July 12th, 2009
I heard that fat people live in bins you know those big bins with the lids on hinges that they have round the back of Spar and they only come out at night and I heard that if you go there at dusk when they’re not quite ready and bang on the side of the bin with a fork the fatties get pissed and jump out of the rubbish with only half their mascara on and they chase you around like zombies, bits of rotten vegetables falling off their fat stupid heads, and they’re slow so you can distract them by throwing books and pots at them but if you’re not careful like that Aesop bloke then they will still get you and if they do they’ll turn you into butter and smear you all over their naked bodies in the light of the moon. I don’t know if that’s really what happens but I heard it on the internet so it might be.
Also I heard that there is a sick new computer game that lets you carry out senseless and unprecedented graphic violence against fatties and I know this is not only a horrific indication of how empty and rotten to its very core our society has become but also true because I made it myself.
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July 7th, 2009
I QUITE like hip hop but I haven’t got the requisite empathy for their situations. For starters I don’t have a drop top, and I can’t understand why you’d want one. It’s always bloody raining. You’d load your guns and hos in it but then the clouds would blow in and the roof would break. By the time you made it to the M271, all your shit would have rusted up, and you can’t pop Tupac with a rusty gat.
They never pay attention to detail either. It’s all about rolling to the crib or the rock beats and never about traction control or anticipating increased stopping distances in the wet. You would spin off the road and there would be hos scattered everywhere causing a hazard to other drivers.
That’s another point. ‘Where MY hos at?’, I ask myself. I have looked literally everywhere. I went to the post office but they had no idea. I went to the police station and they said they might have my hos but were unable to reveal that information due to the stipulations of the Data Protection Act 1998. ‘I don’t think that’s the relevant legislation at all, and that you just made that up’, I said, ‘officer’, and he said, ‘That might be so, but since you have little or no legal background and given how I am a fictional character in a frankly risible anecdote, it will probably have to make do’, and so I said ‘thanks’ and went straight home.
You don’t see many rappers on bicycles.
Tags: hip hop
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April 26th, 2009
Swiiiiine Fever! He’s the man! The man with the porcine touch.
This pig fever shit is like bird flu but not anywhere near as good. Anyway I’ve decided to forget my already loose morals and profiteer from it while ineffectively saving yo’ collective ass. Henceforth I present, with a lot of babble about salvation and a bit of Google image search, the autumn/winter DISASTERPIG ‘09 range.
HOW are you going to get away from the feverpig? Pigs can reach speeds of up to 11mph. You need the ALL TERRAIN BACON BUGGY! Annoying child optional.
Beaten about the face by a pig? Well what don’t pigs like? It’s the INDEPENDENT POLICE COMPLAINTS COMMISSION. They’ll investigate the pig and when everyone involved is eventually dead they will find it innocent of everything!
What if they evolve into the proverbial flying pigs? It COULD happen. Shoot down pigs, pigeons and Iranian airliners with this all-American anti-everything STINGER MISSILE! A bargain $4!
Surrounded by the pigs and trapped in your attic like a pathetic, crybaby version of Anne Frank? Waltz right through their lines with this SARAH PALIN™ DISGUISE. You CAN put lipstick on a pig!
All rights reversed no refunds possible if you get savagely mangled by a pig then sorry but no.
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March 30th, 2009
OFTEN I am asked why we don’t have guns in Britain and what happens if the French swim across the river and catch us in their nets and murder us. Well this alone is fairly simple. We don’t have guns in Britain because we are a nation of cowards and book reading freedomophobias.
Getting rid of guns hasn’t really done us any good. For instance fox hunting is illegal now. We don’t have fox hunts in Britain any more after it turned out that almost all foxes native to this country are actually descended from ginger people, who were known to have sexual relations with wolves in the late 18th century, and therefore must be afforded the same limited subset of human rights like not being eaten alive. However if that wasn’t true we would probably shoot the foxes with guns and now we cannot.
Even though we are supposed to be free of them, we still have some problems with guns being brought in from abroad. Sometimes hooligans from Scotland throw them over the wall. Hiphop culture hasn’t helped stop this, and we have people like Masher D from the So Solid Crew getting caught with a pistol in his pants, and rapper Bill Oddie sells his records talking about popping fools in the Asda with his glock.
Children buy into all of that glamour and before long they’ll be shooting down planes with missiles and whatever. What we try and do is discourage them with an informative mascot. Right now in the UK we have a lot of adverts with Geoff the Gun Crime Greyhound, and he shows the kids that you are only allowed to shoot innocent people on the Tube and not just wherever you like, otherwise you get beaten to death by his friend Bobby Policeman and his magic truncheon. Maybe it’ll work but it seems to me that it is health and safety gone mad.
Gun control is clearly a contentious issue that people need to think about with their heads. I would just like to make my side clear. Obviously you can use guns for evil like shooting out traffic lights or murdering your gran, but you can use them for good too like blasting open doors for old ladies or getting cats down from trees.
Because of this I think we should get free guns on the NHS and when everyone has seven guns and two tanks and a battleship, we can go to the next level and give them guns that fire guns that fire more guns with guns on the top. Overall I think it is reasonable to say that guns are super excellent and we should have a lot of them a lot POW POW PEOWWW. I hope this helped clear things up about gunz n are britains.
Tags: britain
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March 30th, 2009
What many of you don’t realise is that uncooked rice is a natural home to millions of tiny organisms known as Oryza mustelida, or the ricebadger. Ricebadgers are about a tenth of the size of a normal badger and thus smaller than a human eye, so you can’t see them mixed in with the grains of rice, but they’re there all the same.
Most of the time they are harmless, just naively going about their badger chores without a greater understanding of the ties that bind them. This all changes once you boil the rice. On doing this, the ricebadgers understandably get quite upset, as would you if your city and everything in it was cooked for ten minutes in a pan of water at 100 degrees celsius.
When everything has cooled back down these little guys are pretty much in a state of shock, but they’re not willing to take such a beating again so they start getting organised, forming the first basis of unions in their underground jazz bars. From there the contingency planning begins and although it takes a while to build Andersen shelters and form successfully self-organising collectives, by the next day they’ve got some good scaled down solidarity going on. The trouble for them is that now the immediate danger has passed, the ricebadger population aren’t ready for a revolution. The fat are getting fat again already and although they remember how you recently tried to stamp out their race, Diagnosis Murder is on ITV and for now that wins out.
Of course you have no idea about any of this unless you look at your rice through a telescope, and who does that? Unwittingly, you reheat the rice the next day. Ricebadger Command was deployed for this very moment though, and as you microwave their oppressed people, they’re ready. Those who can, rise up. You eat your rice but little do you know, that on this darkest of days for badgerkind, you’re also chowing down on their special operatives, civilian militias and anyone fit enough to fight.
Soon ricebadger commandos have infiltrated all your important parts like the spleen and the large asparagus, and they chew through your guts like any angry badger would after you murdered his family in cold blood, laughing, right in the middle of Quincy. They’re only small so there’s limited damage that their last stand can inflict, but it’s enough for a night of you vomiting up their brave little bodies with the rest of their ill fated civilisation, god rest their souls.
Anyway that’s why you shouldn’t reheat rice. HTH.
Tags: science
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December 7th, 2008
19.00 – Heroes (BBC Twelvety)
Episode 3,678 – Hiro is revealed to be Ando’s mum. Peter also discovers he is related to Hiro. New superhero Belinda Carlisle arrives in town, with the power of eating a pie. Tragically, Sylar is killed.
20.00 – Heroes (BBC Parliament)
Episode 3,679 – Ando turns out to be Hiro’s mum. Peter is too. But only in the future. Belinda Carlisle is never seen again, with no explanation. New superhero Tupac arrives in town, in the past. He has the power of not eating a pie which he uses to escape from Level 5 where he is in the future AND the past. Sylar comes back from the dead with a startling new twist. He is killed.
23.40 – Heroes (Ceefax p670)
Episode 3,685 – Everyone is Peter’s mum, including himself. Sylar, who was dead, and then not dead, and then dead again, has actually never been dead. He takes the power of not eating a pie from Tupac, and uses it against that one that looks like a fat Keanu, but it does not work, because Fat Keanu, who is evil now, has the power of placing his hat on a hatstand, and therefore can divide numbers by zero. He uses this to stop time and go into the past from the future which brings him back to where he is now but in a different reality where he kills Sylar, by eating a pie.
18.59 – Heroes (UK Shitpeas)
Episode 4 – The whole thing goes back in fucking time and everyone is noone’s mum but secretly they are. Evil Fat Keanu is Good Fat Keanu is Mohinder’s father’s research is Sylar is Claire-the-cheerleader is you, and you are dead. You have the power of disinterest. Everyone is permanently forgotten, apart from the little girl who you haven’t seen in ages, who reveals that this will all have been a great big lot of toss, in the future.
Tags: television
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November 25th, 2008
Do you want revenge on someone? Does she like cats? If so what you should do is lure lots of cats in to your house with milk and lamb and fine cigars and shit and then turn the gas on and tape up the doors. Oh I meant to say go outside too. Give it about twenty minutes but don’t stand too close to the windows just in case because you probably won’t get BUPA for that. Anyway get yourself a knife and cut all the fur off and make an outfit out of it, a full 100% coverage dead kitty boilersuit thing, but you might have to do this a couple of times I guess. If you watched Blue Peter as a kid then you could go into detail and get the whole face thing right and do some paws and that but really just get some glue and stick any old bits on where you can. When you’ve done that wait til it’s dark so people can’t see you as well and they’ll just think there’s some kind of panther on the loose which makes em keep their distance and looks much better on the blurry YouTube footage than you being chased around Warrington by a vigilante mob for being a pervert catrapist.
Where was I oh yeah you need to break into her house but this is easy now because you’re a cat but it’s not always easy because you’re also still a man so if you can’t get through the catflap after about an hour just kick down a door or something and pretend it was like that already. If you haven’t woken her up then creep upstairs and find where she’s sleeping. Now ideally I should have mentioned this earlier but you also need some fireworks and a lot of dead mice and birds and also a megaphone. If you don’t have those then just nip back down and out to Aldi because they have a special buy six catherine wheels and get a free dead bird. Now the last bit is quite simple when back in the bedroom tie all the rodents and sparrows and that to the fireworks and light those up and get the megaphone and shout, ‘KITTY GOTS A PRESENT FOR YOUUUUU MIAOWWWWWW’ and as the rocket rats are shooting everywhere and the wheel of flaming pigeon is doing all kinds of crazy shit!!! leap onto the bed and lick her face with your horrible mashed up catlips and that’s probably when she wakes up.
Believe me having that happen to you is worse than Nam and it’ll most likely kill her right then and there AND when the family come to pay respects it’ll look even worse than when the MP for Eastleigh was found hanging from a door with no trousers on and an orange in his mouth. Fucking sick fuck I can’t believe she would do that to a heron. Now that’s revenge. I hope you turned the gas back off.
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October 15th, 2008
EVER WISHED YOU COULD CONTROL THE WEATHER?
Now ordinary chumps like YOU can have the power of the gods. Go to the beach in winter and be guaranteed it won’t rain! Ruin your fat friend’s wedding by summoning an impromptu downpour! Never lose an eye to some umbrella wielding miscreant again!
And what could be even better than that? We’ll tell you! Solving world hunger!
CRAPOLA CORP™ have combined these two amazing powers into one low priced product. Now these abilities can be YOURS for only a few thousand dollars.
Top boffins have long talked about complex things like bioprecipitation and cloud seeding. Experts have come up with diagrams you are unlikely to understand, such as this:
But what good is this ’science’ to the common or garden man? A simple man like you has simple tastes, and that’s why we have developed Gravy Rain.
Simply take your ordinary KC135 Stratotanker tanker aircraft and hook up the Gravy Pod. Fly into the clouds and begin releasing our patented chemical formula.
The complex molecules of the compound will quickly react¹ with the water vapour in the clouds, and cause it to immediately fall from the sky.
On the ground, villagefolk will be amazed² by the beefy monsoon that falls on their underprivileged bonces. You will be revered by simpletons for ending their famine and bringing much needed nourishment to their failing crops!
See how he revels in the glory you have brought him. Change a life like his, today.
GRAVY RAIN. Only $4,995 a pack. Call 555-BROWN-SHOWER NOW!
¹ May require addition of potassium, thermite, superheating etc to our compound
² We will not exclude the possibility that this does not occur and your pants are sued clean off
Tags: science
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July 31st, 2008
WE WERE chatting. About hair. And I had this brilliant idea of the Hairchestra. The Hairchestra combines cutting edge barbershop fashion and centuries of classical instrumental ensemble. It’d be kind of tiered and little insects and baby voles and shit would sit in different bits of it and they’d have violins and fiddles and maybe a piano if you could make one small enough. And a snail would sit at the front and conduct with his little snailbobs. You know what I mean. And when anyone said ‘ewww what the fuck’s that in your hair you freak go back to the zoo!’, they’d strike up Beethoven’s 5th and totally waste that naysaying fool.
Hairchestra™. Only available if you’re as cool as me.
Tags: science
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