Oh shit I knew I would leave one out. And also a bit about hate and stuff. Bear with me.

Sorry, sorry I was distracted and tired and it was late and I promise that I'm not making excuses and I know it's unforgivable but I forgot Robbie Williams.

Robbie Williams is not a figure of hate for me. I can't really say with any degree of honesty that I "hate" him. I find it hard to really and truthfully hate people I have encountered in real life, much less someone I don't know at all. I can count the people that are walking the earth today that I hate on the fingers of one hand because although it is a massive cliche I do consider it to be a very strong word. If I hate you that means I would happily kill you if I had a slim chance of getting away with it. If for instance you harmed my beautiful, funny, innocent daughter or the clever, kind and generous lady I go to bed with on a night I would gladly see you in your grave so it kind of takes a lot.

Robbie Williams is an unhappy coincidence of a person that has a massive ego to hide his massive insecurities behind and I can't stand him. He is not the only person of his ilk by a long chalk but for todays purposes we will use him as an example. We aren't all good looking, most of us are ok, some of us are downright ugly. We don't all want to be famous or rich but some of us do and that's cool. Some of us are ugly and stupid. Some of us are ugly and clever. Some of us are ugly, stupid and famous and/or rich to boot! Wow, this is getting really in depth.

Imagine then if you will being gifted good looks, the ambition to become famous and the luck to achieve it. Then imagine being a complete fucking moaning bastard about how badly your life has panned out. Mr Williams does this all the time as far as I can fathom. The man has also spent the best part of 20 years doing the following both as part of a group and by himself:

-Having a lot of money.
-Being able to insert his dingaling in as many young and beautiful girls as are able to take it.
-Travelling the world to entertain hundreds of thousands of said young and beautiful girls.
-Staying in luxurious surroundings, eating great food, driving fast cars and having a massive fuckoff party any damn time he feels the need.

"Oh" you may cry "oh but such superficial things don't bring a person happiness, he is complex, he is in need of more than such a shallow existence, he has addictions, he goes for counselling, he is depressed. What a blinkered snapshot you have chosen to portray of him Mr Mutton".

Fuck all that. Here's an idea: Appreciate what you have for what it is and then build on that. Take a stroll on a winters night to any city centre church and see the poor bastards there freezing and lining up for a bowl of soup and a butty and ask any of those poor cunts about addiction or depression. Go to Peru or Lagos and see the children crawling across a mountain of rubbish for more hours a day than you or I work in order to salvage a few bottles or fill a sack with paper for recycling while getting pricked with hypodermic needles. Tell me how you would feel if you were a street kid in Brazil, sniffing glue out of a bag at 6 years old and risking being murdered by the very authorities that should be protecting you. Whatever you do, don't sit there taking advantage of all the finer things you have access to and then tell me you have anything to moan about that us mere mortals don't because whatever you have lost to fame has been far, far outweighed by the cool shit that you gained from it.

I am a Gary Barlow fan anyhow. He has done it right has the lad. Write the songs, get the royalties, get famous, shag the women, lose the fame, settle down, get married, have kids, have a comeback.

Williams: 0, Barlow: Several Thousand.

Being nice.

Here's the news: being nice doesn't seem to get anyone anywhere but it's still a worthy pursuit.

Society doesn't care too much about people being nice, we all focus on the negative. You can tell how important being nice really is when people that are in general complete cunts are nice once in a blue moon and for some reason that excuses them from being a twatbag the rest of the time.

Examples include but are not limited to:






Simon Cowell. A man that is such a caricature of nastiness his stage act has consumed him to the extent he no longer knows who he really is inside and probably has no real desire to find out. Simon Cowell wants to drink 2 bottles of red wine, hug a 20-something man for a straight hour and cry his eyes out then come out the other side with a hangover, drained tearducts and a sense of what he has become, throwing his black turtle neck jumper aside and striding down a Los Angeles street towards a gay sauna with a new sense of purpose.

Cowell is the perfect example of the type of person I am trying to llustrate, 95% complete and utter bastard that can get away with making a nice comment 5% of the time and people will say "I like him, see he is not that bad". Yes. Yes he is. He is a square headed cunt.




Gordon Ramsay.

The type of man that would reduce your girlfriend to tears for the sheer pleasure of it if she pulled out on him in a supermarket carpark, years of shouting the odds at teenage commis chefs have instilled in him that rudeness and all round cuntery can be passed off as assertiveness and self belief. Craggy faced, shouty, economically inept bully.



Elton John.

A man who has stolen the historically female concept of the diva and refuses point blank to give it back. Overinflated and egotistical to the point of boredom, lives in a world populated by the sycophantic and the servile. Furnish needs to tie him up, administer a sound beating and an energetic bumming and then look him straight in the eye and say "there are Princess Diana's everywhere Reg, let's start treating people with some damn respect."

A fitting quote to end on, and one from a member of seminal Welsh hip hop crew Goldie Lookin' Chain in reference to Elton John: "It's nice to be important, but it's important to be nice."

Bang on sir.

A women who loves a man who loves to kill women and men.

I have forgiven the people I love for various transgressions over the years. Nothing too serious and nothing that has affected me too badly on a personal level, but still stuff that would make me think twice about making friends with a stranger or that would make me judge others I am not close to more harshly.

Certain people get a pass by virtue of the fact I have known them a very long time and the old adage "blood is thicker than water" has certainly been applied to my decision making in the past when a family member has acted in a way I deem to be less than satisfactory.

I do tend to over analyse myself and have for as long as I can recall and one thing I have gleaned is that I can be very wary of people that have committed crimes or have been to prison. It is wrong of me, it flies in the face of the concept of rehabilitation and it makes me too judgemental of people that may be fundamentally sound and have just slipped up along the way.

As always though the population of planet Earth is here to help me in my quest to feel normal because when some people throw caution to the wind they do it in such magnificent style it makes my bowels move.




Take for example Doreen Lioy, a freelance magazine editor that married Richard Ramirez in San Quentin prison in 1996. Ramirez AKA The Night Stalker is on death row for brutally murdering 13 people, mostly in their own homes. He raped and sodomised some including children and his methods of killing included execution with a .22 calibre pistol.

Ramirez was a transient with rotten teeth and terrible hygiene and a history of mental problems and Satanic worship but that and his subsequent incarceration has not stopped a long line of ladies forming that want to be in a relationship with him as apparently this behavior has elevated him in status to serial killing sex on legs.

Lioy corresponded with Ramirez for 11 years before they took the plunge, tying the not without traditional gold wedding bands as the groom insisted that "Satanists don't wear gold". What a dreamboat.

Can I just be not the first to say what the fuck were you thinking woman?!!

You mean to assert that you could not go out and meet a nice young man or a succession of nice young men until you found the person you wanted to settle down with? You couldn't maybe lower yourself to join a dating agency or go to a few singles bars? Kiss a number of frogs until you found your prince? "Mom, I have found The One. He is a Mexican serial killer and I don't care what you and Dad say we are in love".

I understand that some woman (and we are talking only about the fairer sex here, the instances of men corresponding with and ultimately marrying female death row inmates are basically non existent as far as me and Google are aware) are attracted to famous or infamous men. I understand some get off on the "danger" but if that fame and that danger are the result of a mans mental illness and subsequent killing and raping spree during which he takes eyeballs as souvenirs and carves pentangles into the thighs of innocent pensioners then even the most needy of people (you would have thought) might take a step back and think "there is something a bit fishy about this dude, sure he works out and does a bit of painting but I don't think he is necessarily marriage material."

What about you? Would you marry an anal rapist murdering psychopath cat burgler? Let me know, operators are standing by.

And also..

One thing I have been meaning to state is that everything posted here is normally original content with zero research attributed to it. That means if it's good then it's the work of a higher power and me and if it's shit then it's down to just me. It's basically a poor Wikipedia page dealing with a wide variety of subjects and exclusively edited by one man while he listens to bad rap music and thinks about sex too much.

The last thing I was ever aiming for (not that I have ever bothered with any kind of mission statement or even a basic concept of content) was some unoriginal blog that consisted of reposting other peoples hard work, their comedy or thoughts and opinions without (or even with) their permission because that is far, far too easy to do and happens far too much.

My motivation or lack thereof has always been and will always be to have an outlet for my own rantings regardless of people finding it or reading it.

Here is a picture of a small naan that you will note illustrates perfectly the concept of forced perspective.

Other people need to send me shit if only to alleviate my inherant lazyness.

My new phone has decided to fly in the face of me recommending it to all and sundry by suddenly being a twat and not letting me email pictures from it.
Plus I am busy and not too motivated this time of year.

Saving me from this, my best friend sent me this pic today and felt I that it needed to be shared.
My man simply strolled into a well known purveyor of baked goods with a £200 note and THE FUCKING MAN decided he should have brought change. It's political correctness gone mad.
Thanks to Ginner.

Dies stellt ein ausgezeichnetes Preis!

Sometimes life throws up an opportunity that you would be insane to ignore like this one: a metric ton of German fruit bread for £5.00. The crazy fuckers are giving it away.

Jesus noodles FTW

History has shown us that if a person really wants to believe enough in certain supernatural or unexplainable things they can condition themselves to do so through a process of repetition and self brainwashing. In effect you can lie to your own mind and this will be accepted after a certain amount of time. Now I have to be honest, one of the things that has always weirded me out is the sketchy image of Jesus that supposedly pops up now and again inside a cut tomato or as part of a cloud formation or on someones Marmite on toast or inside a broken dog biscuit. You know the one, the big fella with his long sandy hair and beard, dressed in the traditional robes of his usual depiction, sometimes in prayer and with a halo hovering above his head.

"What are these people on?" I used to think to myself, "Random images of all sorts can be found in the most unlikely of places if you spend enough time looking." But that was then, that was before I had my epiphany. I am no longer an unbeliever. Miracles CAN happen and I have the photographic evidence to prove it. If you look at the picture above at first glance it looks like an ordinary packet of noodles. Well look again my friend. If you concentrate on the centre you can just about make out the features of a bearded man (it took me a while to really see it so be patient). A bearded man that in my humble opinion could well be Jesus himself.

TV rant, part one of at least three. A series spread over a number of nights.

I came home tonight, had a bit of a cuddle with my daughter while her Mam read her a story and was going to settle in and watch a film or maybe play this flight simulator I have but then decided against it.

The first thing I have actually done is to break out the Mr Muscle (the TV made me buy it) and clean my monitor as last night I was playing said flight simulator and discovered after about half an hour that the distant tank I had been trying to lock onto with my TV guided Maverick missiles was actually a speck of dirt but I suppose that is incidental in the grand scheme of things and not something that is going to encourage people to read this here blog.

Anyway the reason I watch films or boxsets or piss about on my computer is that I reached and breached my tolerance for watching scheduled television some years ago. I literally can't fucking stand it. The main channels, around prime time at least, have degenerated into such utter bollocks that I can't sit and watch for more than a few minutes without loudly and very vocally ripping the programs to pieces. This half baked dissection and sweary vitriol is not, as I am sure you can imagine, conducive to a happy and healthy night on the sofa for my other half and so I choose to spare her by going and doing something less boring instead.

It must just be me. Everybody else seems to get along with TV just fine don't they? Put the kids to bed, pour a glass of wine and then cuddle up watching Eastenders or The Bill, or "Strictly" (oh my how abbreviations like that make me want to commit murder. "Did you watch Strictly?" "Have you heard the new Robbie song?" "Did you see Enders?" feel free to fall on a kitchen knife from a great height all users of the above), it all seems so normal and it happens in most households up and down the country so why must it gall me so?

Let's take soap operas for a starter. Simply written, unforgivably scripted and poorly played out by up and coming actors who can't land a decent gig, shitty actors that are stagnating or established actors that have hit a rough patch on the way down. Designed, yes designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator as a sort of ongoing and dumbed down metaphor for your life that will be there in front of you at the same time and on the same channel for as long as you choose to give them ratings. The people out there that buy a magazine to keep up with plotlines or refer to the characters by name as if they know them or as if they are real need to piss off somewhere far away and have a concerned word with themselves. They could also stick two wet fingers in a plug socket as an alternative.

If you must allow Eastenders or it's ilk into your home then consider the following a damning indictment of your own guilt:

You have helped create the concept of a typecasted acting career unlike any other, the one I like to refer to as "The Adam Woodyatt". Once upon a time there was a "type" of "cast", that is to say that a person in a successful role that he or she played well may then be asked to recreate that role in a similar guise but for a different production. Archetypal hard men, the femme fatale, the comedic foil, some roles just suit some people very well but Ian Beale? The man Adam is actually typecast as the same fucking character in the same program. Forever. He is on the gravy train and he will now never get off. Alec Guinness died a bitter, bitter man because for all his stage and screen greatness, his range and acting prowess he will forever be remembered as Obi Wan Kenobi so imagine the torment you are putting this poor bastard through week in and week out.

It's just horrible, lazy, TV and it needs to be put out of it's misery. The next time someone remarks how amazing it is that these programs are filmed and broadcast within such a strict timeline please remind them of the fact they are written very quickly too and there is a very obvious reason for that which I won't patronise anyone by explaining.
Go on then I will, it's because there are monkeys and there are typewriters but none of the little cunt's have gone near to approaching Shakespeare as yet. Soap operas are the waste, the by-product of that particular experiment.

Reality TV is far worse. Take The X Factor. You are as a nation watching the hopes and dreams of very real people and then hoping upon hope that everything will go wrong for them and you can then somehow feel better about yourself. Go on, admit it. If you wanted to see some young girl that can sing fairly well get a record deal and then be forgotten about a year later you could simply just buy pop records. But you don't want that. You want five young girls or boys or five groups of young girls or boys or any mixture thereof to try really hard at something and go up against each other in order to see some of them cry and then fail. You want to pick your favourite little boy or girl and get right behind them like some crazed football hooligan, abandoning all reason and logic while a pantomime panel of fucking idiots and botox filled industry "experts" chews them up and then spits them out while taking all their money from them and then when the series ends you can forget about it all until next year.

You want to perpetuate the myth that someone appearing on television has somehow "made it", that coming up through the ranks in the traditional manner of writing and gigging, playing the pubs and clubs, being spotted by a talent scout and him/her passing your demo to an A+R can be condensed into some shitty, low rent, zero production value TV program that takes millions in phone vote revenue (even when those lines are closed) and lines the pockets of it's self absorbed, soul sucking, role playing contributors. Congratulations, you paid to kill the music industry while at the same time making it's murderers rich beyond belief.

To be continued...

Wot r we doin to arselves?

I have briefly touched upon this before but the horrible takeover of the human language that is "textspeak" has in recent weeks begun to get right on my tits. The other day I passed a billboard advertising the chocolate foodstuff that is "Kitkat Chunky". The sole content of the advertisement was a picture of said product and underneath it was the legend "OMG, MY CHUNKY JUST GOT FUNKY :-)".

Now I am not for one moment suggesting that some ad agency mong on far too much money pitched it in this way (well OK I totally am) but it seems fairly obvious that the decision to go ahead with this campaign rested on the following logic:

"Everyone these days communicates via some horribly truncated and emoticon riddled SMS language, not just the young people or the stupid or those that can't spell, everyone. We are appealing to them all with this simple advert, dumbing it down for the Proles and the kids but the normals won't take offence either." Well I fucking well do ladies and gentlemen. I very much do.

There are a number of different theory's in my own head how this has been allowed to happen and not being the most educated man on Gods green earth I can only suppose which one is the truth. My gut instinct would tell me that with the advent of mobile phones that were SMS enabled came people that owned them for reasons of status and the prohibitive cost and limited character usage meant that it occurred to these people to shorten the language they used in order to be frugal. Later when cost was no longer an issue but the character constraints remained the same people still wanted the most bang for their buck and so the shortening of words and omission of vowels etc continued.

Now the point is not that I have a problem with abbreviation per say, it's the fact this has carried over into everyday usage that gets to me. Reading the average internet post these days is like trying to decipher some kind of Enigma machine transmission and let me tell you right now that I am no Alan Turing (sexual preference and long distance running skills aside obviously). I honestly spend more time trying to work out what is being said than the person writing for the sake of brevity spent composing it so for those of us not fluent surely this renders the entire operation redundant? Lest we forget, the internet, in terms of price per letter at least, is charged at a flat rate. There are no excuses when you have a keyboard at your fingertips and your broadband is paid up for the month.

Facebook, always an easy to aim for target especially when you are as lazy and/or drunk as I am, is a prime example; grown ups having tit for tat, back and forth discussions concerning how much cock they like or how bored they may be when the school holidays descend and the kids are at home or when they find some puerile internet video amusing (don't get me started on Youtube, I have an entire night put aside for a rant about that shit) have become a struggle for me to interpret. Fuck me it's torture. Let's take a little stroll down idiot lane and have a more in depth look:

yu

wot

guna

uv

ure

gota

dun

And my personal favourite:

Ov

The kicker is that when the majority of these "words" are used it's with the omission of just one letter and in a few cases no abbreviation is used at all. "ov" is composed of the same amount of letters and takes exactly the same amount of time to type as "of" yet it seems that in it's original form it just wasn't good enough to stay as it was for fear of rocking the textspeak boat.

Why not just do it right to begin with? What do you stand to lose by typing every word that you learned at school and probably still know how to spell properly, properly?

Some cunt I encountered in a pub a while ago when presented with a friends funny comment actually responded with a "LOL" out loud. Now that might seem to you to be a mistake on my part but he did say it. Out of his stupid mouth and very much out loud the word "LOL" came as spelt. He said "LOL" and nobody in his immediate presence batted an eyelid.

Personally my grammar is less than perfect, punctuation escapes me at times and my spelling does need help on occasion and that's fine. I would never for instance take the piss out of dyslexia or it's sufferers. Bad spelling is cool with me as are genuine mistakes but to be clear and honest if you go out of your way to converse in this manner when you could easily do otherwise you are an imbecile and a contributor to your present/future children's downfall.

Orwell's fictionalised version of the future in 1984 was based on the premise that if you limit language and the peoples ability to learn and convey it then you can also throttle their thought processes. Language and conversation first and foremost are concepts based on learning and thought.

Please please don't make the above a reality because of your lazyness when you already have the basic tools of your education on hand to prevent it .

LOL.

It ain't safe no more

This little gangsta is here to pass on a message: I have a phone with decent internet and usable camera at last and so will be taking pictures of various objects and then commenting on them in a sarcastic manner as in the past. After this pic was taken he sidled up to me, raised his mask and whispered in my ear "Don't say my car's topless, say its titties is out" to which, frankly, I had no comeback.

It is with great regret....

....that I have an announcement to make.

I have closed this blog down at the request of the good folk at blogger and if you are reading this then you are far in the future and have recovered the data from their servers. Wow. What's it like in the future guys? Do cars fly? Does every house have a massive awkward robot fridge that brings you chilled food and drinks on demand? Does all fashion now consist of Silver hot pants and see through plastic visors? It must be great.

Anyway the point is it all just got too big. So much traffic was flowing through here that the google ad revenue alone was enough to enable me to buy new shoes and blogger had to lay on more and more bandwidth just to cope with daily visits. Eventually internet notoriety gave way to outright celebrity and so many awesome people came to read that they (blogger) had to buy a new server room just to keep up.

It was a mad time. Punks, skins and rastas. People of all colours, shapes and smells coming together, united by their common interest in the rhetorical rantings of a sweary idiot. Imagine a lot less gay and slightly better looking Perez Hilton then take that thought and imagine me saying that the person you are thinking of was me. That was me. Me.

The adoration and attention was something I was not used to, digital stalkers sending me pictures of their genitals, marriage proposals. And the begging letters? Fuck me they were harsh. I stopped even opening them after a bit.

Anyway I broke the internets and started a new religion without even trying and so The Man shut me down. It's incredible that so many thousands could be deprived of their monthly read so cruelly and so easily but in the end you can't fight the system and win. It was politics and I was getting too much influence and now I am just a nobody again.

Seriously though, to the few that do, thanks for reading x

An obvious post but one I feel needs to be made.

With all the furore surrounding Nick Griffins Question Time appearance and after reading/ watching a fair bit about him and Mark Collett (former head of the youth arm of the BNP and one of Griffins co accused when he went to court for incitement of racial hatred) I have a renewed sense of disgust and simply need to vent it here.

The issue of race and multiculturalism is very close to my heart. I have always been brought up to be tolerant of other races and cultures and this is due in no small part to my mothers sister marrying a Muslim and converting to the faith when I was a small child. My Aunt chose a hard path to tread and has suffered for it at the hands of both her White peers and the Asian family she married into simply for falling in love but she has weathered the storm of hostility and intolerance in order to make a life and raise a family. My two cousins are both half Asian and half White and they too have had to put up with racism and bigotry from both camps.
Basically it's not a barrel of laughs when you are neither one nor the other.

Both cousins are married, one to a Hindu lady (which has caused it's own problems with our Muslim relatives) and one to a White man with whom she has had a little boy and who's parents are the most hateful bunch of single minded bigots alive, to the point he has cut ties in order, again, to make a life and a family.

In short, the word "integrated" should have been coined for that branch of my family. As I get older and do grown up things such as having children I am finding that we have more and more in common and I have more of an opportunity to spend time with all of them. The recent occasions, get togethers, birthday parties and weddings I have attended have opened my eyes to just how easy it is for a bunch of people from all walks of life and cultures to simply get along fine. Spend time together. Have a chat. Have a drink. Eat some nice food. Watch the kids play together.

I suppose my simple question and one that I would like to direct at the BNP and it's voters is this: What on earth is wrong with that?

What?

Based on the true policies of the BNP as opposed to the hastily polished up and evasive "public" ones, you clowns would not allow my cousin to meet, fall in love, marry and have a child with the really nice lad she chose. You are against all these beautiful things, against people actually being happy and not being filled with spite and hate. "Oh Racial purity, racial purity" you shout. Well how about this: fuck your racial purity. Fuck the idealistic premise that some people only have one type of DNA in their makeup and some are "mixed". Are you out of your minds? How far do we have to go back before the race of man is undiluted?

My ancestors were Normans ie they came over from Normandy which is in France. Does that make me French? If you didn't know me and I told you this would you shy away from me in the pub? Perhaps you would be scared of being tainted by my stale garlic breath or offended by my proclivity for wearing stripy jumpers and berets at a jaunty angle? Perhaps you would keep your sister or daughter away from me lest she be influenced by my Norman-ness and develop an attraction towards thin moustaches or refuse your roast dinner in favour of some garlic buttered snails and frogs legs? Maybe you would awaken in the wee small hours, sitting bolt upright in bed and screaming, your partner expressing concern for your sweating brow as you explain "IT WAS SO REAL, OH MY GOD OUR MARIE MARRIED THAT IMMIGRANT, THE ONE WITH ALL THE ONIONS AND THE BIKE"

Sound silly? That is precisely the level of strange prejudice and messed up logic you are demonstrating now when you judge and create hatred where there is none and it can be applied to any race, culture or creed. You hurt people and want to mess with their lives to satisfy your inner lack of belief in yourselves. You need to feel like you are part of something in order to feel validated, if you spend your time agreeing with others and focusing your rage you won't then dwell on your own insecurities. It's the easiest thing on the world to pick on others and much, much harder to analyse your own shortcomings. Basically you are forever trapped in the playground and you will never grow up.

If your racial identity is so strong then get on with it, balls to everyone else. Be the best you can be. Marry who the hell you want and have kids that are whatever colour you choose but don't for one moment pretend to yourself that you have the right to dictate to anyone else, much less entire races of people what they can do or who they can shag or what they can eat or what clothes they can wear.

You are all bellends anyway, none of you can stick to your beliefs for more than two seconds without feeling guilty or tripping over your own ill thought out logic "Oh Halle Berry is fit", "Oh my colleague/my neighbour/that shopkeeper/so and so's brother is sound for a Black/Paki/Gay/Polish, it's the rest of them I have a problem with, coming over here and taking all our jobs and women and eating all that strange food."

Put simply, there is no hate but that which you create. Hate is not a form of energy that needs to be transferred, it is a ghost until you give it a form and a purpose. Without hate and without you we all get along fine so if anyone should "fuck off back" it is you. Do a bit of research. Trace your families history and it's lineage. Find out where you come from and go back there because we do not want your kind here.

Thank God for the rain to wash the trash off the sidewalk.

Apologies for the cameraphone in pitch dark style quality.

The bin men in Leeds were told that they would have to start doing more work for less dinero so they have basically just fucked the whole bin emptying thing off and gone home for six weeks. The result where I live has been a kind of migration to a more inner city New York lifestyle. Stinking bin bags are piled everywhere, you can't move for rotting food waste and tea bags and the rats and foxes are having a great old time of it. Feral children sneak about when the sun goes down trying not to be seen as they dump their parents rubbish in someone else's bin and the city has taken on an air of misery and despair.

It's getting so bad that on the way home last night drunk I had a bit of a moment. I was looking up the road at the piles of rubbish and the streetlights reflecting off the damp tarmac and I suddenly 100% expected to turn a corner and find myself in an alley with a counterweighted fire escape at one end and the rear entrance to a Chinese restaurant at the other. I daydreamed that a man was stood there in a filthy apron smoking a cigarette and when he caught sight of me he raised the meat cleaver he held in a half greeting, half attempt at intimidation. I turned and walked back the way I came as tendrils of steam rose up from the holes in a man hole cover and curled around my ankles. The urge to rock a pair of Vandals and steal a vagrants trousers overtook me then and suddenly I snapped back to reality and felt a bit silly so I went home.

In Unifom: Update

I know for a fact that when I posted the "Tight-Sag" pic a little voice in my head was triggered and it said "Right, that's it now. At no point in the future is a garment going to come along that is more extreme or overtly ridiculous than this one. This is the pinnacle."

Well thanks to the internet legend that is @shifty_dave for not giving up and going out there to find one. Not more needs to be said aside from the fact these Bastard magnets cost £215.00 a pop.

Follow Dave on Twitter, especially if you have large boobs.

Winding up Nigerian internet scammers feasting on the corpse of The King of Pop.

Winding up celebrity Nigerian internet scammers.

Falling out of love with the politics of friendship part 1.

The following post is devoid of humour and for that I apologise an advance.

Social politics are really beginning to get on my tits at the moment, chiefly the mistaken belief held by many that just because they get on with and have respect for a person it so follows that everyone else should too.

I am of the firm belief that you just can't get along with everybody, and what's more it is fine to not even try beyond a certain point.

Everyone I am introduced to will have a different perspective, different moral values and a completely different first impression of me than the previous person that met me. Someone you really like and get on with may annoy the living shit out of me from day one. Factors such as the type of mood we were both in at the time may come into play or we simply may be too similar or too dissimilar for a friendship to develop. Does it make me or them a bad person? Not at all and it doesn't mean I have a problem with you being friends, it doesn't mean I am ever going to be annoyed with you for interacting or socialising with them, it just means I may choose not to. I personally don't like to spend time around people that annoy me, or hold radically different beliefs or opinions that offend me, or who have I zero in common with and neither should they. That's all there is to it.

The reverse is also true and just as annoying ie. when somebody has fallen out with a person or just plain can't stand them to begin with, why am I suddenly expected to fall in line and start dissing them too? I am not a fucking baby, I don't walk around being led by the nose, I form an opinion of someone and then stick to it until they give me a reason to rethink.

I have actually more than once had people stop talking to me because they have fallen out with someone I still get along with, for reasons that are fuck all to do with me in any way shape or form. I know peoples ego's can get bruised and they may be under the impression that I have taken a side but the truth is I have done the opposite. If I am not willing to fall out with someone on your say so then take it as a given that I would never disrespect you or take sides against you either.

The day a person wakes up to the fact that these expectations are unrealistic, and there is no shame in that is a happy one indeed.

In Uniform.

Recently published research by top fashion scientists has revealed that by the year 2030 everybody on the earth without exception will be dressed like a cunt.

Venture out onto the city streets and you will encounter young men roaming in packs that have adopted current fashion trends without any thought and who are mindless to the consequences of such sartorial sheepishness. This is known as being In Uniform.
Here are some of my current favourites:

The Tight-Sag aka the Vampire Bat Pant.


A trouser that is cut for the maximum embarrassment of the wearer, impeding movement and preventing such actions as running for a bus, climbing over a small fence or being able to get change out of your pockets. A kind of cut and shut garment taking the worst elements of the skinny jean and the baggy pant and combining them for no discernable advantage whatsoever. Worn mainly by fashionable young Asian men with elaborate artistically styled facial hair that smell nice.

The Slouch or Oversize Beanie aka The Admiral Akbar or Trevor Nelson aka The Craig Duffy.


This must have headwear style for the discerning man In Uniform has been around for a while now and is still going strong. Basically an oversized beanie made to accommodate the jutting bean head of a modern day John Merrick but worn on purpose by men with average shaped craniums for a sort of baggy condom effect.

Has started to filter down to the poorer areas and is now replacing the Dappy Hat as de rigueur for those youths with a liking for Mayfair cigarettes and casual violence. Worn by the annoying fucker in front of you in the queue at the supermarket with the semi attractive girlfriend and one of those ghastly All Saints "Jesus Loves You" belts. You know, the one that you can just about restrain yourself from living out the fantasy of trying to force an unopened can of beans into his mouth and down his gullet, smashing his teeth to splinters on the way past because he looks like that much of a cunt.

The Peruvian Hat aka The Dappy Hat.


Named for scholar, philanthropist and poet Dappy from off of N-Dubz, this item is slowly being fazed out by it's usual sporters (lowlife, no hope, tracksuit wearing scum) as even they have realised that far from creating a strong look, this style of hat magically turns anyone that wears it into a complete cunt. In an unusual move borne of common sense they have spotted it's adoption as a huge mistake and would rather the whole thing was forgotten about so they can go back to wearing caps perched really far back on their peanut like heads.

The Plimsoll aka a complete reversal of everything this great country once stood for.

Saving the best till last, the current choice of footwear for 99% of males in Great Britain between the ages of 17 and 30 is also the cheapest, wears out the quickest, stinks the most, is the hardest to keep clean and happens to be the most generic, boring shoe invented by anyone anywhere ever.

There was a time in the hierarchy of teen fashion that the Plimsoll or Pump occupied the lowest spot on the table, representative of trampy, poor families who couldn't afford proper trainers and forced upon everybody else during Physical Education classes as mandatory athletic footwear. The point was to have a generic, cheap and disposable gym shoe that everyone could afford and wear as part of a uniform. Everybody hated them and the thought of being so uncool that you would be forced to wear them as your everyday trainers was beyond comprehension.

Let's all give a great big well done and a pat on the back for todays young fashionistas for adopting the shoe that represents the least amount of imagination ever devoted to a design, buying them in fucking droves and then all going to the pub together looking exactly the same. Worn by pretty much anyone and everyone with no clue, if you have owned a pair in the last two years then you are a waste of easily led spunk.

The internet: how far is too far?

Hiya.
It's been a long time as I have not been arsed.

I could, if I tried, be a lot more on it with this blogging lark.
What I really need to do is link my Facebook to my Twitter to my blog, do another blog for serious stuff and keep this one for pissing about, get a phone with a decent camera to take more pics to post up, start reading a thousand and one other blogs and websites in order to cut and paste every banal titbit of "interesting news" that is posted on them then disappear up my own arse a bit more and spend my entire life sat at a computer on the internet or looking at my smartphone twittering my life away instead of actually living it. "Promote yourself even though you have nothing to promote, raise your profile so more people are aware of you" seems to be a lot of folk's remit but for what?

It's all a bit much isn't it and before you take this as being snobbish please understand I am fully aware that I am as guilty as anyone else. I get sucked in by every trend that you get sucked in by, I just don't take it as far as some.

For example, go on a random Facebook page and check out a typical night on the tiles. What used to be a normal weekday night at the pub with some mates has now evolved into some monstrous special occasion that needs to be documented at every stage by at least half the people there lest it be forgotten forever. People need to know what you did and where you went and what you drank and who you kissed and how shit you were at dancing and which sweaty, pseudo-mid orgasm face you tend to pull when you have had a few and someone fires a flash into your retinas. I swear these fuckers spend more time taking pictures of each other than they do drinking, talking or dancing and every photo taken is uploaded, captioned and tagged within four minutes of the party animal/biographer getting through their front door.

Do we want to see pictures of you getting ready to go out? No.
Do we want to see pictures of you in the pub toilets post piss? No.
Do we want to see pictures of you at the bar getting served? No.

We should all try and have an old school night out once in a while where nobody is allowed a digital camera or mobile/internet enabled cameraphone and you are only allowed to arrange a time and a place to meet up either face to face or using a land line (how in the name of sweet fuckery did we ever manage that one?).

If during said traditional night you have such a great time that you genuinely need people to be aware of the fact, you have to go to a payphone and call everyone you vaguely know then describe to them one by one, using the same short sentence, exactly what you are doing and why you felt the need to tell them. Does that feel silly and pointless? Well that is what you are taking time out to do every time you go out now motherfuckers! The fact it has been made easier doesn't make it any less sad.

Maybe with the pressure to perform no longer present we could all relax and have a really nice night out.

Getting serious for a second.

Am going to start to actually update this blog with "proper" posts instead of just treating it as an afterthought. I am going to share design work and other stuff I dabble in in an amateurish and hamfisted manner. Ooooh I'm so deep and complex.

This is a sticker I designed for a friend who owns Ryouki, a sneaker boutique in the heart of sunny Oxford. Great bloke, great store, great service. Enough said.

Nick Griffin is a one eyed holocaust denying bigoted fuckwit.

I have a few points as always.

-The BNP supports the practice of Eugenics, which among other things involves the compulsory sterilisation of the mentally handicapped, the disabled, people with learning difficulties, people with genetically inherent diseases, the poor and people with low IQ's. This actually caught on in Britain in the early 20th century until someone with half a brain stopped it in it's tracks, was a very real occurrence in Germany during the reign of the Third Reich (except those silly fuckers decided that extermination instead of sterilisation was the more sensible option) and was still happening in the USA as recently as the 1970's.

-This policy does not exclude White people.

-Although not born with his disability, Nick Griffin is very definitely disabled due to losing his eye in an accident. Because this could not be passed on genetically to his children he would be excluded but the fact remains that he and his party would be discriminating against less than perfect people which they themselves are. It's a bit like Hitler being racially impure and only having one bollock.

To summarise, if you are White and affected by any of these issues and stupid enough to vote for the BNP then look forward to you or someone close to you having the snip (and not having a say in it) by order of someone who knows he isn't perfect but thinks it's ok to tell you that you are not.

Chant this mantra drunken purchaser of condoms.

I would like to know how a devotee of Krishna found himself in the mens toilets of a Northern city centre pub in the first place. It would I imagine be a pretty boring night out with a bunch of these fellows. No intoxicants, just soft drinks and a bit of chanting. Perhaps sticker up a few motorway bridges and then home to bed. Gouranga.

Blue Whale Sperm? Diesel? Parrot Feathers?

Any filling? Any filling at all for my potates?

Tribute to a fallen soldier.

No. Wrong.

I have to start my apologising for the quality of the pic, it was taken on the fly for fear of being caught in the act by fucking Barbie. "Quick Ken, someone is mocking my fanny hued shitemobile, come and beat him with your plastic fists!"

The subject is a small Pink car that has a sticker in the back window stating that it is "Powered by Fairydust". And what the fuck is going on with that font?
Your car is powered by the internal combustion of refined fossil fuels you fucking attention whore, just like everybody else's.

I know there are all types of lady in this world, some more "girly" than others but who could honestly see themselves with the owner of this contraption? It screams "Look at me, I am unconcerned with anything other than how much of a silly lickle cutesy I am! Look at me!"

I pity the poor fucker that has to share his bedroom with this vapid bimbo's soft toy collection.

Max Clifford is a parasitic gravy skinned cunt.

Nothing more to add at present.

Oh hai guys.

Today I found the gayest hex bit screwdriver in the world. Is this an attempt to get women into D.I.Y.? Would it make a difference to anyone, male or female if their hex bit screwdriver was more visually appealing because it had added flora when compared to a plainer model? I find this strange. Strange and also a bit shit.

Facebook Groups: Always a good and productive idea.

You have to love some of the groups people invite you to on Facebook.
Completely pointless causes, mindless kneejerk Sun reader vigilantism and stupid in-jokes that don't translate at all outside of the creators close circle of friends seems to be the order of the day and when exposed to enough of it I reach the conclusion that I despise every single thing that 99% of the population stands for and mindlessly believe in.

"1 MILLION MEMBERS TO END CHILD ABUSE/A MILLION TO CHOP IAN HUNTLEYS BOLLOCKS OFF AND THEM JAMIE BULGER KILLERS TOO".
As if they could have 999999 members and be sat there going "nearly there lads, I can't wait for this, it's going to be great. Child abuse will be a thing of the past in a few minutes time and that Huntley, his balls are coming flying right off because of the power of the internet. Sorted overnight and it's all down to us" Oh do fuck off.

"WE WILL NEVER FORGET THE INSPIRATION THAT WAS YOU, JADE GOODY".
I will never be able or be allowed to forget that this ever fucking happened so will you all just shut the fuck up about it now please. It's Princess Diana all over again. Inspiration to do what exactly? Make a load of money for doing fuck all and then let parasites in the media feed off you until you die? Brilliant role model. The most educational and inspirational thing the woman did was get cancer. It's not an achievement she meant to happen you fucking morons, she didn't exactly ask for it or enjoy it did she? Good, clever, inspirational, hard working, talented, kind hearted mothers and fathers with achievements of note die horribly every single day and none of you cunts bat an eyelid.

"SCARY MUSLIMS GO HOME/SUPPORT OUR BRAVE BOYS/ENGLAND FOR THE ENGLISH"

A few points:

-Not one of you is any more "English" than the other. We are all mongrels, a mixture of several different races and origins. Every single one of us.

-Just because you are against fighting bullshit wars for oil and the security of global corporations and military contractors doesn't mean that you don't like soldiers. It just means you aren't daft enough to join up and do it.

-There are more lazy fat White people on benefits and in prison in the UK than any other race and I guarantee every one of you racist motherfuckers associate with at least one of them. Get off your high horse.

Some groups are good for raising awareness, others illustrate and benefit charities and other worthy causes and I am all for them. It's the entire "Wot wud u do to a rapist if u woz in the same room as them lol" brigade that grind my gears.

These guys seem legit.

Tall Ginger man seeks employment, very loyal.

Never seen Chewie in a casual suit before have you motherfuckers!!!?
That's because he hasn't been to a job interview in 32 YEARS. The galaxy wide economic downturn has forced the Millennium Falcon to sit idle as Han can't afford to put fuel in her and has taken to pimping himself out to some anorexic lawyer bint, Kathy Beale or something. Chewie has been left to fend for himself and so he has been making bi weekly visits to the job centre, doing a bit of agency work and cash in hand on the side and is doing his best to keep his head up. You keep on keeping on Chewie you big brave bastard.

Cameo opens bike shop on Kirkstall Road.

The best night evah?

Now if you get in before 11:30pm I make that £1 per talentless cunt. Epic value.

OOGACHAKAOOGAOOGA OOGACHAKAOOGAOOGA.

Today a two and a half year old scared the living shit out of me.

This motherfucker stopped me from having sex with a girl.

The other day my other half let it slip that last valentines day she had arranged a naughty surprise for me. My mother in law was babysitting while we went for a meal and since my lady knows me for the international playboy and all round high flyer that I am she also knew that I have the keys to property other than our house where we could GET IT ON undisturbed.

We went to a public house after our meal and this bald man was playing hits on his keyboard that we sung along to whilst knocking back shots. Then we got a telephone call from another couple that were in the area asking to join us for a few drinks which we gladly committed to. We then proceeded to get bastard drunk and went home very merry, me completely oblivious to the fact my lady had decided that drinking heavily whilst singing Brown Eyed Girl and then cackling the night away with our friends should replace a night of saucy fun.

I hate you you shiny headed entertaining bastard.

Winding up lovely Nigerian internet fraudsters part one.

Someone sent me this today and it has all the hallmarks of a good giggle. It could be start of something magical. I will keep you posted.

Down with the kids.

People who know me know that I am fully au fait with all types of cool and hip music. Put simply I am known around town for my unfailing ability to discover the next big thing, it's like a sixth sense I have. The Sabri Brothers will be blowing your tits off at a local venue this time next year mark my words. All you Shoreditch wannabes can step off, there is a new sheriff in town and it ain't Reggie Hammond.