Wednesday, 30 January 2008

#0073. KEN BATES' NECK.

Let's not piss about here -- Ken Bates has a camel toe. There it is, just above his collar. Jesus Christ, it's obscene. It looks like the inside of Rue McClanahan's underpants.

Seriously, can we get a pair of knickers on that thing?

Tuesday, 29 January 2008

#0072. PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF READING.

Note to all 17-year-old virgins: pretending to be engrossed in an important-looking book in public will not get you noshed off.

I imagine being able to read probably was enough to get you laid back in the 14th century. I bet it still is in the Third World. (All I'm saying is, if you went to Namibia and sat on a park bench and read a business studies manual, you’d get a hand-job out of it.) But not over here. Not now.

You know the bit in Teen Wolf where Michael J Fox gets his friend to drive a camper van down a main road while the Wolf stands on the roof, performing back-flips? That’s how you get your bone smooched.

Friday, 25 January 2008

#0071. EMILE JANDERS.

You have seen The Wild Geese, right? No? Then allow me to introduce you to Emile Janders, truly the most revolting little boy in the history of the universe.

And if all that didn’t make you want to travel back to 1979, T-800-style, just to punch him right in his little child's face, wait until you see what happens when daddy tells him the big skiing trip is off...

Frankly, I’m with the bullies on this one. I just hope his mummy isn't reading.

Monday, 14 January 2008

#0070. MUSCLES I NEVER KNEW I HAD.

I hate any activity that involves engaging the Muscles I Never Knew I Had. Skiing, snowboarding, scuba-diving… as far as I'm concerned, the moment you feel a Muscle You Never Knew You Had start to twinge, it's a pretty good indication you're doing something you shouldn't.

As for me, I have what Victorian physiologists might once have referred to as 'the Administrator's Physique'. That is, very well developed musculature on the fingers and eyelids, really quite sparse everywhere else.

Now it seems pretty clear to me from my bodyshape that God's trying to tell me something. And that something is: "Don't go Boogie-Boarding."

I bet it's shit anyway.