Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Lazy Movie Bullshit #1

Imagine the scene....our hero is running for his life. Sexy sweat pours off him, and for some reason he’s coated in a layer of grime that makes him look all the more manly. His face is panicked, scared even, but you can tell that he’s determined to live. A monster appears in the background slamming against a wall as it takes a corner hard and chases after him. It snaps its tooth filled gigantic head at our hero, but always narrowly misses due to luck or skill on this plucky young man’s part. He keeps running but his luck (and this scenes momentum) cannot hold up for long so eventually he slips or trips and falls. Oh no! Fear overtakes him so instead of getting up and trying to regain his incomprehensible lead on this beast he rolls onto his back, and he looks with horror at the teeth/tentacles/growly bastard that is slowly advancing on him. His doom is certain, and we all watch and think “shit, maybe they are going to kill him off pointlessly now. Maybe it is that sort of film”. Then suddenly from out of nowhere a larger more frightening beast slams into this massive menace and kills it within a moment. Our hero barely has time to look at this new even more terrifying killing machine and give thanks to it for saving his life, before he realises that despite it now having a very large meal in front of it, it wants to eat him too! The chase resumes, and once more our hero jammily outruns this new crunchy faced bastard despite there being no logistical sense in the comparative speeds of a human and a killing machine twenty times his size. This mega beast may have a new trick or two, but for some reason, despite having no compunction about the speed at which it killed the old cruncher, it seems to want to just chase our hero until some minor victory gives him a chance to escape.

Which is lucky for our hero, but not for us. Who cares about a monster chase scene in which there is no real peril as the monsters never act decisively when it’s time to kill the hero? Hmm? And no, a second bigger monster doesn’t make it more perilous if it’s the exact same chase scene again.

These scenes are about as surprising as not winning the lottery...”is it going to happen? Is it? Is it? No? Oh, I didn’t think so.”

I think all movie executives who want to include such a scene in a movie should have to be chased for a mile by lions first. It would give them some perspective.


Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Barista is an anagram of Bastard

So, like you, I have long been a hater when it comes to coffee chains springing up all over the place and charging whatever they like for foamy hot water with melted hyperactive beans. The people who spend their hard earned cash frequenting these places are like so much mould on a pile of rotting marshmallows as far as I am concerned, but as I’m sure you’ll agree, none of us fought the good fight against it, so we lost the high street to these new age caffeine freaks long ago.

So yesterday when my friend invited me out for a coffee I decided to try it out and finally taste this jittery lifestyle which has long been old hat to almost everyone. To my surprise, there were several levels of interesting to such an outing that I had never thought of. Such as:

1) Drinking coffee makes you talk faster, so if you’re catching up with someone you can get through reams of information in a fraction of the time it usually takes
2) It takes longer to drink coffee than beer, so although rounds of coffee seem like much more of a rip-off than rounds of beer, your cover charge for the space you are occupying is significantly lower
3) Coffee is a good alternative to booze if you want to exchange information with someone during your conversation instead of just passing back and forth meaningless inanities filled with good vibes
4) Coffee houses are quieter and cleaner than pubs, so put you less on edge (if only you weren’t drinking coffee)
5) Coffee shops sell cakes, which are better than all pub snacks (except of course honey roast peanuts – which are basically cakes without the time wasted baking)

So Starbucks, Costa and all your crappy little friends, I would like to say I’m sorry for all the bad things I’ve said about you. Well not all of them. Not nearly all of them in fact, but at least the one about you being worthless wastes of space.


Thursday, February 12, 2009

Do businesses not have savings?

Bankers were being questioned this week, about them fucking up the whole world and that, and the big questions we asked them were mostly about pay. “How many bucks did you receive this year?” “How much extra did you give your greedy ass on top of that?” “How can you justify that when you’re a complete douche?” Shit like that.

I ask: who fucking cares? I think they are pricks for the same reasons you do, but them paying themselves shitloads of money is neither here nor there right now. The question on my lips is "How the fuck didn't you save up for this? You were making billions for craps sake, didn’t you put a little aside just in case your metaphorical momma gets sick, or your symbolic pony chokes on a gold brick? Where the hell is it all?"

Because it's not in their fucking pockets. Only Santa has pockets that big, but even then only because he's magic.


Monday, December 08, 2008

Fuck them pictures, we've taken enough shit from you already

It struck me the other day, like a turd in the face, a simple truth which was sickeningly obvious and yet necessarily avoided. We have been pushed to the edge. To the brink. Non-smokers have forced us out, cramming us into smaller and smaller spaces, but keeping us distracted by making that small space the conceptually gigantic "outside". From the once privileged position of being able to smoke where we pleased, blowing hazy "fuck yous" in whoever's face challenged us we are now no better than rats. To enjoy our dirty little habit we have to leave the safety and warmth of the group to huddle around a stinking bin in the stinking cold. Yes we might get 10 minutes off when others must stay at their desks, yes we get to have a conspiratorial chat away from our woes, and yes we might look cool, but huddling around a bin? In the cold? And the motherfucking rain? It's an abuse that we will never live down and never recover from. I know that's the point, but still, I hope that every smoker out there is still thinking "fuck you" deep down in their blackened heart, whenever a non-smoker tuts or coughs like a self righteous prick. I say thinking, because god knows we don't have the breath to say it every time.


Monday, October 27, 2008

My name is Katie Perry and I am a worthless whorebag

My name is Katie Perry and I couldn’t succeed as a singer despite being amazingly lucky enough to be chosen to sing a song for a film about pants. And because I am such a fucking moron, I believed my agent when he said that writing a song myself would be the ticket, so I was surprised when my txt-spk-homophobic-slash-idiot-cough-hit-cough “Ur So Gay” EP got panned. 

So I begged my record company to give me another shot, telling them I would do anything at all to be famous, as I am in fact a massively insecure and crazy bitch who is insanely desperate for attention. After sucking a lot of executive cock, a giant douchbag stuck his dick in my ear and told me that he wanted to make some money out of my worthless ass. He told me that my only chance was to say that I am a lesbian, so that stupid men would listen to my songs and think about lesbians, and even stupider women would listen to them so that they could try and ingratiate themselves to these stupid men. So I sang a song about making out with a chick, but got sick of it so said I was sick of it, and before I knew it, I had an executive wang in my face telling me that I best shut up or I’d be taken to the dump and shot. He also said I had to make out with a chick in public so that the idiots of the world would be confused enough to semi-believe in the possibility that I was a lesbian. 

I think I sold a lot of records as I keep hearing me on the radio, but the executives keep me pretty much in the dark (for my own good apparently), so I’ve got too much jizz in my brain to tell. They did tell me that no-one gives a crap about me anymore though so if I want to keep people looking at me, I would have to appeal to kids who like stabbing this time, as they are also idiots. So I let them take some pictures of me with a blade, and I’ve got my fingers crossed that for some reason, it will make people like me. 

My momma, and poppa, and grandma, and all my relatives in fact are pretty angry with me for being such a completely worthless whorebag, but at least that means they keep calling me, which gives me just a little bit more of the attention I so desperately crave but don’t deserve. 

The thing is, which I don’t understand about this whole “I kissed a girl” hoo ha (and let’s be honest, I don’t understand most things) is that I’ve seen myself naked, and I know that I am rough as fuck, so how was it a good idea to try and make me all sexual and that? No time to think about it now though, an executive needs his balls brassed. Toodlepip


Sunday, May 25, 2008

Dear Frank


Dear Frank,

Let me begin by saying that I am a fan of the style of your advertising campaigns as they seem to cut straight to the heart of the matter, and will perhaps get through to your target audience.

However, I was just wondering why you think it's ok to pick on cannabis users with your current advertising campaign? Coke-heads are the worst people out there, but I don't think I have ever seen any anti-coke ads run by you. Is that because you are afraid of the backlash that would occur from the media if you did take a stand, as most of the media are coke fans?

Coke ruins lives and peoples health, costs loads of money and the effects are to make you an arrogant asshole and then after prolonged use, paranoid. Cannabis makes you lose some of your ambition, and perhaps become paranoid (to a much lesser extent than coke) and that's about it. The reports of it causing schizophrenia are unsubstantiated to say the least (read Bad Science).

I think it is appalling that a service that is supposed to be helping young people away from drugs is simply following the political fad to continuously reclassify cannabis (so as to make a show that the Government is doing something about drugs) rather than taking a stand against a drug that is equally, if not more prevalent than cannabis, and yet seemingly considered acceptable by most adults.

Your organization is in a particularly strong position to make a difference to peoples opinion of coke, but instead you appear to be taking the easier route of attacking a less dangerous, yet more visible drug.

Yours disappointed,


Hi Swan.

Thank you for your e-mail.

FRANK is a new drugs campaign, which aims to give information and help
to anyone who is affected by or wants to know about drugs. This is not a
debating arena. Your comments have been noted.

You may wish to search for free local help via the following link :

If you want to know any more, or would like to talk to one of our
advisors about this, call 0800 77 66 00 and tell them you've been asked
to ring for more information. Alternatively, you can get more
information at

Hope to talk to you again soon.



Cocaine at centre of government's Frank anti-drugs drive

LONDON - The government is to focus on showing 15- to 18-year-olds the ugly consequences behind the glamour of cocaine, the price of which is at an all-time low, in the next phase of its Frank drugs awareness campaign.

The £1m cross-media campaign will be announced today by drugs minister Vernon Coaker as part of a new crackdown on cocaine, which the government claims is the only drug that has risen in use since 1998.

The price of cocaine in the UK has fallen to an all time low and can be bought for as little as £30 a gram, making it easily available to young people and students.

The campaign will use a range of media including online advertising, as well as leaflets aimed at young people and drugs workers.

Today's announcement will be made at a summit being attended by the Columbian vice-president Francisco Santos Calderon, in an attempt to highlight cocaine's impact on the people of his country.

The UK government has joined the Columbian government's "Shared responsibility" campaign, which focuses on the global consequences of cocaine use.

Tomorrow, Coaker, Calderon and former Blur bassist Alex James, will attend a Trafalgar Square exhibition illustrating the environmental and social destruction caused by the drug.

The Frank campaign began five year ago this Friday. The digital account is currently with Profero and the advertising account is with Mother.


Thursday, May 08, 2008

Fuck you London.

Fuck you Evening Standard. Fuck you free papers. Fuck you David Cameron. Fuck you tories. Fuck you electioneering. Fuck you Have I Got News For You. Fuck you short attention span. Fuck you Boris

and good luck


Monday, April 14, 2008

A vote for Boris is a vote for America

So on Friday night I took a drunken straw poll of vague strangers and I was surprised to learn that Boris Johnson is much more popular than I would have thought. Now, as much as anyone else, I thought he was a comic legend on Have I Got News For You, but when I watched it, I always had the niggling thought in the back of my head – “Who voted for him? How is he an MP? What trickery did he pull to make him seem like a viable candidate?” I always assumed there was some convoluted, yet amusing tale of his rise to power out there just waiting to be discovered, but alas, I guess not.

If people in London are willing to vote for him because he’s funny to look at, then I guess that must have been what happened before. So it seems that for all our mighty snooty British superiority over the intellect of the Americans – “They voted in Arnold Schwarzenegger, those guys are so easily led by TV”, “They voted in Bush, those guys are so easily fooled by rich people politicking” – we are in fact much worse. Because at least Arnie had a successful career as an actor, and at least Bush has an MBA from Harvard. Boris? He’s got messy blonde hair and is easily made fun of by comedians when appearing on TV. It’s like they’re being tricked by Vogue magazine and we’re being tricked by OK!

So if you vote for Boris Johnson, please keep in mind that you are actually in fact also voting for the idea that Americans are smarter than the British. And I know you hate that.


Friday, April 11, 2008

Bitter Victory

The first guy who put vinegar on food… he was a brave guy right? I mean maybe he had a bottle of wine kicking about for too long and he was going to cook with it, but left it too late and thought fuck it and put it on anyway. Maybe if he was lucky it was chips he ate that first night. Maybe a salad even. But what if it was cake? What if he was planning on making some sorta old school trifle and he messed up?

Even if it wasn’t, with no prior knowledge of the stuff, you can assume things turned out bad. I wonder how he carried on after that first attempt. Did he try to hide his shame and his breath, and all the vomiting he did from the world and never mention it again? Or did he try again with a different food? And again. And again. Until he finally moved to the seaside to recover from his worsening health and struck upon something special.

I can only assume it was the latter, so I just want to say thank you for your perseverance Vinegar Man, whoever you were, and thanks to your little sidekick too, Balsamic Boy. You two sure did make a random little difference to this world.


Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Church Fakes Dinosaur Bones

If you wanted to discredit the existence of dinosaurs, and were a basically immortal institution, what would you do? Perhaps start faking giant ridiculous creature after giant ridiculous creature? Well then, what do you think has been going on all these years

Giant Frog:

Giant Guinea Pig:

Giant Penguin:

Giant Rat:

Giant Shark:

Giant Kangaroo:

Giant Camel:

Giant Geese:

Giant Wombat:

and for those of you who want a cheap gag

Giant Beaver:


Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Hangover TV

Dear Channel 4,

The new T4 presenter Rick Edwards is awful. Really awful. He looks like an unpleasant man, he dresses like chav and he isn't funny in the slightest. Only slightly menacing and very unfunny. Please get rid of him. Please please please. I really don't think i can cope with my weekend viewing being presented by someone so entirely unlikeable and unpleasant. Why are you not continuing with hiring likeable, cheeky presenters? You have so many great people on there, why put on such a goblin-like idiot?


Dear Justin,

Thank you for contacting Channel 4 Viewer Enquiries regarding T4.

We are sorry to read that Rick Edwards is not to your liking. However, it is a fact that very few presenters on any programme meet with the unqualified approval of everyone in our audience. Nevertheless, your comments are welcome and have been logged for the attention of the team involved.

Thank you again for taking the time to contact us. We appreciate all feedback from our viewers; complimentary or otherwise.



Sunday, December 09, 2007

Triple Distilled

Do you ever wonder how marketers would advertise alcohol if it were a brand new product now? How you could tell someone who had never heard of or experienced any form of inebriation why it was great to be drunk? Imagine it right now (if you’re sober). Imagine being absolutely shit faced. Imagine singing a small part of Fairytale of New York and telling whoever you are nearest to that it is the spirit of Christmas. Imagine dropping part of the most disgusting meal you have ever eaten and then picking it up and eating it. Imagine climbing over a fence or railing at 3am.

Now think of all the actual changes that have taken effect. You’re kinda really happy and really angry at the same time. You have the capability for great violence but not the strength or coordination to open your front door. You love everyone completely yet will insult and fight with your best friend over nothing. You are completely stupid yet able to expound the most complex of theories with absolute assurance of them being correct. You are a myriad of contradictory and unnatural states.

Now think about alcohol advertisements. Don’t they make a bit more sense if you realize the surrealist happy nightmare that they are trying to sell to you?


Monday, June 11, 2007

I can’t be bothered to explain why I like Big Brother right now, I just do

Last week did you watch the Big Brother n-word incident? I did, and let me tell you, I thought it was the most offensive piece of television I have ever seen.

Not offensive due to the word. I do find that offensive, but the way she used it, it was obviously not intended for offence but instead as a stupid white posh girls attempt at bonding with her new black friends. What I did find offensive was the Big Brother contestants talking about the issue. Offensive to my ears and brain.

They are all so fucking annoying that when Emily, Charlie and Shabnam all went into the garden to discuss it, and all three talked continuously for 5 minutes, I literally felt a little sick. It was the most annoying conversation I have ever heard. And then at the end Emily kept saying “Now we’ve discussed it, it’s fine, it’s over”. They didn’t discuss anything. They didn’t get near to discussing anything. Unless you count getting some old newspapers, shredding them and throwing them in the air so that it rains news the same as being up to date on current events.

I have never felt that one moment of TV has damaged both my brain and society a little bit all at once before, but this did. The ad break immediately after she said it was probably the most the n-word has been used in casual conversation throughout Britain all at once for 50 years. If you’ve seen the South Park episode “It Hits the Fan” you may see that there are other hidden consequences of such an event too.

Anyway, even if the nation did join together for such an awful uttering during that ad break, I hope that they also joined me after the ad break in giving Emily the finger when she appeared in the diary room. I think she deserved it. Not for being a racist, but for being a moron, and a posh one at that.

Stupid bitch, fuck off our TV screens. Oh you have already? Nice one bruv, I knew you wouldn’t let me down.


Sunday, May 06, 2007

Spiderman, Spiderman, does whatever... he's paid to do

I just saw Spiderman 3 and it has made me ask the question: why can’t Hollywood make third films? I don’t wanna go historical or nothing (what with Godfather 3 and probably lots of others sucking), but last year both X-Men 3 and Mission Impossible 3 sucked ass to an incredible level after the first 2 of both had been alright or quite good. And the thing is, this year is gonna be filled with number 3s so I’m pretty fucking worried that they will all suck too.

I know this is gonna look like geek rage (I am not a Spiderman geek by the way – yes I watched the cartoon when I was little and yes I own a Spiderman plastic cup – but my brother gave it to me ok!), but I have made a list of questions you should ask yourself after having seen Spiderman 3. They don’t probe many of the main problems with this film, but they are what confused the fuck out of me as I left the cinema. And please don’t answer these questions with comic book answers, because this is not the comic book Spiderman. All I am asking for is some consistency within this multi-million pound Hollywood film. All I am asking for is it not to suck. But it did.

Anyway, don’t read this if you haven’t seen the movie, as it will ruin it:

- Why wasn’t Mary Jane wearing her waitressing outfit at the end of the movie?
- Why did she stop her job when her boyfriend came in (who she must see every fucking day)?
- Why did the Goblin guy only fire two rockets at the fucking huge Sandman, when he happily fired loads at tiny little Spiderman?
- Why didn’t the Green Goblin lay a trap for Spiderman when he clearly knew he was coming (coz he had the suit on under his clothes)?
- Why did Spiderman try to take his black suit off at that church? Why not at home?
- Why couldn’t he get that suit off when he had been taking it off and on previously with ease?
- Why did Spiderman keep taking his mask off at random in the street? Does he not understand the concept of a secret identity?
- Why were there little kids up at the end of the film, when it was just before dawn?
- Why didn’t the explosion next to the Green Goblins head blow his head clean off?
- What happened to all the falling debris in the film?
- Why did those metal poles make so much noise at the end of the film?
- Why did he not try to capture the Sandman at the end, just because he had apologised?
- Why didn’t Spiderman try use a hose on the Sandman as water had worked before?
- Why did Spiderman not question at all where the black suit came from?
- Why did the black suit hang out in his flat for a few weeks before enveloping him?
- Why didn’t the black suit go on Mary Jane when it was on the back of the moped?
- Why were there so many single tears in the film? Seriously, there were more single tears than hand severings in Star Wars 3 (which was the exception to the rule about the third film sucking)
- Why did Spiderman forget he could make webbing for a few seconds when he was strung up at the end by Venom?
- Why did the Green Goblin jump in the way of his snowboard thingy instead of wacking Venom with any of the building materials lying around like Spiderman eventually did?
- Why did Venom mention he had spidey sense but then not have it seconds later when Mary Jane blapped him with that cinder block (which by the way was a fucking wicked shot)
- Why did all the child actors in that movie suck?

It’s late and I can’t be bothered to continue. This list of questions probably only scratches the surface, but I’ll let the millions of other disgruntled spidey fans pose the others to each other.

In conclusion this film sucked. I am upset I gave it my opening weekend bucks. At least Bruce Campbell was in it anyway hey.


Saturday, May 05, 2007

Gotta keep moving

So with everyone perpetually talking about house prices being on the up and up, I thought it was finally time to move. I have been stuck in this little cell in my momma’s house for way to long, and much as I love the home cooking, I think it is finally time for me to spread my wings and feed myself.

We started looking in Clapham two weeks ago on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Having been out all night, and having dressed appropriately for the cold of night time, I was wearing my duvet sized parka and my not-so-tough hoodie. Which meant that I was sweating. A lot. And of course being out all night doesn’t stop you from getting a hangover, no matter what your friends say. In fact quite the opposite. It’s like when you start drinking early in the day and you get hungover before dinner time without ever having gone to sleep.

So anyway, there we were, the 5 of us, wondering up Clapham High Street (I assume that’s what that road is called anyway – I never pay attention to where I am in London thanks to the wonders of the tube being able to get me home no matter how lost I am). It was hot, I felt sick and we had estate agents to see. When we had met up in the McDonalds (for a bit of childish dutch courage) we all tried to conjure up places where we thought estate agents were. We could only think of one between us, so that is what we headed for.

More fool us. There were dozens. Hundreds. Thousands even. Every few yards was another glass window filled with pictures of other peoples homes, and just behind them were the best paid salespeople around. Estate Agents. Now I’m not one to judge (well I am, but I try not to be), but it is the general consensus that these people are scum. They make you rent somewhere just a bit worse that you want, so they can get the commission, and so that they can rent a place that you would have liked to someone who is slightly more snobby than you (so that its just a bit worse than they would have wanted too). And how do they do this? By making you feel like your house hunt is hopeless. Yes, despite the fact that the property market is booming, there is in fact nowhere to live. Nowhere reasonable priced anyway. So after going in a million or so Estate Agents, and being told a million or so times that there was just nowhere suitable at the moment, we gave in and decided to go to Foxtons.

Now personally I don’t have anything against Foxtons. I think their use of Mini’s is good idea, but that probably only stems from the fact that the number 256 (yes they all have a number if you look) works the Richmond area, and for one reason or another, that is my lucky number. But anyway, all my future live-in-friends hate Foxtons. HATE THEM. They all have stories about being supposedly ripped off by this firm, although I suspect that they actually just don’t like the new Mini’s (“It’s just not the same”) and take it out on these home sellers.

We went in anyway, because the least hungover of our group proclaimed “Well at least we’ll get free beer”. And free beer is, of course, always awesome. I had seen those little fridges stacked with them time after time, and I had always wanted a piece of the action. Oh yeah baby. So we went in, we filled in our details, we looked at the boards, we told them what we wanted… and they told us they had nothing for us. We dejectedly sat around in their air conditioning for a minute wondering where to go from here. The least hungover of us finally (and boldly) went to the reception and talked in general about properties in the area until at last… drinks were offered! Hallelujah!

Except that they only gave us two bottles. Of coke. Between five of us. Estate agents really are scum.


Wednesday, November 01, 2006


Don’t you just love it how a single tune can just make you one happy motherfucker even if you is feeling like one big pile of crap? Maybe I’m more susceptible than most to this as apparently I am emotionally explosive, but I find more often than not, no matter how sorry I am feeling for myself, if I put on some funky shit I get all excited real easy.

It used to be TV that would be my crutch in times of not-so-great sorrow, but there is so much shit on these days that it’s often hard to find that smile from channel hopping. Flicking between tunes or listening to Radio 6 (which fucking rocks) though can just change my whole day. Hell yeah.

Or sometimes I’ll hear some song lyrics that I’ve heard a million times before and it’ll just be like “Woah! That is motherfucking profound. I’ve never thought of life like that before.” Or some similarly melodic eureka. This is typically from when you are newly in love, or newly fucked over by love and finally all the cheesy shit on the radio which you have ignored all your life makes sense. But it can be from other things too. Such as the Oasis pointless classic Wonderwall

“And all the roads we have to walk along are winding / And all the lights that lead us there are blinding / There are many things that I would / Like to say to you / I don't know how / Because maybe / You're gonna be the one who saves me ? / And after all / You're my wonderwall”

I used to think that this was a poignant yet vaguely meaningless ballad about how hard life is to get right, but now I realise that it’s just about being really mega fucked and not being able to walk straight, see straight (coz your pupils are dilated so the lights blind you) or really talk, so you need someone to direct you home. And how do you thank this saviour of yours? With meaningless gibberish (“Hey….. you know I fucking love you right…. You fucking saved my ass…. Thank you…. I would never have got home without you…. you’re my fucking saviour… my fucking wonder…wall…. bleugh”). Good old Gallagaher brothers. Go straight to the heart of the matter.


Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Death and ...

I just had to do my taxes. Man did that ever suck. Especially considering that the only reason I had to do them was due to a month long accidental stint of being self-employed brought upon me by the ‘benevolent’ creators of Teachers TV. Those self righteous bastards couldn’t be bothered to do the little bit of extra paperwork necessary to put me on PAYE so instead I am going to be quizzed about my financial habits yearly for the rest of my life.

Luckily I don’t really have any financial habits. I only had to fill in about 20 of the 2,000 questions so that was nice (well I haven’t heard back from them yet, so I assume I only had to fill in 20 of the 2,000). The thing is that even though I had to fill in only 20 questions, I still had to read the other 1,980 questions to check if I had to answer them. And oh boy is that a motherfucking chore. If you have ever done your own taxes then you’ll know. It basically involves trying to concentrate really hard, and then screaming “BUT WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN YOU BASTARDS?” every 20-30 seconds.

And they give you this booklet to help you fill in the form. Now, I don’t know if it’s just me, but every question I looked up in the booklet for some help was even worse than the question itself. At one point, when I was particularly frustrated, I found that the booklets helpful answer was “It’s not too late to do your taxes online”. Those bastards. Those evil son’s of bitches. If I was going to do it online, why the hell would I read all this shit? What if I didn’t want to do it online? What if I hated computers as much as taxes themselves? Why would they say that? Why won’t they just help me? WHY? YOU BASTARDS WHY? ALL I WANT IS TO GIVE YOU MONEY? WHY WON’T YOU HELP ME? WHY WON’T YOU LET ME GIVE YOU MONEY? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? WHAT ARE YOU GETTING OUT OF IT? CERTAINLY NOT MONEY AS I’M TRYING TO GIVE YOU SOME AND YOU’RE JUST MESSING WITH MY FUCKING BRAIN. TAKE IT YOU FUCKING BITCHES, JUST TAKE IT. AAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH. I HATE ALL YOU INLAND REVENUE BASTARDS. ALL OF YOU!

So you see, doing taxes is quite stressful. Try to avoid it if you can.


Thursday, September 21, 2006


I was involved in a serious spider attack last night. It came out of nowhere and made me remember all my fears again. Once the screaming had died down I still felt freaked out. Stupid spiders.

I was sitting at my computer, reading an email when suddenly this little spider slowly lowered itself on its web right in front of me onto my keyboard. As it was only small, I didn't panic, but said "Hey little dude, I don't know where you think you are, but right here is death for you". I got up and walked calmly over to the tissue box and got one out, ready for the big squidge. The spider was still ambling about on my desk. I just happened to be watching Dominic Diamonds Channel 5 programme about religion, and all this talk of God made me stop for a second and think. "I shouldn't kill you little one." I said "you're quite pretty I suppose, with those black and yellow stripes, and that huge ass of yours sticking up in the air..." I paused for a second with the tissue (which of course I had kept poised over the thing this whole time) and slowly moved back. THEN IT FUCKING LEPT ONTO ME. It was a good foot that it jumped, right onto my trousers. All calmness left the room at that point. I ran out of the room, batting my legs with my hands as much as I could. I dashed into the bathroom and tore off my trousers and socks and kept batting myself at any tingle I felt, and checking for a spider in the mirror. I wanted to take a shower just to make sure, but I couldn't stop wriggling and screaming like a girl. After what felt like about 10 minutes I left the bathroom and my trousers and crept back into my room. I kicked anything it could be hiding under then leapt back. I kept looking around my computer, even though I knew that it had left with me. I couldn't go near my computer for the rest of the night for fear. I'm not sure when I'm next gonna wear those trousers.

Stupid spiders. Stupid Justin.


Thursday, August 17, 2006

A Little Bag Of Justin

I gave blood yesterday for the first time. I’ve always wanted to do it, but something has always stopped me. Also, strangely my mum has always been against it. She has always thought that I should save my blood for myself for some reason, so used to frequently rip up and throw away the letters from the blood donation people. They got so pissed off with me not coming to the sessions that eventually they sent me a letter saying “This is your final letter. We can’t afford to keep posting things to people like you who just won’t give blood no matter how many chances you are given”. Strong stuff. Trying to shame me into giving blood.

I still got another letter later from them saying “One final chance. Please, we need your blood. PLEASE.” After that it just descended into begging. So after this long build up, I was a bit disappointed when I did finally give blood. I have always thought it would be a wonderful and yet deeply gross experience; with blood pouring out of your arm while nurses are stuffing you with cookies and muffins and forcing money into your other hand. No money though. No muffins either. Just little packs of biscuits the nurses had stolen from hotel rooms. And I didn’t even feel all mega fucked up afterwards. I was hoping for a light inebriation, but all I got was a slight confusion, which didn’t really make much difference.

It wasn’t really gross either. And it only took like 5 minutes. So I guess my point is – give blood. You might as well. It’s not difficult, and it leaves you with a feeling that you may have helped save someone’s life. Unless some stupid nurse drops your blood and the bag bursts and so really you have just made some cleaning ladies day a bit worse. But either way, at least I know that there is a little bag of Justin out there somewhere, just waiting to fuck somebody up.


Monday, July 31, 2006

Hi Ho

I heard something on the radio the other week which seemed so self evident that I was surprised that I had never thought of it before. These two English guys were making fun of some American or other who had made stupid grand pronouncements about the social effect of Disney films.

Stupid American: “The film Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” is really all about promoting a good work ethic. Here we have 7 physically challenged old men – we knew they were old because they had those long grey beards – who lived a bare existence in the forest, who had to work in a mine. And did they grumble about it? No. They went to work singing everyday. Hi Ho, It’s Off To Work We Go. Can you think of a more positive way to start a working day? I believe there was one fellow who was grumpy most of the time, but that was more of a plot device than to do with the work he was doing”

English Commentator: “So the film Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was about promoting a good work ethic then apparently. This guy seems to have missed out the fact that despite there bare existence, these 7 physically challenged old men had a monopoly on a diamond mine…”

I forget what he said next, because those words stuck with me. Monopoly on a diamond mine. Monopoly on a diamond mine! The fucking seven dwarfs had a monopoly on a diamond mine. Those little fuckers were rich. Puts the whole film in a new perspective. No wonder they weren’t too bothered that some white bitch came and brought loads of trouble down on them.

They knew they could buy their way out of trouble if they needed


Thursday, July 13, 2006

Why I don’t give a fuck about shit on the floor

I’m not for littering. Let me start by saying that. I have always thought that if there is a bin around then you should always put your litter in it. I mean, why not?

I have to admit though, that I’m not really that against littering either. Maybe it’s because I have always had a disgustingly high mess threshold so when I see rubbish on the streets I’m not really bothered in anyway. When we were in Amsterdam for the Queens birthday and the rubbish was piled higher than our heads I thought it was kinda amazing. Ditto for the aftermath of Reading festival. But I suppose both of those times were different to the norm as all that mess represented good times had, so the more there was the better the time it must have been.

I think my lack of caring about litter really just stems from living in Richmond. This place is fucking clean. So clean that I know that if I drop something on the floor, the likelihood is that tomorrow it won’t be there.

Which is why I had an argument with my friends tonight. We were on Richmond Green and there was a pile of empty beer cans abandoned near us, and I couldn’t see what the big deal was. Someone asked me if the rubbish bothered me. I said no. Because why would it? I know for a fact that regardless of whether or not people litter on the green that Richmond is so …well rich, that tomorrow undoubtedly there will be street cleaners coming by to clean it up. Caring about it is the equivalent of caring about cleaning your room before the cleaner does in a hotel. Why bother? It’s their job, and they are going to do it anyway.

Someone brought up the oh-so-clever point of, “Would you like it if the rubbish was up to here (points to a couple feet off the floor)? Because that is what would happen if everyone littered.” No, no it wouldn’t. I wouldn’t particularly care, as I have previously mentioned I have an incredibly high mess threshold, but more than that, would it really ever get that bad? Can anyone really actually believe that as humans we would ever let it get to the level where we were wading through our own rubbish? No. Certainly we would not. And definitely not in Richmond.

Someone else made the argument that if no one littered then we wouldn’t need so many street cleaners and so wouldn’t have to raise taxes to pay for them. I usually at that point would make the trite point that litterers keeping street cleaners in jobs, but I decided not to tonight, as I am a little older and wiser than last time I had this argument, and I know understand that no matter what happens we are still gonna employ the same amount of street cleaners. And even if we fire some, taxes will not go down as a result.

Can you seriously imagine any politician saying “and a special thanks to everyone for keeping the streets tidy. I’m not going to spend the money we saved on street cleaners on something else, instead I’m going to take it off your tax bills”. No? Because it’s a stupid fucking thing to say.

As I said at the start, I’m not for littering, but in Richmond, I don’t think it matters so much as elsewhere. I know England is filthy, but not this town.


Thursday, May 18, 2006

I'm sorry this is poorly written...I'm a little hungover

So I discovered something weird last week, something that no-one is gonna care about, but something which I still feel like I should share. Where I live is under the flight path to Heathrow. I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve gotten used to the planes. While I was at uni I forgot about them for a while, but now that I’m back I’m just used to them again. I often stare up at them when they go by, as they are filled with people who have just arrived from another country, and so I like to gaze up and wonder about all the stories that are inside that big tin can.

So after a lifetime of gazing it seems strange than neither me nor any one I know has ever noticed that where we live under the flight path, or more specifically the green where we have spent many a summer getting wrecked, is exactly where the planes put their wheels down in preparation to land.

See I told you that you wouldn’t care. But I thought I would share anyway.

Talking of flying things, some birds have nested on my roof just above my bedroom, and recently their eggs have hatched. Aww I hear you say. BUT NO! Not aww, AAAAAGGGGHHHH. These baby birds never shut up. From sun up to sun down they don’t stop chirping for a minute. And what’s more, they have nested right inside the guttering so I can in no way see the little birds for the limited aww factor they might provide. I’m thinking of getting a scarecrow and sticking it out my window, but we all know what happened to Homer when he turned on the birds.


Monday, May 08, 2006

The Real Lesson Of Time Travel

You know when you’re watching TV and in whatever TV series you happen to be watching, the characters for some reason go back in time? And when they’re actually in the past, one of them will say something like “Be very careful not to affect anything, as even the slightest change which you make could drastically alter the future”. Come on, you know what I’m talking about, just about every TV series does it. Even the fucking Simpsons has done it. Remember now? Good.

So I was thinking about this the other day, and it occurred to me, why does it only matter what we do in the past? I mean sure, they have future knowledge and whatnot so could intentionally change things, but usually they just step on a bug or save someone’s life to change the future irrevocably. And these things require no knowledge of the future at all. This basically means, what these sci-fi writers are trying to drum into us is that we do make a difference. That every action that each individual takes is in fact vital to the universe, and so we should all get out there and take action as our actions count.

Nice thought isn’t it. Makes sense too. It even makes sense that the sci-fi writers would want to tell us this message, as I assume that they are mainly nerds so spend most of their time indoors with delusions of grandeur.

The thing is though, that I thought it through a bit more, and if you think about it, every episode in every show in which they travel back in time, when they do return to the future it has never changed. I mean sometimes it has until they go back and fix it, but all those bugs they’ve squished and tea they’ve drunk and lasers they’ve fired and whatnot haven’t affected anything. So real the lesson we should learn from these shows is that nothing we do affects anything. We could blow up the white house, exterminate a species or give all our enemies the plague. And the future wouldn’t change.

So all our actions are pointless. That sounds more like the message sci-fi writers would want to give us. There is a bitterness inherent with being a geek with too much power. All that knowledge and bullying mixed together isn’t a good thing.

So basically what I’m saying is this weeks lesson is that you can do what you want, as ultimately there are no repercussions.


Monday, April 24, 2006

Don't miss out

The beautiful thing about London is that there is always a million things to do. I know that this can be said of many capital cities, but London is my Capital, so I’m saying it.

Anytime of day or night, you can basically do whatever you want, if you just know how to find it. This is great for visitors, as they can come with their travel guides, find out where their preferential fun spots are and go. While they are here they can be entertained endlessly.

For people who come stay live here for a portion of a greater travelling experience however it seems to be a different matter. Even for people who just move here for a job, London becomes too much. It’s addictive, or so I hear. Every night that you stay at home for a quiet evening, it preys on your mind that you could (or even should) be doing a whole variety of unique events. Every night that you go out, you could be doing a whole load of other, possibly more exciting, things. And even if you do have a gap in your calendar and you stay in through choice, surely the number of friends you have made in London mean that you will be inundated with stress about who to see and who to ditch. I’ve been told that it’s just too much to take, but that’s it’s also too much too leave.

It’s different for Londoners though. I once went to a random house party whilst I was at university with my flatmates. All of my flatmates happened to be from London, but none of us knew each other before we went to Uni, so I found it very strange when a girl at this party asked us as soon as we sat down “Are you guys from London?” Now as I said, we all were, but all from different parts. When I asked her how she knew, she said “It’s just something in the way you move and present yourselves”. Now this was doubly strange, as apart from coming from different areas of London, my flatmates and I were all incredibly different types of people.

I think I understand now though. As much as all the events to attend in London freak out non locals, it builds a certain sense of fatalism into Londoners. We all know that there is a million things we could be doing each night, so we’re not worried about missing them. Because there will be a million more tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.


Wednesday, April 19, 2006

A plea to a hero

There is a man. A man of danger and intrigue. A man of chalk. And he’s terrorising Richmond as we speak.

The man, who for arguments sake we’ll call Sir Chalkalot, has been waging a war of amusing chalky terror against the citizens of Richmond for about a week now, and I say God bless him. Although God himself probably won’t because one of Sir Chalkalot’s writing clearly designates a local church as a pub.

You see this man, well to be honest I assume it’s just a boy, has been labelling all sorts of minor landmarks throughout Richmond, as well as occasionally simply leaving his own point of view around. This point of view is generally about penguins or smurfs or somesuch frivolous matter, but I like it.

By a paper recycling bin it says “We like bikes. We cycle.” Genius.

He appears to have avoided any attention from local authorities, or anyone, so far as none of his scrawlings have been wiped off except by the scuffling of feet. Not even the one of his illustrated writings which proscribes the proprieter of a shop as a ‘nob’. He has not however avoided the evils of alcohol (or perhaps drugs) it seems as everyday his writings make less and less sense.

So my plea is this, Sir Chalkalot if you are reading this, please don’t give up. Sure some of the stuff you write is drivel, and sure a lot of it doesn’t make sense, but the people of Richmond need fucking with and I just can’t be bothered to go buy some chalk. Also, it seems fairly unlikely what you are doing is illegal due to the removable nature of chalk, so you may as well keep going until that packet of chalk I assume you found runs out.


Friday, April 07, 2006

I hate bigots

What is the female version of misogynist? If you type misogynist into google the first answer is that exact question. And the answer is The equivalent is misandrist (a person who hates persons of the male sex), a rare word but seemingly much sought-after.

A rare word but much sought-after. That just demonstrates the whole point I’m about to make. Sexism is a two way street.

Now before I start complaining, don’t get me wrong, I know that men are sexist. In fact I think it would shock most women how sexist most men are, even the nice ones. But the thing is, the men who aren’t dickheads keep it to themselves. The thing about women is, they are proud. Hating men is like a higher calling for them. Feminism is like sainthood. I can’t be bothered to look up the male equivalent, but I’m sure it will be an equally rare word as misandrist.

And men, we’re afraid to stick up for ourselves. Women get badly treated in lots of places by lots of people, and that’s a bad thing. But I don’t do it personally, and neither does anyone (well pretty much anyone) who I choose to call my friend. So why then do we have to put up with women having a free reign in advertising and on television to slag us off as much as they want without anyone batting an eye-lid. In this day and age, if men on TV made such wide sweeping and frankly stupid comments about women, as women do about men in Sex and the City and other shit, then the shows would be banned. Women feel it is fine to call any man who stands up for themselves a misogynist whereas men don’t even know the retaliatory word.

Ann Summers is my case and point. I often say to my girlfriend that if I could be bothered I’d picket that place. Not because I think it’s wrong or dirty or whatnot, but just because it is porn. It sells dildos. A comparative shop for men would have to be behind closed doors and all hidden away, but Ann Summers just motherfucking flaunts it. And the desperate argument I have heard against this often is, “you love it really”. I fucking hate that. It’s the same as a women thinking that you will give her special treatment just because she’s pretty. I know that statistically men do do that, but still, pretty women should at least try to develop personalities. My girlfriend has.

Anyway to sum up, I want to say again that I realise that men are generally more sexist than women, and that men give women a lot more shit than women in a sexist way. I just am sick of the double standard which is in effect which makes nice guys have to apologise for dickheads, whereas bitches are publicly celebrated by women.


Monday, April 03, 2006

Pepe le peu

I would like to talk to you today about something which has annoyed me for a long time. Something which would have annoyed me for a much longer time, had I been older, as it happened long before I was born. Well I say happened, but it wasn’t an event really, just some stuff. I’m starting to annoy me with all this digression now.

I want to complain about Samuel Pepys. Now if you don’t know who I’m talking about then I’m not surprised, as I barely know. He was some guy who wrote a diary which survived the great fire of London. I think. I am no historian and know almost nothing about this man, except that in some circles his name has lasted through history. And it’s his name that annoys me.

Pepys. To start with it’s a plural, which is just stupid. But again I digress, as I really care not about that. Pepys. Should be pronounced pep – ees right? Would make sense. But no, it’s pronounced peeps. PEEPS! Who the fuck did this man think he was?

I can just imagine him now, swaggering through ye olde London with the plague, pulling a cart or persecuting someone for religious reasons when he see’s ye olde tavern and thinks “I’ll stop for ye olde ale”. He walks through the door and before you know it he’s like “PEEPS IS IN THE HOUSE” and everyone gives off a yanky “woo woo”. That damn bastard, who did he think he was? The father of hip hop? He had a pathetic girly name, and he tried to act all cool about it. And somehow it worked as his name lives on and on.

Some people have all the luck. History lesson over.


Friday, January 27, 2006


I’ve got this swan on my chest which will never go away. It’s made up of three numbers which have many meanings but which mean nothing. I can’t get rid of these things, and nor would I want to, but the way people talk to me about it I have to get rid of its meaning, because people don’t get why I did it.

It’s not for comedy. The reason I give for 256 being my lucky number is funny, but I didn’t get ink in my skin for a funny reason. It’s not because I think it’s a mystical symbol. True, when I thought of the number I was all fucked up and I was like “woah man, what does that mean?!”, but even when I’m fucked out of my skull I don’t really believe the shit that falls out of my mouth. I got it because I’m an idiot.

I don’t mean I’m stupid. Because maybe I am and maybe I’m not, but that’s what not what I mean. I mean that it reminds me that I’m an idiot. It reminds me of the things I’ve done. The really stupid, dangerous, unrepeatable, unforgettable yet forgotten things which make me who I am. And I’m not saying that I’m a stunt man or that my scarred skin is a sign of humility to remember that I’ve been a fool. It’s a mark of stupidity to remind me that I am a fool. That I don’t care about the worlds troubles and rules. That I’m not going to just give in and live an ordinary life. That I’ve chosen to be a fool, because it’s more fun. That I’m not going to go gentle into that good night. Because if I did, then I really would be an idiot, and the worst physical pain I’ve ever felt in my life would have been for nothing.


Monday, January 16, 2006

I'm not saying you don't have a brain

Sometimes when I look at people I swear I can see right through their eyes, through their brains and right to the back of their heads. I speak to these people, but somehow my voice just echoes in their head and comes back out their mouth. It freaks me out. I feel like I must be missing something, or else they must be, because how can people actually be like that? Hmm. Is there anybody really out there?

That’s why I’m doing what I’m doing. I can’t be bothered to explain here, but I’m working on an art related magazine. To me, I’ve always found it an amazing thought that all the shit that goes on in my head, the millions of unstoppable thoughts about everything and nothing are replicated in every head on the planet. And there are more than 6 billion of them now. I don’t mean that everyone thinks the same as me (because that really would be weird), but that everyone has there own whole world built into their head, their own worries, their own thoughts, their own point of view. As complicated as I feel life is for me, it is for everyone else too. When I walk down the street, I sometimes just look at all the windows on the top floors of houses, because most of them are bedrooms, and every bedroom implies a whole world. A whole life which is running on the same planet as me, but which I’ll never see. Hey that rhymes.

Anyway, my point is, that I’m doing what I’m doing because as far as I’m concerned art (in all it’s forms) is the only way that you can really be sure that other people really exist. I have no evidence that other people think except that they can express their thoughts, and that I can understand these expressions of thoughts makes me realise that other people see the world in their own way too. Not to be trite, but without art, how the fuck could I really know that the whole world isn’t just a figment of my imagination, and that people are just facets of that?

I once had a dream that I woke up one day and my whole life had been a massive hallucination and that everything I thought was wrong. Maths, physics, philosophy, everything I had just made up. In my dream when I woke up I was eating a dead rabbit and staring at a tree, which had been an ice cream and a tv respectively before I woke up. Does this make sense? No? Well it didn’t at the time either.

I digress. My point is (and this has been a really fucking roundabout way of getting there) that as much as art is the only way in which I can know people really exist, the comments on this thing are the only way I can know that anyone reads it. So please, leave comments, I don’t care in the slightest what they say, because otherwise this is like screaming into a plastic bag – almost like communication, but also quite like suffocation.

I’m gonna try write at least once a week now. I hope that’s enough for you to be bothered to check this thing. Whoever you are.


Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Religious Intolerance

Did anyone watch that “Root of all evil” show last night? I caught a bit of it, and I have to say I was extremely disappointed. I was intending on not watching it simply because I assumed that it would make the trite point that religious wars are all stupid, but instead it made the stupider point that people should look at the evidence for god then decide whether to be religious.

This was because the presenter was trying to say that science is better than religion as science doesn’t breed hate or intolerance. What he entirely missed, was that science is basically its own religion in that it breeds hate of things that it can’t explain and intolerance of religion and faith in general.

Believing in something itself isn’t a bad thing. To be a scientist you have to believe in many things, such as that without proof, something can’t be true. Believing in any god isn’t neccesaily a bad thing. What I think is a bad thing is believing in people.

The bible is 2000 years old roughly and people see it as the gospel truth. I believe in god, but I don’t believe in the bible. One reason why is that at the beginning of the 2000 years, most people couldn’t read, and so the bible would be told to them. If only a few people knew what it said, then what would stop them from changing it? I mean, even if it were the word of God to start with, if along the way someone or some people decided to use it for their own gain then what is to say that didn’t happen? The Romans, the Spanish inquisition, the Vatican, and many other powerful forces have had the Bible as their focus point for loyalty throughout this time, so as much I think believing in God is fair enough, believing in the people who claim to work for God is not.

This is of course not only true for Christianity. What about Mohammed? He went to Allah and asked for men to be able to pray less times a day as it was interfering with daily life. What if he was just a guy who didn’t want to pray so many times a day? I’m not saying he wasn’t holy, but no-one is perfect.

And what bothers me most about all religions, is the fact that most people believe in a stupid god. They say that god is omnipotent and all knowing and everywhere and in everything. Well if that was true, what would make Him angry? If He knew every side of the story, then why would anything we ever did bother Him? Why would He ever think violence was the answer, because if He is all powerful and He wanted one of us dead then He could make it happen in a million different ways.

One last thing. Science is a religion. It is religion for people who won’t admit to having faith. But there is no reason to believe that science and God are mutually exclusive. If I was God, and I wanted to make the universe and everything, I wouldn’t create things one by one, I’d just do one thing which started everything off. Just one. If He knows everything, then he knows the results of everything, so just one tiny event would be enough to make everything happen. Because if you knew everything, then wouldn’t everything be boring to you? So it wouldn’t be the doing of things which you would find interesting, it would be watching the action unfold.

Evolution! The most exciting and long running TV show ever invented.


Wednesday, September 28, 2005


So you have to understand that what I’m about to say I don’t actually believe is true. But that’s not to say that I believe it’s not true either, but it is just some stuff I thought so has no basis in reality, except that it angers me when people dismiss the idea that any of it could be true without reason. Paranoia exists because sometimes people really are out to get you. So if I die randomly anytime soon, maybe you should think twice about the things I’m about to espouse.

Have you noticed that most of the big bad things that have happened in the world recently have coincidentally all been in Bush’s favour? I mean it he wanted to plan some fucked up things to happen to the world to help his ass along the way, the things that happened wouldn’t be far off the things he would want to happen. Let’s start at the beginning. Well the beginning of this rant anyway.

September the 11th. Now I know you’re not supposed to say anything about that day except for what a tragedy it was, but let’s look at it reasonably. The world was a relatively peaceful place at the time, and Bush was a self proclaimed war president. His daddy had tried and failed to take over Iraq to help out his oil interests, so maybe Bush decided that he would do it. But people weren’t really up for another pointless war. People weren’t really afraid. So bang (x2) the twin towers go down. No one can miss such a thing. Everyone noticed. It was a tragedy. The tragedy from Bush’s point of view was that he was too dumb to realise that Al Quaeda (or however the fuck you spell it) was mainly based in Afghanistan and not Iraq, so however much he ranted about it, he was going to have to invade the wrong country. I doubt it upset him too much as he was after all a war president. And the fact that the Bin Ladens were personal family friends didn’t seem to bother anyone too much, so as far as he was concerned, no harm, no foul.

Fast forward. The Tsunami. America was told by that whole area that their companies would not be allowed to buy anymore property in the area as it was taking profits away from the natives. Whoosh a big wave fucks it all up. America rushes in without the UN to take most of the responsibility for the aid required to fix it up. Aid which can be denied at a later date unless certain property related view points are relaxed. And coincidentally an American military base is perfectly positioned to have created a tidal wave. Which is impossible. As far as we know.

Fast forward. July 7th. Bush is coming to Britain to make poverty history as far as everyone is concerned. 100% debt relief was the plan. Which really isn’t in the US’s economic favour, which is all Bush is really concerned about (his personal wealth would be fucked if his country’s was). If Africa was comparatively richer, then America would be comparatively poorer. Not to mention that the US just doesn’t want to chip in its fair share for international aid. So what happens? Our PM is taken out of the meeting to attend to terrorist attack issues. Coincidence? Hmm. And in the bargain, British people are meant to feel more afraid and therefore more up for war that their government is supporting the US in.

And then the hurricanes. Anti-American sentiment is at an all time high, so why not bring on a tragedy that no one could say they brought on themselves. Don’t try and fix it up too soon either, as the full impact must be seen around the world. We have to feel sorry for them. Other countries even send them aid, even though they can easily afford it themselves. But it doesn’t quite work. Contempt is felt for Bush at his apparent apathy to the plight of even his own people. So what happens? Another hurricane. And this time they do it right. Everyone is prepared. Bush visits as much as possible. The actual strength of the hurricane is over estimated until the last second. No need to kill anymore people. Just need to demonstrate that he does in fact care, and that everything possible will be done. P motherfucking R.

I can just imagine that little bastard telling his aides, “What no sympathy yet? Hit them again”.

I know you can’t cause a hurricane. But then if you think about it, why not? If butterflies flying in a circle can cause one, what about a machine made from the trillions of dollars that the US spends on defence? In the Second World War they hid bombs in rats and whatnot, and people would have said that was impossible at the time. This time the leader of the ‘free’ world is playing for big bucks, so why not go for the big bang? I mean, I can think of a few ways to make a hurricane machine off the top of my head, and I’m no science motherfucker. The same with a Tsunami. I know it’s impossible. But why?

As I said to start with, I don’t believe any of this to be true. But then, if someone told me it was I wouldn’t be surprised. Just like the moon landings. I believe Neil Armstrong went there, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. I mean, why was that flag waving in the wind? And what was the point in not staging it. If I was in charge, I would have. I might have even included aliens. But then I’ve always been a bit melodramatic.


Friday, September 09, 2005

It’s not a sport unless you need a cigarette afterwards

So over two months has passed now and I think the dust has finally settled enough to talk about the events which occurred in London in July this year. And no I’m not talking about the “Terrorist outrages” as they are so called (which is a pretty stupid name really as I have been outraged many times, yet never enough to blow myself up, but I suppose that’s besides the point). What I am here to put to rest is the issue of the Olympics which my fair city has won for the year 2012. Now I know the fucked up events following the announcement of the Olympic bid kinda took the joy out of it for everyone, but can I just ask, where was that joy really coming from anyway?

I mean, fuck loads of people were celebrating in the streets the fact that in 7 fucking years some sporting event is going to happen here. I mean, I like monging out and watching exceptionally strong and fast and whatnot people competing with each other as much as the next guy, but why the hell would I want it going on in my city? Like most other people, if they were truly honest with themselves, I will be sitting on my ass in my living room watching the bits of the Olympics which have any interest, no matter where in the world they are held.

I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we beat Paris to it and all, as a new round of healthy French bashing is always amusing, but couldn’t New York or that Russian hell hole (no offence comrades) have won it? I don’t want to be getting the tube every morning and be brushing up against an excessive amount of sweaty jocks in lycra on the way to their event. I mean in theory they should all be running to “work” but the theory never works, especially considering that athletes are just stoners in disguise.

See I read once somewhere that doing exercise causes a release of the same pleasurable drugs into your brain as getting high does. So really all of those health freaks out there who are slowly by slowly getting smoking banned in all public places ,are just fucking themselves up in a different way. Those cheeky, hypocritical, self righteous motherfuckers.

What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, the Olympics. So as well as the tube being filled with sweaty meatheads, I’m also going to have to pay extra bus fair and shit to pay for the privilege of having the Olympics in my city. And I’m going to have to listen to any old dickhead spout some half assed opinion on the sports person of the moment at random continuously for like a year before and a year after. And I’m gonna become one of those dickheads and suddenly find myself having an opinion on the 9000 metres hurdles or similar.

So where in fact is this joy about ‘our’ winning coming from? I know it will improve England’s sporting ability for generations to come, but considering it’s the sporty bastards who rob kids at school for their lunch money, I don’t think it’s that great an idea to encourage them. I mean, I could eat a lot of lunch for the amount the Olympics is costing. Damn Tony Blair. Never taking my needs into consideration.

PS in the second paragraph where it says “interest” in the last sentence, instead read “bikinis”.


Monday, May 16, 2005

A New Hope

So I was born in 1982 right. Lots of exciting things probably happened that year, but my birth was the most important thing that happened in my life, so I’ll ignore all the rest. But anyway, my point was that 1982 is 18 years before the millennium, so it was destined right from the start that all people born in the same year as me would have a pivotal 18th year. Because it was the millennium. The big 2000. Something was bound to happen. Right? Wrong. Apart from a fucking great party I can’t really remember that year at all anymore. Pivotal?! We were ripped off.

Just like with Star Wars Episode 1. It was a crock of shit, let’s face it, with little to no interest to anyone except for children who wanted to play the racing game that I assume closely followed it’s release. Then Episode 2 came out and it still wasn’t amazing. I mean, I thought it was amazing as I was thoroughly less than sober when I went to see it and when Yoda does all his flipping about and shit I was motherfucking awe struck. But as I wasn’t seeing straight at the time, the pretty flashing lights were probably more than enough to please me. In retrospect however, it still wasn’t nearly as awesome as perhaps it could have been. So now number 3 is on the way, and I have to wonder if it’s going to be nearly as motherfucking amazing as it has the potential to be.

I mean, when I was young Star Wars was already everywhere. Everyone had at least one of the toys. Well I didn’t, but that’s because after my parents had seen the sad state my slinky was in it seemed foolish to buy me anymore. But everywhere you went there were Star Wars things. I grew up on the computer games. Not that most of them were any good, but it was a nice genre, an interesting story and lets be honest, a catchy name. Well I would have called it Space Bitches, but Star Wars is alright. So now, after our whole lives waiting, finally the last piece of the puzzle is about to come out. And it could possibly be the pivotal moment of my generations lives. Not that it will be. It’s probably going to suck ass like the rest, but it has the potential. It could be great. IT COULD BE MOTHERFUCKING THE BEST PIECE OF CRAP YOU’VE EVER SEEN IN YOUR WHOLE FUCKING LIFE.

Maybe I shouldn’t have such high hopes, but fuck it, what other inevitable event can I get so excited about? The 2nd of May 2006? I’ve based all my hopes for this year on this film. If it turns out well then it’s going to be a good year. If not, then I’m just going to give up and stay in my room til New Years. I’m terrified. I’m excited.

Actually, I don’t even really care that much, but I have a lot of time on my hands, and someone once referred to me as being the light side of the force, so I felt I should say something about it.


Saturday, May 14, 2005


Isn’t being hungover nice sometimes when the pain has just gone away and you suddenly find yourself happy to be alive? I quite like that marshmallow covered monged out feeling. It makes the world seem clean and serene and kind of beautiful in an odd sort of way. It makes anything which you have the energy to manage seem like the best thing ever. Water finally seems as brilliant once more as the day it was invented.

Not that I don’t feel the pain of hangovers. I often think that the punishment for drinking is too severe, that maybe your body should just give you a break. I mean do you have to have dry mouth so strong that it can suck your face into itself? I don’t think so. Next time that happens to you, don’t go straight for the drink of water. Why not instead try a polo or other mint? It follows the theory of Making It Worse. Like trying to type when you’ve got a headache from being hungover. Doh.


Friday, May 13, 2005

Missing the point

So it's actually Friday the 13th now, so time to stop, reflect and maybe watch lots of horror films. Or something like that. Though not the Nightmare on Elm Street series as I’m still a little terrified of that bastard. I know it’s not reasonable, as he is basically a man with a pizza on his face, but when I was about 8 I watched all 5 films in the same day. Made me feel ill. But as I was watching it with my little friends and my brother, I didn’t wanna look like a sissy so I stayed and watched the whole lot. Gave me nightmare’s for years. Although I saw Freddy vs Jason the other day and that was pretty funny, so maybe I’m over it. Or maybe I just missed the point.

Like it seems that everyone else did with Billy Elliott. Now I never wanted to see that fucking film, let’s get it straight from the start, but everyone kept telling me how great it was. How it was really touching and how I shouldn’t judge it before I saw it. So when it came on tv one day and I was too lazy to change channel I watched. In horror. It’s not touching. It’s the story of one selfish little gay boy who ruins his families life so that he can be a dancer. How touching. If it was a little girl everyone would call her a spoilt little bitch, but as it was a little boy it was sweet. Apparently.

Just like that film the Full Monty. That wasn’t funny. It was depressing. Those poor out of work northerners who are forced to degrade themselves for money as they’re living in a economically stagnant area. Once again, if it had been about fat and old women stripping, instead of men it wouldn’t have been considered a comedy. It would have been considered shit.

I suppose the knife cuts both ways though. If Karate Kid 4 had been made with a boy instead of a girl then maybe it would have been good. Or maybe not. The special move in that film is dancing, so it never really stood a chance. Plus it would have cast a shadow of Mr Miyagi’s sexuality once again. At university I repeatedly heard the theory that Mr Miyagi’s relationship with Daniel-san was less than wholesome. I mean, he does say “Daniel-san, you complete me” but still, he’s a legend and therefore not a paedophile.

Maybe that’s Michael Jackson’s main line of defence. I hope not. It came out in court the other day that he used to make Bubbles help with the cleaning. He should go to jail for that if nothing else. Poor monkey bastard. All he wants to do is eat banana’s and pee in his own mouth, but no! Celebrity chimps lives just aren’t as glamorous as we think. Just ask Pamela Anderson. She refused to have a monkey in her new sitcom, as she knows how badly they get treated when they retire and demanded a robot instead. I want to make some sort of joke about silicon, but I really can’t be bothered.

So I’ll make this one instead. What’s the strongest fruit? The Sat Sumo.


Thursday, May 12, 2005

Eastenders, everbody needs good Eastenders, with a little... oh wait

Ok, 5 minutes to Eastenders so I’ll make this brief. Not that I care that much about Eastenders, but with a 9-5 job generally meaning that I miss both episodes of neighbours, I need something to fill the void. Although I do like it. I only really got back into it, because I watched it with this Jamaican guy I knew in university once and he was totally addicted. When I asked why he said “I just can’t believe people live such stressful lives”. Now on it’s own that is a bit rubbish, but add the heavy Jamaican accent, and the impression of the Jamaican way of life that we’ve all grown up with on the lilt adverts, and it’s kinda funny. And it’s true. They’re little lives are unbelievably stressful.

Unlike my current job. I grabbed a nap in a cupboard the other day. That was nice. Haven’t slept at work in a long time. I once slept in a meeting by sitting behind someone with massive hair, so that anyone in a position to shout at me, couldn’t see me. That was a good day.

Unlike tomorrow, which is Friday the 13th. The number 13 doesn’t really appear to be unlucky in my life, as I’ve got a friend that was born on the 13th, and 2 + 5 + 6 is 13, but still I don’t quite trust it. The navy started the superstition apparently, and in an attempt to dispel it long ago they launched a ship on some 13th of January (12+1) at 13:13 with 13 crew members etc etc. Apparently they disappeared without a trace in 13 minutes, but I don’t know how true that is.

Anyway, 5 minutes is up.


Wednesday, May 11, 2005


So cows life’s aren’t fulfilling. So what? Cows are like big pods for processing grass and spawning more. They’re like single cell organisms but they’re motherfucking massive. They don’t really need to have fulfilling lives because if they did, what would they do with it? Stand and eat grass? I mean don’t put them in little cages or anything, but to think giving them any sort of stimulant to make their lives better would be purely a waste. They do create magic mushrooms in an odd sort of way, but I don’t think cows eat their own shit. Do they? How the fuck would I know.

I’m a member of Green Peace so I think my opinion counts. Well I think I’m still a member. I haven’t paid the subscription fee in a long time, but they kept sending me shit for ages, so who knows. I didn’t mean to stop paying, but I had to change bank accounts to open a student account and when I closed it, the standing order didn’t go across. Stupid fucking banks.

My banks (for I try to never close an account, but seem to have opened many over the years for many different odd fucking reasons) always fuck me over. You know when they do that thing that they fine you because you’re overdrawn, but you’re only overdrawn because they fined you or some shit? Happens to me all the motherfucking time. And you can’t complain, because you always have to call somewhere else and you don’t want to swear at the lady down the phone when her colleague standing in front of you has been so helpful. Goddamnit. I don’t even care about money in the first place, so stop making it so difficult to manage. I wonder who i could say that to, to magically sort things out.

So I only ever joined Green Peace in the first place because we were in London in some swanky jeans place or other and I was buying anything so I went outside to have a cigarette. It was fucking pouring it down so I went round the corner and stood in an alley and there was this guy standing in the street asking people to sign up for green peace. Only there were no people because it was fucking pissing it down, and he was just wearing a regular coat. So I felt sorry for him and went and signed up. I didn’t realise it was Green Peace until he told me, but I feel it was a good decision. Turned out it was his first day, and I was his first ever sign up. It feels good to give something back to the world.

What was I talking about? Cows? I can’t fucking remember why now. Oh yeah, the girl with the greatest fighting name ever is going to Mexico. Oh wait, I didn’t mean it like that. Oh well, whatever, Nevermind.


Thursday, May 05, 2005

Do you think that Great Britain supports George Bush because we've got the same initials?

Anyone who joins the army is stupid. Signing up to try and kill or be killed by people you don't know, on the word of people you don't know saying that other people you don't know are bad is just stupid. And I know that it’s probably pretty stupid of me to be saying this as they are the one’s with the guns, so I shouldn’t infuriate them, but I’m banking on the fact that they probably can’t read.

Ok, now that was a joke. I’ve met many people who have been in training to enter the army or some shit and they all consider it to not be the case that they are just in it for the killing. They talk some shit about protecting people and bla bla. Why not become a security guard or join the red cross or some shit then? The army is a war machine, and if you join that machine without thinking that you’re in for a lot of killing then you’re pretty stupid.

Conversely, who cares if that war was illegal? Sadam Hussein was a bad man. He had it coming. He was screwing over his people on a day to day basis, so someone needed to kick his ass. So he didn’t have and weapons of mass destruction. He did have 200 PS2’s or some shit, so isn’t that enough of a threat? One day the Iraqi’s could have come over here and kicked our asses on Pro Evolution Soccer 4. That would have been a sad day.

But what happens if the Iraqi’s get mad and do some September the 11th type shit I hear you cry. Well firstly, it was clearly perpetrated by George Bush to give him reason to start some wars. Come on, it's been long enough now that we don't have to shy away from the obvious truth in case we offend someone. I feel sorry for all those who died and the lives that were ruined, but that doesn’t mean that claiming that different bad guys were involved than generally accepted is belittling their loss. When George Bush got in power, he was obviously going to start some wars. The Iraq thing was in the news before September the 11th, but no-one seemed to be getting on his side. What he needed was an atmosphere of fear of and distrust towards the middle east. Bingo, let a terrorist attack through the net. I mean, just think about it, if you were prepared to blow yourself up for your religious beliefs, then how come more stuff isn’t being blown up? Either they are pretty lame at it, or they just aren’t as terror-filled as we are being led to believe. Oh yeah I was supposed to have a secondly. Never mind.

I would like to also have a rant about the Asian Tsunami, but I’m not sure the world is ready to believe earthquake machine stories just yet. Conspiracy Theory was nicely timed so that if anyone does mention an earthquake machine, then people will think of that film and assume it’s to crazy to be true. But lot’s of things too crazy to be true are. Such as bumble bees being able to fly. Or George Bush winning the election in totally dubious style and yet people letting him retain being in charge of all those nukes. Or people telling you to vote in the elections because your vote really does count. It doesn’t count. Think about all the bad shit that happens on the news. The perpetrators of that shit get a vote. Think about all the smelly old people with odd views. Those people get a vote. Think about all the annoying, arrogant and just generally fucked up people you have met in your lives. Those people get a vote. And now think of all the people that you consider nice and reasonable in their view points. Not many of them comparatively is there? No. Well still, I suppose you might as well tick a box if you’ve got a bit of spare time. It’s always nice to rage against the machine, even if you know it’s not listening.


Monday, May 02, 2005

Spiderman, spiderman, does whatever a spider can. Dickhead.

I don't know how to properly explain my fear of spiders. The way I deal with them however, is clear. I kill them as quickly and cleanly as I can, then there's no problem. I don't mind really little one's, but any indoors, abnormally large ones or ones which get a web on my face deserve to die. The ones that crawl on you when you're outside is a split decision as it depends on what the spider's intent appears to be.

When I went to Thailand it was a serious killing spree. It was great as well because I had allies in the form of lizards munching insects everywhere too. That was until the jungle. I saw, well barely saw as the bastard had wicked camouflage, a spider that would cover my head if I walked into it. And I probably would have considering the photo's we took of it are generally thought of as pictures of us staring in fear into empty space as if a ghost or vampire was there and didn't show up on film. I wasn't afraid of spiders when I was little, but now I often dream of them or at least specifically one metal 8 legged bastard which can move really fast and turns up in any dream and instantly turn it into a chase b-movie. Damn spiders.

If there was a vote, people would blatantly chose to have all spiders eliminated. As long as the rest of the eco system could cope obviously. Perhaps if we wiped out enough other species, we could get rid of all spiders without forever damaging the sacred food chain. So.... they eat flies, so we could wipe them out too I suppose as no-one will really miss them. But then whatever flies eat would have too much breeding potential. What do flies eat? Shit? Hmm... well we certainly don't want any more of that around. Well what eats spiders? Birds mainly I suppose in this country. So if there were no spiders there would be less birds and more flies. The birds could eat the flies I suppose, that would even things out. Eureka! And birds have obviously evolved for this task, what with their fly scooping beaks and their ability to fly, so the eternal destruction of spiders is just the chance they need to try out their skills. See, that's what the election should be about. Real issues for real people. Like a mass extermination of spiders. It would be fun. It would be satisfying.

So why am I afraid? Well when I was young, my brother picked up a pair of trousers and then dropped them and jumped away because there was a spider in them apparently. I had no fear of spiders up until them, I had no opinion at all, but seeing him jump didn't fill me with happy expectations from this tiny monster. He made me pick up and move the trousers. I don't think the terror of the moment dawned on me until later, but it lasted. Hey I guess I could explain my fear of spiders after all. And without saying fuck at all.


Tuesday, April 19, 2005

"Here's a pound son" " it's alright, i'm not homeless"

Hey kids, my name's Justin, but you can call me Swane.

So today I was talking to an ex girlfriend of mine and she said that she had to do a charity run a coupla days after her birthday and that got me thinking. Aren't all sponsered events just a way of tricking people into giving to charity? I mean it's like going up to one of your friends and saying "hey man, there are fucking millions of people getting fucked up each year, so why not stop being such a selfish motherfucker and give them some spare change?" and your friend saying "well, why should I?" and you saying "well if you do then i'll do some stupid shit like run 10 miles or something". It's not exactly charity if you have to be conned into it is it? I know this sounds stupid, as of course sponsered events are a good idea, but isn't it fucking depressing that people don't just say "10 miles? fucking hell man i won't make you do that, here's £20, and i'll put another £20 in the post. 10 miles! You are one crazy motherfucker". Or something like that perhaps with less swearing if it's an old bastard you're talking to.

It's like when the big issue salesman asks if he can keep the magazine after you've just bought it off him and you feel like he's a skank. Why didn't you just give him the money to start with? It's not like there aren't a million other magazines for you to read for free out there. Making homeless people work for there money is pretty much the stupidest thing I've ever heard. How are they meant to get out of mad poverty if they have to work to survive within it.

Man, this is making me sound like some sorta hippy bitch. Well the thing is that I have been mistaken for a homeless person more than once so i sorta feel an afinity for down and outs. Like those poor motherfucking Millers in Eastenders. Or Homer's brother once Homer has bankrupted him. Thanks to him I'll never forget that discarded pizza boxes are an indispensable source of cheese.

I gotta go, it's beer o'clock