Tuesday, 8 January 2013

#0193. THE WAY RAPPERS ARE STILL MOURNING BIGGIE AND TUPAC. I'VE LOST THREE GRANDPARENTS SINCE THEN AND YOU DON'T HEAR ME GOING ON ABOUT IT.

This would've been a really nice photo of them together if Tupac hadn't been sticking his fingers up. I wonder if a tiny part of him regretted it afterwards.

Friday, 21 December 2012

#0192. THAT FUCKING BANGING NOISE THAT THE PEOPLE WHO MAKE THE COFFEE IN COFFEE-SHOPS SEEM TO FIND IS AN INTEGRAL PART OF MAKING A CUP OF FUCKING COFFEE.


Turn the volume up, put your face next to the speaker and prepare to enter my "Coffee-Shop Simulator"... 
Sorry fuckwind but what part of "pouring some hot water into a mug with some coffee in it" is that exactly?

Barista pricks.

Monday, 16 January 2012

#0191. DARTS PLAYER STEVE BEATON'S SUBTLE EDITING OF HIS WIKIPEDIA ENTRY.

You're a darts player. Though you have no children, you're highly, highly, highly virile. You want this to come across in your Wikipedia entry. But how to express your rampant, rampant masculinity without appearing all 'Raoul Moat'?

Simple.

Thursday, 15 December 2011

#0190. GIRLS WITH BIG BOOBS WHO JUST MOAN ABOUT HOW THEY GIVE THEM BACKACHE.

Oh, great. Thanks for ruining the magic. It's like finding out my iPad was made by eyeless Vietnamese slave-orphans.

Thursday, 8 December 2011

#0189. THE LOVE SHACK.

Do you know what I’m going to do if I ever see a faded sign by the side of the road that says 15 miles to the Love Shack? I’m going to drive on 15 miles, pull over, find somewhere to park up, turn the engine off, get out my car, and I’m going to stand there on the hard shoulder making the wanker hand for ever and ever and ever and ever.

Wednesday, 7 December 2011

#0188. JUSTIN’S HOUSE.

A miscellany of things I hate about Justin’s House:

1) The episode where Ashley from Coronation Street was the surprise special guest. Because if you ask any typical five-year-old, “Who would you choose out of anyone in the whole entire world to come through that big red door?” They’d think for a second, then they’d look at you with a sparkle in their eye and they’d say, “Stephen Arnold!”

2) Lowest Common Denominator!!!! He falls over. He puts a cake in his face. He falls over. He gets wet. Four words: LOWEST COMMON DENOMINATOR BULLSHIT!!!!!

3) Robert the Robot. Giving asexual robotic butlers a bad name.

4) The way sometimes the kids in the audience are wearing coats. So, not only is Justin’s House a garish, panto hellhole populated entirely by middle-aged people dressed like children standing around in a semi-circle shouting, it’s also cold.

5) The way it’s so long. I once did a disastrous best man speech based around a game of anecdote bingo that went on for about an hour and ten minutes. Toward the end, people were just openly talking at normal room-volume and checking their phones. It was a slow, painful ordeal. Like 127 Hours, but not as funny. Justin’s House is the only thing I’ve ever encountered that feels longer than that speech.

In summary... if you thought Gigglebiz was shit – and if you didn’t you were either in it or you wrote it – just wait until you get a load of Justin’s House. It makes Grandpa In My Pocket look like The Magnificent Ambersons.

Tuesday, 6 December 2011

# 187. WORLD FOOTBALL PHONE-IN'S MARK OF RESPECT.

What is the sound of four hands clapping?

Wednesday, 16 June 2010

Friday, 4 June 2010

#0184. LOSING AT FOOTBALL TO A TEAM OF BULLY-BOYS, THEN HAVING TO SPEND THE WHOLE JOURNEY HOME COMFORTING MYSELF THAT I'M "BETTER AT OTHER THINGS."

The 'other things' I've managed to come up with so far:

1) Reading
2) Gaming (possibly)
3) Cookery?
4) …

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Wednesday, 28 April 2010

#0183. TURNING UP LATE FOR A MEETING AND JOVIALLY DECLARING "A WIZARD ARRIVES PRECISELY WHEN HE MEANS TO!" THEN REALISING IT'S QUITE A SERIOUS MEETING

... and that this was almost entirely inappropriate. Then having to linger around after the meeting just to apologise again for being late but this time without doing the Gandalf thing.

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Friday, 16 April 2010

#0181. PEOPLE WHO'D RATHER WALK AROUND ALL DAY DOING THIS FACE...

... than buy a cheap pair of fucking sunglasses.

Squinty fuckers.

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Wednesday, 14 April 2010

#0180. THE FACT THAT NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU MAY LIKE MASTURBATING, YOU WILL NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER LIKE IT AS MUCH AS FRANCIS ROSSI.

Rossi on wanking:

God. It's like he has to be into it just that little bit more than you. It's my friend Mike and "Mad Men" all over again.

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Thursday, 1 April 2010

#0179. STEADILY CHANNEL-SURFING WITH MY WIFE; TURNING ONTO A PAIR OF GIRL'S TITS; INSTINCTIVELY BREAKING MY RHYTHM TO TAKE A LOOK AT THE GIRL'S TITS--

Then realising that my wife has noticed that we're no longer channel-surfing and that we're now just watching a pair of girl's tits, and then having to pretend that there's something wrong with the remote control.

"Ah. Batteries gone in the old-- Yep, needs new AAs. Sadly... Oh god though look at those horrible plastic tits on the TV! Oh I feel sick! Just wish I could turn them over. Because I'm trying but I just… Nope. Sorry you'll have to get up and do it manually... OK frankly I don't care if you are pregnant."

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Wednesday, 24 March 2010

#0178. GETTING A FACEBOOK UPDATE NOTIFYING ME THAT SOMEONE I WORKED WITH IN A VIDEO SHOP NINE YEARS AGO, "HAS BECOME A FAN OF 'THE TOBY CARVERY.'"

I'll be totally honest, I thought social networking had bottomed out the day I read this:

But today. Today I went deeper. Today I discovered the Hope Diamond of inane social network bullshit.

There it is, in among the Mafia Wars (obviously) updates:

And somehow, it just felt like the end.

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Thursday, 18 March 2010

#0177. THE WAY MY FRIEND DAVE BRAGS ABOUT HOW LONG HE'S COOKED SOMETHING FOR IN HIS SLOW-COOKER.

Eight hours. Apparently.

Put it on when he went to work.

Had it when he came home again.

Delicious.

Very tender.

Really taste the cooking juices in the meat.

But yeah.

Eight hours.

Slow-cooked.

All day.

Casserole.

Tender.

Soft onions.

Juices.

Not mushy at all.

Meat.

Nice with a bit of crusty bread.

Eight hours.

Carrots.

Stock.

Eight hours.

Delicious.


Fuck me Dave that is interesting.

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Thursday, 11 March 2010

#0176. WAVING AT THE OLD MAN WHO LIVES NEARBY; GETTING BLANKED EVERY TIME; BECOMING ANGRY; STARTING TO DO HUGE SARCASTIC WAVES JUST TO SPITE HIM...

Then finding out he's clinically blind.

So Jim Taylor, if you are able to read this, can I just take this opportunity to say that I'm really...

(Font big enough for you, is it?)

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Tuesday, 9 March 2010

#0175. WANKING STANDING UP.

It's like somehow, post-dogging, it just all of a sudden feels so sleazy.

Sad, but I'm afraid wanking standing up has been robbed of its innocence.

So thanks for nothing, doggers. That used to be a real time-saver.

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Thursday, 4 March 2010

#0174. "SORRY FOR WASTING YOUR TIME, OFFICER."

The extent to which I kiss a police officer's arse after he's pulled me over for a minor traffic infringement is truly revolting.

In fact no, this goes beyond arse-kissing into some whole other thing.

It's like I'm literally sucking his dick. And he's not even asking me to do it. I'm just doing it because it feels right.

How else do you explain my parting shot, once he's already decided to let me off with a caution, and he's walking away from my car, and I call after him, with absolute sincerity:

He hears me, but doesn't even look round

God. That actually makes me feel sad.

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