This is a very old idea I have had for sometime. I remember I once watched Eddie Izzard and thought, "Ah bastard! He has nicked my joke...that I came up with about ten years after him." But he hadn't. He missed it's real opportunity. That's right, I am lecturing Eddie Izzard, my favourite comedian, in his own game.
This is the point that I'd like to raise. We are all aware, are we not, that Christmas Day falls on the 25th December, the day that with science or not, we typically accept as the day that Jesus was born. Now in the same sort of way, the 1st of January is as everyone also acknowledges, the start of a New Year. A new beginning.
Now, before Jesus was born, the years are known as BC and after his birth, they skip to AD. We all know that. Nobody knows what Ano Domini means but we all know it means after Jesus was born. why use English beforehand and then Latin after? Weird.
So anyway, before Jesus everyone obviously knows it's BC. After Jesus, AD. The problem is that there is a whole week between Jesus being born and a new year starting. So what the hell did they do there?
"Have you heard? Yeah man, we're no longer BC! Jesus has been born! Christ is here!"
"As sweet, so Ano Domini can kick off, yeah?"
"Err...I-I don't know, actually...I mean there's still another week to go..."
So what did they do? In my mind I like to imagine that they called that one week the BAD week. Before AD. And everyone went round thinking they were cool as hell. They were all BAD. Oh yeah.
However I also like to think they were just ABC, After Before Christ, just to confuse the slightly slower kids and also aiding them with their alphabet. A cruel double edge sword.
"Wait a second...after...before...Christ?"
"Yeah."
"Well that makes no sense at all. The B isn't needed."
"No, but then your alphabet wouldn't work. And it would be called an alphaet."
"I am so confused."
"Yes, well maybe you should stick to just chewing the lego."
Another thing that came out of this of course was the fact someone had to decide how to divide up the two years. Let's be honest I doubt people were counting down the days until 'BC' was over. I doubt anyone was even referring to it in that way. So someone's job must have been to split them up.
"What you doing Dad?"
"Oh, I'm just dividing up the years. From before Christ to After Christ."
"Oh okay. Cool. So what have you gone for?"
"Well I thought, 'BC' for 'Before Christ' and then 'AC' for 'After Christ', you see?"
"Why've you written AD then?"
"I haven't written A- ah shit...grab the Latin book."
Monday, 28 December 2009
The Winter Collection
Here's something I have been meaning to blog for a while.
'The winter collection'.
'The winter collection' is something I generally attribute to things like furniture - "It's part of our Winter collection" or clothes - "This beautiful sleek silver dress is part of our Winter collection." hat I would not attribute a phrase like Winter collection to, is something which I have found it printed upon.
Are you ready for this? Toilet roll. That's middle class if you're wondering. the working class call is bog roll, the upper classes maybe toilet paper and the full on royalty are the only ones who call it by what it says on the packet - toilet tissue. "It's like tissue for the nose, but for the rectal passage, Charles." "Wow, Camilla, we can now dispense with young Jennings and his bare hand. How marvellous."
Anyway, yes, Andrex have released their seasonal toilet paper, sorry, toilet tissue, and they have called it 'The Winter Collection'. What makes it a part of 'The Winter collection' I presume, are the snowflakes that are printed upon every sheet. Now I appreciate this new design, right up until I wipe my shit-stained ass with it.
So really Andrex, next time you're planning on releasing 'The Spring collection' with lambs prancing all over it, I urge you, if only to save some money, to reconsider.
'The winter collection'.
'The winter collection' is something I generally attribute to things like furniture - "It's part of our Winter collection" or clothes - "This beautiful sleek silver dress is part of our Winter collection." hat I would not attribute a phrase like Winter collection to, is something which I have found it printed upon.
Are you ready for this? Toilet roll. That's middle class if you're wondering. the working class call is bog roll, the upper classes maybe toilet paper and the full on royalty are the only ones who call it by what it says on the packet - toilet tissue. "It's like tissue for the nose, but for the rectal passage, Charles." "Wow, Camilla, we can now dispense with young Jennings and his bare hand. How marvellous."
Anyway, yes, Andrex have released their seasonal toilet paper, sorry, toilet tissue, and they have called it 'The Winter Collection'. What makes it a part of 'The Winter collection' I presume, are the snowflakes that are printed upon every sheet. Now I appreciate this new design, right up until I wipe my shit-stained ass with it.
So really Andrex, next time you're planning on releasing 'The Spring collection' with lambs prancing all over it, I urge you, if only to save some money, to reconsider.
Harsh Joke
Here's a harsh joke I came up with earlier, regarding the man who is to be executed in China in...well, less than 24 hours time.
"Akmal Shaikh is apparently 'very upset' about being told he is to be executed tomorrow morning. That's got to be understatement of the year. Shame he won't be around long enough to find out..."
It's probably the harshest thing I have ever written...hmm.
"Akmal Shaikh is apparently 'very upset' about being told he is to be executed tomorrow morning. That's got to be understatement of the year. Shame he won't be around long enough to find out..."
It's probably the harshest thing I have ever written...hmm.
Saturday, 12 December 2009
Tiger Woods
So Tiger Woods has got himself into a bit of a kerfuffle seemingly. And now he is taking a break from golf as a result of his infidelity. I wonder what he'll do with all that free time on his hands now? Hmm...
But it has got me thinking, since he won't be playing golf next year, what will the annual Tiger Woods game be like for the PS3, Wii, 360, etc? Presumably you'll get to play the role of Woods as usual, but it'll turn a bit like Grand Theft Auto. Smashing your car into trees, attack with golf clubs and obviously cruising for hookers.
Sounds like a best seller to me.
But it has got me thinking, since he won't be playing golf next year, what will the annual Tiger Woods game be like for the PS3, Wii, 360, etc? Presumably you'll get to play the role of Woods as usual, but it'll turn a bit like Grand Theft Auto. Smashing your car into trees, attack with golf clubs and obviously cruising for hookers.
Sounds like a best seller to me.
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Benches
Well here's a joke I've had stored a way for a while...and I was reminded of it last night. So before I forget it, I feel I should post it up.
"So...benches are interesting I think. Often in weird locations and you wonder why someone would ever want to stare at a main road. But quite often, and I'm sure you've noticed this, they have a little memorial plaque to a loved one. Something saying, 'For Edgar Westwick, who loved this spot. 1932-2004' And some people think, 'Ah well that's nice.' But not me. How dare they. HOW DARE THEY! You didn't love him at all, did you? He may have loved that spot so what have you gone and done? You've gone and put a fucking bench there and ruined it.
What a disgrace. He must be rolling around in his grave."
And there we go.
"So...benches are interesting I think. Often in weird locations and you wonder why someone would ever want to stare at a main road. But quite often, and I'm sure you've noticed this, they have a little memorial plaque to a loved one. Something saying, 'For Edgar Westwick, who loved this spot. 1932-2004' And some people think, 'Ah well that's nice.' But not me. How dare they. HOW DARE THEY! You didn't love him at all, did you? He may have loved that spot so what have you gone and done? You've gone and put a fucking bench there and ruined it.
What a disgrace. He must be rolling around in his grave."
And there we go.
Monday, 23 November 2009
I came, I saw, I conquered.
I often wonder where my topics come from. Like today...
I thought about the word 'cum' - why is it spelt differently to come? Who first spelt that differently...wait! Why is it called cum? Because you ..come...or have came..who first said they came?!
"I've come"
"You've what?"
I thought about the word 'cum' - why is it spelt differently to come? Who first spelt that differently...wait! Why is it called cum? Because you ..come...or have came..who first said they came?!
"I've come"
"You've what?"
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Ferrero Rocher
Ferrero Rocher.
The pinnacle of chocolate. The poshest chocolate. Forget the gorgeous Galaxy. Forget the luscious Lindt. Ferrero Rocher is the undisputed King of Posh Chocolate.
The best bit?
It's made in Watford. 'Nuff said.
The pinnacle of chocolate. The poshest chocolate. Forget the gorgeous Galaxy. Forget the luscious Lindt. Ferrero Rocher is the undisputed King of Posh Chocolate.
The best bit?
It's made in Watford. 'Nuff said.
Ex-Nazi
It's a cruel place to get comedy from, but I shall try anyway!
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/8364447.stm
The headline reads - 'Ex-Nazi' charged with 58 murders.
Now...how does one go about becoming an Ex-Nazi? Is it the moment Hitler died, he went, "I guess that's that, then." And hung up his cap.
Or is as he was at a holocaust camp and was suddenly tapped on the shoulder.
"Err, Hans (no stereotypical names with me), what are you doing?"
"Oh shit...I've...I've become a Nazi haven't I?"
"Yes, Hans. Yes you have."
"Ah shit. From now on..I shall be an ex-Nazi!"
And from then on, he put Ex-Nazi on his CV? Wouldn't there be a glaring 6 year gap on the CV?
"So..1939 to 1945, what was going on?"
"Err...oh is that not on there? I do apologise, they should be there."
"Well what were you doing?"
"Err..Human Resources..in Berlin."
Harsh but...well just harsh probably. But I like it.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/8364447.stm
The headline reads - 'Ex-Nazi' charged with 58 murders.
Now...how does one go about becoming an Ex-Nazi? Is it the moment Hitler died, he went, "I guess that's that, then." And hung up his cap.
Or is as he was at a holocaust camp and was suddenly tapped on the shoulder.
"Err, Hans (no stereotypical names with me), what are you doing?"
"Oh shit...I've...I've become a Nazi haven't I?"
"Yes, Hans. Yes you have."
"Ah shit. From now on..I shall be an ex-Nazi!"
And from then on, he put Ex-Nazi on his CV? Wouldn't there be a glaring 6 year gap on the CV?
"So..1939 to 1945, what was going on?"
"Err...oh is that not on there? I do apologise, they should be there."
"Well what were you doing?"
"Err..Human Resources..in Berlin."
Harsh but...well just harsh probably. But I like it.
Sunday, 15 November 2009
"Trust Me...
...I'm a doctor."
Well a random thought just hit me.
Did that phrase ever change when Harold Shipman was around?
"I can't trust you."
"You can! Trust me, I'm a doc- oh no. I know what it is. It's the fact I killed all those people isn't it?"
Yes Harold, yes it is. There's a joke in here somewhere but I am too tired to work out where.
Well a random thought just hit me.
Did that phrase ever change when Harold Shipman was around?
"I can't trust you."
"You can! Trust me, I'm a doc- oh no. I know what it is. It's the fact I killed all those people isn't it?"
Yes Harold, yes it is. There's a joke in here somewhere but I am too tired to work out where.
Praying
Okay, I am most proud of this joke, which came to me as I walked past the church on my way home this evening. I could probably elaborate but I love its simplicity.
"I'm not saying religion is a bad thing, just that it confuses me, the blind faith of it all. Take for example, praying. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, just that anything where you have to get on your knees to get the job done perhaps shouldn't be trusted. And then they expect YOU to give money to THEM after YOU were the one on YOUR knees? These churches have got it made..."
And that's it. And yes, I am most proud of myself for it.
"I'm not saying religion is a bad thing, just that it confuses me, the blind faith of it all. Take for example, praying. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, just that anything where you have to get on your knees to get the job done perhaps shouldn't be trusted. And then they expect YOU to give money to THEM after YOU were the one on YOUR knees? These churches have got it made..."
And that's it. And yes, I am most proud of myself for it.
Segregation - Cycling
Well this is a stupid routine I thought up on my walk home.
"Now people say that with the abolition, if you like, of apartheid, segregation is close to being eradicated once and for all. At least, we have nothing like that in Britain.
Now this of course, is complete bullshit as I am sure you know. Take for instance, a cycle path along a country lane. I walk on one to and from my house. Normally into town, I don't just do it for the sake of it. But there is a clear white line running down the path, dividing up walkers and cyclists.
Weirdly, every time I walk on it, I always stick to the walker side, even if there is nobody else around. Other walkers seem to do it too, even if we are fully aware a bike is nowhere near by. It's ridiculous. A line in the road and we stick to it, even though there is no real rule or any reason to stick to it if no cyclists are using it.
Sometimes, when I'm feeling rebellious, I will walk on the cyclists side but I always think for some reason someone will turn up and berate me for my walking on the wrong side. The cycle police if you will.
"Here! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I'm just walking home..."
"On the wrong side! That is for walkers, and this is for cyclists. Now sir, you do not appear to have a bike with you."
"What on earth are you on about? Have you met my girlfriend?"
A clever retort, I think you will agree, but sure to get me a slap.
(A mime of being slapped goes here...)
"How dare you, talk about your girlfriend in that way.."
Thus ends the routine.
See what I did there? You thought it was the girlfriend that slapped me but no! And that was what I came up with on my walk...well that and the post above which is a joke I was delighted to come up with...
"Now people say that with the abolition, if you like, of apartheid, segregation is close to being eradicated once and for all. At least, we have nothing like that in Britain.
Now this of course, is complete bullshit as I am sure you know. Take for instance, a cycle path along a country lane. I walk on one to and from my house. Normally into town, I don't just do it for the sake of it. But there is a clear white line running down the path, dividing up walkers and cyclists.
Weirdly, every time I walk on it, I always stick to the walker side, even if there is nobody else around. Other walkers seem to do it too, even if we are fully aware a bike is nowhere near by. It's ridiculous. A line in the road and we stick to it, even though there is no real rule or any reason to stick to it if no cyclists are using it.
Sometimes, when I'm feeling rebellious, I will walk on the cyclists side but I always think for some reason someone will turn up and berate me for my walking on the wrong side. The cycle police if you will.
"Here! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I'm just walking home..."
"On the wrong side! That is for walkers, and this is for cyclists. Now sir, you do not appear to have a bike with you."
"What on earth are you on about? Have you met my girlfriend?"
A clever retort, I think you will agree, but sure to get me a slap.
(A mime of being slapped goes here...)
"How dare you, talk about your girlfriend in that way.."
Thus ends the routine.
See what I did there? You thought it was the girlfriend that slapped me but no! And that was what I came up with on my walk...well that and the post above which is a joke I was delighted to come up with...
Text Books
Something I have been meaning to post for a while is a thought on text books. We all know them and we all used to loathe them. Some of us still do, but their names have changed from text books to theory books. Some have grown up with a theory book though, which they may grow to loathe over time if they are not as much of a fan of the book as their family. We call these people Christians.
Anyway, what I have been thinking about really, are the text books you received when in your teenage years. Biology, Physics, Chemistry and the most important one for this point, Maths. Now my trouble with the Maths text book is that you used to get given homework like, "Page 74, questions 1 to 6." Doesn't seem pointless until you realise the answers are at the back which is what you check for in every text book as soon as you receive it.
The teacher of course would continue, "Now I know the answers are at the back but I don't want you to cheat. I'll be wanting your working too." Ah shit. Although, not really because as a nation of cheaters, we'd invariably look at the question, look at the answer and try and figure out how the hell it equals that and adjust my working accordingly. Occasionally putting a '?' after the answer I knew to be correct, just to make it look as though I was unsure. Yes, I was a genius child.
But no, the problem I have with text books, and the thing that has been bothering me about them is that someone actually had to write the fucker in the first place. Who the hell writes a text book? How dull do you have to be? Who aspires to write one? Fair enough, if it is Biology then you are at last writing a scientific book of sorts. If it is Maths though, then wow, you are a boring individual. Writing out questions for students, then working them out yourself. "My name is Bob and I write maths text books." Gee, Bob, I bet you're the life and soul of the party.
And who the hells does bob hang out with? Especially when his questions veer away from the mind numbingness of quadratics?
"Hi, I'm Bob."
"Oh hello, my name is Jazuki and this is my friend Nimar. We were just talking about how long it takes us to get to work if we walk 4 miles along a busy road where we are interrupted at 6 intervals for 2 minutes each and our regular speed is 5miles per hour."
"Hmm..."
And so it goes...'Nimar and Jazuki were working out how long it takes them to walk to work.." Who the FUCK does that? And who the hell has the name Jazuki?! Way to be politically correct, Bob.
Yes, Maths was a waste of time but hey! At least I now know how to work out a quadratic equation and I have to say it may well be the MOST useful thing I ever learnt at school. Right up there with knowing all about the Battle of Ypres, just in case I ever plan on invading Belgium. And who the hell would want to do that?
Anyway, what I have been thinking about really, are the text books you received when in your teenage years. Biology, Physics, Chemistry and the most important one for this point, Maths. Now my trouble with the Maths text book is that you used to get given homework like, "Page 74, questions 1 to 6." Doesn't seem pointless until you realise the answers are at the back which is what you check for in every text book as soon as you receive it.
The teacher of course would continue, "Now I know the answers are at the back but I don't want you to cheat. I'll be wanting your working too." Ah shit. Although, not really because as a nation of cheaters, we'd invariably look at the question, look at the answer and try and figure out how the hell it equals that and adjust my working accordingly. Occasionally putting a '?' after the answer I knew to be correct, just to make it look as though I was unsure. Yes, I was a genius child.
But no, the problem I have with text books, and the thing that has been bothering me about them is that someone actually had to write the fucker in the first place. Who the hell writes a text book? How dull do you have to be? Who aspires to write one? Fair enough, if it is Biology then you are at last writing a scientific book of sorts. If it is Maths though, then wow, you are a boring individual. Writing out questions for students, then working them out yourself. "My name is Bob and I write maths text books." Gee, Bob, I bet you're the life and soul of the party.
And who the hells does bob hang out with? Especially when his questions veer away from the mind numbingness of quadratics?
"Hi, I'm Bob."
"Oh hello, my name is Jazuki and this is my friend Nimar. We were just talking about how long it takes us to get to work if we walk 4 miles along a busy road where we are interrupted at 6 intervals for 2 minutes each and our regular speed is 5miles per hour."
"Hmm..."
And so it goes...'Nimar and Jazuki were working out how long it takes them to walk to work.." Who the FUCK does that? And who the hell has the name Jazuki?! Way to be politically correct, Bob.
Yes, Maths was a waste of time but hey! At least I now know how to work out a quadratic equation and I have to say it may well be the MOST useful thing I ever learnt at school. Right up there with knowing all about the Battle of Ypres, just in case I ever plan on invading Belgium. And who the hell would want to do that?
Monday, 9 November 2009
Stupid Sayings
Here are two sayings I have been thinking about recently. I have no idea if you can bring it up in any future conversation at all but if you can then do, because it makes the person feel ridiculously foolish.
The first is the simple saying, "Yeah, I always think that." This is when you point something out, (in this case why Americans use cardboard takeaway packaging for noodles, whereas the UK uses plastic boxes), and the person you are with asserts that yes, they too have thought about that before as well with the immortal line, "Yeah, I always think that." Now hold on a second there. You ALWAYS think that? No matter what you are up to, no matter who you may be with, you are ALWAYS wondering about those takeaway boxes?
When you were thinking about that girl you like. Takeaway boxes.
When receiving those dreaded A level results. Takeaway boxes.
In the future when getting married. Takeaway boxes.
So there we go. If anyone agrees with, "Yeah, I always think that." Rinse them for it.
The second silly saying, which you may here more often, is someone describing something as "the best thing ever." X Factor is the best thing ever! Radiohead are the best thing ever! A lie-in is the best thing ever! Hold up right there. The best thing EVER?
EVER?
EVER?!
Yes, ever.
Better than life, Radiohead prevail. Better than your family, the X Factor reigns supreme. A lie in is way better than shooting your boss square in the face in a game of paintball. Even if you still think these things are better, chances are there is always something a little bit better. The best thing ever? No, it's the best thing right this second when you don't think before you speak.
Feel free to pick people up on that phrase too. So there you go, "Yeah, I always think that." And "_____ is the best thing ever!" are both stupid sayings. Pick people up on it, make them feel foolish but most importantly make them laugh when you pick them up on it or they will think you are a pedantic little prick.
That last bit is pretty important...
The first is the simple saying, "Yeah, I always think that." This is when you point something out, (in this case why Americans use cardboard takeaway packaging for noodles, whereas the UK uses plastic boxes), and the person you are with asserts that yes, they too have thought about that before as well with the immortal line, "Yeah, I always think that." Now hold on a second there. You ALWAYS think that? No matter what you are up to, no matter who you may be with, you are ALWAYS wondering about those takeaway boxes?
When you were thinking about that girl you like. Takeaway boxes.
When receiving those dreaded A level results. Takeaway boxes.
In the future when getting married. Takeaway boxes.
So there we go. If anyone agrees with, "Yeah, I always think that." Rinse them for it.
The second silly saying, which you may here more often, is someone describing something as "the best thing ever." X Factor is the best thing ever! Radiohead are the best thing ever! A lie-in is the best thing ever! Hold up right there. The best thing EVER?
EVER?
EVER?!
Yes, ever.
Better than life, Radiohead prevail. Better than your family, the X Factor reigns supreme. A lie in is way better than shooting your boss square in the face in a game of paintball. Even if you still think these things are better, chances are there is always something a little bit better. The best thing ever? No, it's the best thing right this second when you don't think before you speak.
Feel free to pick people up on that phrase too. So there you go, "Yeah, I always think that." And "_____ is the best thing ever!" are both stupid sayings. Pick people up on it, make them feel foolish but most importantly make them laugh when you pick them up on it or they will think you are a pedantic little prick.
That last bit is pretty important...
Thursday, 5 November 2009
The X Factor
Well it had to happen eventually. A little discussion on the X Factor. And by discussion of course, I mean me typing a shit load of stuff and you reading it. So more of a Headmaster type discussion than a job interview type discussion.
Anyway, this is about people who seem to have an unnatural interest in the X Factor, which is about 80% of the population, rather than either ignoring the whole thing or simply watching it as a time waster and then forgetting about it ten minutes later. I have adopted both these approaches in the past few years and this year I am in the latter camp. If I miss it, who cares. Who do I want to win? I couldn't care less. Because at the end of the day at least 10 of the 12 acts will end up back where they were before the competition within 2 years.
Some people though, actually vote on this competition. I know a girl who voted 12 times in the final last year. Get this - 8 times for who she wouldn't to win and 4 times for the other act, as she felt sorry for them. What. The. Hell? Others will miss it on Saturday or Sunday and actually avoid the news so they can see it on catch up. If you miss the Saturday show, you have missed some glorified national TV karaoke. If you missed Sunday's show all you need to know is who went out and you have saved yourself an hour of your life.
Anyway, then there is the people who debate the show. "I hate Dave!" "OhmyGod!!! Yeah, and what about those retards The Downs Syndromes?" No, neither of those two acts are in it this year and yes, even I think it would be harsh to make a pop group out of the disabled and call it the Downs Syndromes. If you read that bit and went 'Ha! There isn't a Dave in it!' to yourself, then you have more of a vested interest in the X Factor than is really needed. Who really cares?
Another thing that pisses me off are the fake arguments between the judges. "Oh my God! Why did Cheryl say that about her?!" "Louis was such a dick to him last night." Yes, people. Yes. They are evil. Or... wait a second! Isn't this a TV programme? Which would be really dull if all the judges agreed on every act? It's bizarre they have so many disagreements, even when there is a flawless performance. The best moment so far was in the first week when a girl group was criticised for what they were wearing. they then got voted out by the public. Now...are we really meant to think that they chose their own costumes for the show? Or were they advised by a make-up department? Who were probably advised by a producer of the show what they should wear. Whose name is probably Simon Cowell.
Just a revolutionary idea I had there. But no, it can't be. It's almost like by giving John and Edward the biggest budget every week, Cowell wants them to stay? Because he is getting viewers...But that can't be it because he has said before he wants them off and soon! Well give them fuck all budget then Cowell! It's your bloody show. They won't win by the way, if anyone was getting excited they may do. They'll be voted off either in the show before the final or the final itself. Mark my words. If I get that right by the way, then I'll be deserving of a fucking medal.
Adios, Amigos. Oh and vote...no wait, save money in a recession, fools.
Anyway, this is about people who seem to have an unnatural interest in the X Factor, which is about 80% of the population, rather than either ignoring the whole thing or simply watching it as a time waster and then forgetting about it ten minutes later. I have adopted both these approaches in the past few years and this year I am in the latter camp. If I miss it, who cares. Who do I want to win? I couldn't care less. Because at the end of the day at least 10 of the 12 acts will end up back where they were before the competition within 2 years.
Some people though, actually vote on this competition. I know a girl who voted 12 times in the final last year. Get this - 8 times for who she wouldn't to win and 4 times for the other act, as she felt sorry for them. What. The. Hell? Others will miss it on Saturday or Sunday and actually avoid the news so they can see it on catch up. If you miss the Saturday show, you have missed some glorified national TV karaoke. If you missed Sunday's show all you need to know is who went out and you have saved yourself an hour of your life.
Anyway, then there is the people who debate the show. "I hate Dave!" "OhmyGod!!! Yeah, and what about those retards The Downs Syndromes?" No, neither of those two acts are in it this year and yes, even I think it would be harsh to make a pop group out of the disabled and call it the Downs Syndromes. If you read that bit and went 'Ha! There isn't a Dave in it!' to yourself, then you have more of a vested interest in the X Factor than is really needed. Who really cares?
Another thing that pisses me off are the fake arguments between the judges. "Oh my God! Why did Cheryl say that about her?!" "Louis was such a dick to him last night." Yes, people. Yes. They are evil. Or... wait a second! Isn't this a TV programme? Which would be really dull if all the judges agreed on every act? It's bizarre they have so many disagreements, even when there is a flawless performance. The best moment so far was in the first week when a girl group was criticised for what they were wearing. they then got voted out by the public. Now...are we really meant to think that they chose their own costumes for the show? Or were they advised by a make-up department? Who were probably advised by a producer of the show what they should wear. Whose name is probably Simon Cowell.
Just a revolutionary idea I had there. But no, it can't be. It's almost like by giving John and Edward the biggest budget every week, Cowell wants them to stay? Because he is getting viewers...But that can't be it because he has said before he wants them off and soon! Well give them fuck all budget then Cowell! It's your bloody show. They won't win by the way, if anyone was getting excited they may do. They'll be voted off either in the show before the final or the final itself. Mark my words. If I get that right by the way, then I'll be deserving of a fucking medal.
Adios, Amigos. Oh and vote...no wait, save money in a recession, fools.
Monday, 2 November 2009
Love
Love, ladies and gentlemen, is something we all strive for. We fight for it, for someone to love and to cherish, to make us feel good about ourselves and to make them feel better about themselves because of us. The problem comes of course once we have achieved this love. How do we sustain this roller-coaster ride of emotion and devotion? There are two ways of course. The first is with flowers. The second is with chocolates.
But what if you are dating a hay fever suffering maiden who is lactose intolerant? My brother had one such problem. This answer was simple. After all, I am here to help you out if any such problem occurs with you. Soft toys. There is nothing a girl likes more than to cuddle a soft toy. Beautiful. Unless of course, they suffer from asthma.
Now, a lactose intolerant girl who suffers from hay fever and asthma may seem like a hard person to find. But my brother managed it. So how did he get around this problem with such a damsel in literal distress? The answer he came up with was to dump her because quite frankly she wasn't worth the effort. I mean let's face it, no child wants to grow up with those sorts of problems. Better to move onto to others in the oceanic wonder that is the gene pool.
Love is a wonderful thing until it is way too hard to maintain. When this happens, simply refrain and move on. I leave you with this mantra on love and emotion, which you can interpret in any way you please but I do believe it has two meanings. My brother I do believe, utilised both meanings of the phrase.
"Fuck it."
I bid you a very good day.
But what if you are dating a hay fever suffering maiden who is lactose intolerant? My brother had one such problem. This answer was simple. After all, I am here to help you out if any such problem occurs with you. Soft toys. There is nothing a girl likes more than to cuddle a soft toy. Beautiful. Unless of course, they suffer from asthma.
Now, a lactose intolerant girl who suffers from hay fever and asthma may seem like a hard person to find. But my brother managed it. So how did he get around this problem with such a damsel in literal distress? The answer he came up with was to dump her because quite frankly she wasn't worth the effort. I mean let's face it, no child wants to grow up with those sorts of problems. Better to move onto to others in the oceanic wonder that is the gene pool.
Love is a wonderful thing until it is way too hard to maintain. When this happens, simply refrain and move on. I leave you with this mantra on love and emotion, which you can interpret in any way you please but I do believe it has two meanings. My brother I do believe, utilised both meanings of the phrase.
"Fuck it."
I bid you a very good day.
Monday, 26 October 2009
Walking
Well here's an idea I have been thinking about for a while...and a few times I have actually mentioned it in conversation, people seem to agree and if they don't, well, they still seem to laugh anyway.
The problem I have is a simple one. I walk everywhere. That doesn't sound like a huge problem but it really is. And this is why.
When I walk down the street and I see someone of...say, a different ethnicity, I am not entirely sure what to do. They are walking towards me and I am therefore, fairly obviously walking towards them. The problem I have, is that I have no idea where to look. If I look at them, I presume they are thinking "Why the fuck is he looking at me? Racist motherfucker." Whereas if I then look away to rectify this situation, I think they are wondering why I am not looking at them. "What's so bad about me that he can't even look at me? Racist motherfucker." It's a conundrum.
Obviously, my problem is not limited to skin type. It also happens if I am walking towards a group of girls, to be honest, just one girl. No matter how attractive they are. If they are not exactly God's finest work, I think looking away will make them feel bad, however if I look at them they may think I am perving on them. Yes, even if they are so unattractive it actually stings my eyes to look at them. but I'm a nice guy so the whole looking away to lower their moral thing really does bother me. Now, if it's an attractive female, then looking at them clearly indicates I am a pervert, and looking away will just make them question why I am looking away, lead to an unnecessary diet, which in turn leads to anorexia and death before the age of 30. And it'd all be my fault. Don't even get me started on the non-Caucasian female members of the species. In theory, they should cancel each other out but if anything it makes it worse.
Okay so that covers differing skin colour to me and differing gender to me. You may think that covers everything. Not a chance. Midgets are problematic. Or dwarfs? What do they like to be called? I have no idea. Anyway, it makes no difference - they are an absolute nightmare to come across when walking down the street. For one, you may not even see them until you are tripping over them. Just kidding. But with them, I don't know where to look. I could look at them, but they'd just presume I'm looking at them because of their height or lack thereof. Touché. Or I can look away, but again, they may think I am looking away because I don't want to look. Which is kind of the point. But why shouldn't I want to look? They are human after all. If I look away they may think I am not looking because I don't feel comfortable looking at them. You see my point. Pretty much all people labelled as disabled are hard to deal with for this very reason. Except blind people, as they wouldn't be able to see whether you are looking at them or not. Actually, with blind people you need to follow a different set of rule which is simply watch out for that pesky fucking stick. Trust me, it hurts.
You may think that is all. But nope. Bring in the police force. If I see the police walking towards me, I get so unbelievably nervous. It really is unbelievable. Basically because I haven't done anything wrong every time I see them. I am like, "Shit! A police officer. Act natural." Now, I don't do drugs so if they searched me I'd be fine. Yet, I am always nervous. Problem is, how does one act natural? Do I look them in the eye as I walk past? Is that natural? I remember I once averted my eyes and whistled. Actually whistled. Like the characters in cartoons do if they have acted suspiciously. Somehow thinking whistling makes you instantly on the straight and narrow. Is looking at police suspicious? Or do they think it's suspicious if you look away? The mind boggles.
Maybe I am over analysing everything but imagine for a moment I turn the corner of my road and see an Oriental female police officer with a height deficiency. What the heck would I do then? I honestly don't know. I could pretty much do anything though as I doubt she'd be able to catch me up...
Or maybe I should just buy a car?
The problem I have is a simple one. I walk everywhere. That doesn't sound like a huge problem but it really is. And this is why.
When I walk down the street and I see someone of...say, a different ethnicity, I am not entirely sure what to do. They are walking towards me and I am therefore, fairly obviously walking towards them. The problem I have, is that I have no idea where to look. If I look at them, I presume they are thinking "Why the fuck is he looking at me? Racist motherfucker." Whereas if I then look away to rectify this situation, I think they are wondering why I am not looking at them. "What's so bad about me that he can't even look at me? Racist motherfucker." It's a conundrum.
Obviously, my problem is not limited to skin type. It also happens if I am walking towards a group of girls, to be honest, just one girl. No matter how attractive they are. If they are not exactly God's finest work, I think looking away will make them feel bad, however if I look at them they may think I am perving on them. Yes, even if they are so unattractive it actually stings my eyes to look at them. but I'm a nice guy so the whole looking away to lower their moral thing really does bother me. Now, if it's an attractive female, then looking at them clearly indicates I am a pervert, and looking away will just make them question why I am looking away, lead to an unnecessary diet, which in turn leads to anorexia and death before the age of 30. And it'd all be my fault. Don't even get me started on the non-Caucasian female members of the species. In theory, they should cancel each other out but if anything it makes it worse.
Okay so that covers differing skin colour to me and differing gender to me. You may think that covers everything. Not a chance. Midgets are problematic. Or dwarfs? What do they like to be called? I have no idea. Anyway, it makes no difference - they are an absolute nightmare to come across when walking down the street. For one, you may not even see them until you are tripping over them. Just kidding. But with them, I don't know where to look. I could look at them, but they'd just presume I'm looking at them because of their height or lack thereof. Touché. Or I can look away, but again, they may think I am looking away because I don't want to look. Which is kind of the point. But why shouldn't I want to look? They are human after all. If I look away they may think I am not looking because I don't feel comfortable looking at them. You see my point. Pretty much all people labelled as disabled are hard to deal with for this very reason. Except blind people, as they wouldn't be able to see whether you are looking at them or not. Actually, with blind people you need to follow a different set of rule which is simply watch out for that pesky fucking stick. Trust me, it hurts.
You may think that is all. But nope. Bring in the police force. If I see the police walking towards me, I get so unbelievably nervous. It really is unbelievable. Basically because I haven't done anything wrong every time I see them. I am like, "Shit! A police officer. Act natural." Now, I don't do drugs so if they searched me I'd be fine. Yet, I am always nervous. Problem is, how does one act natural? Do I look them in the eye as I walk past? Is that natural? I remember I once averted my eyes and whistled. Actually whistled. Like the characters in cartoons do if they have acted suspiciously. Somehow thinking whistling makes you instantly on the straight and narrow. Is looking at police suspicious? Or do they think it's suspicious if you look away? The mind boggles.
Maybe I am over analysing everything but imagine for a moment I turn the corner of my road and see an Oriental female police officer with a height deficiency. What the heck would I do then? I honestly don't know. I could pretty much do anything though as I doubt she'd be able to catch me up...
Or maybe I should just buy a car?
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
Theme Parks
Here's a bizarre though I had today.
Why is it that when you are about 9 or 10 and you are on a day out at the theme park with your family, you are desperate to be tall enough for the rides? Even going so far as to fully extend your back to be the desired 140 or 150 cm.
There is a reason that the minimum height for the ride is that measurement. Because that's the safe height. The height where you won't die.
So what kids are effectively doing, as they fight for the right to goooooo die! (Random Beastie boys reference...) is running to the ruler and basically saying, "Please, I want to put my life in danger, for the sake of a cheap thrill."
The best bit about this is that parents don't really seem to care. "Fuck it, that's less weight in the back of the car when we're driving home." I remember my Dad used to just give me the benefit of the doubt. I didn't even have to go up to the ruler. "Yeah, you're probably tall enough." Cheers, Dad.
It's only when you get on these rides, as a 9 or 10 year old, whizzing around at breakneck speed or stopping just short of a vertical drop for pure excitement, that you begin to reassess. "Hmm...maybe it would have been better if I wasn't 150...AAAARGH!"
My brothers used to do the whole no hands thing. Specially for the camera. some kind of "Yeah, no hands!" thing. Yeah, try no seatbelt, bitches, then let's see who'll be smiling. Also, and this is probably another reason why no hands on a ride annoys me, is that the first time I tried it, I happened to be sitting next to someone whose right hand was...well...it wasn't there. I felt like a bit of a dick when I realised, as I had been waving my hands all over the place like some sort of amateur magician.
I remember on Tidal Wave at Thorpe Park, we were allowed to set off before my Dad has actually put the long metal bar locked in place. That would have been interesting hurtling down that ride. Our mangled bodies creating a mixture of water, blood and loose limbs flying towards the assembled public. Luckily, my Dad got the bar in place and all was good. Happy memories. Unfortunately, the people behind us weren't so lucky and they all died.
But we survived, so, y'know...every cloud and all that.
Why is it that when you are about 9 or 10 and you are on a day out at the theme park with your family, you are desperate to be tall enough for the rides? Even going so far as to fully extend your back to be the desired 140 or 150 cm.
There is a reason that the minimum height for the ride is that measurement. Because that's the safe height. The height where you won't die.
So what kids are effectively doing, as they fight for the right to goooooo die! (Random Beastie boys reference...) is running to the ruler and basically saying, "Please, I want to put my life in danger, for the sake of a cheap thrill."
The best bit about this is that parents don't really seem to care. "Fuck it, that's less weight in the back of the car when we're driving home." I remember my Dad used to just give me the benefit of the doubt. I didn't even have to go up to the ruler. "Yeah, you're probably tall enough." Cheers, Dad.
It's only when you get on these rides, as a 9 or 10 year old, whizzing around at breakneck speed or stopping just short of a vertical drop for pure excitement, that you begin to reassess. "Hmm...maybe it would have been better if I wasn't 150...AAAARGH!"
My brothers used to do the whole no hands thing. Specially for the camera. some kind of "Yeah, no hands!" thing. Yeah, try no seatbelt, bitches, then let's see who'll be smiling. Also, and this is probably another reason why no hands on a ride annoys me, is that the first time I tried it, I happened to be sitting next to someone whose right hand was...well...it wasn't there. I felt like a bit of a dick when I realised, as I had been waving my hands all over the place like some sort of amateur magician.
I remember on Tidal Wave at Thorpe Park, we were allowed to set off before my Dad has actually put the long metal bar locked in place. That would have been interesting hurtling down that ride. Our mangled bodies creating a mixture of water, blood and loose limbs flying towards the assembled public. Luckily, my Dad got the bar in place and all was good. Happy memories. Unfortunately, the people behind us weren't so lucky and they all died.
But we survived, so, y'know...every cloud and all that.
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
Autoerotic Asphyxiation
Here's something I was thinking about the other day. I was doing some vague wikipedia-based learning and happened to click on the link for David Carradine, Bill in the Kill Bill films. Presumably you know, but if you don't he died recently from the classic death of autoerotic asphyxiation.
For those of you who don't know, autoerotic asphyxiation is, in the most basic terms, essentially achieving a better orgasm by cutting off the Oxygen supply to the brain. Now, one way men do this, if you wanted to try it out, is by putting a noose round your neck casually, then putting a sliced orange in your mouth, wanking like a monkey at the same time as increasing the pressure against your neck from the noose and THEN, as you are passing out, you bite the orange in your mouth to wake yourself up from this state. Satisfaction achieved!
Now, if this DOESN'T happen. And you find the orange slips from your mouth due to your focusing on the intense masturbation, or if you forget the orange entirely, or you slip from the bed entirely and actually hang yourself for real, then this can cause your death and the worst final image your wife or mother will ever have of you upon returning home with the shopping.
"Hi Dear...WHAT THE FUCK?!"
Now, I don't know about you but I struggle to think of the exact moment and man masturbates and thinks to himself, "You know, this just isn't working for me like I wanted it to." He then WAITS for himself to be home alone, unless you really want to ramp up the danger by doing it in a packed house. Imagine the confusion there!
"Honey what the fuck are you doing?!"
"Ah..I was just...checking the lightbulb, and took off my tie...to...and I did it all whilst eating an orange...naked."
It wouldn't work.
So anyway, these people wait for people to leave before thinking, "Fucking yes! Time for my crazy wank!" Most guys watch porn, bish bash bosh, game over, kill time until people return. But these guys, they kind of notice that they have a free house and think to themselves, "Today, I'm going to go that bit further and fulfil my masturbatory needs." I don't know at what point they think of this method. Do they catch a glimpse of the fruitbowl when feeling amorous? Do they take off their tie after a hard day at work, notice the light, look back to the tie, and rub their chin thoughtfully? I just don't know.
But this does happen! And at first I thought through what they must think before doing it, but then what about the self-hate you send yourself afterwards. Normally, you think, "Oh I shouldn't have done that..I am evil, never again...degrading these women..." and then find yourself in the same position 24 hours later. Now these blokes, they must hang themselves with the tie, cut the orange, put it in the mouth, get naked, ASSUME THE POSITION!, realise you haven't pressed play on the porn video, get down from the bed complete with orange in mouth (trying not to bite!), back to bed, ASSUME THE POSITION!, wank like a gibbon, almost pass out, bite the orange, wake the fuck up, come to ...err...completion...
And then what? You are just hanging there! Naked, limp...the thoughts that must run through your mind at that moment. How feeble and vulnerable must you feel? Then your phone might vibrate.
"Hello? Oh Hi Mum...Yer I'm a bit busy at the moment..."
So, next time your flatmate or wife or girlfriend is wondering what to do with their leftover fruit in the fruitbowl...just have a think.
For those of you who don't know, autoerotic asphyxiation is, in the most basic terms, essentially achieving a better orgasm by cutting off the Oxygen supply to the brain. Now, one way men do this, if you wanted to try it out, is by putting a noose round your neck casually, then putting a sliced orange in your mouth, wanking like a monkey at the same time as increasing the pressure against your neck from the noose and THEN, as you are passing out, you bite the orange in your mouth to wake yourself up from this state. Satisfaction achieved!
Now, if this DOESN'T happen. And you find the orange slips from your mouth due to your focusing on the intense masturbation, or if you forget the orange entirely, or you slip from the bed entirely and actually hang yourself for real, then this can cause your death and the worst final image your wife or mother will ever have of you upon returning home with the shopping.
"Hi Dear...WHAT THE FUCK?!"
Now, I don't know about you but I struggle to think of the exact moment and man masturbates and thinks to himself, "You know, this just isn't working for me like I wanted it to." He then WAITS for himself to be home alone, unless you really want to ramp up the danger by doing it in a packed house. Imagine the confusion there!
"Honey what the fuck are you doing?!"
"Ah..I was just...checking the lightbulb, and took off my tie...to...and I did it all whilst eating an orange...naked."
It wouldn't work.
So anyway, these people wait for people to leave before thinking, "Fucking yes! Time for my crazy wank!" Most guys watch porn, bish bash bosh, game over, kill time until people return. But these guys, they kind of notice that they have a free house and think to themselves, "Today, I'm going to go that bit further and fulfil my masturbatory needs." I don't know at what point they think of this method. Do they catch a glimpse of the fruitbowl when feeling amorous? Do they take off their tie after a hard day at work, notice the light, look back to the tie, and rub their chin thoughtfully? I just don't know.
But this does happen! And at first I thought through what they must think before doing it, but then what about the self-hate you send yourself afterwards. Normally, you think, "Oh I shouldn't have done that..I am evil, never again...degrading these women..." and then find yourself in the same position 24 hours later. Now these blokes, they must hang themselves with the tie, cut the orange, put it in the mouth, get naked, ASSUME THE POSITION!, realise you haven't pressed play on the porn video, get down from the bed complete with orange in mouth (trying not to bite!), back to bed, ASSUME THE POSITION!, wank like a gibbon, almost pass out, bite the orange, wake the fuck up, come to ...err...completion...
And then what? You are just hanging there! Naked, limp...the thoughts that must run through your mind at that moment. How feeble and vulnerable must you feel? Then your phone might vibrate.
"Hello? Oh Hi Mum...Yer I'm a bit busy at the moment..."
So, next time your flatmate or wife or girlfriend is wondering what to do with their leftover fruit in the fruitbowl...just have a think.
Sunday, 11 October 2009
One Liners
I can never think of anything to write. Well, not long stand up based things recently, anyway.
So here are a whole load of one-liners I wrote over a year ago...
What will it say on Judi Dench's gravestone when she dies? Boney M
Do you know what really annoys me? People getting annoyed about trivial things.
I was giving a dog a bone the other day...think about it...Well Gran didn't need it anymore.
"You've got to be cruel to be kind" No you fucking don't.
Why did the suicide bomber cross the road? Why would I know, I didn't follow him.
If you posted a book of stamps with no address where would they end up? More importantly, how fast would they get there?
When the Queen sings the national anthem, does she change the lyrics to suit herself?
Why is Superman known as Superman? We know he's super; he's a man.
How do trenches get dug in warfare? In WW1 did the two countries arrive a week before fighting was due to start and just dig? "'Allo!" "Hi! Here for the war?" "Ja!" "One week, I'll getcha!" *mimic machine gun/laugh* "Aha...one week, one week."
What must have gone through the mind of Hitler's hairdresser as he cut his hair? "Ooh sorry I seem to have cut into your skin a bit there." Hmm... *snip snip*
I met a genie once and he said "I grant you one wish." I wished for a 1000 more wishes. He said "Granted but you can't use them because I only offered you one wish you greedy self-interested bastard."
I rubbed a lamp the other day and a genie came out. He said, "I'm free! For this I grant you one wish!" I thought long and hard and eventually said "I wish this lamp and the contents of it went back to how I found it ten minutes ago." The genie got back inside. It made me laugh, I'm harsh like that.
My mum thinks I don't eat enough. I tell her, "I'm thinking about the Ethiopians mum, they'd kill for the food I've got." Actually, no, thinking about it now they wouldn't kill for it would they? They haven't got the muscle strength to back up their punches. That's a vicious cycle.
How is Aids so rife in Africa? What is it they find so attractive about each other? "Ooh he looks nice." "Very boney" "Ooh yes but I love a bit of bone, I love to hear them creak." OR "He looks nice doesn't he?" "Ooh yes, look at that fly on his lower lip. I'd love to kiss that. He wears that fly so fashionably."
How do we know pet food tastes like it says? "Martin! Taste that." "Chicken-y" "Yeah that's what we wanted." "Kind of crunchy though." "Well it is pet food Martin. What about this one?" "Beef?" "Excellent and this one?" "Eww what the fuck is that? That is vile! What flavour is that meant to be?" "That's our [insert unpopular celeb here] flavour..."
I wrote a book once. Apparently it was too unrealistic to ever get published. It was about [insert news item here]. It'll never happen apparently. Ever.
Why do we play those 2p machines in arcades? Everyone I know hates 2p's. Everyone hates loose change. I offer mine around, nobody wants them, even tramps and charities frown at me. But stick them in a machine and everyone wants them! You waste a quid trying to get yourself some more loose change. And you never do. It's a waste of your time! But sometime you look at that chuppa-chup in your hand and you think, "Yeah, that was time well spent."
Have you ever been told by someone that stamps are legal tender? Yeah but what kind of a dick pays a bus driver in stamps? It's like saying a midget is a person; it's a half truth.
So here are a whole load of one-liners I wrote over a year ago...
What will it say on Judi Dench's gravestone when she dies? Boney M
Do you know what really annoys me? People getting annoyed about trivial things.
I was giving a dog a bone the other day...think about it...Well Gran didn't need it anymore.
"You've got to be cruel to be kind" No you fucking don't.
Why did the suicide bomber cross the road? Why would I know, I didn't follow him.
If you posted a book of stamps with no address where would they end up? More importantly, how fast would they get there?
When the Queen sings the national anthem, does she change the lyrics to suit herself?
Why is Superman known as Superman? We know he's super; he's a man.
How do trenches get dug in warfare? In WW1 did the two countries arrive a week before fighting was due to start and just dig? "'Allo!" "Hi! Here for the war?" "Ja!" "One week, I'll getcha!" *mimic machine gun/laugh* "Aha...one week, one week."
What must have gone through the mind of Hitler's hairdresser as he cut his hair? "Ooh sorry I seem to have cut into your skin a bit there." Hmm... *snip snip*
I met a genie once and he said "I grant you one wish." I wished for a 1000 more wishes. He said "Granted but you can't use them because I only offered you one wish you greedy self-interested bastard."
I rubbed a lamp the other day and a genie came out. He said, "I'm free! For this I grant you one wish!" I thought long and hard and eventually said "I wish this lamp and the contents of it went back to how I found it ten minutes ago." The genie got back inside. It made me laugh, I'm harsh like that.
My mum thinks I don't eat enough. I tell her, "I'm thinking about the Ethiopians mum, they'd kill for the food I've got." Actually, no, thinking about it now they wouldn't kill for it would they? They haven't got the muscle strength to back up their punches. That's a vicious cycle.
How is Aids so rife in Africa? What is it they find so attractive about each other? "Ooh he looks nice." "Very boney" "Ooh yes but I love a bit of bone, I love to hear them creak." OR "He looks nice doesn't he?" "Ooh yes, look at that fly on his lower lip. I'd love to kiss that. He wears that fly so fashionably."
How do we know pet food tastes like it says? "Martin! Taste that." "Chicken-y" "Yeah that's what we wanted." "Kind of crunchy though." "Well it is pet food Martin. What about this one?" "Beef?" "Excellent and this one?" "Eww what the fuck is that? That is vile! What flavour is that meant to be?" "That's our [insert unpopular celeb here] flavour..."
I wrote a book once. Apparently it was too unrealistic to ever get published. It was about [insert news item here]. It'll never happen apparently. Ever.
Why do we play those 2p machines in arcades? Everyone I know hates 2p's. Everyone hates loose change. I offer mine around, nobody wants them, even tramps and charities frown at me. But stick them in a machine and everyone wants them! You waste a quid trying to get yourself some more loose change. And you never do. It's a waste of your time! But sometime you look at that chuppa-chup in your hand and you think, "Yeah, that was time well spent."
Have you ever been told by someone that stamps are legal tender? Yeah but what kind of a dick pays a bus driver in stamps? It's like saying a midget is a person; it's a half truth.
Monday, 28 September 2009
The Future
So, anyone else find the future exciting? Who knows what is just around the corner? But thinking even further ahead, we get to, hopefully, experience marriage and of course becoming a parent.
Now this is something I am really looking forward to, and after a discussion with a friend the other day, I think I may need a really loving wife to allow me to do all the things with my children that I want to do. If you suddenly have Josef Fritzl images in your mind then you are on the wrong track entirely.
What I mean is just general things which you can only get away with if you are the parent of said child. When my child is only a few days old I want him or her to sleep in a shoebox. Just for a laugh. Take a photo and hide it away for use in future years.
When the wife goes out, leaving me with the baby fast asleep, I want to play a quick game of human buckaroo, chucking al sorts of rubbish over my first born. Pens, receipts, condoms...I may even buy a pack of cigarettes just to play the game with them. I put 4 between the fingers. And light them. When my child gets their first graze, I'll administer a plaster in the form of an apple sticker. Just because I can and they don't stay small forever.
Photos will be taken when they are naked of course. And if it's a bloke, the penis size will undoubtedly be taken the piss out of. I might put on an upset expression and the international sign for 'tiny cock' behind my newborn. Ah what delights we can look forward to.
But my best plan, well I like to think so, is to place a marmite lid on their tiny head and take a picture. Just because it looks funny. you may have noticed I am a white guy so it may not look as good as if I had a black baby. some people have called that joke racist, so to even it out, I may put a marmite lid on a friend's black baby and a mayonnaise lid on mine.
Is this cruel? I don't think so. I mean they will be costing me a fortune over the next two decades so I think I deserve some laughter now. The only problem I have is if my wife doesn't find any of these things funny. But when the cat's away...
Thinking about it now, I don't think I'm fit to be a parent.
Now this is something I am really looking forward to, and after a discussion with a friend the other day, I think I may need a really loving wife to allow me to do all the things with my children that I want to do. If you suddenly have Josef Fritzl images in your mind then you are on the wrong track entirely.
What I mean is just general things which you can only get away with if you are the parent of said child. When my child is only a few days old I want him or her to sleep in a shoebox. Just for a laugh. Take a photo and hide it away for use in future years.
When the wife goes out, leaving me with the baby fast asleep, I want to play a quick game of human buckaroo, chucking al sorts of rubbish over my first born. Pens, receipts, condoms...I may even buy a pack of cigarettes just to play the game with them. I put 4 between the fingers. And light them. When my child gets their first graze, I'll administer a plaster in the form of an apple sticker. Just because I can and they don't stay small forever.
Photos will be taken when they are naked of course. And if it's a bloke, the penis size will undoubtedly be taken the piss out of. I might put on an upset expression and the international sign for 'tiny cock' behind my newborn. Ah what delights we can look forward to.
But my best plan, well I like to think so, is to place a marmite lid on their tiny head and take a picture. Just because it looks funny. you may have noticed I am a white guy so it may not look as good as if I had a black baby. some people have called that joke racist, so to even it out, I may put a marmite lid on a friend's black baby and a mayonnaise lid on mine.
Is this cruel? I don't think so. I mean they will be costing me a fortune over the next two decades so I think I deserve some laughter now. The only problem I have is if my wife doesn't find any of these things funny. But when the cat's away...
Thinking about it now, I don't think I'm fit to be a parent.
Sunday, 20 September 2009
Animal Experiments and Hitler's Hairdresser
So today I have been thinking about animal experiments. Nothing cruel just like...well you know when all the sheep of a flock are sheared for their wool? What if you only sheared one and watch what happens? That could be interesting. You get a kind of punk sheep as a result. One who doesn't vie a shit due to it's skin head, well skin body type appearance.
"I'm a baaaaaaad ass motherfucker."
Then I thought no. Where you could really have fun is by feeding a sloth some coffee. and get it proper addicted. Or any kind of caffeine. A sloth on red bull. Just imagine that.
"I'm kind of tired, man. Thought I might rest here."
"What? No! Check this out, I'm climbing this branch. Woo, yer!"
I dunno really. These are all just kind of ideas of jokes rather than actual jokes currently. Although the image f a hyper sloth is pretty cool. He could pretend to be slow like the others then run around when the zookeeper comes to fetch him.
But animal experiments, I don't really agree with that.
"Dude, I just put lipstick on a rabbit."
"What? Why?"
"Dude I just grafted an ear onto a mouse!"
"what the fu- what are you, a Nazi? What the hell is wrong with you Dave?"
The Nazi's too, I have a problem with them. I mean who doesn't right. But I have this theory that Hitler, you know for all his bad points, his appearance was well groomed. Someone had to do that right? Hitler's hairdresser. That man I'd love to have a chat with. Hitler's hairdresser. He had scissors so close to Hitler's neck and yet he chose to cut his hair with them? C'mon man, just a quick jab to the neck and it's all over. Blood everywhere. Hitler dead. World War II. Over.
(in camp accent) "I couldn't possibly d that, Henry, these scissors are da finest stainless steel!"
Gah. Whatever, I'm out of here. Adios amigos.
"I'm a baaaaaaad ass motherfucker."
Then I thought no. Where you could really have fun is by feeding a sloth some coffee. and get it proper addicted. Or any kind of caffeine. A sloth on red bull. Just imagine that.
"I'm kind of tired, man. Thought I might rest here."
"What? No! Check this out, I'm climbing this branch. Woo, yer!"
I dunno really. These are all just kind of ideas of jokes rather than actual jokes currently. Although the image f a hyper sloth is pretty cool. He could pretend to be slow like the others then run around when the zookeeper comes to fetch him.
But animal experiments, I don't really agree with that.
"Dude, I just put lipstick on a rabbit."
"What? Why?"
"Dude I just grafted an ear onto a mouse!"
"what the fu- what are you, a Nazi? What the hell is wrong with you Dave?"
The Nazi's too, I have a problem with them. I mean who doesn't right. But I have this theory that Hitler, you know for all his bad points, his appearance was well groomed. Someone had to do that right? Hitler's hairdresser. That man I'd love to have a chat with. Hitler's hairdresser. He had scissors so close to Hitler's neck and yet he chose to cut his hair with them? C'mon man, just a quick jab to the neck and it's all over. Blood everywhere. Hitler dead. World War II. Over.
(in camp accent) "I couldn't possibly d that, Henry, these scissors are da finest stainless steel!"
Gah. Whatever, I'm out of here. Adios amigos.
Sunday, 13 September 2009
Heckler Comeback
I was going to update this with a long post earlier but forgot. by forgot, I truly mean forgot everything it was going to say. So until I have more time, this will have to do.
Basically it is a heckler comeback. So imagine someone has just shouted, "I hate you" at me, or something more offensive.
"By the way I think I forgot to mention. I have rules with regards to heckles. It's just one rule basically. I don't respond to heckle made my inbred retards so unfortunately I am going to have to let that heckle slide. It's only fair."
Basically it is a heckler comeback. So imagine someone has just shouted, "I hate you" at me, or something more offensive.
"By the way I think I forgot to mention. I have rules with regards to heckles. It's just one rule basically. I don't respond to heckle made my inbred retards so unfortunately I am going to have to let that heckle slide. It's only fair."
Friday, 4 September 2009
Stand Up - People
So here is a random full routine I just wrote on people, intended for a student audience hence the opening paragraph. It contains swearing. Deal with it.
Alright? It’s a pleasure to see you all here about...ooh about 3 hours after you all got up. Yeah, I know what it’s like. I’m a student too. Lunch at four. You know it’s great to see that the UK will still be okay with us in charge in ten or twenty years time because people, well, they don’t half annoy me at the moment.
I used to work in a petrol station and I had a woman come to my counter. She goes, “Yeah, umm, the prices of petrol are cheaper down the road.” What does she expect me to say? “Ahh, gee. I’m sorry about that. Must have been an oversight on my part, I didn’t realise you were popping in today. I’ll just change that for you.” I mean come on, lady. If their cheaper down the road then go down the fucking road. And then as if to insult me she goes, “Well, I’m going to be taking my business elsewhere.” Ah shit. You know because the £10 you were about to put into your mini cooper was really going to keep this place afloat. I don’t care. I’m on £5.70 an hour. Give a shit if you don’t come back. Not my problem. Take your business elsewhere. But then before she leaves, “Oh and I’ll have a twenty Marlboro lights.” So, I sold them to her and said, “I’m sorry you’re gonna have to take your business elsewhere.” She missed the joke. I don’t care really, she’s dying of cancer soon anyway.
People do just get on my nerves though. I went to the cinema a few weeks ago and this moron behind the counter, you know, the kind of guy that is just a little bit over friendly and is probably a paedophile? He says to me, “Going to see a film huh?” “Ah gee, I was actually here to buy some over priced food, I’m doing my weekly shop but now you mention it, yeah. Why shouldn’t I see a film as it’s a FUCKING CINEMA!” Anyway, I show him my student ID and he’s just typing in the tickets to the computer or whatever when he turns to me and says, “Sorry was it a student or an adult, I forget. Haha!” Haha? Whatever they’re paying you it’s too much.
I’m surprised that people like that guy have even got a job when you know, immigrants and asylum seekers need jobs too. “Oh my god they are taking our jobs!” Yeah, well it’s because all our natives are dumb as shit. The recession was probably caused because they forgot to carry the one. I just despair when people say that thing though, “Come over here, taking our jobs.” Why should you care? You have a job. And the people that don’t are the people that don’t care. Cinema boy is proof that anybody can get a job. The only reason the Polish are here is because we’ve relocated all their Delicatessens anyway. They need to get a plane to complete their weekly shop. You know the people that I don’t get are beggars.
When you live in any big town or city there are bound to be beggars or tramps, some through no fault of their own on the street. It’s a given. It’s sad but you move on. The ones I don’t get are...well I moved to Bournemouth about 2005, so I was fifteen. And walking into town I gave this guy 50p or so for a hostel apparently. The next day he asks again. It’s four years later now, and he is still there. Now what part of this, is a good idea to him? “So Son, how is your career going?” “Yeah not bad Dad, out on the streets everyday.””ever thought of going on the dole?” “The what?” In the time that he has been on the street I have gained qualifications, got halfway through a degree and visited some beautiful countries. It’s just bizarre.
Another one I like is the beggar who never has enough for a return fare to his home. “I need to get a return to my house.” That sort of thing. And the first time you give it but the second or third time you don’t. And as I walk I think, what kind of an idiot gets the bus in the morning without thinking how to get home? Why has he even left if doesn’t have any money to spend in town? When I go out, I normally make sure I know how I’m getting home. Once maybe, but three times you haven’t learnt your lesson? You deserve to not to get home for being a dumb ass motherfucker. And that’s the truth. God, people piss me off. He hasn’t yet answered to that complaint. Anyway, that’s all from me, before I go though, can anyone lend me a bit of money to get home? Cheers.
Alright? It’s a pleasure to see you all here about...ooh about 3 hours after you all got up. Yeah, I know what it’s like. I’m a student too. Lunch at four. You know it’s great to see that the UK will still be okay with us in charge in ten or twenty years time because people, well, they don’t half annoy me at the moment.
I used to work in a petrol station and I had a woman come to my counter. She goes, “Yeah, umm, the prices of petrol are cheaper down the road.” What does she expect me to say? “Ahh, gee. I’m sorry about that. Must have been an oversight on my part, I didn’t realise you were popping in today. I’ll just change that for you.” I mean come on, lady. If their cheaper down the road then go down the fucking road. And then as if to insult me she goes, “Well, I’m going to be taking my business elsewhere.” Ah shit. You know because the £10 you were about to put into your mini cooper was really going to keep this place afloat. I don’t care. I’m on £5.70 an hour. Give a shit if you don’t come back. Not my problem. Take your business elsewhere. But then before she leaves, “Oh and I’ll have a twenty Marlboro lights.” So, I sold them to her and said, “I’m sorry you’re gonna have to take your business elsewhere.” She missed the joke. I don’t care really, she’s dying of cancer soon anyway.
People do just get on my nerves though. I went to the cinema a few weeks ago and this moron behind the counter, you know, the kind of guy that is just a little bit over friendly and is probably a paedophile? He says to me, “Going to see a film huh?” “Ah gee, I was actually here to buy some over priced food, I’m doing my weekly shop but now you mention it, yeah. Why shouldn’t I see a film as it’s a FUCKING CINEMA!” Anyway, I show him my student ID and he’s just typing in the tickets to the computer or whatever when he turns to me and says, “Sorry was it a student or an adult, I forget. Haha!” Haha? Whatever they’re paying you it’s too much.
I’m surprised that people like that guy have even got a job when you know, immigrants and asylum seekers need jobs too. “Oh my god they are taking our jobs!” Yeah, well it’s because all our natives are dumb as shit. The recession was probably caused because they forgot to carry the one. I just despair when people say that thing though, “Come over here, taking our jobs.” Why should you care? You have a job. And the people that don’t are the people that don’t care. Cinema boy is proof that anybody can get a job. The only reason the Polish are here is because we’ve relocated all their Delicatessens anyway. They need to get a plane to complete their weekly shop. You know the people that I don’t get are beggars.
When you live in any big town or city there are bound to be beggars or tramps, some through no fault of their own on the street. It’s a given. It’s sad but you move on. The ones I don’t get are...well I moved to Bournemouth about 2005, so I was fifteen. And walking into town I gave this guy 50p or so for a hostel apparently. The next day he asks again. It’s four years later now, and he is still there. Now what part of this, is a good idea to him? “So Son, how is your career going?” “Yeah not bad Dad, out on the streets everyday.””ever thought of going on the dole?” “The what?” In the time that he has been on the street I have gained qualifications, got halfway through a degree and visited some beautiful countries. It’s just bizarre.
Another one I like is the beggar who never has enough for a return fare to his home. “I need to get a return to my house.” That sort of thing. And the first time you give it but the second or third time you don’t. And as I walk I think, what kind of an idiot gets the bus in the morning without thinking how to get home? Why has he even left if doesn’t have any money to spend in town? When I go out, I normally make sure I know how I’m getting home. Once maybe, but three times you haven’t learnt your lesson? You deserve to not to get home for being a dumb ass motherfucker. And that’s the truth. God, people piss me off. He hasn’t yet answered to that complaint. Anyway, that’s all from me, before I go though, can anyone lend me a bit of money to get home? Cheers.
Thursday, 3 September 2009
Radio Sketch - Smut Scrabble
Well hello there. At uni there are two things I currently write for - a stage sketch show and a radio sketch show. Here is a radio sketch I wrote earlier today and am in fact, rather proud of.
Commentator #1: Hello and welcome to Scrabble Live!
Commentator #2: Yes, you join us as we are about halfway through the grand final. Competition of course, has been fierce all week and the finalists are really at the top of their game.
Commentator #1: Up now is Rack from Sweden and we must say now that she is wearing some quite beautiful shoes.
Commentator #2: Yes, they really are a beautiful pair. Rack also has a wonderful...err...set of tiles in front of her, I’m unsure what she will play here though. She’s got them in her hand now and she’s tossing them about. Her opponents today really enjoying her wrist action.
Commentator #1: And there we have it! Orgasm! An Orgasm has come out from Rack. Very impressive, she looks satisfied with that. That’s 12 points with the M earning double.
Commentator #2: Onto Davis from Wales. Possibly the most gifted player but his tiles leave a lot to be desired. He won’t get a lot here. He’s wincing at the prospect...
Commentator #1: Oh and there we have it! Come! Come all over the board. He has been producing come throughout the tournament. Almost his get out of jail free card. His opponents don’t look to happy.
Commentator #2: Rack’s orgasm a thing of the past as Davis’s come adds some much needed excitement. Rack wipes her brow as a result. Quite magnificent from Davis. I have never seen come used in such a way. Earns himself 11 points there with double letter on the C.
Commentator #1: Ah now here’s the big man. Almost dumbstruck by the wham bam of orgasm and come from his competitors. This is Big Boris. Boris Yashvelli of course, hailing from Russia. Come has almost been placed in such a way by Davis that Big Boris’s letters are in a mess. What can he do here?
Commentator #2: Well he’s got a P and an N...oh there we go! He has whipped it out! Big Boris! Wow!
Commentator #1: Yes, there’s penis now on the board. Fantastic from Big Boris. He just went for it there. In his excitement a few tiles have been shaken from the board. A huge one for Boris. Rack is impressed. He has put the Penis in such a way that is passing through Rack’s balloons from earlier. Rack absolutely ravaged by that.
Commentator #2: Yes, almost came as a surprise to Rack who was sipping her coffee. Davis can’t believe it. His come was so good but Boris’s penis more than impressed. And it is large enough to move Boris into the lead. Can’t say I’m surprised. He really did just showcase his brilliance there. Just whipped it out.
Commentator #1: Wel that’s the thing about Boris. He could have shrivelled up under pressure but no. As hard as you like, he remains stiff competition.
Commentator #2: Well yes, quite literally. And so to our fourth player, we haven’t spoken much about him. I’m not sure if we can say this on live radio but known as the man with three balls, due to his unusual name. I can’t really pronounce it, umm, Uji Nik-a-blok-ov?
Commentator #1: Yes, Uji Nikabolokov. From Prague. His letter are no good at all. Oh no. Oh dear. He’s just let that one out.
Commentator #2: Yes, lowered the tone with that. Fart. It’s this sort of thing that really stinks. Loud and proud, Uji just stunk the place out with that one. A real shame. A horrible word as I am sure we all agree when he could have rearrange the letters and placed Raft.
Commentator #1: He could have placed his raft between, err let me see, between Davis’s buttocks from earlier.
Commentator #2: Brilliant play from Davis when he shoved buttocks onto the board. But this from Bolokov? Horrible play. To put it simply, his fart stinks. Haha!
Commentator #1: Please don’t lower the tone of the commentary with silly puns.
Pause.
Commentator #1: Oh, I hear there is news in the Tennis at Wimbledon! We’ll just go there now.
Commentator #3: Yes! The Scottish player Condom. Condom has broken...
Fade out.
Commentator #1: Hello and welcome to Scrabble Live!
Commentator #2: Yes, you join us as we are about halfway through the grand final. Competition of course, has been fierce all week and the finalists are really at the top of their game.
Commentator #1: Up now is Rack from Sweden and we must say now that she is wearing some quite beautiful shoes.
Commentator #2: Yes, they really are a beautiful pair. Rack also has a wonderful...err...set of tiles in front of her, I’m unsure what she will play here though. She’s got them in her hand now and she’s tossing them about. Her opponents today really enjoying her wrist action.
Commentator #1: And there we have it! Orgasm! An Orgasm has come out from Rack. Very impressive, she looks satisfied with that. That’s 12 points with the M earning double.
Commentator #2: Onto Davis from Wales. Possibly the most gifted player but his tiles leave a lot to be desired. He won’t get a lot here. He’s wincing at the prospect...
Commentator #1: Oh and there we have it! Come! Come all over the board. He has been producing come throughout the tournament. Almost his get out of jail free card. His opponents don’t look to happy.
Commentator #2: Rack’s orgasm a thing of the past as Davis’s come adds some much needed excitement. Rack wipes her brow as a result. Quite magnificent from Davis. I have never seen come used in such a way. Earns himself 11 points there with double letter on the C.
Commentator #1: Ah now here’s the big man. Almost dumbstruck by the wham bam of orgasm and come from his competitors. This is Big Boris. Boris Yashvelli of course, hailing from Russia. Come has almost been placed in such a way by Davis that Big Boris’s letters are in a mess. What can he do here?
Commentator #2: Well he’s got a P and an N...oh there we go! He has whipped it out! Big Boris! Wow!
Commentator #1: Yes, there’s penis now on the board. Fantastic from Big Boris. He just went for it there. In his excitement a few tiles have been shaken from the board. A huge one for Boris. Rack is impressed. He has put the Penis in such a way that is passing through Rack’s balloons from earlier. Rack absolutely ravaged by that.
Commentator #2: Yes, almost came as a surprise to Rack who was sipping her coffee. Davis can’t believe it. His come was so good but Boris’s penis more than impressed. And it is large enough to move Boris into the lead. Can’t say I’m surprised. He really did just showcase his brilliance there. Just whipped it out.
Commentator #1: Wel that’s the thing about Boris. He could have shrivelled up under pressure but no. As hard as you like, he remains stiff competition.
Commentator #2: Well yes, quite literally. And so to our fourth player, we haven’t spoken much about him. I’m not sure if we can say this on live radio but known as the man with three balls, due to his unusual name. I can’t really pronounce it, umm, Uji Nik-a-blok-ov?
Commentator #1: Yes, Uji Nikabolokov. From Prague. His letter are no good at all. Oh no. Oh dear. He’s just let that one out.
Commentator #2: Yes, lowered the tone with that. Fart. It’s this sort of thing that really stinks. Loud and proud, Uji just stunk the place out with that one. A real shame. A horrible word as I am sure we all agree when he could have rearrange the letters and placed Raft.
Commentator #1: He could have placed his raft between, err let me see, between Davis’s buttocks from earlier.
Commentator #2: Brilliant play from Davis when he shoved buttocks onto the board. But this from Bolokov? Horrible play. To put it simply, his fart stinks. Haha!
Commentator #1: Please don’t lower the tone of the commentary with silly puns.
Pause.
Commentator #1: Oh, I hear there is news in the Tennis at Wimbledon! We’ll just go there now.
Commentator #3: Yes! The Scottish player Condom. Condom has broken...
Fade out.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
Heckler
My brother has pointed out to me that if I said we like to play spot the twat when on stage, a heckler would probably say, "He's on stage."
So I have tried to work out a way of defecting that. My best idea so far is simply to say, "Hush please, I said we were playing spot the twat not wanker of the week." But that could come off as me saying I am a wanker...hmm.
Maybe, "Schizophrenia's a terrible thing." Is that a bit vague?
Maybe, "But you aren't on stage." Is that a decent deflection? Probably not. Or maybe...
"Very witty, very clever of you. So you know it's quite hard for someone to walk on stage and try to tell jokes to an audience they don't know and yet you try and make it even harder. What, did you punch your mum as you were being born? Yeah? Or do you step on the fireman's hose when they're putting out a fire? Hmm? 'Cos the way I see it, you're not currently standing up here with a microphone. You are just sitting in your own corner of misery, sipping from a pint of desperation wondering why the fuck you're so lonely and you have so far amounted to nothing in life. So am I really the twat here? Or is it you, the man who tried to be funny in an attempt to get respect and some friends to help ease his depression and in a return got a verbal backlash he wasn't really ready for. I'm the one with the microphone remember, think before you speak. The real sad thing is, you did. And look where that got you."
But... Maybe that's too harsh.
So I have tried to work out a way of defecting that. My best idea so far is simply to say, "Hush please, I said we were playing spot the twat not wanker of the week." But that could come off as me saying I am a wanker...hmm.
Maybe, "Schizophrenia's a terrible thing." Is that a bit vague?
Maybe, "But you aren't on stage." Is that a decent deflection? Probably not. Or maybe...
"Very witty, very clever of you. So you know it's quite hard for someone to walk on stage and try to tell jokes to an audience they don't know and yet you try and make it even harder. What, did you punch your mum as you were being born? Yeah? Or do you step on the fireman's hose when they're putting out a fire? Hmm? 'Cos the way I see it, you're not currently standing up here with a microphone. You are just sitting in your own corner of misery, sipping from a pint of desperation wondering why the fuck you're so lonely and you have so far amounted to nothing in life. So am I really the twat here? Or is it you, the man who tried to be funny in an attempt to get respect and some friends to help ease his depression and in a return got a verbal backlash he wasn't really ready for. I'm the one with the microphone remember, think before you speak. The real sad thing is, you did. And look where that got you."
But... Maybe that's too harsh.
Monday, 31 August 2009
A Whole Routine
Here's a short routine I came up with as I walked into town yesterday. I'm not sure I can remember it all, so we'll see...
I walk out.
"Hi, hello, hi there. Pleasure to be here, etc, etc. You know many people have it in their mind that it's very nerve-racking for somebody to walk out in front of a large crowd of people they don't know and do comedy by themselves. Umm, I wouldn't know obviously. Having not played to a large crowd as yet. And that doesn't apear to be a duck I'm going to break today.
Now one famous stand up, I won't name him, once tried to compare stand up comedy and the nervousness that goes with it to something people could relate to. He said that it was like 'being on death row and walking the green mile'. Now, I've never been on death row and I have never walked the green mile. However, I don't know, I just think that comparison may be a little bit off.
Obviously, I can't be a hundred percent sure. As far as I'm aware nobody on death row is known for their wacky sense of humour and their cool, calm way of dealing with pressure from an audience. Likewise, i don't know of any stand up comedian that has found themselves on death row. One can only hope that in the future, Jim Davidson, Roy 'Chubby' Brown and James Corden help us to find out if the comparison is actually a good one.
Now, comedy as you probably all know is subjective. You may not like what I like for example. As a result of this, hecklers are...well known shall we say.
At this point I'd wait for a heckle. If one doesn't happen then it's fine as the material should work either way. I'll write as if their is no heckle. you can work out what it would be like if there was. I'll put the extra bit if there was a heckle in italics.
I want to let you into a little secret actually. During my set, like this, every night, I enjoy playing little games with my audience. what I tend to play the most ladies and gentlemen, is a variation of Where's Wally, the popular kid's book. the variation I play is called Spot the Twat, and I can't be sure but I think the game is over a little earlier tonight than it is usually. unless someone else want's to heckle me?
Here, I am hoping someone would be stupid enough to do it. If not then, well I'd just ignore it and finish the set early. So here is what I would say if there was then a heckle...
Ah yes, there we go. A heckle as asked for by me. Now, many people often love to see how a comedian deals with their heckler. Tonight, is going to be a little different. I won't berate him/her I just want you to all think for a second. How many people, when knowing that the man on stage with the microphone has openly stated that he plays a game called spot the cunt with hecklers...How many people, ladies and gentlemen, would then shout out? This man/woman has done just that. He/She has basically shouted out to the room, "I am a twat! Rejoice! For I am the winner of this game! Spot no more! For it is I! The King/Queen of Twats!"
Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed this insight into the life of a comic. Sometimes of course, there are instances where you do just die on stage, which is I think what the comedian was getting at when they compared it to walking the green mile. Where you get no laughs and there's just an idiot standing on the stage with a microphone.
I'd stop speaking here for a bit. Then almost come to my sense as I realise I am that idiot.
I mean basically, where you just want the world or something huge, massive, vast to swallow you up whole...that's the second time tonight I've advertised James Corden in my set. This is bizarre. The mind boggles. Anyway, cheers..."
And that is that! Came up with it on the way into town. I personally quite like it, but I'd love to hear feedback from anyone who reads this as I may, just may...actually try it out. We'll have to see.
Thanks for reading.
I walk out.
"Hi, hello, hi there. Pleasure to be here, etc, etc. You know many people have it in their mind that it's very nerve-racking for somebody to walk out in front of a large crowd of people they don't know and do comedy by themselves. Umm, I wouldn't know obviously. Having not played to a large crowd as yet. And that doesn't apear to be a duck I'm going to break today.
Now one famous stand up, I won't name him, once tried to compare stand up comedy and the nervousness that goes with it to something people could relate to. He said that it was like 'being on death row and walking the green mile'. Now, I've never been on death row and I have never walked the green mile. However, I don't know, I just think that comparison may be a little bit off.
Obviously, I can't be a hundred percent sure. As far as I'm aware nobody on death row is known for their wacky sense of humour and their cool, calm way of dealing with pressure from an audience. Likewise, i don't know of any stand up comedian that has found themselves on death row. One can only hope that in the future, Jim Davidson, Roy 'Chubby' Brown and James Corden help us to find out if the comparison is actually a good one.
Now, comedy as you probably all know is subjective. You may not like what I like for example. As a result of this, hecklers are...well known shall we say.
At this point I'd wait for a heckle. If one doesn't happen then it's fine as the material should work either way. I'll write as if their is no heckle. you can work out what it would be like if there was. I'll put the extra bit if there was a heckle in italics.
I want to let you into a little secret actually. During my set, like this, every night, I enjoy playing little games with my audience. what I tend to play the most ladies and gentlemen, is a variation of Where's Wally, the popular kid's book. the variation I play is called Spot the Twat, and I can't be sure but I think the game is over a little earlier tonight than it is usually. unless someone else want's to heckle me?
Here, I am hoping someone would be stupid enough to do it. If not then, well I'd just ignore it and finish the set early. So here is what I would say if there was then a heckle...
Ah yes, there we go. A heckle as asked for by me. Now, many people often love to see how a comedian deals with their heckler. Tonight, is going to be a little different. I won't berate him/her I just want you to all think for a second. How many people, when knowing that the man on stage with the microphone has openly stated that he plays a game called spot the cunt with hecklers...How many people, ladies and gentlemen, would then shout out? This man/woman has done just that. He/She has basically shouted out to the room, "I am a twat! Rejoice! For I am the winner of this game! Spot no more! For it is I! The King/Queen of Twats!"
Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed this insight into the life of a comic. Sometimes of course, there are instances where you do just die on stage, which is I think what the comedian was getting at when they compared it to walking the green mile. Where you get no laughs and there's just an idiot standing on the stage with a microphone.
I'd stop speaking here for a bit. Then almost come to my sense as I realise I am that idiot.
I mean basically, where you just want the world or something huge, massive, vast to swallow you up whole...that's the second time tonight I've advertised James Corden in my set. This is bizarre. The mind boggles. Anyway, cheers..."
And that is that! Came up with it on the way into town. I personally quite like it, but I'd love to hear feedback from anyone who reads this as I may, just may...actually try it out. We'll have to see.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
A True Story For Once
Okay, I have just decided to write this up as it happened to me and a group of friends on Monday and frankly, it was hilarious at the time and I am sure it will be hilarious when I have written it up. It is also one of the only things I have chucked on here that actually happened to me.
My friends and I had all just left the Banksy exhibition in Bristol. A really good day out and highly recommended, if you are wondering. The queue wasn't too bad, either.
Now, we had dinner and then headed off to the car park. This is where the fun begins. the fee came to £6. We paid the ticket after a few of us didn't have enough coins to pay their share. Anyway, it was paid, we'd had a good day now let's head home.
One of my friends, let's call him friend 1, grabs the ticket. Note, this is not the driver of the car. The driver of the car wants the ticket. He doesn't really need it at that stage as we are nowhere near the car at that time. but he wants it. He tells this to friend 1. Friend 2 and I meanwhile, just watch the ensuing rubbish jokey argument between them.
This is where it gets ridiculous. The driver gives up on asking for the ticket so presses the button for the lift. Friend 1, bored of holding the ticket since the driver now doesn't care for it, decides to throw the card at his back. He throws the card in the classic way of throwing cards so it flies seamlessly through the air. At just this moment the lift doors open for us to step in. The ticket misses the driver's back and land right on the edge of the gap between floor and lift.
It then flips over and plummets down this gap. Never to be seen again.
We all stare at each other. this wasn't in the plan. So we get the thrower of the ticket, Friend 1, to go to the machine and ask for help. He says we have lost our ticket and we are all told to walk down to the ticket office on Floor A. So we trudge downstairs, in a state of shock at the events we have just witnessed. At the same time laughing at such a ridiculous turn of events.
We reach the ticket office. Myself and friend 2 stand back from the discussion between driver, friend 1 and the two ticket officers. We are then called over by friend 1. We have been given ulitmatum. the ticket man tells us that we can either pay the £18 fine as is normal, or sing jingle bells as a quartet to get out. It's a no brainer.
The four of us quickly run through the lyrics of jingle bells together as we await our impromptu first and most likely, last, performance as a quartet. Meanwhile, one ticket man is moving the CCTV cameras onto us and calling up to his mate on another floor to watch the screen. We are motioned by the other ticket man to sing the song. We sing.
The two ticket men, evil people that they are, record this display and have the cheek to laugh as we sing our hearts out for our escape. After the one verse that everybody knows, we are told that we are free to go and he'll let us out as we drive down. Embarrassed we return to the car, located on floor K.
As we approach the barrier, we blast out a Sufjan Stevens version of Jingle Bells from my iPod, much to the delight of one of the ticket men, who lets us out.
I'll sum this up in a sentence. My friends and I had to sing jingle bells to two ticket men at the ticket office, to get out of a car park in Bristol, in order to get home, after one of our number threw the ticket down the lift shaft.
What a day.
My friends and I had all just left the Banksy exhibition in Bristol. A really good day out and highly recommended, if you are wondering. The queue wasn't too bad, either.
Now, we had dinner and then headed off to the car park. This is where the fun begins. the fee came to £6. We paid the ticket after a few of us didn't have enough coins to pay their share. Anyway, it was paid, we'd had a good day now let's head home.
One of my friends, let's call him friend 1, grabs the ticket. Note, this is not the driver of the car. The driver of the car wants the ticket. He doesn't really need it at that stage as we are nowhere near the car at that time. but he wants it. He tells this to friend 1. Friend 2 and I meanwhile, just watch the ensuing rubbish jokey argument between them.
This is where it gets ridiculous. The driver gives up on asking for the ticket so presses the button for the lift. Friend 1, bored of holding the ticket since the driver now doesn't care for it, decides to throw the card at his back. He throws the card in the classic way of throwing cards so it flies seamlessly through the air. At just this moment the lift doors open for us to step in. The ticket misses the driver's back and land right on the edge of the gap between floor and lift.
It then flips over and plummets down this gap. Never to be seen again.
We all stare at each other. this wasn't in the plan. So we get the thrower of the ticket, Friend 1, to go to the machine and ask for help. He says we have lost our ticket and we are all told to walk down to the ticket office on Floor A. So we trudge downstairs, in a state of shock at the events we have just witnessed. At the same time laughing at such a ridiculous turn of events.
We reach the ticket office. Myself and friend 2 stand back from the discussion between driver, friend 1 and the two ticket officers. We are then called over by friend 1. We have been given ulitmatum. the ticket man tells us that we can either pay the £18 fine as is normal, or sing jingle bells as a quartet to get out. It's a no brainer.
The four of us quickly run through the lyrics of jingle bells together as we await our impromptu first and most likely, last, performance as a quartet. Meanwhile, one ticket man is moving the CCTV cameras onto us and calling up to his mate on another floor to watch the screen. We are motioned by the other ticket man to sing the song. We sing.
The two ticket men, evil people that they are, record this display and have the cheek to laugh as we sing our hearts out for our escape. After the one verse that everybody knows, we are told that we are free to go and he'll let us out as we drive down. Embarrassed we return to the car, located on floor K.
As we approach the barrier, we blast out a Sufjan Stevens version of Jingle Bells from my iPod, much to the delight of one of the ticket men, who lets us out.
I'll sum this up in a sentence. My friends and I had to sing jingle bells to two ticket men at the ticket office, to get out of a car park in Bristol, in order to get home, after one of our number threw the ticket down the lift shaft.
What a day.
Stairs
And so you reach the stairs. Every persons approach to the stairs is slightly different but we all kind of feel that they are a challenge which we must conquer. There’s the whole feeling that you are a mountaineer and they are Everest. No? Just me then. But either way, nobody just walks up stairs. Why walk when you can run? Why run, when you can go up using your hands, as many people did as children and a few adults still do now. Not all the time, not when at a party but occasionally, when alone. Foot, foot, hand, hand. And go! What a feeling! And it’s faster too isn’t it? Why do we walk or jog up so civilised when you can spider your way up. This is the future! Then your partner returns home and all is forgotten.
But it’s not really forgotten, you just scale it back somewhat. Okay, so you can’t walk up the stairs using the spider method but you can still make it exciting. Each stair is probably measured precisely, to make it easier for us to ascend to the next level. But no. We don’t like that. Many take stairs two at a time. Oh yes. Then three at a time if you are up to it. And the most ambitious are four stair people. Oh yeah. Scale up to the next floor in just four or five steps. Beat that girlfriend. And although you don’t say it, it’s obvious you are thinking it as the smile is so wide. Then you realise it’s an achievement to be kept to yourself and nobody will ever know what you have achieved. So you’ll make them realise. By doing a five step wonder.
The five step wonder. Many of you will have attempted it. Maybe not with an audience as it takes some doing. Five steps. In one go. Possibly up to the second floor in just three steps. Imagine that. It’s a legend of the stairs. Some who have attempted succeed. Others...their trousers don’t survive the attempt. Or worse, you fall when doing it. This is worse in public but you can often attempt to disguise it as though you slipped. But even then you feel like an idiot because what kind of moron slips on stairs? There are loads of them to hit! And you miss every single one? Oh the embarrassment.
If you do slip for real, chances are you stub your toe. Now coupling that with missing a step. Well, you have entered a whole new league of embarrassment for yourself. There is now quite as depressing as watching somebody wince having stubbed their toe. Misjudgement. Bam. Instant pain. The only thing that probably rivals a stubbed toe is a paper cut. But a stubbed toe on the stairs? Nothing rivals it. Not even eyelash in the eye. Because you still have to get down or scale the stairs. And you are in pain! So the three steps if you’re a three stepper become two steps. A two stepper – the most common stepper stair scaler (yes there’s a name for it) has to go down to one. And God, do you feel foolish for that.
Luckily, if you are in public, there are alternatives. The lift? Perhaps not, what with the ‘please only used if disabled’ sign. But it’s already been built. And it is there. And there is nobody with a wheelchair in sight. Hmm. You do have morals. As you way up the pro’s and con’s of using a lift, you see it. The escalator. Hooray! Stairs but no effort involved. You approach like you would the stairs, and then you’re gone. Up, up, up. Some idiots still insist on walking up or down these things when they move for you. I mean why would they? And then you think to yourself. Ooh hang on a second. Could I get down the up escalator if I run really fast? Or vice versa? This thought runs through your brain...then you realise as we all have, that you are an adult and should get a life. So you walk on.
Being careful to avoid any cracks in the pavements...
But it’s not really forgotten, you just scale it back somewhat. Okay, so you can’t walk up the stairs using the spider method but you can still make it exciting. Each stair is probably measured precisely, to make it easier for us to ascend to the next level. But no. We don’t like that. Many take stairs two at a time. Oh yes. Then three at a time if you are up to it. And the most ambitious are four stair people. Oh yeah. Scale up to the next floor in just four or five steps. Beat that girlfriend. And although you don’t say it, it’s obvious you are thinking it as the smile is so wide. Then you realise it’s an achievement to be kept to yourself and nobody will ever know what you have achieved. So you’ll make them realise. By doing a five step wonder.
The five step wonder. Many of you will have attempted it. Maybe not with an audience as it takes some doing. Five steps. In one go. Possibly up to the second floor in just three steps. Imagine that. It’s a legend of the stairs. Some who have attempted succeed. Others...their trousers don’t survive the attempt. Or worse, you fall when doing it. This is worse in public but you can often attempt to disguise it as though you slipped. But even then you feel like an idiot because what kind of moron slips on stairs? There are loads of them to hit! And you miss every single one? Oh the embarrassment.
If you do slip for real, chances are you stub your toe. Now coupling that with missing a step. Well, you have entered a whole new league of embarrassment for yourself. There is now quite as depressing as watching somebody wince having stubbed their toe. Misjudgement. Bam. Instant pain. The only thing that probably rivals a stubbed toe is a paper cut. But a stubbed toe on the stairs? Nothing rivals it. Not even eyelash in the eye. Because you still have to get down or scale the stairs. And you are in pain! So the three steps if you’re a three stepper become two steps. A two stepper – the most common stepper stair scaler (yes there’s a name for it) has to go down to one. And God, do you feel foolish for that.
Luckily, if you are in public, there are alternatives. The lift? Perhaps not, what with the ‘please only used if disabled’ sign. But it’s already been built. And it is there. And there is nobody with a wheelchair in sight. Hmm. You do have morals. As you way up the pro’s and con’s of using a lift, you see it. The escalator. Hooray! Stairs but no effort involved. You approach like you would the stairs, and then you’re gone. Up, up, up. Some idiots still insist on walking up or down these things when they move for you. I mean why would they? And then you think to yourself. Ooh hang on a second. Could I get down the up escalator if I run really fast? Or vice versa? This thought runs through your brain...then you realise as we all have, that you are an adult and should get a life. So you walk on.
Being careful to avoid any cracks in the pavements...
Monday, 17 August 2009
St John's Ambulance
I was at a gig the other day and a pretty much full can of Carling was chucked at me from behind. Blood everywhere. St John's Ambulance had seen nothing like it so I told them it was a drink made from malted barley which they'd be able to drink when they are old enough. I then gave them a lollipop each and went on my way.
Saturday, 8 August 2009
Rebound/Luck
Okay, this is a routine I have been working on recently in my head. I have probably forgotten parts as I came up with it about a week ago, even before the fillings one in fact. It may get pretty long...so bear with me. It's an intro piece by the way...hence the beginning.
'Hello, and yes, it really is me and yes, I really am this good looking. Of course, that last bit I don't really believe, only a wanker could think that highly of themselves. If you are sitting there now thinking, "But I'm good looking and I'm not a wanker..." Then think of this as a free newsflash for you.
Of course it's a shame that so many good looking people are pricks, because let's be honest, most of us have lost out to them when chasing after a person who we really rather like. It's a plus in the end though, as you always know that person will be back on the dating scene soon enough once she realises what everyone else already knows. Now, many people's response to you going after someone is that, 'They'll be on the rebound." They say this like it's a bad thing. I know the rules of football and even if you scored on the rebound, it does count.
Now I went for this approach, simply after a rebound result so to speak, yes I coined that, and before I could tell her how I felt she said to me, "You know what, any girl would be so lucky to have you as their boyfriend." At that point my heart wasn't beating, it was jumping about ona little trampoline doing somersaults. I was leaping over the bloody moon. I thought that this would be a dead cert. So, I told her how I felt and she let me down lightly..."It's just...I think we should remain friends."
Woah! Woah, woah, woah. Let's just backtrack a few minutes. "Any girl would be so lucky." You said that! 'ANY' GIRL. YOU CAN BE THAT GIRL! BE LUCKY! I'M LETTING YOU BE LUCKY!" She wasn't budging. So I stepped it up a bit. "There are 3 billion women on this planet, and out of all these girls, who could be so lucky, I have chosen you. So how does that make you feel?"
She took a step back at this point, and said, "Like I'm giving somebody else a chance." I thought fair enough, she is being kind to the legions of other women out there. But later that night I realised she wasn't talking about me as I realised she gave my mate Dave a chance. And he took it. So I re-evaluated as I watched them making out. Any girl...any of the girls out there."
Now at this point of the thought-process I have two possible punchlines. They are:
"So I took it upon myself and raped her mum."
AND
"So I became a paedophile...and let me be honest it was bit tight for a while but I'm easing into it."
But I don;t know if I want to be offensive. I can't think of any other way to end that joke. Except for maybe something simple like, "So I left them to it, downed my drink and went and punched a good looking bloke, which made me feel a heck of a lot better." But who knows...
'Hello, and yes, it really is me and yes, I really am this good looking. Of course, that last bit I don't really believe, only a wanker could think that highly of themselves. If you are sitting there now thinking, "But I'm good looking and I'm not a wanker..." Then think of this as a free newsflash for you.
Of course it's a shame that so many good looking people are pricks, because let's be honest, most of us have lost out to them when chasing after a person who we really rather like. It's a plus in the end though, as you always know that person will be back on the dating scene soon enough once she realises what everyone else already knows. Now, many people's response to you going after someone is that, 'They'll be on the rebound." They say this like it's a bad thing. I know the rules of football and even if you scored on the rebound, it does count.
Now I went for this approach, simply after a rebound result so to speak, yes I coined that, and before I could tell her how I felt she said to me, "You know what, any girl would be so lucky to have you as their boyfriend." At that point my heart wasn't beating, it was jumping about ona little trampoline doing somersaults. I was leaping over the bloody moon. I thought that this would be a dead cert. So, I told her how I felt and she let me down lightly..."It's just...I think we should remain friends."
Woah! Woah, woah, woah. Let's just backtrack a few minutes. "Any girl would be so lucky." You said that! 'ANY' GIRL. YOU CAN BE THAT GIRL! BE LUCKY! I'M LETTING YOU BE LUCKY!" She wasn't budging. So I stepped it up a bit. "There are 3 billion women on this planet, and out of all these girls, who could be so lucky, I have chosen you. So how does that make you feel?"
She took a step back at this point, and said, "Like I'm giving somebody else a chance." I thought fair enough, she is being kind to the legions of other women out there. But later that night I realised she wasn't talking about me as I realised she gave my mate Dave a chance. And he took it. So I re-evaluated as I watched them making out. Any girl...any of the girls out there."
Now at this point of the thought-process I have two possible punchlines. They are:
"So I took it upon myself and raped her mum."
AND
"So I became a paedophile...and let me be honest it was bit tight for a while but I'm easing into it."
But I don;t know if I want to be offensive. I can't think of any other way to end that joke. Except for maybe something simple like, "So I left them to it, downed my drink and went and punched a good looking bloke, which made me feel a heck of a lot better." But who knows...
Sunday, 2 August 2009
Fillings
I have some news. My filling has fallen out. Yes, it has. This is kind of annoying as the tooth in question now has a gaping hole I can feel with my tongue. That hole was definitely not there before the dentist got his hands on my mouth. Fillings seem like a good idea until they fail miserably and then you're left with this kind of problem which, frankly, the dentist has just added to by being trigger happy with the drill.
Why do they need to drill away part of the tooth to put the filling in? Before all this started, my teeth all felt normal. Okay, so one apparently needed a filling but it wasn't bothering me. I couldn't tell. But now, it's so bloody obvious to me because my not-too-bad tooth has been drilled away quite casually. It is now like a shell of a tooth than an actual tooth. And another visit to the dentist tomorrow. I guarantee the dentist drills a bit more as well, for no bloody reason. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.
Why do they need to drill away part of the tooth to put the filling in? Before all this started, my teeth all felt normal. Okay, so one apparently needed a filling but it wasn't bothering me. I couldn't tell. But now, it's so bloody obvious to me because my not-too-bad tooth has been drilled away quite casually. It is now like a shell of a tooth than an actual tooth. And another visit to the dentist tomorrow. I guarantee the dentist drills a bit more as well, for no bloody reason. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.
Wednesday, 29 July 2009
Pavement Walking
We've all done it. You leave the house, do a right and walk along the pavement and see someone coming the other way. And you know instantly what will happen. You are both walking in the centre of the pavement - avoiding branches on one side, the road on the other. Both very sensible positions, until you meet. From about ten metres apart you realise the problem - carry on like this and you'll surely bump into each other. So you both start swaying form one way to the other trying to second guess the other person. Whilst doing this you continue moving forward. Just to add to the thrill, I guess. Will we manage it before we hit each other? Sometiems, the answer is yes. Other times it is not and you couldn't feel more like a failure of a human being if you tried. Oh the shame! Oh! The shame!
Stay calm. You both stop. then sway on the spot. Smiling. Always smiling. You continue saying 'you're a twat' over and over again in your head. Unsure whther you are aiming it at them or yourself. Then one of you takes the courage to stop. The other watches this, still swaying. They stop and decide yes, I shall take the left. And for some indefinable reason, the person who was still swaying suddenly decides that no, they want the left too. So you both stop on the left. You look at each other again and sway to the right. Both of you. One person holds their ground, the other weakens and goes for the left again. Then you both walk on. Smiling and apologising as you pass. Both of you acknowledging you are a failure as a human being. Promising to never again indulge in such tomfoolery. Ultimately swearing never again to be such a tool. Such an absolute idiot. And then you wonder...did I lock the door when I left?
Stay calm. You both stop. then sway on the spot. Smiling. Always smiling. You continue saying 'you're a twat' over and over again in your head. Unsure whther you are aiming it at them or yourself. Then one of you takes the courage to stop. The other watches this, still swaying. They stop and decide yes, I shall take the left. And for some indefinable reason, the person who was still swaying suddenly decides that no, they want the left too. So you both stop on the left. You look at each other again and sway to the right. Both of you. One person holds their ground, the other weakens and goes for the left again. Then you both walk on. Smiling and apologising as you pass. Both of you acknowledging you are a failure as a human being. Promising to never again indulge in such tomfoolery. Ultimately swearing never again to be such a tool. Such an absolute idiot. And then you wonder...did I lock the door when I left?
Saturday, 25 July 2009
General Knowledge
I'm good with general knowledge. I am. It's mostly useless stuff but I seem to have a knack for remembering it. I say useless...a friend told me that it's really very useful for any pub quizzes I happen to do. Which is true. Who knows, maybe one day I'll go for broke and get onto 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire?' and end up winning a million pounds.
They'll ask me how I managed it at such a young age and I shall reply that it was destiny. Only minor problem is that if it is my destiny it makes for a much less interesting film than Slumdog Millionaire - the reveal of how i know every answer will just be me at various stages of my life, bored, alone and scrolling through Wikipedia. Naturally I'm very embarrassed about this geeky side to me so whenever anybody happens to ask what I do when I'm home alone and bored whilst surfing the internet, I tell them I'm wanking. Potential embarrassing situation - averted!
They'll ask me how I managed it at such a young age and I shall reply that it was destiny. Only minor problem is that if it is my destiny it makes for a much less interesting film than Slumdog Millionaire - the reveal of how i know every answer will just be me at various stages of my life, bored, alone and scrolling through Wikipedia. Naturally I'm very embarrassed about this geeky side to me so whenever anybody happens to ask what I do when I'm home alone and bored whilst surfing the internet, I tell them I'm wanking. Potential embarrassing situation - averted!
Washing Up
When my Mum does the washing up and people say do I not care, why am I not helping, etc. I'm not sure they see the full picture. I do care, just not enough to help out.
Thursday, 23 July 2009
Girlfriend and the Internet
So, some older people don't seem to understand that relationships can form through the internet, that for some reason it's difficult to forge a meaningful partnership with someone through the internet without meeting face to face. They also claim it's scary - what kind of odd and bizarre people do you get online? But with the advent of social networks and instant messengers I don't subscribe to this view. I mean I met my girlfriend through the internet. She doesn't yet know she's my girlfriend...
Thursday, 16 July 2009
Tickets and Tours
I don't know about you, but it really annoys me when yu visit a band or comedian's website and their tour dates proudly proclaim that they are 'Coming soon to a town near you!'. I have two problems with this. firstly, London isn't a town and secondly, it's nowhere near me.
On the odd occasion a tour does come nearby, you get shafted for tickets anyway. Who knows what a booking fee is really for? YOu never pay it if you buy from the venue in person, but for booking over the internet it seems you pay 2 quid for the computer to save the fact yu are going. Which you probably put in motion by booking it yourself.
now the booking fee has been around for a while, and sometimes it rounds off the price nicely - 13 up to 15, 18 up to 20, etc. But then you click to the next page and there is a handling charge. A what? Yes, a handling charge. You get charged for someone pressing print and handling the tickets into an envelope. 2 quid! For that! It's clearly their bloody job to do that. It's expected. What if there was a handling charge in a supermarket?
"Yeah, I served you today, that's 2 quid on top of what you should pay..."
On the odd occasion a tour does come nearby, you get shafted for tickets anyway. Who knows what a booking fee is really for? YOu never pay it if you buy from the venue in person, but for booking over the internet it seems you pay 2 quid for the computer to save the fact yu are going. Which you probably put in motion by booking it yourself.
now the booking fee has been around for a while, and sometimes it rounds off the price nicely - 13 up to 15, 18 up to 20, etc. But then you click to the next page and there is a handling charge. A what? Yes, a handling charge. You get charged for someone pressing print and handling the tickets into an envelope. 2 quid! For that! It's clearly their bloody job to do that. It's expected. What if there was a handling charge in a supermarket?
"Yeah, I served you today, that's 2 quid on top of what you should pay..."
Saturday, 11 July 2009
Still here
It seems Glastonbury and the recovery from said festival have stopped me from posting. But I have thought of ideas I could develop recently.
Notably:
King Kong Ping Pong - whacking a velociraptor around. The logistics, etc.
PETA and the Wolf - New version of the fairytale, with no ovious deaths to anything or anyone.
Mocking dull games like flight and rail simulators...obvious really.
And err...probably more but I forget to write them down.
Notably:
King Kong Ping Pong - whacking a velociraptor around. The logistics, etc.
PETA and the Wolf - New version of the fairytale, with no ovious deaths to anything or anyone.
Mocking dull games like flight and rail simulators...obvious really.
And err...probably more but I forget to write them down.
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
I have hurt my knee
And can barely walk. But why let that get in the way of a good joke?
Here's one I came up with the other day.
What do you call a racist entertainer?
A ku klux clown.
Oh yes. Off to casualty in a few minutes. Gotta keep the humour going!
Here's one I came up with the other day.
What do you call a racist entertainer?
A ku klux clown.
Oh yes. Off to casualty in a few minutes. Gotta keep the humour going!
Saturday, 20 June 2009
If only I was doing stand-up today...
My opening gag would be something like this:
'Hello, and to my. I it. Thing is, jokes, if you, stuff.
Oh sorry, I was doing my routine in the style of MP's expenses forms released the other day.'
Or something like that. I don't know really.
'Hello, and to my. I it. Thing is, jokes, if you, stuff.
Oh sorry, I was doing my routine in the style of MP's expenses forms released the other day.'
Or something like that. I don't know really.
Thursday, 18 June 2009
Film idea
So yeah.
Haven't written here for a bit as I was concentrating on passing my driving test which I passed. Excellent.
Anyway, after watching The Hangover, I have decided to try and come up with a hilarious film premise. So far, I have failed. But i'm sure I'll think one up soon enough.
In the mean time I shall leave you with this joke that I came up with way way back.
Q: What do you call and red head who invades the world?
A: Gingerskahn.
Radical.
Haven't written here for a bit as I was concentrating on passing my driving test which I passed. Excellent.
Anyway, after watching The Hangover, I have decided to try and come up with a hilarious film premise. So far, I have failed. But i'm sure I'll think one up soon enough.
In the mean time I shall leave you with this joke that I came up with way way back.
Q: What do you call and red head who invades the world?
A: Gingerskahn.
Radical.
Friday, 12 June 2009
A stand-up thought
I had a thought tonight. Yes, a real one. My thought surrounded the start of world war 3 and what I'd do if it ever happened. I'd like to say I put lots of thought into whether I'd sign up or not but I didn't. It took about 3 seconds for me to come to the conclusion of 'fuck that'.
I wouldn't of course, not be helping at all. I would just help the war effort in other, less dangerous ways. I'd offer to protect Bournemouth beach for instance. Deckchair, sunglasses and suncream included. During Winter and at night time, I'd probably hire someone to do it for me. I wuldn't not do anything during Winter either though, oh no!
During Winter, I'd pop over to Australia and protect the allies beaches. That's me, going that extra mile, or in this case, 10,650.6 extra miles on top of that original mile. All for free to the British taxpayer in exchange for a nice flight over.
The probem with modern warfare these days is that there just isn't a checkpoint, is there? You can't respawn if you make a mistake. You can't work out that you have been fighting for 4 or so hours and are therefore halfway through the war. I say that's a problem with mordern warfare but it's pretty much a problem with all warfare, ever invented.
Unless of course you own a time travelling DeLorean, in which case you can kind of work out exactly what will happen.
"Ah, this is Dunkirk, this is a hard level!"
Talking of Back to the Future, I have a problem with that film. Well, the second one anyway. I recently watched it and had to re-watch it to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me. But seriously, if you watch it really closely there is a massive mistake. Huge. They go to 2015 and not once did Marty McFly shake.
Seriously though, if Michael J Fox doesn't win the Oscar in 2015 for that performance, he'll have been robbed. Which incidentally, is a lot easier to do to him these days. Except in an Earthquake, that puts everyone on a level playing field. In fact, if there is an earthquake then it gives a chance for Michael J Fox to steal from others.
How would you know if he is scared of a horror film?
"He's shaking!"
"He does that anyway...Michael, I want a drink, here's some flavoured milk and ice cream. See what you can make with those ingredients."
Truth be told, not a lot. I thought milkshake and you no doubt thought the same. No. It went everywhere.
So yeah, I've given Michael J Fox a lot of flack here, somewhat harshly. But ah, he should be able to shake it off.
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So there you go. As i started writing this, I had only got up to the Bournemouth beach part. I have actually written a good minute or two of material there. That I'll doubtfully ever use. Whoops. But if people actually do find this funny then...who knows, one day.
I wouldn't of course, not be helping at all. I would just help the war effort in other, less dangerous ways. I'd offer to protect Bournemouth beach for instance. Deckchair, sunglasses and suncream included. During Winter and at night time, I'd probably hire someone to do it for me. I wuldn't not do anything during Winter either though, oh no!
During Winter, I'd pop over to Australia and protect the allies beaches. That's me, going that extra mile, or in this case, 10,650.6 extra miles on top of that original mile. All for free to the British taxpayer in exchange for a nice flight over.
The probem with modern warfare these days is that there just isn't a checkpoint, is there? You can't respawn if you make a mistake. You can't work out that you have been fighting for 4 or so hours and are therefore halfway through the war. I say that's a problem with mordern warfare but it's pretty much a problem with all warfare, ever invented.
Unless of course you own a time travelling DeLorean, in which case you can kind of work out exactly what will happen.
"Ah, this is Dunkirk, this is a hard level!"
Talking of Back to the Future, I have a problem with that film. Well, the second one anyway. I recently watched it and had to re-watch it to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me. But seriously, if you watch it really closely there is a massive mistake. Huge. They go to 2015 and not once did Marty McFly shake.
Seriously though, if Michael J Fox doesn't win the Oscar in 2015 for that performance, he'll have been robbed. Which incidentally, is a lot easier to do to him these days. Except in an Earthquake, that puts everyone on a level playing field. In fact, if there is an earthquake then it gives a chance for Michael J Fox to steal from others.
How would you know if he is scared of a horror film?
"He's shaking!"
"He does that anyway...Michael, I want a drink, here's some flavoured milk and ice cream. See what you can make with those ingredients."
Truth be told, not a lot. I thought milkshake and you no doubt thought the same. No. It went everywhere.
So yeah, I've given Michael J Fox a lot of flack here, somewhat harshly. But ah, he should be able to shake it off.
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So there you go. As i started writing this, I had only got up to the Bournemouth beach part. I have actually written a good minute or two of material there. That I'll doubtfully ever use. Whoops. But if people actually do find this funny then...who knows, one day.
Wednesday, 10 June 2009
Writing a film - here's a joke
I am currently writing a film script just because, well, because I can really.
But here is a joke that if i ever take to the stage I shall use as an opening gag. Perhaps.
"You know I've been thinking a lot about the world recently and you know what's great?...........Me."
Ah, arrogance. I suppose I'd follow this up with something on positive thinking. Maybe say it's be great if Gordon Brown thought positively but it must be hard to do with his surname. Brown. It's one up from beige, the most dull colour of them all. Then i'd talk about hwo brilliant it'd be if he was called Gordon Pink or Gordon Orange. then who knows, with a little more effort I could end up talking about the Reservoir Dogs being involved in British Politics.
I just came up with that as I was writing. I quite it like it. Hmm...
But here is a joke that if i ever take to the stage I shall use as an opening gag. Perhaps.
"You know I've been thinking a lot about the world recently and you know what's great?...........Me."
Ah, arrogance. I suppose I'd follow this up with something on positive thinking. Maybe say it's be great if Gordon Brown thought positively but it must be hard to do with his surname. Brown. It's one up from beige, the most dull colour of them all. Then i'd talk about hwo brilliant it'd be if he was called Gordon Pink or Gordon Orange. then who knows, with a little more effort I could end up talking about the Reservoir Dogs being involved in British Politics.
I just came up with that as I was writing. I quite it like it. Hmm...
Sunday, 7 June 2009
Joke - Opening Line
Here is an opening line I think might work in order to get the audience on your side instantly.
"Hello, I just want to start by saying that you are all very good looking people. You are probably sitting there thinking that i say this to every audience and , well, you would be right. But I want to go on to say that I actually think you are better looking than God. Some think this is a controversial thing for me to say but we all know that God made man in his own image and all I am going to say is evolution happens for a reason."
Not sure if my last line though should be:
"God made man in his own image and we all know what our ancestors looked like." (Optional "Horrendous" after a long pause.)
So that is that.
"Hello, I just want to start by saying that you are all very good looking people. You are probably sitting there thinking that i say this to every audience and , well, you would be right. But I want to go on to say that I actually think you are better looking than God. Some think this is a controversial thing for me to say but we all know that God made man in his own image and all I am going to say is evolution happens for a reason."
Not sure if my last line though should be:
"God made man in his own image and we all know what our ancestors looked like." (Optional "Horrendous" after a long pause.)
So that is that.
Saturday, 6 June 2009
Two Sketches
As said in the previous post below which I only posted a few minutes ago, so you won't have had time to read it...here are two sketches I wrote last night. enjoy! And if you don't enjoy them, well...tough.
St Peter
St Peter: Enjoy your stay in Heaven.
Man: Hi.
St Peter: Hello Welcome. Enjoy your-
Man: Pete isn’t it?
St Peter: Haha, SAINT PEE-TER, I think you’ll find. Enjoy your-
Man: No, yeah, Pete.
St Peter: SAINT PEE-TER.
Man: Yeah, whatever. And this is heaven yeah?
St Peter: It is indeed.
Man: Ever been inside?
St Peter: Heaven? No, no, no. I guard the gates here you see.
Man: Ah right. Very commendable.
St Peter: Thank you.
Man: So what’s it like inside?
St Peter: Well it’s Heaven isn’t it? So it’s paradise, from what I hear.
Man: So what, you never take breaks? Relieved by someone else?
St Peter: No I...full time. You know how it is.
Man: Yeah but surely you must get some breaks?
St Peter: Umm...no. Someone has to guard the gates.
Man: Yeah well you could get cover?
St Peter: Well I’m guarding the gates...
Man: Yeah but what do the others do?
St Peter: Others?
Man: Yeah, Jesus and the crew.
St Peter: Well Judas...
Man: No, I know about Judas but the others. Where are they?
St Peter: Well they-they...
Man: They’re in Heaven aren’t they? Living it up large in paradise whilst you guard the gates. These are supposed to be your friends.
St Peter: Well they are...
Man: Doesn’t sound like it.
St Peter: Well the gates need to be guarded.
Man: Why do they? Don’t you get sent straight to Hell if you’re going there and straight here if you're going to Heaven?
St Peter: I...I guess.
Man: And why guard the gates? There’s no fence, so anyway can go in.
St Peter: Well it’s tradition.
Man: It’s a disgrace is what it is. How long have you been guarding these gates for?
St Peter: Thousands of years...
Man: And how long are you guarding them for before you are allowed into Heaven??
St Peter: Well, for eternity.
Man: Ouch man. That’s a bad deal. Still, better luck next time, eh? Nice chatting. Have a good day.
Man walks through the gates leaving a very upset St Peter at the gates.
St Peter: Welcome, enjoy your stay in Heaven...
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The Not-so-Good Samaritan
A man lies dying on the floor.
A priest walks by.
Man: A priest! Help me!
The priest walks on.
A levite walks by.
Man: A levite thank God! Help me!
The levite walks on.
A Samaritan appears.
Man: Help me!
Samaritan: I shall indeed help you, my child.
He walks towards the dying man. His phone goes off. He answers it.
Samaritan: Hello, Samaritans? A man in trouble? I’ll be there!
The Samaritan turns to the dying man.
Samaritan: Sorry, I’ve got to go.
Samaritan walks off.
David Blaine appears.
David Blaine: Hi, I’m David Blaine. I’ll help you.
Man: Screw that.
Man dies.
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And so there we have it. Two sketches. Not sure if the David Blaine things works or not. Who knows.
Edit: My brother wants some credit for the latter sketch. So I gave him 25 man points. Ho ho ho, etc.
St Peter
St Peter: Enjoy your stay in Heaven.
Man: Hi.
St Peter: Hello Welcome. Enjoy your-
Man: Pete isn’t it?
St Peter: Haha, SAINT PEE-TER, I think you’ll find. Enjoy your-
Man: No, yeah, Pete.
St Peter: SAINT PEE-TER.
Man: Yeah, whatever. And this is heaven yeah?
St Peter: It is indeed.
Man: Ever been inside?
St Peter: Heaven? No, no, no. I guard the gates here you see.
Man: Ah right. Very commendable.
St Peter: Thank you.
Man: So what’s it like inside?
St Peter: Well it’s Heaven isn’t it? So it’s paradise, from what I hear.
Man: So what, you never take breaks? Relieved by someone else?
St Peter: No I...full time. You know how it is.
Man: Yeah but surely you must get some breaks?
St Peter: Umm...no. Someone has to guard the gates.
Man: Yeah well you could get cover?
St Peter: Well I’m guarding the gates...
Man: Yeah but what do the others do?
St Peter: Others?
Man: Yeah, Jesus and the crew.
St Peter: Well Judas...
Man: No, I know about Judas but the others. Where are they?
St Peter: Well they-they...
Man: They’re in Heaven aren’t they? Living it up large in paradise whilst you guard the gates. These are supposed to be your friends.
St Peter: Well they are...
Man: Doesn’t sound like it.
St Peter: Well the gates need to be guarded.
Man: Why do they? Don’t you get sent straight to Hell if you’re going there and straight here if you're going to Heaven?
St Peter: I...I guess.
Man: And why guard the gates? There’s no fence, so anyway can go in.
St Peter: Well it’s tradition.
Man: It’s a disgrace is what it is. How long have you been guarding these gates for?
St Peter: Thousands of years...
Man: And how long are you guarding them for before you are allowed into Heaven??
St Peter: Well, for eternity.
Man: Ouch man. That’s a bad deal. Still, better luck next time, eh? Nice chatting. Have a good day.
Man walks through the gates leaving a very upset St Peter at the gates.
St Peter: Welcome, enjoy your stay in Heaven...
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The Not-so-Good Samaritan
A man lies dying on the floor.
A priest walks by.
Man: A priest! Help me!
The priest walks on.
A levite walks by.
Man: A levite thank God! Help me!
The levite walks on.
A Samaritan appears.
Man: Help me!
Samaritan: I shall indeed help you, my child.
He walks towards the dying man. His phone goes off. He answers it.
Samaritan: Hello, Samaritans? A man in trouble? I’ll be there!
The Samaritan turns to the dying man.
Samaritan: Sorry, I’ve got to go.
Samaritan walks off.
David Blaine appears.
David Blaine: Hi, I’m David Blaine. I’ll help you.
Man: Screw that.
Man dies.
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And so there we have it. Two sketches. Not sure if the David Blaine things works or not. Who knows.
Edit: My brother wants some credit for the latter sketch. So I gave him 25 man points. Ho ho ho, etc.
Random Joke - War
Hello everyone. I have noticed my clock is wrong when I post suff. I should edit that but I kind of like the idea that people think I am sitting there at my desk all night long straining to come up with a joke until at 5am I suddenly find some inspiration. Or alternatively I wake up at 5am and think to myself, "I have it! This is it! Must post!" and run to the computer and immediately type it up.
Anyway I have come up with a joke about war, what with it being D-Day celebrations and all. Typical comedy subject of course. War. I say that I have come up with it. That implies I came up with it today. I haven't. It's very old. I have just never written it down.
Anyway it involves the trench wars. You know, like world war one. And I have never really understood world war 1 and the like. It's like I can har you now wanting to scream at me, "What?! You can; understand men wanting to tear each other apart, fight to the ground and ultimately be responsible for their last gasping breath?!" Not at all. I understand that bit clearly. It's the whole trench bit i don't get.
Because...someone has had to dig that trench. Literally, I imagine, hundres of men have dug out that trench. But at what point did the officer say stop to his troops and demand they dig? Isn't the aim of war to push on and defend as much of your land as possible?
"Non. 'Ere will do. Dig." (He's french...speaking english)
But then what if both sides met each other before trenches had been dug? Would they just fight? Or give each other 3 days to dig as much as they could and then the fighting begins? The mind boggles. Hell, what if one side had not brought shovels?
"You didn't bring a shovel to war?!"
"Well, no...I mean once I'd packed the football..."
"Why the hell did you bring a football?"
"Thought we could have a bit of a kickabout..."
Anyway that is that for now. Rough stages as all these jokes are...I wrote two sketches yesterday. I'll upload them too in a few minutes.
Anyway I have come up with a joke about war, what with it being D-Day celebrations and all. Typical comedy subject of course. War. I say that I have come up with it. That implies I came up with it today. I haven't. It's very old. I have just never written it down.
Anyway it involves the trench wars. You know, like world war one. And I have never really understood world war 1 and the like. It's like I can har you now wanting to scream at me, "What?! You can; understand men wanting to tear each other apart, fight to the ground and ultimately be responsible for their last gasping breath?!" Not at all. I understand that bit clearly. It's the whole trench bit i don't get.
Because...someone has had to dig that trench. Literally, I imagine, hundres of men have dug out that trench. But at what point did the officer say stop to his troops and demand they dig? Isn't the aim of war to push on and defend as much of your land as possible?
"Non. 'Ere will do. Dig." (He's french...speaking english)
But then what if both sides met each other before trenches had been dug? Would they just fight? Or give each other 3 days to dig as much as they could and then the fighting begins? The mind boggles. Hell, what if one side had not brought shovels?
"You didn't bring a shovel to war?!"
"Well, no...I mean once I'd packed the football..."
"Why the hell did you bring a football?"
"Thought we could have a bit of a kickabout..."
Anyway that is that for now. Rough stages as all these jokes are...I wrote two sketches yesterday. I'll upload them too in a few minutes.
Friday, 5 June 2009
New Joke - Opera
Okay, this is a joke I came up with earlier when basically talking to myself. It isn't good but is meant as some kind of opening joke for standup (if I could ever get the nerve to do it.)
'Hello, hello hello, HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (opera style singing) - yes I sometimes break into opera when on stage. Actually, I also once broke into an opera when I was younger and a bit of a jack the lad type. My friend and I, we broke into the Bournemouth Opera House, which is a beautiful building if you have never been. Anyway we found the safe, cracked it and were escaping with armfuls of cash. As we were making our getaway though, the police entered and my friend had foolishly brought a BB gun with him. Now, the officers saw this and understandably took it to be a real gun and they fired a shot at us. Now they missed thankfully but we were so taken aback we thrust the money into the air, and a cloud of cash enveloped us. The officers, thinking this was still a high security breach fired for us once more, and luckily only managed to hit the high notes.'
For some reason I like it. A beautiful crappy joke to start a set.
'Hello, hello hello, HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (opera style singing) - yes I sometimes break into opera when on stage. Actually, I also once broke into an opera when I was younger and a bit of a jack the lad type. My friend and I, we broke into the Bournemouth Opera House, which is a beautiful building if you have never been. Anyway we found the safe, cracked it and were escaping with armfuls of cash. As we were making our getaway though, the police entered and my friend had foolishly brought a BB gun with him. Now, the officers saw this and understandably took it to be a real gun and they fired a shot at us. Now they missed thankfully but we were so taken aback we thrust the money into the air, and a cloud of cash enveloped us. The officers, thinking this was still a high security breach fired for us once more, and luckily only managed to hit the high notes.'
For some reason I like it. A beautiful crappy joke to start a set.
Thursday, 4 June 2009
Topical Joke - AF 447
Here is a topical joke I came up with yesterday. It is perhaps n bad taste and as a result controversial, but for some reason I really do like it.
"So you may have heard this week about flight AF 447. The Air France flight of course tragically crashing into the Atlantic during a flight from Brazil to France. A sad case for all involved I think you'll agree. However, I'd like to point out that good things can come out of situations like this, for example the case of Raoul Domingues, a young lad from Brazil who was scheduled to be on that flight. I say scheduled to be on that flight, I of course mean in the luggage depot. However Air France ultimately lost the luggage that he was illegally contained within and he ended up in Gatwick airport. So...every cloud..."
As you can see, it's on dodgy ground but for some reason I rather like it...
"So you may have heard this week about flight AF 447. The Air France flight of course tragically crashing into the Atlantic during a flight from Brazil to France. A sad case for all involved I think you'll agree. However, I'd like to point out that good things can come out of situations like this, for example the case of Raoul Domingues, a young lad from Brazil who was scheduled to be on that flight. I say scheduled to be on that flight, I of course mean in the luggage depot. However Air France ultimately lost the luggage that he was illegally contained within and he ended up in Gatwick airport. So...every cloud..."
As you can see, it's on dodgy ground but for some reason I rather like it...
Wednesday, 3 June 2009
The Nap Is Back
Recently I have been at wrok writing for a campaign entitled, The Nap Is Back. The presentation went extremely well today, with the Channel 4 Head of Talent in the audience finding no negatives to the campaign. She stated it was perfect for E4, witty, fast-paced, brilliant dialogue, very funny and surreal and an excellent presentation.
As you can imagine, we were very proud of this. I wrote and starred in the presentation and wrote the campaign videos seen below. Hope you enjoy them!
18 second trailer for 80's video.
1.20 min 1950's video.
3.05 min 1980's video.
So there you go. That's science!
As you can imagine, we were very proud of this. I wrote and starred in the presentation and wrote the campaign videos seen below. Hope you enjoy them!
18 second trailer for 80's video.
1.20 min 1950's video.
3.05 min 1980's video.
So there you go. That's science!
Monday, 1 June 2009
Sketch - Crabbing a Car
So every now and again, I write bits for a sitcom idea I have had for a while involving Gary and Steve. They form the basis of a sitcom called Alright, of which I have written two episodes. It's a surreal comedy I guess. Anyway here is a snippet from the third episode of just one of their conversations...
Gary: Alright
Steve: Not bad. You?
Gary: Yer, just got back from crabbing a guy’s car. Y’know the guy down the road who was pissing me off?
Steve: Crabbing his car?
Gary: Yer just putting crab all over his car basically.
Steve: What does that achieve?
Gary: Well just imagine you found crab paste spread all over your windscreen and roof.
Steve: That’s a pretty expensive way to get your own back.
Gary: It’s about a five pound fifty prank.
Steve: Cool, well fair enough. I was just going to go out. Want to come?
Gary: Where?
Steve: Just out. Town, maybe.
Gary: Yeah okay.
Gary: Alright
Steve: Not bad. You?
Gary: Yer, just got back from crabbing a guy’s car. Y’know the guy down the road who was pissing me off?
Steve: Crabbing his car?
Gary: Yer just putting crab all over his car basically.
Steve: What does that achieve?
Gary: Well just imagine you found crab paste spread all over your windscreen and roof.
Steve: That’s a pretty expensive way to get your own back.
Gary: It’s about a five pound fifty prank.
Steve: Cool, well fair enough. I was just going to go out. Want to come?
Gary: Where?
Steve: Just out. Town, maybe.
Gary: Yeah okay.
Thursday, 28 May 2009
Dexter and Serial Killer Porn
A random routine for you here:
I’ve recently been getting into a new show. It’s called Dexter. I don’t know if you’ve seen it. It’s about a blood spatter analyst for the Miami Metro police department and by night he kills people who deserve it, frankly. It’s American, so unfortunately only Americans seem to feel his blade. That sounds like a sexual innuendo, it’s not meant to. It’s not porn. Well, it’s not porn for anyone but aspiring serial killers just watching at home...sitting there...naked with their knives...I digress. The point of this was meant to be about who he’d kill if it was a British version – chavs, MP’s, Joe Pasquale. But now I have created an image so god-awful in all your minds I feel I’m gonna have to add myself to that list. Ooh Dexter...imagine an book of serial killer porn? Some would say that's a pretty niche market to write about. And an audiobook too! In the voice of Stephen Fry or Andrew Sachs. ‘Ooh Dexter’ He said, whilst caressing the knife in his hand...
I literally just wrote that as I went. I think it shows.
I’ve recently been getting into a new show. It’s called Dexter. I don’t know if you’ve seen it. It’s about a blood spatter analyst for the Miami Metro police department and by night he kills people who deserve it, frankly. It’s American, so unfortunately only Americans seem to feel his blade. That sounds like a sexual innuendo, it’s not meant to. It’s not porn. Well, it’s not porn for anyone but aspiring serial killers just watching at home...sitting there...naked with their knives...I digress. The point of this was meant to be about who he’d kill if it was a British version – chavs, MP’s, Joe Pasquale. But now I have created an image so god-awful in all your minds I feel I’m gonna have to add myself to that list. Ooh Dexter...imagine an book of serial killer porn? Some would say that's a pretty niche market to write about. And an audiobook too! In the voice of Stephen Fry or Andrew Sachs. ‘Ooh Dexter’ He said, whilst caressing the knife in his hand...
I literally just wrote that as I went. I think it shows.
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Hospitalized
A while back I wrote a film outline for the brilliant Patrick Swayze. It was written for no other reason than my own entertainment. I am currently writing the third. For now though, for you if anyone is reading this...I give you Hospitalized, the first of a trilogy of awesome action films starring Swayze and the action man fan favourite, Hugh Grant.
Hospitalized
Hugh Grant plays Timothy Bottomley, an upper class English toff. So that’s Hugh Grant basically playing himself.
Hospitalized
Hugh Grant plays Timothy Bottomley, an upper class English toff. So that’s Hugh Grant basically playing himself.
He tries to chat up the pretty blonde receptionist at the hospital. Damn he likes her. He is just about to get in the lift when ahhhh crap! In a scene that could be described as the most shocking ever seen, the Russians start bombing the hospital. Machine gunning the windows and generally blowing shit up.
Hugh Grant sees that the receptionist is essentially, fucked. So he runs out grabs her, mumbles ‘come with me’ and leads her to the lift. He presses for the top floor and up they go. They hold a discussion as they go up. It’s not important to be honest and has nothing to do with the plot except to suggest they may get together at the end. They won’t. Do not be fooled. They’ll confess their love for each other about 75 minutes in and then she will die.
They get to the top of the hospital building.. Up here! She says. They go up the stairs and find themselves on the roof of the hospital building. They look down and see that loads of army men are surrounding the building. A megaphone from the Russians states that any patients must be killed or give themselves up now. Evil laugh since he knows many are bed ridden. Hugh looks a bit queasy. They are unsure what to do next when a shout comes from behind them. ‘Psst’. They turn around. Patrick Swayze is standing there and tells them he owns the hospital. The receptionist confirms this by saying ‘Mr Ballamatron’. Zoom out on hospital. ‘Ballamatron Hospital’ is written on the building.
The threesome talk about a strategy. Swayze talks about the many secret passages he has put in the hospital knowing that one day the Russians would come for him. ‘Why?’ ‘We haven’t got time’ says Swayze. And flashes a toothy grin. He leads them to an emergency staircase and they run down it into a ward. Swayze lifts a carpet and reveals a trapdoor. They all go down into the room. The room is full of weapons and Grant demands answers. He bumbles a bit because this is Hugh Grant we are talking about. The woman talks for the firs time in a while. ‘It’s alright’ she says ‘ He’s from Memphis’. This answer is acceptable. It gets a laugh from everyone in the room. Swayze says they must act fast but states that this secret room is completely fool proof and that nobody will get in. However it comes at a cost; the longer they stay in the room, the more people will die and eventually, the Russians will get what they came for. Hugh Grant states they must act fast then. Swayze agrees. So does the woman. They arm themselves and prepare to fight. They each agree that they will work together to take the top floor and slowly work their way back down.
They exit the secret room via a tunnel, this tunnel comes out at a fake vending machine. Swayze states he must eat some. ‘Why?’ Says Grant. ‘Because death gives me a sweet tooth’ replies Swayze. He smiles. All is good. Just as Swayze is putting cash in the vending machine a guard rounds the corner. Grant pushes Swayze to the floor and pulls the woman behind the vending machine. He quickly fires his submachine gun and takes down the guard. ‘I owe you one’ says Swayze. ‘Don’t worry about it’ says Grant. ‘No I will, we’re even now though’ says Swayze as he places one M&M into his hand. ‘I think you owe me one too’ says the secretary provocatively with the glint in her eye that screams out ‘slut’. Hugh misses the point so hands her the M&M and rushes off telling Swayze and the girl he has an idea.
He comes back moments later with doctor’s uniforms. They put them on then proceed around the floor killing 3 more guards. Fortunately, one of the Russians was a female so they swap the doctor costumes for the Russian ones. They head back to the room for more ammo. They come back and find 4 more guards on the top floor. They take them out. They head downstairs and meet two more guards. Bang fucking bang! Two more down. Another has heard the commotion though and grabs the girl. She beats the shit out of him and they advance. ‘Where did you learn to kick like that?’ asks Grant. ‘I’ve had lots of boyfriends’ she says. Brilliant. If you were unsure before, you now definitely know she is a slut.
‘Come in Yuri’ goes the radio. Swayze picks up the radio and speaks perfect Russian back. Grant and lady are confused. How does he know Russian? ‘Cold War’ states Swayze when he sees their glances. They aren’t convinced. He leads them to another tunnel in a surgeons ward (in the cupboards.) Yet more weapons await them. They arm themselves again. Grant does the ammo for each person’s weapon. The lights flicker for no real reason – the secretary links this to the Russians accessing the computer systems. This is a problem. The computer system, if hacked correctly (and trust me, it will be), can bring up where the secret locations are. Can the secretary stop them? Obviously she can. Lucky they have her. Apparently, the computers are kept in Swayze’s office on the floor below. As Swayze guides them to his office, he also takes more radios from the secret base. He pretends he is many different Russian’s across the top 3 floors. Brilliant.
They take out a few more guards including a fight where Grant flies through the air and uses two pistols to shoot two different people dead. One unfortunately was a civilian casualty. Grant is upset but keeps his bottom lip quiver to a minimum. The lights flicker again. ‘They may have got through’ says the secretary. They rush to the office. Nobody is there. The lady taps away and states that she has successfully deleted the data. ‘Yes!’ they all cry. By now, Grant is low on bullets and asks to visit that floor’s hidden room. There are two apparently. They agree that going to just one is a good idea. On the way they try a payphone. ‘Out’ says the secretary. None have a mobile on them because it’s a hospital. Clever, eh?
Swayze then states that one hidden room is ‘in there’ but runs past it. The other two stop. Grant asks why they don’t go in it. ‘It hasn’t been stocked recently’ states Swayze. They run on to the next room. Another surgery room. They open the cupboards and three Russians jump out. Grant deals with them then accuses Swayze of leading them to that room to get killed. He set them up! Swayze protests his innocence but Grant doesn’t listen They have a fistfight and it ends with Grant using the heart attack pads on Swayze’s chest knocking him out. This is a clever reverse reference to Bean: The Ultimate Disaster Movie. ‘C’mon’ says Grant and they enter the secret hideout.
Inside they realise they haven’t got much time but this does not stop them sharing a very passionate kiss before reloading. ‘I can’t wait to see your gun’ says the Secretary. Slut. ‘Which one?’ says Hugh. He shows her the 3 guns on him. ‘The one in your trousers’ she states. ‘Oh the pistol.’ He withdraws this too. ‘Anyway c’mon!’ They rush off out of another tunnel. They come across some other Russians discussing some stuff. They run down some stairs but stop before hitting the floor. They are now on floor 5. This is not relevant really. They hear that the Russians are trying to get through to Yuri and his cronies. No response because Swayze is down! Ah! Madness! They curse their stupidity. What are the Russians after though? Well Hugh asks that to the secretary right after they take down the second in command on the fifth floor and annihilate the others around him. The whole idea that there is 4 guards a floor is preposterous but this is a film. Anyway, the woman says that she saved all the folders onto a memory stick before deleting crap for Swayze. They run to a computer, which happens to be in the next room and find out. Swayze has hoarded most of the Russian armies weapons since the cold war. And now they want them back. This explains the weapons rooms and also explains the random nukes that you would have seen in the weapons room. Grant probably references it within he first half hour but you forget because of the action and Swayze’s kick ass attitude.
The two decide they must get out and continue fighting to the different floors. They get to ground level and almost get to reception but they are faced with a huge array of Russian army men. He congratulates them on doing so well against his men. And then personally thanks the secretary for bringing Hugh Grant to him. ‘What?’ says Hugh Grant. Yep, the bitch was a Russian spy all along and had been working against Swayze for the past 6 months. After this display of shell shock on Hugh’s face, the Russian leader states they must bring it to an end. As now ‘I must kill you’. ‘This is a hello from Russia’ says the General as the woman goes and stands with him. Pause. He lifts the gun. ‘AND THIS IS A GOODBYE FROM MEMPHIS!’ scream Swayze. He bursts in, shouts to Hugh to jump and a rocket is fired. Kaboom! It blows up and kills most of the Russians. But the bitch is still alive. She aims at Swayze. A shot is fired and she falls down dead. ‘Like the feel of my gun, bitch?’ says Hugh Grant. The two relax. All is good with the world.
The End.
Monday, 25 May 2009
A short routine
Okay, I have never tried stand up in my life. However I often write things that I would use were I to have the nerve to try out stand up. Without further ado, this is the first and also, extremely short routine I will share. It is written exactly how I'd say it, minus pausing. I haven't edited it or anything, so this is a first draft. Excitement. I call it McVodka. You can call it something else, it's not like it'll ever be seen on a DVD.
McVodka
I was out the other day, when I walked past a McDonald's and a thought struck me. This is a restaurant. It bills as such on the outside, but wouldn't be great if it was licensed? A licensed McDonald's where you can just go to after a hard morning and ask for a slightly heavier drink to go with your Big Mac.
"Yeah, hi there Dane, i'd lik the err...Big Mac meal please."
There's always an 'err...' before you order, has anyone else noticed that? Like you are reconsidering buying this food. Like you know it will fill you up for five minutes but after that five minutes is over you will regret spending money and your stomach won't even know you have been eating. Anyway...
"Sure thing, what drink would you like with that?"
"Err..."
There it is again. "Err..." You know exactly what drink, you know exactly what food. It's like there's still time to reconsider but no, you leap right in and order the same drink as every other time you order from a fast food chain. But wait. What's this? A licensed McDonald's?
"Err...you know what today I think I'll have the err... McVodka."
And that'd be it. Maybe the McVodka with orange rather than drinking it straight. Wouldn't it be great? But the best thing here is cost.
"Sure thing sir, would you like that supersized for 30p more?"
"You know what Dane? I think I will!"
McVodka
I was out the other day, when I walked past a McDonald's and a thought struck me. This is a restaurant. It bills as such on the outside, but wouldn't be great if it was licensed? A licensed McDonald's where you can just go to after a hard morning and ask for a slightly heavier drink to go with your Big Mac.
"Yeah, hi there Dane, i'd lik the err...Big Mac meal please."
There's always an 'err...' before you order, has anyone else noticed that? Like you are reconsidering buying this food. Like you know it will fill you up for five minutes but after that five minutes is over you will regret spending money and your stomach won't even know you have been eating. Anyway...
"Sure thing, what drink would you like with that?"
"Err..."
There it is again. "Err..." You know exactly what drink, you know exactly what food. It's like there's still time to reconsider but no, you leap right in and order the same drink as every other time you order from a fast food chain. But wait. What's this? A licensed McDonald's?
"Err...you know what today I think I'll have the err... McVodka."
And that'd be it. Maybe the McVodka with orange rather than drinking it straight. Wouldn't it be great? But the best thing here is cost.
"Sure thing sir, would you like that supersized for 30p more?"
"You know what Dane? I think I will!"
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