Queuing in the rain, fighting other parents, paying way over the odds just so you can see the rosy glow of your kids faces on Christmas day?
That glow just got that bit easier thanks to Mr Squiggle’s antimony.
Queuing in the rain, fighting other parents, paying way over the odds just so you can see the rosy glow of your kids faces on Christmas day?
That glow just got that bit easier thanks to Mr Squiggle’s antimony.
There is a campaign on Facebook to try and get “Killing In The Name” by Rage Against The Machine to number one instead of whichever song Cowell tries to butcher.
Obviously these sorts of things get a bit of press but ultimately fail. It’s a shame as in my youth I enjoyed the delicious irony of standing in a field with thousands of other people shouting “Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me” as much as the next man. Or the next thousand men for that matter.
There is only one way the scheme could possibly win. Somebody bundle Jedward into a studio and get them to record it. I’d pay good money to hear the little haircunts growling “Motherfucker!”
It wouldn’t be Christmas without the pointless Christmas number one. As if the fact that nobody buys singles any more wasn’t enough to devalue the chart along comes the gigantic talent vacuum called the X Factor to make sure only the blandest, most insipid, wanky old horse-piss gets to number one.
Celebrity perfumes, who wants to smell like a celebrity?
If I wanted the whiff of make-up, crushed dreams and drugs I’d have gone to live with a troupe of Glaswegian clowns.
Nothing says I love the tacky side of Christmas quite like this
I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest the tax payer pays the electricity bills of 90% of “blackpool houses.” I’m sure there are countries that survive on less electricity than some of these houses.
Come on Steve! This time you can make it.
So much bile, so little high ground to stand on to stop it slopping round his ankles.
From The Times of India
Russian professor Evgeny Moskalev of Saint Petersburg Technological University has evolved a technique that allows turning alcohol into powder and packing it in pills. The new technique can solidify any kind of alcohol, including whisky, cognac, wine and beer.
“Dry” vodka can be wrapped in paper and carried around in a pocket or a bag. Vodka in form of a pill would come handy at parties when “consumers” would be able to calculate their exact required dosage.
Firstly is a shot of vodka really that cumbersome that it needs to be made smaller?
Secondly, exact dosage for what? One tablet for squiffy, two for slurring, three to start staggering, four to start loving strangers, five for temporary blindness. Why bother with the social aspect of drinking when you can just pop a few pills and get to the dribbling stage without all that “having fun” first.
Thirdly, does anyone else think that Evgeny might just be an alcoholic who is trying to find a way to get booze past Mrs. Moskalev?
The song of this hairy angel beckons in Christmas time.
That’s right, it’s Noddy Holder fucking the ears of Christmas shoppers once again.
This year I bring terrible news. The credit crunch resulted in the closure of the newsagent I got my crappy advent from last year. I searched high and low to find another shite advent emporium but I couldn’t find one anywhere. Chocolate filled ones were no problem again but this really does seem to be the death of the cheap picture advents. Even the religious bookshop in town that hasn’t seen a new stock delivery since 1974 didn’t have any.
Rather than spend the next 24 days describing poor but identical pieces of chocolate I set myself the rather rash challenge of coming up with a crappy advent picture every day instead.
Rash because I don’t have a lot of spare time, rash because I’m lazy and rash because I’m bound to dry up before day 10 let alone day 24. If you want to help the creative juices just let me know what you think of when you think of Christmas and the build up. I’ll then knock together a hasty photoshop* approximation.
*it’s actually Paint Shop Pro, I’m not made of money or pirates.