves it there as his back is killing him. What does it say?
"Only kidding! Go on; enjoy yourselves!"
28.You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?
Most of the first forty-eight years.
29. Rufus reappears with the time machine and a custard pie. Who's gonna get it?
A pretty, dark-haired girl standing in the Loaves and Fishes pub in Beccles in the late seventies, who turned me down with the excellent line "Piss off, creep."
SPLAT!
30. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-travelling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But you can move to anywhere else in the world! What country are you going to live in now?
Japan.
31. What part of your body would you change (no, you are NOT perfect; you gotta answer this one) and why?
Everything from the waist up. Below it I'm Johhny Depp; above it I'm the elephant man.
32. You have been eternally banned from every single bar in the world except for ONE. Which one is it gonna be?
Rick's Bar in Casablanca or Moes' Bar from the Simpsons … It's gotta be Moe's; I hate nazis.
33. What's the last thing you ate?
An oat bar.
34. Hopefully you didn’t mention this in the super-powers question…. If you did, then we’ll just expand on that. Suddenly, you have gained the ability to float. Who are you going to show this to first?
Jesus. Then we'll do the helium balloon voice thing and scare the shit out of the disciples.
35. The constant absorption of magical moonbeams mixed with the radioactive vegetables you consumed earlier has given you the ability to resurrect the dead celebrity of your choice. So which celebrity will you bring back to life?
No celebrity is worth bringing back to life.
36. The Celestial Gates of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, once again Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person, etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?
Nobody. Life sucks. They're better off dead.
37. What’s your theme song?
Prayer To God by Shellac.
38 When did you last have sex?
Sometime in the Cretaceous era.
39. Buffy, Willow or Xander?
Willow; every time.
40. Who’s up next?
All of you who've not yet done this meme and any of the old gang who fancy giving it another go.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
No-Brainer
I hate that.
Waking up with no brain.
Always happens to me on a weekend.
Oh, well.
Time for a no-brainer post then.
Terroni, and then Robyn and Rich have all had a go at this one, so now you can suffer my jaundiced views:
3 Things That Scare Me:
1. Americans
2. Religion
3. Religious Americans
3 People Who Make Me Laugh:
1. Politicians
2. Stephen Fry
3. People who die in amusing ways
3 Things I Love:
1. Ranting
2. Being miserable
3. Cute Japanese girls in bikinis
3 Things I Hate:
1. Myself
2. You
3. The rest of them
3 Things I don't understand:
1. Life
2. Mime
3. The appeal of junk food
3 Things on my desk:
1. Small pink squeezy rubber pig
2. Lots of Apple Macs (sorry, GG)
3. My feet
3 Things I am doing right now:
1. Drinking green tea
2. Getting older
3. Heading straight to Hell in a handcart
3 Things I want to do before I die:
1. Live
2. Love
3. Maim a mime
3 Things I can do:
1. Pick my nose
2. Scratch my bum
3. Fill in crappy memes
3 Things I can't do:
1. Cope
2. Be bothered
3. Live much longer
3 things I think you should listen to:
1. The voices in your head
2. Chocolate, when it calls to you
3. Country and Western Music
3 Things you should never listen to:
1. Me
2. Anyone supposedly in authority
3. Anyone else
3 Things I'd like to learn:
1. Whatever happened to Brian Cant
2. How to make those little origami jumping penises I used to make as a kid
3. Where I last put my little cross-head screwdriver
3 Favorite Foods:
1. Chocolate
2. Chocolate
3. Chocolate
3 Things I regret:
1. Being born
2. Ha … ha … ha … ha … Stayin' Alive, stayin' alive
3. Filling in this meme
You may have noticed that I hate Saturdays.
Waking up with no brain.
Always happens to me on a weekend.
Oh, well.
Time for a no-brainer post then.
Terroni, and then Robyn and Rich have all had a go at this one, so now you can suffer my jaundiced views:
3 Things That Scare Me:
1. Americans
2. Religion
3. Religious Americans
3 People Who Make Me Laugh:
1. Politicians
2. Stephen Fry
3. People who die in amusing ways
3 Things I Love:
1. Ranting
2. Being miserable
3. Cute Japanese girls in bikinis
3 Things I Hate:
1. Myself
2. You
3. The rest of them
3 Things I don't understand:
1. Life
2. Mime
3. The appeal of junk food
3 Things on my desk:
1. Small pink squeezy rubber pig
2. Lots of Apple Macs (sorry, GG)
3. My feet
3 Things I am doing right now:
1. Drinking green tea
2. Getting older
3. Heading straight to Hell in a handcart
3 Things I want to do before I die:
1. Live
2. Love
3. Maim a mime
3 Things I can do:
1. Pick my nose
2. Scratch my bum
3. Fill in crappy memes
3 Things I can't do:
1. Cope
2. Be bothered
3. Live much longer
3 things I think you should listen to:
1. The voices in your head
2. Chocolate, when it calls to you
3. Country and Western Music
3 Things you should never listen to:
1. Me
2. Anyone supposedly in authority
3. Anyone else
3 Things I'd like to learn:
1. Whatever happened to Brian Cant
2. How to make those little origami jumping penises I used to make as a kid
3. Where I last put my little cross-head screwdriver
3 Favorite Foods:
1. Chocolate
2. Chocolate
3. Chocolate
3 Things I regret:
1. Being born
2. Ha … ha … ha … ha … Stayin' Alive, stayin' alive
3. Filling in this meme
You may have noticed that I hate Saturdays.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Surely The Day Of When …
"There is nothing anywhere" …
What a splendid sales pitch for your online shop.
"The highest class maid dress of a prejudice you."
"CANDY FRUIT if it is called maid dress."
I was over at Tokyo Times yesterday and they had a link to this site selling "Maid" costumes.
Up until that point I had never really considered dressing up as a maid, but temptation got the better of me and I clicked the link.
I am a huge fan of Engrish and this page just made me giggle like … well … a schoolgirl dressed up as a maid … ahem …
So click on it and delight in the wonderful phrases.
If my Japanese is anywhere near as silly as their English I shall have some serious fun in Tokyo.
Oh, and visit the site and buy a maid dress. You know you want to.
What a splendid sales pitch for your online shop.
"The highest class maid dress of a prejudice you."
"CANDY FRUIT if it is called maid dress."
I was over at Tokyo Times yesterday and they had a link to this site selling "Maid" costumes.Up until that point I had never really considered dressing up as a maid, but temptation got the better of me and I clicked the link.
I am a huge fan of Engrish and this page just made me giggle like … well … a schoolgirl dressed up as a maid … ahem …
So click on it and delight in the wonderful phrases.
If my Japanese is anywhere near as silly as their English I shall have some serious fun in Tokyo.
Oh, and visit the site and buy a maid dress. You know you want to.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
A Blue Rubber Cat Writes
Viddy well, my droogs.
For it is I, Stouffer, the blue rubber cat who guards Dive's dining room.
Dive is stinkingly busy this week and unlike most of the blogworld he carries on some pretence of having a life. So life comes first, work second, then blogging trails in somewhere after ironing and picking his nose.
While the dork's away, the cat can play.
Not that I'm a vicious, vindictive überbitch, but while he's off gazing into some woman's eyes and mooning over her like a soppy twat, I've got hold of the sucker's password and have taken over his stupid blog.
Now how the hell do I type that "mad scientist cackling laugh" thing?
So … Let's spill the beans on this tit you call Dive:
- He once had a ponytail and a goatee! … HA!
- Until last year when I burned 'em all, he thought Hawai'ian shirts were "cool".
- He cried at the end of Edward Scissorhands … Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!
- He lost his virginity in a car park in Lowestoft.
- With a farmer's daughter … Ah, the age of romance is not dead.
- He likes to be the big "rock star", but he once ended up supporting Freddie and the Dreamers at a fucking holiday camp. HA!
- He irons his boxer shorts.
- He likes lamps. I tell him "You like lamps! Your house is beautifully decorated! It's full of books and paintings! What the hell are you doing mooning after a WOMAN? Face it, you twat, you're gayer than Waylon Smithers!" … Does he listen? Does he fuck!
- He once did a post on his fucking spice rack! What kind of dicksplash posts his fucking spice rack? I despair sometimes. I really do …
- He's got a big box of Lego in his attic. He waits for friends to bring their kids round then gets it out and plays for hours. Totally ignores the fucking kids. What a world class wanker.
- He never posts photos of the back of his head, does he? Ha! Bald patch! Hahahahahaaaaa!
That'll teach him to stick his hand up my arse … Bastard!
Right. I'm off for a saucer of moloko.
For it is I, Stouffer, the blue rubber cat who guards Dive's dining room.
Dive is stinkingly busy this week and unlike most of the blogworld he carries on some pretence of having a life. So life comes first, work second, then blogging trails in somewhere after ironing and picking his nose.While the dork's away, the cat can play.
Not that I'm a vicious, vindictive überbitch, but while he's off gazing into some woman's eyes and mooning over her like a soppy twat, I've got hold of the sucker's password and have taken over his stupid blog.
Now how the hell do I type that "mad scientist cackling laugh" thing?
So … Let's spill the beans on this tit you call Dive:
- He once had a ponytail and a goatee! … HA!
- Until last year when I burned 'em all, he thought Hawai'ian shirts were "cool".
- He cried at the end of Edward Scissorhands … Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!
- He lost his virginity in a car park in Lowestoft.
- With a farmer's daughter … Ah, the age of romance is not dead.
- He likes to be the big "rock star", but he once ended up supporting Freddie and the Dreamers at a fucking holiday camp. HA!
- He irons his boxer shorts.
- He likes lamps. I tell him "You like lamps! Your house is beautifully decorated! It's full of books and paintings! What the hell are you doing mooning after a WOMAN? Face it, you twat, you're gayer than Waylon Smithers!" … Does he listen? Does he fuck!
- He once did a post on his fucking spice rack! What kind of dicksplash posts his fucking spice rack? I despair sometimes. I really do …
- He's got a big box of Lego in his attic. He waits for friends to bring their kids round then gets it out and plays for hours. Totally ignores the fucking kids. What a world class wanker.
- He never posts photos of the back of his head, does he? Ha! Bald patch! Hahahahahaaaaa!
That'll teach him to stick his hand up my arse … Bastard!
Right. I'm off for a saucer of moloko.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Arse
I'll steer clear of gun control and the human condition this morning; there are enough shouty, ignorant people on the radio and TV trying to defend the indefensible.
I'm depressed enough as it is.
I can't be arsed to write about it; just click on the label link under this crappy post.
The sooner global warming and viral pandemics wipe every last one of us fuckers off the planet, the better.
I'm depressed enough as it is.
I can't be arsed to write about it; just click on the label link under this crappy post.
The sooner global warming and viral pandemics wipe every last one of us fuckers off the planet, the better.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Monday Melee
It's Monday morning.
I have coffee.
I have croissant.
I have my grumpy trousers on.
Must be time for Fracas Monday Melee .
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
This week I have been mostly hating mankind's apparent need to walk up to the barriers at rush hour on the tube and only then to reach into their handbag and rummage for their fucking ticket while several hundred angry commuters pile up behind them and glower and swear, our tickets ready in our hands.
This is related to the need of fuckwits with trolleys (you know, those crappy little wheely things little old ladies use to shop for cat food and hairnets) to get off the crowded commuter train and stand just in front of the door, fiddling with the fucking handle while we all wait on the train. Walk an extra step, you moron.
Bastards!
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
That little bit on your broadband agreement that says "service may vary according to your location and the distance from your exchange" which means that you pay through the nose for fast broadband and get a worse than dial-up speed, when it connects at all.
Bastards!
3: The Malcontent:
(Name something you're unhappy with).
Related to number one; exemplified by the woman in front of me in the queue at W.M.Shits this morning while I tried to hand over my groats for a Guardian.
Lady, you have paid for your goods.
You have received your change.
Do NOT open your bag and get out your purse, open your purse and put the change in it - IN SEPARATE FUCKING COMPARTMENTS FOR EACH DENOMINATION - then stand there for a fucking age while you put your purse back in your bag, put your goods in your bag, get your fucking keys and mobile out of your bag, then stand for a few moments to brush your fucking hair.
MOVE TO ONE SIDE AND LET OTHERS GET SERVED!
Bastards!
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
Sassy: For having moved house without having to kill anybody.
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
Apparently, my chest makes a nice pillow (don't all rush at once; it's reserved).
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
A morning - just one would do - when I could get off the train without being held up by some trolley-wielding bastard; get in and out of the tube without some bastard standing at the gate fumbling for their ticket; and a queue at W.M.Shits which consists of people who - as soon as they have been served - considerately move out of the way to allow the next person in.
Though that's about as likely as monkeys crawling out of my arse and flying around the room.
Bastards!
I have coffee.
I have croissant.
I have my grumpy trousers on.
Must be time for Fracas Monday Melee .
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
This week I have been mostly hating mankind's apparent need to walk up to the barriers at rush hour on the tube and only then to reach into their handbag and rummage for their fucking ticket while several hundred angry commuters pile up behind them and glower and swear, our tickets ready in our hands.
This is related to the need of fuckwits with trolleys (you know, those crappy little wheely things little old ladies use to shop for cat food and hairnets) to get off the crowded commuter train and stand just in front of the door, fiddling with the fucking handle while we all wait on the train. Walk an extra step, you moron.
Bastards!
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
That little bit on your broadband agreement that says "service may vary according to your location and the distance from your exchange" which means that you pay through the nose for fast broadband and get a worse than dial-up speed, when it connects at all.
Bastards!
3: The Malcontent:
(Name something you're unhappy with).
Related to number one; exemplified by the woman in front of me in the queue at W.M.Shits this morning while I tried to hand over my groats for a Guardian.
Lady, you have paid for your goods.
You have received your change.
Do NOT open your bag and get out your purse, open your purse and put the change in it - IN SEPARATE FUCKING COMPARTMENTS FOR EACH DENOMINATION - then stand there for a fucking age while you put your purse back in your bag, put your goods in your bag, get your fucking keys and mobile out of your bag, then stand for a few moments to brush your fucking hair.
MOVE TO ONE SIDE AND LET OTHERS GET SERVED!
Bastards!
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
Sassy: For having moved house without having to kill anybody.
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
Apparently, my chest makes a nice pillow (don't all rush at once; it's reserved).
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
A morning - just one would do - when I could get off the train without being held up by some trolley-wielding bastard; get in and out of the tube without some bastard standing at the gate fumbling for their ticket; and a queue at W.M.Shits which consists of people who - as soon as they have been served - considerately move out of the way to allow the next person in.
Though that's about as likely as monkeys crawling out of my arse and flying around the room.
Bastards!
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Cock
Okay … Do we really need any captions here?
This is the ECN building in Norwich, home of Eastern Counties Newspapers and one of the many reasons why Architects are regularly smacked around the head by passers-by in our otherwise lovely city.
As if to emphasise that what they write in their papers is a load of old cock, they have attached a representation of said appendage to the "crotch" of their stupid building …
er …
What can one say?
Cock is what it looks like and cock is what it is …
Click on it to make it bigger if you must.
This is the ECN building in Norwich, home of Eastern Counties Newspapers and one of the many reasons why Architects are regularly smacked around the head by passers-by in our otherwise lovely city.
As if to emphasise that what they write in their papers is a load of old cock, they have attached a representation of said appendage to the "crotch" of their stupid building …
er …What can one say?
Cock is what it looks like and cock is what it is …
Click on it to make it bigger if you must.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Two Points, Two Flats And A Packet Of Gravel
Ah, there's nothing like a good stoning to while away the afternoon …
Here's something I love about Norwich:
Most cities have seats with little plaques on, saying things like "In memory of Ethel Crump, who liked to sit here and dribble."
In Norwich, we have this:
Yup.
Just in case you needed reminding …
Here's something I love about Norwich:
Most cities have seats with little plaques on, saying things like "In memory of Ethel Crump, who liked to sit here and dribble."
In Norwich, we have this:
Yup.Just in case you needed reminding …
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Look Up. Pt.9
More silly architecture from your silly Architect.
I would dearly love a briefing from a client along the lines of:
"I'd like to spend a ridiclously disproportionate amount of money building a tiny little balcony, just big enough for one person to stand up in."
And there it is … On Old Broad Street, close by Liverpool Street Station.
To find it, simply look right and up as you come out of わさび with a tray of sushi and some onigiri for the train journey (at least that's how I came to notice it).
But for sheer teeny-scale stupidity, I challenge you good folk to beat the smallest room I have yet found …
I know that Lynn would welcome the opportunity to walk through Leadenhall Market once again, so if the rest of you would care to join us …
Look up as you approach the market and you will see probably the silliest room in London.
There it is; way up on the roof. I cannot even figure out how you would get into it, unless by ladder from the room below.
It is just - only just - large enough to stand a child in.
And again, built at huge cost and to no discernable purpose from hand-carved Portland Stone, with hand-blown curved glass windows and a ruddy great gold-plated pheasant on top.
Utterly beautiful but absolutely useless.
I love that in architecture.
I would dearly love a briefing from a client along the lines of:
"I'd like to spend a ridiclously disproportionate amount of money building a tiny little balcony, just big enough for one person to stand up in."
And there it is … On Old Broad Street, close by Liverpool Street Station.To find it, simply look right and up as you come out of わさび with a tray of sushi and some onigiri for the train journey (at least that's how I came to notice it).
But for sheer teeny-scale stupidity, I challenge you good folk to beat the smallest room I have yet found …
I know that Lynn would welcome the opportunity to walk through Leadenhall Market once again, so if the rest of you would care to join us …
Look up as you approach the market and you will see probably the silliest room in London.
There it is; way up on the roof. I cannot even figure out how you would get into it, unless by ladder from the room below.It is just - only just - large enough to stand a child in.
And again, built at huge cost and to no discernable purpose from hand-carved Portland Stone, with hand-blown curved glass windows and a ruddy great gold-plated pheasant on top.
Utterly beautiful but absolutely useless.
I love that in architecture.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Dear Prudence's Rhyme-It Challenge
Dear Prudence has set a tough one today.
The challenge is: to set down the qualities we want in a "mate" … but also to make it rhyme!
Yikes!
Hokay …
Here goes nothing:
Preferably mammalian
Possibly Australian
Maybe even alien
But not Episcopalian
Smokers are a no-no
As is Yoko Ono
Must be literate and witty
Love me out of more than pity
Should be female; not a guy
Unless of course it's Stephen Fry
While I'm waiting for my mate
I'll just sit here and masturbate … er …
Kinda tailed off at the end there … sorry, Prudence.
Though of course Frank Zappa said it best in "Jewish Princess":
"She can even be poor …
As long as she does it with four on the floor."
The challenge is: to set down the qualities we want in a "mate" … but also to make it rhyme!
Yikes!
Hokay …
Here goes nothing:
Preferably mammalian
Possibly Australian
Maybe even alien
But not Episcopalian
Smokers are a no-no
As is Yoko Ono
Must be literate and witty
Love me out of more than pity
Should be female; not a guy
Unless of course it's Stephen Fry
While I'm waiting for my mate
I'll just sit here and masturbate … er …
Kinda tailed off at the end there … sorry, Prudence.
Though of course Frank Zappa said it best in "Jewish Princess":
"She can even be poor …
As long as she does it with four on the floor."
Wednesday Filler Post
And apropos of absolutely bugger all:
This is for Little Jo, my secretary (sorry; "administrative assistant"). It perfectly encapsulates our working relationship. It also looks like her. And it also tickles me.
As usual, click on it to make it readable.
If anyone knows where I left my brain, please let me know as I am as sick of these crappy filler posts as you are.
This is for Little Jo, my secretary (sorry; "administrative assistant"). It perfectly encapsulates our working relationship. It also looks like her. And it also tickles me.
As usual, click on it to make it readable.If anyone knows where I left my brain, please let me know as I am as sick of these crappy filler posts as you are.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Monday Melee On A Tuesday
Phew …
After a relaxing Easter Break of housework, weeding, mowing lawns, cleaning the car, washing, ironing, shopping, going to church to find good old traditional Cannonball Bob has retired and been replaced by a happy-clappy moron, visiting, cooking, cleaning, washing up, dusting, vacuuming, decorating Mum's bungalow, furniture-wrestling and occasionally sleeping, it is lovely to get away from the countryside and back to the peace and quiet of Westminster to have a nice sit down and a cuppa in the office.
I missed Fracas Monday Melee so here it is on a Tuesday instead.
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
This week I have been mostly hating mankind's innate love of gardening (as if I don't have enough to do).
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
Painkillers … Ha!
Five pounds for a box of crappy pills that do fuck all (yes, I have a headache).
3: The Malcontent:
(Name something you're unhappy with).
Crumbs …
I hate the little fuckers!
If genetic engineering is so good, why haven't they made toast, croissants and biscuits that are safe to eat in bed? Eh? …
Useless buggers!
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
Mark E. Smith for reaching fifty and still being the most 'ornery curmudgeon this planet has ever seen. Bless his cotton socks.
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
I have great legs.
In fact below the waist I am pretty good looking. It's above the waist that things go seriously awry … and above the neck is where the ugly stick hit hardest.
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
See above … crumb-less toast for eating in bed.
After a relaxing Easter Break of housework, weeding, mowing lawns, cleaning the car, washing, ironing, shopping, going to church to find good old traditional Cannonball Bob has retired and been replaced by a happy-clappy moron, visiting, cooking, cleaning, washing up, dusting, vacuuming, decorating Mum's bungalow, furniture-wrestling and occasionally sleeping, it is lovely to get away from the countryside and back to the peace and quiet of Westminster to have a nice sit down and a cuppa in the office.
I missed Fracas Monday Melee so here it is on a Tuesday instead.
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
This week I have been mostly hating mankind's innate love of gardening (as if I don't have enough to do).
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
Painkillers … Ha!
Five pounds for a box of crappy pills that do fuck all (yes, I have a headache).
3: The Malcontent:
(Name something you're unhappy with).
Crumbs …
I hate the little fuckers!
If genetic engineering is so good, why haven't they made toast, croissants and biscuits that are safe to eat in bed? Eh? …
Useless buggers!
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
Mark E. Smith for reaching fifty and still being the most 'ornery curmudgeon this planet has ever seen. Bless his cotton socks.
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
I have great legs.
In fact below the waist I am pretty good looking. It's above the waist that things go seriously awry … and above the neck is where the ugly stick hit hardest.
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
See above … crumb-less toast for eating in bed.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Look Up. Pt.8
Right.
Time for one of the silliest pieces of construction I have ever found.
This is the poetically monickered "CIGS and PAPERS" on the corner of Norwich mrketplace.
Not in itself that silly, being merely a Georgian building given a kitsch makeover by the notoriously tacky Victorians.
Today's marvel is the bizarre architectural excresence perched on top of it.
What we have here is an attempt to make some kind of Greek temple out of some reclaimed Georgian windows and pediments and what can only be described as a bunch of old bits of corrugated iron.
I love it!
The sheer audacity of marrying classical proportions with old shed building materials atop a Georgian building which is clearly visible from the windows of the City Planning Authorities just across the market takes my breath away.
If only more people had this sense of style and fun and total lack of respect … the world might not be a better place, but it would be sillier.
Time for one of the silliest pieces of construction I have ever found.
This is the poetically monickered "CIGS and PAPERS" on the corner of Norwich mrketplace.Not in itself that silly, being merely a Georgian building given a kitsch makeover by the notoriously tacky Victorians.
Today's marvel is the bizarre architectural excresence perched on top of it.
What we have here is an attempt to make some kind of Greek temple out of some reclaimed Georgian windows and pediments and what can only be described as a bunch of old bits of corrugated iron.I love it!
The sheer audacity of marrying classical proportions with old shed building materials atop a Georgian building which is clearly visible from the windows of the City Planning Authorities just across the market takes my breath away.
If only more people had this sense of style and fun and total lack of respect … the world might not be a better place, but it would be sillier.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Look Up. Pt.7
I do like ridiculously overwrought ornamentation on buildings. The sheer pompous silliness of it makes me giggle.
This is the front of the ladies' shoes section of Jarrold's department store in Norwich. I like the over-the-top faience work.
I have no idea what all of the figures represent or what they are supposed to be doing.
On this one, a man appears to be showing a giant hat to a couple with a dog.
And on the next, two men stretch a third man's penis out to about three feet in length, while behind him another man beats an oven-ready chicken against the ground.
What this has to do with ladies' shoes is beyond me, but compared to out of town shopping in vast estates full of massive tin boxes, festooning buildings with elaborate silliness gets my vote every time.
The tragedy is that in the ten minutes I watched them, not one passer-by looked up to see the splendour just above their heads.
It was not until I stepped up and started taking photographs that people followed my eye.
"Oooh! Look!"
"Oooh! I never noticed that before."
"Isn't it pretty?"
Yes, look, you dumb bastards.
Get some fucking joy into your dreary, TV drenched lives.
Socialist though I am, I sometimes despair of the lumpenproletariat …
This is the front of the ladies' shoes section of Jarrold's department store in Norwich. I like the over-the-top faience work.
I have no idea what all of the figures represent or what they are supposed to be doing.
On this one, a man appears to be showing a giant hat to a couple with a dog.And on the next, two men stretch a third man's penis out to about three feet in length, while behind him another man beats an oven-ready chicken against the ground.
What this has to do with ladies' shoes is beyond me, but compared to out of town shopping in vast estates full of massive tin boxes, festooning buildings with elaborate silliness gets my vote every time.
The tragedy is that in the ten minutes I watched them, not one passer-by looked up to see the splendour just above their heads.It was not until I stepped up and started taking photographs that people followed my eye.
"Oooh! Look!"
"Oooh! I never noticed that before."
"Isn't it pretty?"
Yes, look, you dumb bastards.
Get some fucking joy into your dreary, TV drenched lives.
Socialist though I am, I sometimes despair of the lumpenproletariat …
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Die, Dive, Die!
Hokay …
A huge pay increase for my lovely Very Personal Assistant, Ms. 外人ガール。
Thanks to her I will get absolutely no work done for days.
Get on over to her site right now and play the most splendid waste of office time I think I have ever seen.
A huge pay increase for my lovely Very Personal Assistant, Ms. 外人ガール。
Thanks to her I will get absolutely no work done for days.
Get on over to her site right now and play the most splendid waste of office time I think I have ever seen.
Look Up. Pt.6
They pollard the plane trees near my office in Westminster, which looks attractive in a slightly silly way at this time of year.
That's Saint Stephens' church down there on the right; my office is behind me. I love plane trees. London is full of them because they are incredibly pollution tolerant; they shed their bark when it gets too full of cack, which gives them their attractive patchy appearance.
The next one's for Lynn, to make up for all the monstrous carbuncles in yesterday's post.
This is Leadenhall Market this morning. Regretfully, this lovely Victorian cast iron fancy is now filled with tourist tat emporia but is still a nice place to walk before the crowds build up.
Apologies for not slagging anybody off or swearing a lot, but I'm feeling unnaturally tranquil this morning. It's been a quiet week here in Lake Wobegon; Sassy's moving house, Robyn's sunning herself in Mouseland, Utsav's gone AWOL … It's too quiet.
Don't worry; it won't last.
That's Saint Stephens' church down there on the right; my office is behind me. I love plane trees. London is full of them because they are incredibly pollution tolerant; they shed their bark when it gets too full of cack, which gives them their attractive patchy appearance.
The next one's for Lynn, to make up for all the monstrous carbuncles in yesterday's post.
This is Leadenhall Market this morning. Regretfully, this lovely Victorian cast iron fancy is now filled with tourist tat emporia but is still a nice place to walk before the crowds build up.Apologies for not slagging anybody off or swearing a lot, but I'm feeling unnaturally tranquil this morning. It's been a quiet week here in Lake Wobegon; Sassy's moving house, Robyn's sunning herself in Mouseland, Utsav's gone AWOL … It's too quiet.
Don't worry; it won't last.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Look Up. Pt.5
I went home yesterday via the Gibson Hall on the corner of Bishopsgate and Gropecunte Lane, to check out more mad guff from the deranged sculptor of the masturbating grinning man (whose legs and "member" are just visible on the bottom left of this photo).
I rather like the sunlight reflecting on it from the glass office block across the road.
But I was particularly struck by the juxtaposition of Gibson Hall with Tower 42 behind it and wandered off to look for similar examples.
We Architects get around the "You can't build that there, you twats!" argument by telling the planners that the new building "carries on an interesting conversation" with the old …
In other words: "I know it's completely out of character with its surroundings and totally destroys all sense of massing, symmetry and character, but hey! I'm the Architect and you're just a know-nothing Philistine, so bugger off!"
It takes us years of training to be able to design what the hell we want and plonk it in the middle of some nice old buildings.
We do so love to annoy conservation groups and local residents, and especially Prince Charles.
Hee hee …
Here's the last Victorian building in Gracechurch Street; the Swan Tavern. Notice how the buildings either side are designed in complete harmony and sympathy.
And here's the poor old Albert pub on Victoria Street … with a subtle little extension out the back.
Hoorah for the Gherkin! I love that building, but it does kind of "carry on an interesting conversation" with Saint Helen's Church in the foreground.
Note also how well the Tokio Marine skyscraper on the right complements the little Georgian house next door.
I love my job.
I rather like the sunlight reflecting on it from the glass office block across the road.But I was particularly struck by the juxtaposition of Gibson Hall with Tower 42 behind it and wandered off to look for similar examples.
We Architects get around the "You can't build that there, you twats!" argument by telling the planners that the new building "carries on an interesting conversation" with the old …In other words: "I know it's completely out of character with its surroundings and totally destroys all sense of massing, symmetry and character, but hey! I'm the Architect and you're just a know-nothing Philistine, so bugger off!"
It takes us years of training to be able to design what the hell we want and plonk it in the middle of some nice old buildings.
We do so love to annoy conservation groups and local residents, and especially Prince Charles.
Hee hee …
Here's the last Victorian building in Gracechurch Street; the Swan Tavern. Notice how the buildings either side are designed in complete harmony and sympathy.
And here's the poor old Albert pub on Victoria Street … with a subtle little extension out the back.
Hoorah for the Gherkin! I love that building, but it does kind of "carry on an interesting conversation" with Saint Helen's Church in the foreground.Note also how well the Tokio Marine skyscraper on the right complements the little Georgian house next door.
I love my job.
Monday, April 02, 2007
It's The Christian Movie Review Site Again
I've not had a sly dig at the God-botherers for a while, so it's time once more for "Christians writing about sex".
Whilst doing the ironing I like to watch a trashy movie.
Yesterday, it was good old "Team America, World Police", which provided my shirts with some unusual and creative creases.
I decided today to look up the movie in my "Insane Christian Film Reviews" link (you must remember their nudity review of Spongebob Squarepants: The Movie).
These reviews are supposed to let parents make an informed choice about whether to let their children watch certain movies.
This is fair enough and a general overview with various ratings is not at all a bad idea.
Where this site careens off the rubber walls into unintentional hilarity, however, is in their choice to rate movies purely on sex, violence and profanity.
They do, however add a little piece at the end of each review addressing any message the film might convey; my favourite of which is for Natural Born Killers ("Love conquers all" which is kinda sweet considering the body count).
Hennyway: I'm not going to quote the full review of Team America, just the sex part … ahem …
Imagine, if you will, a couple of Christian film reviewers sitting there with their notebooks and their fingers over the pause button.
That image is far scarier than any movie … brrrr …
So: their review:
"A man and a woman kiss, we see them nude (we see her bare breasts and his bare buttocks, but they are not anatomically correct otherwise) lying in a bed and they kiss; in a series of encounters, the man lies on top of the woman and thrusts, then the woman is on her hands and knees and the man thrusts from behind, then the woman is on top of the man thrusting facing him and then away from him, then they perform oral sex on each other, and then she performs oral sex on him. A man asks another man to perform oral sex on him, we hear the man unzip his pants and then see the other man move downward and off screen. A man talks about another man having performed oral sex on him. A man asks a man if he is gay. A man talks to another man about fearing that he will force him to perform sexual favors. A woman says that she will have sex with a man if he makes her a promise. Women wearing traditional belly dancing outfits (revealing cleavage and bare abdomens) dance in a tavern. A woman wears low-cut tops that reveal cleavage. A man proposes marriage to a woman. A man and a woman kiss".
Now I don't know about you, but that sounds like a pretty good evening's entertainment.
It's a damned shame they're only puppets.
I love the last line. It's so sweet and chaste after all the rest.
Whilst doing the ironing I like to watch a trashy movie.
Yesterday, it was good old "Team America, World Police", which provided my shirts with some unusual and creative creases.
I decided today to look up the movie in my "Insane Christian Film Reviews" link (you must remember their nudity review of Spongebob Squarepants: The Movie).
These reviews are supposed to let parents make an informed choice about whether to let their children watch certain movies.
This is fair enough and a general overview with various ratings is not at all a bad idea.
Where this site careens off the rubber walls into unintentional hilarity, however, is in their choice to rate movies purely on sex, violence and profanity.
They do, however add a little piece at the end of each review addressing any message the film might convey; my favourite of which is for Natural Born Killers ("Love conquers all" which is kinda sweet considering the body count).
Hennyway: I'm not going to quote the full review of Team America, just the sex part … ahem …
Imagine, if you will, a couple of Christian film reviewers sitting there with their notebooks and their fingers over the pause button.
That image is far scarier than any movie … brrrr …
So: their review:
"A man and a woman kiss, we see them nude (we see her bare breasts and his bare buttocks, but they are not anatomically correct otherwise) lying in a bed and they kiss; in a series of encounters, the man lies on top of the woman and thrusts, then the woman is on her hands and knees and the man thrusts from behind, then the woman is on top of the man thrusting facing him and then away from him, then they perform oral sex on each other, and then she performs oral sex on him. A man asks another man to perform oral sex on him, we hear the man unzip his pants and then see the other man move downward and off screen. A man talks about another man having performed oral sex on him. A man asks a man if he is gay. A man talks to another man about fearing that he will force him to perform sexual favors. A woman says that she will have sex with a man if he makes her a promise. Women wearing traditional belly dancing outfits (revealing cleavage and bare abdomens) dance in a tavern. A woman wears low-cut tops that reveal cleavage. A man proposes marriage to a woman. A man and a woman kiss".
Now I don't know about you, but that sounds like a pretty good evening's entertainment.
It's a damned shame they're only puppets.
I love the last line. It's so sweet and chaste after all the rest.
Monday Melee
The older you get, the more every day seems like Monday.
Time once again for Fracas Monday Melee .
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
This week I have been mostly hating guys who commute to work but don't get dressed properly.
There are always some on the trains; wankers who just hang a tie round their neck but don't do it up. For fucks sake, wear a tie or don't wear a tie; make your stupid minds up. You look like fucking dorks.
That's almost as bad as Breakfast Boy who gets on the 5:40 with me in the mornings and lays out an elaborate array of Tupperware including one with cereal in, one with milk in, a thermos of coffee, various items of cutlery … What a twat.
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
The laces on my new shoes.
The bastards just WILL NOT stay done up. I've got to get up off my arse and walk down to the nearest shoe shop to buy a decent pair of laces this lunchtime.
3: The Malcontent:
(Name something you're unhappy with).
The fact that I am old and ugly (see below)
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
My boss, for shortlisting two gorgeous young girls for the post of my new Architectural Assistant.
I chose Heidi and she started this morning. She is fresh out of college, Finnish, blonde, slim, utterly beautiful in a way that makes my brain shut down and my mouth drop open and dribble when she looks at me. And she knows it.
She's also got that cute Finnish accent that reminds me of rally drivers.
Scarily, she also seems to be pretty good at her job.
Happy me.
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
My girlfriend told me this week that I look really good from behind.
I'm not sure if that's a nice comment about my (admittedly pretty hot) ass or a sign that she's already sick of the front view.
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
I like Vic's choice for this one this week (intraveinous coffee), but as she has already taken that, I'll go for the ability to speak Finnish.
Time once again for Fracas Monday Melee .
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
This week I have been mostly hating guys who commute to work but don't get dressed properly.
There are always some on the trains; wankers who just hang a tie round their neck but don't do it up. For fucks sake, wear a tie or don't wear a tie; make your stupid minds up. You look like fucking dorks.
That's almost as bad as Breakfast Boy who gets on the 5:40 with me in the mornings and lays out an elaborate array of Tupperware including one with cereal in, one with milk in, a thermos of coffee, various items of cutlery … What a twat.
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
The laces on my new shoes.
The bastards just WILL NOT stay done up. I've got to get up off my arse and walk down to the nearest shoe shop to buy a decent pair of laces this lunchtime.
3: The Malcontent:
(Name something you're unhappy with).
The fact that I am old and ugly (see below)
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
My boss, for shortlisting two gorgeous young girls for the post of my new Architectural Assistant.
I chose Heidi and she started this morning. She is fresh out of college, Finnish, blonde, slim, utterly beautiful in a way that makes my brain shut down and my mouth drop open and dribble when she looks at me. And she knows it.
She's also got that cute Finnish accent that reminds me of rally drivers.
Scarily, she also seems to be pretty good at her job.
Happy me.
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
My girlfriend told me this week that I look really good from behind.
I'm not sure if that's a nice comment about my (admittedly pretty hot) ass or a sign that she's already sick of the front view.
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
I like Vic's choice for this one this week (intraveinous coffee), but as she has already taken that, I'll go for the ability to speak Finnish.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
I Know It's Hot In Hell, But …
Had I realised that today is April 1st I would have prepared an elaborate April Fool's post, probably about the new skyscraper they're building in my village to house our local turnip museum.
But I am somewhat out of touch with reality at the moment, so you're stuck with what might appear to be an April Fool's joke but is in fact absolutely real.
This splendid edifice, dear reader, is the beautiful and august Saint Peter Mancroft Church, which you may have already met in my idiots' guide to the prettier parts of Norwich.
I was strolling around the city centre yesterday morning, looking for odd stuff for my "Look Up" series, when I looked down …
Notice if you will the small white sign in the flowerbed.
In this churchyard are buried many of Norfolk's illuminaries.
Saint Peter Mancroft is one of Norwich's most important churches and is sited right in the centre of the city by the marketplace.
To be buried in the churchyard is a signal honour, given only to a choice few of our finest citizens.
The inappropriateness of this little sign had me giggling all the way to the coffee shop.
Henry's Hog Roast sponsors the graveyard at Saint Peter Mancroft.
Nice …
But I am somewhat out of touch with reality at the moment, so you're stuck with what might appear to be an April Fool's joke but is in fact absolutely real.
This splendid edifice, dear reader, is the beautiful and august Saint Peter Mancroft Church, which you may have already met in my idiots' guide to the prettier parts of Norwich.
I was strolling around the city centre yesterday morning, looking for odd stuff for my "Look Up" series, when I looked down …Notice if you will the small white sign in the flowerbed.
In this churchyard are buried many of Norfolk's illuminaries.Saint Peter Mancroft is one of Norwich's most important churches and is sited right in the centre of the city by the marketplace.
To be buried in the churchyard is a signal honour, given only to a choice few of our finest citizens.
The inappropriateness of this little sign had me giggling all the way to the coffee shop.Henry's Hog Roast sponsors the graveyard at Saint Peter Mancroft.
Nice …
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)