Wednesday, 31 March 2010

Wait...What? Ricky Martin's Gay?

The general public have a gaydar comparable to that of Queen Victoria.  The long dead Empress once proclaimed that 'women think no such thing' and refused to recognise the concept of lesbianism.  Or so the legend goes.

It's always the same.  Obviously gay celebrity starts losing popularity and he very publicly comes out of the closet.  Quelle surprise!  

Ricky Martin has sensationally emerged from the closet as a 'fortunate homosexual man'.  I think that means that his boyfriend's got a big knob.

There have been cries from all over the world along the lines of 'Ricky Martin's gay, who'd a thunk it?'.  Well, me, all of my mates, every gay man in the village and even that blind, homeless guy who cuts Gordon Brown's hair.  

I even went to a Hare Krishna temple a couple of months ago and one of the monks was tearing up a Ricky Martin poster, referring to him as a 'fucking chutney ferret'.  Awful.

Anyway, on with my list...

  • George Michael.  Yup, we all knew.  In those days of gender line-blurring we knew Georgie loved the cock.  He sang those love songs with a little too much conviction, as anyone with half a brain knows that men only say that shit to get into a bird's knickers.  

  • Rob Halford.  I was guilty of completely missing the boat on this one.  The lead singer of Judas Priest, one of the most macho and influential metal bands of all time.  The leather pants, song names like Turbo Lover and Ram It Down, and the fact that he looks like an old queen.  None of these clued me in, but then again I'm not that interested in the sex lives of musicians I like.  I understand now how he got his inspiration for all those high pitched screams. 

  • Steven Gately.  I knew this right away.  He was in a boy band.  Ergo, he is gay.  I'd be shocked if one of them was straight.

There's bound to be more gay men in the performing arts I suppose.  When I was at school I scoffed at doing drama classes or singing and the boys that did we would push to the ground and laugh scornfully.  Only when it was too late did I realise that those boys were getting loads of chicks on the back of being all sensitive and arty.  

At this juncture I would like to point out that homophobia is in fact a sure sign that you are a homosexual.  If you are concerned about where another man puts his winkie, enough to become emotional about it, you're probably only fooling yourself.

I personally have always been very glad of all the gays around the place.  Less competition.

Tuesday, 30 March 2010

Eyes Front

If you've read this blog before you may have realised that there are two important topics that I often touch upon often.  Breasts and smoking.  I'm leaving breasts alone for the meantime.  In a blogging sense.  In real life they're quite moreish.

I smoked for years and when I made the decision to finally give up I found it remarkably easy. One thing that certainly helped was our nanny-state of a government banning smoking in public places, meaning that one could no longer sit in a bar and have a peaceful cigarette with a beer and thoughts of world domination.  You had to go outside and stand in the rain with a bunch of drunk, smelly assholes.  This was when I realised that most of the people who still smoked were too stupid to have given up.  It also drove home to me that there was one benefit of smoking that nobody had though about before:

Pubs smell like piss.

You know the traditional smell of a bar that's just opened?  Stale beer and stale cigarettes.  It's not pleasant, but it's not offensive, and it brings back memories.  Memories of thinking, 'it's 11am Saturday, I can go shopping with the girlfriend and watch her hold stupidly expensive dresses against herself, or I can go and sit in a basement pub and get some peace and quiet while she wastes all my money'.

Well, you can't do that sort of thing any more, because every single bar where you could have some peace smells like a tramp's underpants.

There are several rules about when and how often, as a man, you are allowed to go for a piss when you're drinking beer.
  1. If you need a piss before you've had 3 pints you have a small cock.
  2. You must leave at least a pint between pisses.  For example if you have a piss on pint number 4, you're not allowed to piss again before pint number 6.
  3. If you're still managing to follow rules 1 and 2 by the time you've reached pint number 8 you're a better man than me.
When you do have to go for a piss, or like everyone else, you claim to be checking out the jukebox/barmaid or talking to someone you know that's over the other side of the pub, so you don't have to admit that you have a small cock because you've only had 2 pints and your bladder has been bursting for 15 minutes now, there should be only 1 rule:
  1. Don't look at my cock
I can tolerate the drunken rambling, the blokes who are super friendly and want to laugh and joke with you, the stare straight ahead and have no emotion guys and I can even tolerate the guy who spends more than 7 nano-seconds looking in the mirror (another rule that all straight men should follow) checking that his product is keeping his boy-band hairdo tippity top.

I cannot tolerate the bloke that looks at my cock.

Why would you want to watch a bloke's cock while he's pissing?

I think that a well-kept vagina is one of the most beautiful things in creation.  A vagina, no matter how well kept, with hot steaming piss gushing out of it, I'll give that one a miss.  

I'm not one to pass judgement (haha I am really) on another human being, but if you seriously have ever looked at a man's cock while you're having a piss next to him, you may wish to have a long hard think about where you want to go with that.

Monday, 29 March 2010

4 Rules of Health and Safety

One of my favourite things in the whole world is scaring the shit out of people.  You know when someone isn't expecting you to be there and you let out a blood-curdling scream and then they react really weirdly, swearing, lashing out and looking angry.  Hilarious.

My all time favourite was when I called my ex from just outside our front door and asked her to pick me up from the pub as I was too drunk to get home.  She reluctantly agreed and then when she stepped outside the door I leapt from the shadows shouting DIEEEEE; starting off really gruffly and ending in an eerie high pitched wail.  She ran up the stairs screaming her little lungs out and it took her about an hour to fully calm down.  

Now there's all sorts of stupid rules about when I'm allowed to frighten someone.  It's no longer just when someone has a heart condition, the world's gone Health and Safety crazy!

I'm not allowed to scare my girlfriend at the following times:
  1. When she's pouring something.  Sugar, salt, milk, boiling water.  The list is endless.  
  2. When she's cooking.  No problem there then.
  3. When she's holding a knife or other sharp object.    
  4. When she's applying eye make-up.
I'm sure there'll be other restrictions on my scaring activities in the future, it's like living in a police state.  

Years back, many jobs ago, I wanted to put up a pretty sweet poster that someone had lovingly drawn, of a wolf, with long hair, smoking a cigarette.  This was to demonstrate that our section was brilliant and everyone else in the office was gay.  

One of the HR busybodies said to me that I wasn't to erect this poster because smoking's a Health and Safety risk and not allowed in the office.  I said 'so wolves are allowed in the office?', and received a blank stare in return. 

It occurred to me that there are people who take Health and Safety directives seriously.  People who would never run with scissors.  Who wouldn't climb on a computer chair to change a light-bulb.  People who lift with their legs and wear goggles when they trim their toe-nails.  

Does being super careful in case we get hurt really enhance our quality of life? Probably not.  'Smoking takes 20 years off your life, but it's the shit 20 years.'   No idea who first said that, smoking's disgusting and smelly and makes you impotent, but embracing the spirit behind living for the moment would probably make us all happier and a little more carefree.

Saturday, 27 March 2010

You've Still Never Met a Nice South African

I'm a bit multi-cultural.  That doesn't mean that I think I'm Irish because my great, great grandfather ate a potato once, but my parents are from different countries and I've lived on three different continents.

There are several advantages of this -  I can understand the differences between people better, this makes me more tolerant and centred, I'm an interesting conversationalist and I can get away with calling people 'dirty foreigners' due to the fact that I too am officially a foreigner.  It also means that I have a more than averagely large vocabulary of words and phrases that mean absolutely nothing.
  • Ja well no fine - South Africans say this, it means 'Yes, well, no, fine' so absolutely nothing
  • Just like that - My Indian friend Chirag taught me this one, and I've noticed other Indian people using it.  You could use it when you don't feel like answering a question.  'Why did you spend all your tuition fees on booze?'  'Just like that' or 'I thought you were a vegetarian but you're eating a hamburger...' 'Just like that'. 
  • La - People from Liverpool in England say 'la' at the end of every sentence.  Try it out.
When people find out that I'm a dirty foreigner, most are shocked.  I look the same as a native, if a great deal more handsome and sound like many other British people, and the fact that you wouldn't know is a matter of pride to me.  Not because I'm ashamed of my birthplace, but because people often treat their status as a foreigner as a badge of stupidity.

I went to Ireland a couple of years ago and loved it, but I was totally shocked when I spoke to the very friendly and hospitable Irish people.  They didn't sound at all like the moronic 'top o the morning diddlee dee' crowd, who can't rest until everyone within a 5 mile radius knows that they're Irish,  I had met in mainland Britain. In fact their accents were quite mild and these were country folk without an ounce of pretension.  Some of them didn't even drink Guinness.  Gasp!

I would like to offer some handy hints on the proper etiquette when meeting a South African, just so you don't repeat the faux pas to which I am frequently exposed:
  • Don't tell me about every South African person you've ever met
  • I don't want to hear how you could barely understand them and yet my accent is barely noticeable
  • I'm not interested in your views of apartheid or Nelson Mandela or any other ill informed opinions you may have about decisions people made before I was born
  • Forget about trying to engage me in sports talk about how country x beat SA in rugby or cricket.  I base MY self-esteem on things I personally achieve.
  • No, I've never had a lion in my garden and tigers are from Asia you idiot.

Daily Mail Readers Disagree With Me

In a fit of jealous pique, an unattractive Daily Mail columnist has slated women with fake breasts.  Sally Brampton says that she has a lifelong hatred of her own body and now she also says that she's happy that apparently, she's heard or read somewhere, but nobody in their right mind believes it, young girls think big boobs make you look fat.

Amongst the numerous comments on her story, Scott Smith from Boulder (no pun intended eh Scott?) hates fake boobs, Ian Simms says they feel horrible and look weird and my personal hero Jack Graham says that he won't drink out of a plastic beer container so he won't touch fake boobs.

Unfortunately boys, this massively disingenuous stupidity doesn't say 

'I'm a new man who loves real women' to women.  It says

'I'm a creepy slime-bag that defines women entirely by their breasts'

Thursday, 25 March 2010

Another One About Big Breasts

A new survey has proven what I believed all along.  Men like fake breasts.  

On a woman.

1 in 4 prefer fake breasts and 40% say it doesn't matter, fake or real, I don't get to touch any anyway.

You may think I'm being stupid, as it's an obvious fact, but it's the male equivalent of 'periods don't affect my mood'. 

Ask 4 random men, do they prefer fake or real.  They will all say 'real'.  Men always lie about their sexual exploits so probably they haven't had any experience with fake knockers but they'll say 'oh, I prefer real', every single time.  I don't know exactly why this is, probably something to with - Just in case a chick with real tits hears me, she'll think I'm awesome and shag me.

We're hard wired to prefer bigger breasts, ask Desmond Morris.

As a test, look at the following pictures and see which woman you find more attractive.

If you choose the one on the left, you are wrong.  And you know who else is wrong?  The people that say that there are no right answers, that's bullshit.

Apart from very sick freaks, everyone will find the woman on the right more attractive, and that's because she's got bigger breasts.

Quod erat demonstrandum.

Wednesday, 24 March 2010

It's a Bland New Way

I'm a huge fan of Asterix the Gaul, by Goscinny and Uderzo.  It's childish and at the same time quite erudite, the characters are memorable and it's educational.  The part that often sticks in my mind is the story where Asterix, Obelix and Dogmatix venture to Rome to rescue their village bard.  They are recruited by a slimy Gladiator trainer to fight in the Coliseum and when they visit his domus he remarks

'Come along in...We'll have a light meal.'

to which Obelix responds

'Couldn't we have a heavy meal instead?'

This most often sticks in my mind whilst I'm grocery shopping.  Why is everything 'light' or 'lite'?  It's horrid.  I'm probably alone in this, but I don't want 'lightly salted' chips.  I want 'heavily salted' chips.

What's the point?

There's a diet version of everything, and it's all evil marketers playing on people's low self-esteem.  In reality, a healthy version of something is something else.  A Diet version of Coke would be 'some water'.  Low-fat mayonnaise would be 'no mayonnaise'.

Lite food is all tasteless crap and it doesn't work anyway.  You never see skinny people drinking Diet Coke, they drink Coke.  Fat people drink Diet Coke with their Big Mac and large fries.

It's not just food that is becoming bland and unremarkable.  It's our entire culture.  When I was a teenager our elders hated our music and our habits.  Now I just look at teenagers and think 'Wankers!', they're so boring.

Ooo, I've got a Myspace and I've posted hundreds of pictures on Facebook of me looking gangsta.  Jesus, that's so lame.  You even have movements of teenagers dedicated to NOT having sex.

I could go on forever about how bland shit is, so I'll just list some incredibly bland shit

  • Coldplay - How boring can you possibly get?
  • The Bounty Hunter Movie - Yes, let's get a couple of 'beautiful' movie stars and write an immensely mundane script and then put them on a massive poster with wry grins on their faces, using the absolute worst byline anyone has ever read - 'Hunt down your ex - best job ever' oh haha, how trite.  Jennifer Aniston's got a funny face by the way.  
  • Dog the Bounty Hunter - Umm, he doesn't do anything.  I'll talk these guys into giving themselves up and then have a little pray with them.  Just beat someone with a stick would you?!?!
  • Girls Aloud - They have a clause in their contract stating that they must have completely different hairstyles to each other at all times or you wouldn't be able to tell them apart.
  • The Hurt Locker - nothing happens
  • R&B - There's no tune, just some bloke talking softly, or a woman wailing away like she's giving birth.
  • Soccer - Run up the field, run back.  It's illegal to kick the ball too far.  Cheat ALL the time and when someone scores a goal it's a fucking momentous occasion.
  • X-Factor - Great, you sound the same as every other forgettable pop singer so we'll put you through.  You can do annoying vibrato and sing nasally, you're through.  Are you from Ireland, everyone loves twee little bastards from Ireland, you're through.
  • U2 - Bland, bland, bland, bland, bland
Were I a conspiracy theorist I would say that our secret masters are manipulating events to make us all utterly mindless and easier to control.

Monday, 22 March 2010

How To Find A Mate

They say 'Beer exists so fat chicks can get laid', but it goes deeper than that.

It's all down to perception.

Uma Thurman.  Apparently she's a great beauty.  What?  Her hands are huge, she's all rangy, she's got nae tits. Look...

Massive hands.

You know why you think she's a great beauty? Perception.  Television and movies tell you that she is.

It's the same with Leonardo Dicrapio.  He looks like a rat.  By growing that stupid moustache and trying to look like a big boy, he's made himself look like Master Splinter.  

Watch Jerry Springer/Jeremy Kyle.  You won't believe that those people find each other attractive and yet they manage to mate frequently.  

I've often wondered if ugly people find each other attractive or they just settle for what they can get.  

It's all perception.

Here's how to find a mate...

Men - women will allow you to mate with them if you tell them that you are the best mate currently available.  Works on about 30% of single women.  Try it, but I'm warning you now that those are the really thick 30%, but you don't care do you?

Women - If men perceive that you are easy you can get more of them.  Then just trap one by getting up the duff. 

See, perception.

Sunday, 21 March 2010

Why does Jamie Oliver Twist?

Huntington, West Virginia.  America's fattest city.

Why would someone come up with that epithet?  Just hurt everyone's feelings in Huntington why don't you?  What's that?  Calling them fat as fuck isn't enough?  They're toothless and poor too?  Charming.

To pile on the misery some TV exec thought it would be a good idea to send Jamie Oliver there to rub it in their faces.  Cos that's what I'd do.  Residents of a town fat as fuck?  Send them a chef.

One resident has totally kicked off and has said something along the lines of:

'They think we're all fat as fuck here, but it's bullshit.  We're not waddling down the road eating pizza all day long.  We have our goddamn teeth and we ALL have masters degrees'

On the other hand, their mayor isn't setting a good example as he's 5'9 and weights 233 pounds.

Change this to a man and that's how a mayor should look.  Not really fat at all.

They have more pizza parlors in Huntington than the entire state of West Virginia has fitness clubs, and the mayor has commented that he has never seen anywhere so 'hot-dog oriented' and then blamed it on their culture.  Appalachian.  What does that even mean?

'People from Glasgow are always drunk.  It's their culture.  Scottish.'

Referring briefly back to that article linked at the top, the first photograph is just weird.  Some crazily skinny chick, you can't see if she's got her teeth, is measuring some blokes waist.  But when you read the caption, it's not a bloke, it's a 9 year old boy.  Holy shit!  And his name is Noah Retcher.  What? Is this some sort of joke? Is that a name or a description?  Apparently bulimics are fat because all the purging doesn't really work and by the time they've figured it out it's 150 pounds too late.

Anyway Jamie Oliver, affectionately known to the British media as 'The Cheeky Twat' poked his nose in to try to reduce the level of morbid obesity in Huntington, West Virginia, The World's fattest city.  His welcome was not as warm as he expected.

On a radio show Jamie was told by the DJ that, in Huntington, 'we don't want to sit around eating lettuce all day'.

Now, I don't know about you, and admittedly, I am quite a tough guy, but if someone said that to me, I would probably respond with something like, 'I don't give a shit what you want you prick, I'm getting paid a fucking fortune to come to this God forsaken shithole and make a freakshow TV program about how absolutely awful you Huntington assholes are, so keep your worthless opinions to yourself and promote my show!!!!'

But Jamie Oliver, even though he has a giant head and could totally intimidate loads of people

with his 'I'm homeless and got nothin to lose, bitch' look, did something entirely different...

He started crying like a little girl.  He actually said 'they don't understand me'.  

You know, I'd like to see a serious sort of television presenter, like Ross Kemp, turn up at Oliver's house with a team of tongue-reduction specialist plastic surgeons and a troupe of elocution lesson women to fix him up and see how he likes it.

Saturday, 20 March 2010

Hairy Milf

You can get the most amazing information about your blog from Google.  I found out 20 minutes ago that someone had been directed to this website by Google after searching for 'Hairy Milf'.

Apart from the weirdness of that happening, 60 000 other people have also searched for the same thing, this month alone.

I'm amazed at the popularity of hirsute older women.  I've been beating them off with a shitty stick and now I find that they're the next big thing.

One of Life's Great Mysteries

Can anyone tell me what's wrong with this picture?

I've been asked why there's not more misogyny on this blog, and I've been resisting, but I've been forced into this one.

Why is it absolutely necessary for women to use both hands to eat a sandwich?  

Is the sandwich soo heavy it takes the combined strength of two healthy arms to lift?  A large apple is heavier than half a sandwich.  I've never seen anyone eat an apple with two hands.

This must be the fabled puniness that doesn't enable women to put down a simple toilet seat and instead run through the house ranting that it's been left up again.  The absolute best thing about the toilet seat situation is that women have told me in the past that it's no fun accidently falling down the toilet because the seat's been left up.  It may be no fun for you darling, but would be hilarious for me.

This post, like many others, was inspired by my wonderful girlfriend, who sarcastically remarked to me yesterday, ' I suppose you think you're clever eating that sandwich with one hand.'  I was, in fact, eating a sandwich with one hand.  

Thursday, 18 March 2010

Bully For You

You know when people say 'Oh, I wish I could do it all again, be young again with what I know now.' And then they've got nothing else to say on the matter?  What would they actually do?  Study harder?  Brush their teeth more? 

Not start smoking probably.  That'd be one of mine.  I've stopped now though, through sheer power of will, none of those girly patches or gum (gum!), and you don't really understand the negative impact it's having until you quit.

Now I'm determined to be as self-righteous about filthy smokers as possible.

Filthy Dirty Cigarettes

Moving on, there is one other reason I'd love to be young again, knowing what I know now (It's time to become even more unpopular).

I'd become more of a bully.

There was all the normal hazing and peer pressure at high school.  I remember flushing some kid's trousers down the toilet after rugby practice and then the next day his friends from a higher year made me buy them cigarettes as punishment.  Of course we picked on the usual suspects, the nerds, the fatties, the quadruple amputees, the girls with uni-brows (which I see are back in fashion), but everyone left the special children alone.  

You know the ones, those that squeal really loudly in the middle of a lesson for no reason.  The ones that don't really join in the team sports, but seem to be running off in random directions and then come back with a bloody nose, the ones whose parents send them to school in dirty clothing and with a yoghurt and a packet of pork scratchings for lunch because that's all they'll eat. Even the teachers were tolerant and we had some weird-ass teachers, flinging overhead projectors, coming into work drunk speaking foreign languages, accusing me of flirting with them even.  

Yeah, everybody felt a little uncomfortable around those kids.  The ones with ADHD, ASS and/or oMUSH.  Medical science tells us that bad behaviour can be due to a mental disorder.  No shit?  

Had I my time in high school again, apart from treating the girls differently, I'd definitely bully those children more.

Those are the younger incarnations of the adults that now feel entitled.  The adults that treat others with no respect and who can't learn the simplest lessons.  You probably pay for their existences (and their vile offspring) with your tax money as they can't be fucking bothered to hold down a job.  

Hazing and bullying at high school gave us a hierarchy that we didn't get at home, we started to understand a social pecking order.  Fit in or fuck off.  I learnt some harsh lessons and hopefully I can instil in my children a desire to learn those lessons earlier and better, but those special kids didn't learn any of those lessons.  

If I could go back twenty years, I'd walk up to those little bastards and give them a bloody good punching.

Just doing my bit for society.

Wednesday, 17 March 2010

Ay Caramba!

Now that I've been hailed as an international sex expert (I can't use the ridiculous word 'sexpert' as portmanteaux are banned from my blog) I would like to share with you a question asked by a very confused young lady from NYC.

Is that cool, calling it NYC? I hope so.

Which finger is best to use for the Dirty Sanchez?

When you think about it, the answer's obvious.  The one with the most shit on it.

On the same subject, I find it amusing that Dirty Sanchez the TV show has had to have its name changed for North American audiences.  Plainly the phrase Dirty Sanchez refers to an act so vile that the only synonym for it is a Stinky Hitler and by association is quite racist towards Mexican people.  The name has had to be changed to Team Sanchez because that doesn't sound like group coprophilia at all nor does it make any reference to uncalled-for negative racial stereotypes.

It's also amusing that a group of Welsh boyos would choose such a name for their televised exploits, I can't imagine where you would place a moustache on a sheep.

Tuesday, 16 March 2010

4 Sexual Positions you haven't tried yet

Subtitle - Or if you have I'm calling the police

The Spider
The female gets on all fours, legs and arms straight with butt poking out as far as possible.  The male climbs on top, at a 90 degree angle, limbs splayed, simulating the 8 legs of a gross hairy spider.  What's unique about this sexual position is that actual penetration is impossible.

The Huddled Fetus
While it has an incredibly disturbing name, this may be the most satisfying for the ladies.  The Huddled Fetus is a direct follow-up to the Angry Pirate mentioned previously in this blog. In essence gentlemen, you get kicked in the balls.

Stroke the Beaver, Smell the Witch
Well, one hand strokes the beaver and you use your nose to smell the witch.  

The Bogwash
Simply put, you do the woman from behind with her head shoved down the toilet.  At the moment of climax, you flush the toilet.  A small variation on this is when your girlfriend or wife has had one sherry too many and she's heaving her guts into the bowl and you ravish her while she's at her lowest ebb.  A word of warning, you have to hold her hair back so it might not be worth the hassle.

Monday, 15 March 2010

Thanks for the advice

Sometimes it takes a foreigner to speak English properly.

We say

Know your limitations


You can't get blood out of a stone

Polish people say

You can't jump higher than your cock

I'd like to point out that I know only one Polish person and he seems quite mad.

I used to know another one, a girl, but she didn't like me any more after finding out that I was 'boastful'.  

Normally it's because I'm a bastard or something, but whatever.

Get fat for Mothers Day

Yesterday was Mothers Day in this corner of the world.  I suppose this celebration is a chance for my Mum, or Mom as my little brother hilariously refers to her in his odd half American, half South African accent, to put her feet up and reap the rewards of having three loving sons.

Obviously that didn't happen, because my Mother and presumably Mothers all over the world, confuse Mothers Day with Make Your Children Fat Day.

Already having been given a giant trifle, and worrying about how my healthy living plan would incorporate it, I then had to face a huge bucket of KFC and chocolate cakes donated by my girlfriend's mother.

I remember a Garfield comic strip from years ago where Jon's Mother communicates her love to him by feeding him.

That's the same the world over.

Mothers don't care if you're fat.

It's comforting, slightly worrying and I wouldn't change it for the world.

I bet the gym's packed this morning.

Friday, 12 March 2010

What the hell IS the plural of Emo?

Call me old-fashioned, but I just don't get this new craze that's sweeping the nation.  According to the BBC the popularity of self-harm has risen 50% over recent years.

Is this something to do with Emos, or is it Emo's?

There's a lot of pressure on young people these days and they struggle with their body image.  So they use self-harm as a coping mechanism.

I'm not making this shit up, it's right here in black and white.

I'm sure this is no laughing matter and I'm no doctor, but this sounds a lot to me like Attention Seeking Syndrome.

The reasons I believe it to be ASS are the following...
  • How does cutting your arm help you cope with feeling shit about the way you look?  It doesn't unless someone gives you some attention
  • Why is it always something super-visible, and safe, like the arm.  You never see someone who's just cut their nose off, and you never hear of self-harmers running full tilt into a 3 foot high fence to get a bloody good body shot in.
Looking at pictures of self-harm on the internet encourages people to mutilate their own bodies?  Are these experts mad?  People who look up pictures of self-harm are massively fucking warped in the first place, they don't need any encouragement.

It's like saying that watching porn on the internet will make me pretend to be a pizza delivery boy and cut a hole in the bottom of the pizza box surprising the fetching milf, who keeps in trim by eating pizza in the middle of the day, with my rampant member when she wants to check that her delivery is correct.

Reading that article DID make me want to stick hot pokers in my eyes, so there may be some truth in it after all.

My Precious

Oh no, Howard Stern has said something sensationalistic.  He called Gabourey Sidibe fat as fuck and now he's 'under fire'.

This is an excellent example of how retarded celebrity culture is.  Are the people outraged by Howard 'I'll hide my disdain for fat people under a pretence of being concerned about their health' Stern's comments surprised he came out with that?  No, of course not, it's more publicity for them, Stern, Sidibe and more dollars spent by star struck nobodies who buy-in to this crap.

Gabourey Sidibe is one of those people who you see on the Jerry Springer show.  She'll be up on the stage having taken her muumuu off indicating her body with both hands saying 'you want this, you want ALL of this, I'm a REAL woman' and then rushing off to attack her 5'4 120lb boyfriend.

Hey Bitches!

You know when you watch TV or a movie and the part requires someone hugely fat, or super short, or ugly as sin, or otherwise deformed?  You think to yourself, or say it out loud if you're as annoying as me, 'that actor actually applied for that part knowing that they wanted the ugliest human being in the world to play it.'   Actors don't care about debasing themselves, they have no hearts and quite possibly, no souls.

Here's my point.  Gabourey Sidibe knows that she's monstrously fat and will have to deal with playing roles that are suited to her plus-size physique.  It's not as though they're aren't numerous examples of other fat, black women who have worked their way to some degree of fame and fortune.  I'm thinking Beyonce here but there must be more.

Besides, if only thin, good-looking people were allowed to do any acting we wouldn't have Danny de Vito and that would be unthinkable. 

Thursday, 11 March 2010

Big breasts and bananas

For a brief joyous moment I thought it was Kirk Cameron.  The world was in perfect harmony.

'You do mean that annoying little bender from Growing Pains right?'

'No, the one off Lost Boys.'


I don't know much about Kirk Cameron really, but I do know that he and his moustachioed patsy made international laughing stocks out of themselves by using a banana to prove the existence of God.  Until someone pointed out that the banana as we know it is even more genetically altered than Katie Price.  Modifications have been added through the years to enhance the curvature and general attractiveness of both items.  The comparison ends when you consider that bananas have a purpose.

Contrary to what a reasonable human being would believe, I actually do research outside the vicious meanderings that take place inside my head, and deciding to Youtube Kirk, I found this debate between him, his bitch that looks like Bruce from Family Guy and two people from the Rational Response Squad (lame).

I don't recommend you watch the whole thing, just forward to 50% through, as it's just self-righteous bullshit by people who think they're clever, but someone, and it's not the the guy from the RRS because he's obviously gay, played a manipulation masterstroke by having that humongous breasted woman doing the debating.  She's wearing 3 inch heels and a dress that is designed to be old-fashioned and homely and yet accentuate her bigger-than-Kirk-Cameron's-albeit-tiny-head tits.

No man will refute anything she says, and women will think 'well she's a woman in a man's world so good on her'.

Anyway, Corey Haim dies and Chuck Norris turns 70.  Coincidence?

Tuesday, 9 March 2010

It's spontaneous

Why is everyone trying to be funny all the time?

I was in a training course recently, two trainers, no need for screwing about, just deliver the information please and let me get back to whatever it is I do.  Nuh-uh.  They'd rather make an attempt to engage with the delegates and fulfil their need for an audience.  Bad move, look around, nobody's laughing, you're not a comedy duo.  I'm cringing, but I have that 'I'm not amused' expression on during much of my work day anyway, so it goes unnoticed.

The next day, another training course, this time for the entire day.  The other delegates are a bit more switched on this time, and the 'facilitator' more experienced.  More bloody jokes, plainly rehearsed.  Some woman in a carpark had made a 'dickhead' sign at him, which he communicated to us by making a masturbating gesture from his head. 'I think she was trying to tell me I should be wearing a hat'.

Just stop ok?  If you have to rehearse or plan it, it's not funny.

It's spontaneous and it's called 'wit'. sound bite

Oh, it gets worse.  Not content with dumbing down meteorology by allowing dye-job bimbos to talk about it on television, now we have banter with the news presenter I'm an entertainer not just a weatherman.  Well you creepy little puke, take that godamn doohicky you think makes you look like a fucking wizard and stop waving it about with those spastically uncool sweeping hand movements and stick it up your scrawny backside.

Is that point-at-the-camera motion at the end your 'thing' Daniel?

Everyone's a comedian.

I hope you're happy women.  Now that men need a GSOH to get laid, we've all gotta be clowns!

Saturday, 6 March 2010


You can't move these days without hearing about pirates.  I used to think they were pretty cool, but now I have determined that they are shit.

You think the old style ones are good, with their cutlasses and rum, and Johnny Depp can't even ruin it with his so-bad-its-hilarious 'acting'.  But no, the amount of anal rape that would have been going on just puts me off.

21st century pirates are even worse.  It just a bunch of malnourished Somalians with machetes and non-functional machine guns.

You can tell how shit they are by the fact that you can pay someone to take you on a motherfucking boat with AK-47's and grenade-launchers to murder them.  AND there'll be LOADS of anal rape on board the pirate boats.

Went to a heavy metal festival - pirate themed band
Go to work - some guy phones in speaking like a pirate and not even on purpose
Turn on the news - pirates hijacking a tanker
Go to the theatre - obviously there's a bloody stage-show about them, apparently it's  an 'Escape to a magical world of action, thrills, comedy and fun for everyone'.  There's even an over 18's version.  That'll be where the anal rape is then.

Lastly and predictably, the sexual position.  The Angry Pirate.  According to the instructions you must ejaculate in a girl's eye (or it could be a boy I suppose) and then kick her in the shin really hard.

Let me know if I'm not making that last part clear, or better yet, try it out and view the results from a fair distance.

Friday, 5 March 2010

To be Young and Idealistic

It was the sort of conversation that only men have. We love reflected glory.  

Very casually - 'So, what does your dad do for a living?'

It was a five way conversation and we all wanted to win this one.  I can't remember what anyone else said, because Newkie ever so pithily mentioned that...

'He's retired now, but he used to work for CERN!' Cue thunder and lightning from nowhere.


On the awesomeness scale, that's like your old man being James Bond, or the guy that invented beer.

'My father is an evil scientist who invented the nuclear bomb' is what he really meant and we knew it.

Knowing that Newkie wasn't massively rich or powerful himself, the only slightly spiteful question reared its head:

'What the hell happened to you then?'

'Well, I was at University, and the plan was for me to become a world-class physicist, but I got bored so I thought I'd get a job'


Wednesday, 3 March 2010

The MD Guide to Stress Reduction

Doing research for this very serious topic I found out that drinking urine is good for stress relief.  We're not going to try that one around here!

I use many techniques to rid myself of the daily stresses of work, relationships and maintaining adequate levels of awesomeness.  The one I have found to be most efficacious, and I realise most will just laugh this away, is...

I don't give a shit.

If you don't care about what's happening, ie invest no emotional attachment into it, you won't get stressed about it.  Plainly you can't use this strategy for something that really matters, but just think to yourself.  What does really matter? 

How this technique works, and this may require a level of adaptability for any ladies who read this, is that when confronted with a situation that may become stressful, just remember the IDGAS epiphany, 'They can't chop my cock off'.

Couple of examples for you...

Yesterday I took my mother and sister-in-law (and baby) shopping.  On leaving I parked the car in the pick-up point of the shopping centre, got out and helped with getting the baby and the bags safely into my vehicle.  This action blocked a couple of other car-park users in for about three minutes and I could sense that they were becoming impatient.  My brother's wife started to become anxious because of her perceived attitude of the people waiting. I felt very protective over my mother, my brother's wife and my nephew, and could quite happily have entered into a massive shouting match with the other drivers, but I just didn't give a shit about how they felt.  They were in a pick-up zone, people are gonna pick people up there, and let's face it, they couldn't chop my cock off.

Bank foreclosing on your house?  Can they chop your cock off? Nope.

Boss has unrealistic demands?  Can he chop your cock off? No way man.

Thai girlfriend discovered you cheating on her?  Can she chop your cock off? Yes.

Tuesday, 2 March 2010

Michael Buble

I hand it to Michael Buble...
  • He didn't give in to pressure to change his ridiculous name to something more easily digestible to the general public.  Many people I know actually refer to him as Michael Bubble.
  • I'm surprised at the above because his 'musical' output is the most easily digestible thing in the world.  It's the aural equivalent of a rice-cake!  You hardly even know you've experienced it when its over.
  • His fiancĂ© is super good-looking and presumably really nice, seeing as she can overlook Michael's diminutive stature and oddly twisted face and she's so tall and gorgeous.  Oh yes I almost forgot, millions of dollars.

I've got nothing bad to say about the guy really, he's found a niche and made a fantastic career out of it.  How that niche existed is beyond me, but let's face it, I don't have my finger on the pulse of popularity. Who would have thought that we needed yet another:
  • Personality-less, generic, bland, non-entity to dredge up 'standards' that were better left in the past or in Las Vegas for the fogies
  • Finger snapping crooner to remind us that making our legs all stiff actually counts as 'getting into the music' while reciting some of the most puerile lyrics that have ever been written. 
  • Male sex-symbol who is so utterly devoid of any outward trappings of masculinity that women can paint any picture on him they like.  
Art appreciation being largely relative, we can train ourselves to like any sort of music at all really.  There are several non-musical reasons that I love the sort of music I listen to, and I'll happily admit that a couple of them are a little dumb.  

Just as a guess, were I to say, 'I heart Michael Buble', I would be trying to give off the following vibe - 
  • I'm suave, I'm cool, I'm sophisticated
  • I have a romantic side
  • You can trust me, ladies, because I have no penis.
The only thing I don't like about Michael Buble is that he ruins any conversation about Canada.  

'Hey, I've just come back from Toronto, the women sure are beautiful there' 

'Michael Buble'

Conversation over.

Monday, 1 March 2010

An Astronaut? Are you having a laugh? I'm a TV presenter!

So...Nelson Mandela thinks Jeremy Clarkson is an astronaut and asked him what the moon is like.  Jeremy couldn't bring himself to correct this error and said something along the lines of 'Oh, it's ever so rocky and there's not much gravity'.

Amazingly this wasn't done with any degree of sarcasm as he didn't want the great leader to think he was wasting his time speaking to a TV presenter.

I know that saying anything negative about Nelson Mandela is akin to saying that giving birth is no big deal, but c'mon Jeremy, I thought you were all about being opinionated and making cheap jokes.

This repulsive display of obsequiousness reminds me of the Eid celebration I attended last year.  Everyone was having a perfectly lovely time until someone's uncle turned up and started being witty and funny almost straight away.  Were it my annoying relative, I would just say, 'look Uncle, your behaviour is annoying, stop looking for attention and be nice', but of course Bangladeshi people are much more polite than me, so after 20 minutes of watching other people fawning and laughing hysterically at his not-funny-in-the-slightest quips I was forced to leave.

Nelson Mandela was in prison you know?  Yeah, he's named this HIV/AIDS summit after some reference to his imprisonment.