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What the Heston Blumenthal?

March 31, 2011
I just turned on the TV to see Heston Blumenthal blow-torching a wild boar. Sometimes real life is just too unusual.

It’s been a while since I’ve had to listen to the radio, but a particularly lengthy car journey means that I have once again been exposed to the synth-pop epidemic. I call it ‘hearing AIDS’. Because I’m a fucking genius.

Jessie J – Price Tag

Poor er… Jessie J (yes, I did have to look up to confirm what the fuck her name is). She’s so generic that I actually forgot I was listening to anything, ranking her somewhere below background noise in terms of brain stimulation.

That gold may look like bling, but it's actually to remind her who she is

 Aside from looking like an anaemic ghost that’s been erratically dipped in black paint, she doesn’t have many/any distinguishing feature(s). Anyway, the song Price Tag seems to be a mixture of rehashed Dark Knight quotes (“Why is everybody so serious”) and exhortations to the mass wasting of money (“It’s not about the price tag”).

He's not serious.

Given that one of the lines in the song is “We don’t need your money, money, money” I presume Jessie J wont mind if I download the song for free. And then delete it for free.

The Wanted – Gold Forever

Ever wondered what would happen if you cloned Justin Bieber 5 times, but your cloning vat happened to be a shitty Soviet era model so your clones got a little Gaddafi’d? Yes, the grammatically incomplete boyband known only as ‘The Wanted’. Since that clearly didn’t happen (not even Soviet cloning vats are that shit), fuck knows where these douchebags came from.

From Left to Right: Malcolm in the Middle, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Malnourished Jathan Statham, Token Brown, The Other One

The video for this song seems to follow a basic plot: what happens if you put a bunch of twats in a house and get them to mouth the words to a shit song while other twats dance around in the background. I honestly can’t remember the song, it’s as forgettable as Jessie J’s face. In a futile attempt at fairness, I did try listening to some of their other songs, and lost even the willpower to commit suicide.

Lady Gaga – Born this way

In her most ridiculous costume to date, Lady Gaga has a full-size twat-head protruding from her neck

Just be glad I didn’t go with the obvious rape joke there.  The song ‘Born this way’ is phenomenally dull; hey, there’s a trend in this weeks rant! At least ‘Just dance’ was kinda catchy, even if you did hate yourself for liking it. My real gripe with Lady (ahahaha, yeah, right, sure she’s female) Gaga is that she’s only famous for dressing like a fucktard. The fame in itself I don’t mind; after all, Hitler was famous. It’s the fact that she’s popular for wearing outfits so impractical that I’m surprised she’s ever able to stand next to people without causing GBH. Really, it’s like someone crossed Gwen Stefani with bubonic plague OH GOD BRING BACK MIKA

Chris Brown – Yeah 3X

Ultra-fuckhead Chris Brown’s song ‘Yeah 3 X’ has been festering in the charts for a while now. For anyone confused about the title, what it means is “Quiet bitch or I’ll black your eye!” It’s a catchy enough song, but the problem that Cock Breath is going to have for the rest of his benighted ‘career’ is that the media will always remember him as a wife-beater. And admittedly it is hilarious seeing his hissy-fits when the press continue to ask him about it.

Chris Brown gives himself a hug. Because no-one else will.

On an unrelated note…

Imagine my shock a turning on my TV to see prime minister David Cameron in Midsummer Murders!

David Cameron looks 10 years into his future - a job providing foregrounds for photographs of hedges


People I Met On Holiday, And Why I Hate Them

March 25, 2011

While travelling, it’s often impossible to avoid meeting people. However, this is not a process without risks, as many people are shit. Maybe I’m just unlucky, or maybe I’m just an antisocial, misanthropic* bastard who’ll inevitably never know the love of another human being and is doomed to die alone… Actually, that sounds about right.  Anyway, I was forced to meet these insufferable wastes of oxygen. Observe.

*Anyone who noted the tautology can either believe I’m playing ‘Spot the Tautology’, or fuck off.

The Single Female Traveller

"I'm travelling alone... I'm so drunk... Oh, I fell on your penis"

Ah, the Single Female Traveller, or SFT for short. This ‘lady’ (and I use that word in the loosest [hur hur] sense) has decided, for better or for worse*, to travel alone. This is in fact entirely to facilitate the occurrence of sexual intercourse. She may be found in bars and clubs, where she can be seen imbibing copious amounts of alcohol and chasing anything with a male appendage. Initially, this might sound like the average man’s dream; free sex in between… er… looking for more sex? However… Wait, what was the downside again?

Oh yes, herpes. Remember, herpes isn’t just for Christmas; it’s for life.

*or chlamydia

The Lonely Old Man

Calm down, he's probably just her granddad (adding incest to his list of crimes)

There is always one of these at every hotel or hostel. While many old people are harmless and boring, this old guy seems determined to make up for a lifetime of involuntary celibacy by being randier than a 14 year old boy watching that film where Anne Hathaway gets her tits out. Don’t even bother being polite and making small talk; if this guy starts conversation, he will inevitably end up talking to you about his sex life in excruciating detail. It’s like the verbal equivalent of HD prune porn. Seriously, how does the LOM survive in normal society? Does he terrorise his care home with his in-depth discussions of his masturbatory habits? I’ve never been more relieved to have not shaken hands with someone.

The Party Guys: A.K.A The Douche-bags

Yeah, he's a winner; no matter how hard we try, we'll never be as square-headed as him


Actually, after the last two, I feel predisposed to like this guy

Yo Taylor Ima let you finish but... *glug glug glug*

Fuck, they're about as identical as the cast of Dragonball Z, from whom they drew inspiration for their hair

There's probably some way to tell them apart; I haven't got a fucking clue

Yes, these guys are basically the male version of the SFT, but much, much worse. Women, steer clear. If one of these gets drunk enough, he probably gets a bit rapey. They can be found stalking prowling frequenting the same locations as the SFT, i.e. anywhere that purveys alcohol. Essentially, getting shitfaced is no longer a means to an end; it is in fact the end itself, the entire aim of a night out. Well, that and getting laid. While both of these are the general aims of many people, these guys are also douche-bags. They tend to wander around in groups, looking for any hole (which, I am assured, is a goal). The most annoying thing about these arrogant, shit-for-brains, sex pests is their continued existence.

The ‘Masseuse’


Er… No thank you. What I’d like is for you to stop shouting in my ear.

It wouldn’t have been so bad, except for the fact that you can’t walk down a street in certain places without being mobbed; and I mean ‘mobbed’, literally surrounded and herded towards their store. It took my best impression of a man with lice, scabies and leprosy, just to get through.

The Child

This kid essentially destroyed Charlie Sheen, the smug little shit.

I’ve never understood why people insist on taking children on holiday. Surely, the minute you have to spend every waking moment catering to the whims of a loud, insatiable parasite, it’s no longer an enjoyable experience? I’m almost certain that my parents never enjoyed a single family holiday, and as a child I wasn’t even particularly obnoxious (surprising, but true; it took a lot of practice to become the effortless jerk that I am today).

Children are obviously quite varied, but all varieties are a nuisance to normal humans. The smallest ones scream and cry when hungry, when bored, when angry, when in pain, when they’ve just had an enjoyable shit that someone else is going to have to deal with, when they meet a stranger, when they wake up, when they don’t want to go to sleep, and even when I jump out and make sudden, loud noises. Also, unless it’s nappy changing time, it’s impossible to tell if a baby is male or female, which can lead to much embarrassment if you make any foolish assumptions. Remember, blue =/= boy. I think all babies should be labelled, since it gets a bit strange constantly referring to them as ‘it’ after a while, and mothers tend to get pissed off.

The toddler variety can just about talk, but unfortunately what it says is largely nonsense. Seriously, do I look like I care about your stupid toy bear? Like the baby, the toddler also enjoys spending a lot of time crying, for example if you rip the arms off aforementioned stupid toy bear. It’s ok, though, they have the attention span of a goldfish undergoing electroshock therapy.

Slightly older children are a different kettle of fish. Whereas babies and toddlers are largely harmless (unless thrown at you with considerable force), older kiddies are evil, malicious, conniving little devils with squeaky voices. They positively delight in pissing you off, in the knowledge that there’s nothing you can do about it.

The Reclusive Git

I suppose it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t include my own archetype in this list. Essentially, the RG refuses to socialise, preferring to sit in the AC room than go out into boiling, oppressively humid conditions that are less like an enjoyable holiday, and more akin to Satan’s sweaty crotch. If forcibly dragged ‘out’ to waste money in a bar, the RG would rather drink his beer in peace and quiet while reading a book and the occasional cigarette (because smoking is cool [but mainly because it’s an addiction]). The RG especially dislikes having to interrupt his cultural enlightenment to make small talk with various women attracted by his good-looking friends.

Basically, the RG pays to go abroad to do exactly what he would have done at home. In his/my defence, is there any feeling better than being somewhere ridiculously hot, and getting out of the >40°C heat and humidity into a nice, cold AC room, switching on a TV and just lying in bed?

What a wonderful world

March 11, 2011

Crisis in Libya OMG!!1!1

It’s been an exciting week in terms of news; dominating the headlines is the triumphant return of Colonel Meltyface himself. Following the Egyptians’ example, the people of Libya have decided to oust their glorious leader having grown fed up of his tyrannical rule and diabolical dress sense.

"I like big hats and I cannot lie..."

Here the Colonel is modelling the Libyafro

Can't read his, Can't read his, No you can't read his melty face

Legalise da 'erb






















The French have recognised the rebel leadership as a legitimate government, but unfortunately for the rebels, no-one really gives a crap what the French do. The rest of the world is debating whether to get involved. President Obama is considering military intervention, citing Gaddafi’s apparent use of violence on his own civilian population, and David Cameron, ever the J.D. to Obama’s Turk, is ready to follow. So now we have William Hague trying to justify military intervention, which is like being prepped for war by Wallace (sans Gromit).

The prince and the paedo

Yes, this is about the heartwarming news that Prince Andrew, the ‘special trade envoy’ (whatever the fuck that is), has a friend/acquaintance who is a confirmed American. And a convicted paedophile. Obviously that revelation hasn’t gone down very well here in the UK, where paedophilia and treason are the only crimes still punishable by hanging. Yes, this Epstein is a jolly unsavoury character, a bit of a rotten apple, wot wot.














It seems a little harsh, however, to demand Prince Andrew’s resignation. After all, it’s not as though he forced this Epstein guy to molest children, nor is the Prince a paedophile himself (as far as we know). Also, no-one seems to know what exactly a ‘special trade envoy’ is (he really could have chosen a slightly less euphemistic title), but will knowing a paedophile impede the Prince in his duty?

After all, the Prince of Persia knew this infamous prostitute, but he still managed to save the world.











Seriously, this whole affair is being blown out of proportion. The paedophile in question is an influential US tycoon, and making friends with him is probably part of the Prince’s job, maybe. It’s not creepy. What’s creepy is that I check this page on a daily basis to make sure that Zhang Ziyi is still single.

Bono is still a shit

OK, so it’s not ‘news’, but it needs to be said.

Yes, the quickest way to solve world poverty is to wear orange shades and swan about like a balding prick

Shady’s back

March 7, 2011

In case you were wondering, while away, I’ve been responsible for uprisings in Egypt and Libya, border conflicts between Thailand and Cambodia, cyclones in the pacific, floods and droughts in Australia and a couple of earthquakes in New Zealand. Of course, as far as the tabloid press are concerned, the most important thing that’s happened is that Kate Middleton’s wedding dress maker may have been revealed. Oh, and that Simon Cowell still hasn’t chosen someone for something. What a fuckbag.


Anyway, I bought Goldeneye 007 for the Wii, and it’s offensively addictive, so I’m off to waste more of my life. Expect a longer, more bitter rant soon.

So Long

December 25, 2010

Well, after that ‘triumphant’ return, I am once again going to be away for a couple of months on top secret business. I’ll be back in March, keep an eye on the internet for me.



Pop Music: A Guilty Pleasure

December 14, 2010

It’s not ‘cool’ to like chart factory-manufactured pop; essentially, it’s like forcing Simon Cowell’s excrement into your ears, and paying him for the dubious pleasure of doing so. Here’s some of the garbage that is floating around the UK airwaves like a stubborn turd that refuses to accept the flush.

The Saturdays – Higher

Single-handedly responsible for all paedophilia in Britain, Frankie, Rochelle and the other three continue to excite beardy 35-year-olds in basements all over the UK. Yes, disappointed mothers across the country now have to listen to this shite coming from their basements.

For their latest assault on music, the lovable toddlers jailbait whores perfectly legal girl-group have teamed up with A-class fuckwit Flo Rider, the evil Mr. T look-alike who is responsible for inflicting T-Pain on an innocent planet. The resulting product is an addictive saccharine pop equivalent of freebase. It wormed its way into my brain and continues to fester there with its horrible catchy chorus. Argh.

Actually, one of them is five years older than me, so if you average out their ages, it's not as sick.

The song’s lyrics are ostensibly something to do with grrrl powah, but in actual fact are disgusting sexual euphemisms. “Coz I am finishing myself, and I do not need your help”. Disgusting. The solution? Take away Gary Glitter’s iTunes downloading prison privileges, sales will plummet.

Holy shit, The Saturdays are better than an all expenses trip to Vietnam!

Far East Movement – Like A G6

This song manages to make ‘Higher’ sound positively Shakespearean in it’s intricacy and depth. What the fuck is a G6? I doubt it means this, this, or this. To clarify, I asked Wikileakspedia, and discovered that it refers to the Gulfstream G650, an aeroplane. So this song is about getting drunk, fucking chicks and flying around on a plane? How original. Alas, unlike The Saturdays, this song wasn’t so much catchy as infuriating. Additionally, I’m sad to say, Far East Movement lack The Saturday’s sex appeal, being on the same level as Elton John’s teeth, Kanye West’s hairstyle and Lady Gaga.

Literally the shittest ambassadors China has ever produced

The music video, on the other hand, surprised me by having lots of attractive women dancing around. And a plane. I totally didn’t expect that from a song with the line “Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6, Like a G6,… AD INFINITUM”. Yeah, that’s basically one line.

Willow – Whip My Hair

This song is about… Wait, what is this song about? Seriously, I’m fucking confused. Whip your hair? You mean, use your hair as a whip? That’s not practical at all!

As Willow Smith is a child, we should all cut her some slack; just smile and nod. I actually didn’t particularly like or dislike this song, but I don’t want beef with the Fresh Prince (hypodermically speaking). I sincerely hope she hasn’t started her career too early.

I heard Lil John was also a child prodigy.

Ollie Murs – Thinking of me


The Black Eyed Peas – The Time (Dirty Bit)

Wahay! Everyone’s favourite collection of mental patients is back, this time raping Patrick Swayze’s ghost. I’m not sure about the name of the song, actually. ‘The Time’ probably relates to the song that was buttfucked sampled, ‘I’ve had the time of my life’ from ‘Dirty Dancing’. I can only presume that ‘Dirty Bit’ refers to Fergie.

I heard she fucked Ke$ha, with her, you know, penis.

A truly horrible song. The fact that it reached number one simply highlights the need for a nuclear holocaust.

On tea and laptops

December 10, 2010

I spilled some tea. On my laptop.

My lengthy, forced abstinence from the internet has made me somewhat insane.

One line per paragraph please.

No ‘sentence fragments’.



Anyway, there have been some more student protests, and more violence. Julian Assange has been arrested as Sweden and the UK kowtow to nutcase Huckabee’s demands for his blood, at the same time as the USA host a conference for freedom of speech. China has been in the spotlight for curtailing freedom of speech, and didn’t point out Western hypocrisy. These, and many other things I saw, and I saw them all unfold with the dispassionate eyes of a man who could no longer vent his inane wrath through the medium of blogging. Fucking tea.