Author: mrfatuous

Categories
Inane Banter

Dear Peugeot

Dear Peugeot,

With the ongoing credit crunch and general hard times for the motor industry you may be looking to reduce your costs. I have a suggestion that may help.

They say the biggest cost to a company is it’s workforce. May I suggest an easy saving to make is to find the designer responsible for the front lights on the 205 and the 206 and sack his sorry arse right out of door. Who thought that silly metal spring was a good idea? Everybody else has simple twisty bits of plastic but that’s obviously not Gallic enough for you. Why spend 5 minutes changing a bulb when you can spend 40 minutes flicking away at a stupid bit of metal then having to find a child because only their tiny little hands fit in the space your designer thought was acceptable for prying at the stubbord spring.

A further saving could be made by firing the author of the manual that thought opening the spring was a simple case of squeezing gently at the top. Did they even see the spring or was the concept of the device whispered to them casually at the end of an absinthe filled Christmas party? Please update the documentation replacing it with the following –

Claw blindly round the back of the bits of metal you can’t actually see, ignoring the area specified in the diagram, until something sharp embeds itself into your already raw and bleeding fingers. Painfully flick this sliver of metal around like a teenage boy pleasuring his first love if his first love were in fact made of barbed wire for 20 minutes until you happen to stumble on the correct direction. Watch helplessly as the spring flies away from the lights into some dark crevice under the dirtiest, tightest part of the engine.

Regards,

Mr Fatuous

I appreciate that this blog post is very niche but the 205 and 206 were popular cars and I can’t have been the only poor sod to have to change the bulbs in them. Besides, it’s cheaper than therapy and less likely to get me locked up than screaming my lungs out and pissing on every French car I see.

Categories
Food Inane Banter

Black Armband Time

Sniff, it’s sad news indeed. The inventor of the doner kebab has died.

If you do go to the funeral he should be easy to spot. He’ll be half hanging out of a soggy coffin covered in mouldy, out of date floral display.

Mahmut Aygun, I salute you.

Categories
Food Inane Banter

Not So Jammy

There was a man I used to know at work who was the embodiment of single-man’s logic. It was the perfect example of logical minimalism combined with deep, deep sadness. So he went through the minimal amount of effort and waste for his lunch at work this is what he used to do.

The night before he would take two slices of frozen bread from his sliced loaf in the freezer. He would spread jam on the frozen pieces, stick them together, wrap in cling-film and put them in the fridge. By the time he got to work the next day and it reached lunch time his bread had defrosted and he had a jam sandwich for his lunch.

It was both nerd genius and also a shining example of why men need women to save them from becoming lazy, pitiful creatures. However he is a god compared to anyone sad enough to need to buy this sandwich. This isn’t just sadness, this is Marks & Spencer dying a virgin sadness.

Categories
Food Inane Banter

The Smell of Success

Boffins have  broken down the smell of chips.

Nine aromas including butterscotch, cocoa, onion, cheese and even …ironing boards, all combine to help make chips one of Britain’s iconic dishes, it is said.

Okaaaaaayyyyy

Dr Graham Clayton said: “Whether oven-cooked or fried, the humble chip doesn’t smell of just chips”

I think you’ll find that’s exactly what they smell of.

“Perhaps these findings will see chips treated like wine in the future – with chip fans turning into buffs as they impress their friends with eloquent descriptions of their favourite fries.”

Yes of course that’s what will happen. “Mmmmm I’m getting butterscotch with a hint of marzipan.” “No Dave, you’re getting fat you greasy bastard.”

Can’t the brainiacs just enjoy chips for being a greasy treat.

Next weeks shocking news from the lab, “wanking, it’s just applying friction to your genitals.”

Categories
Inane Banter

Dead Warm

File this under “fucking mental” as Denis Norden might have said if he had a potty mouth which he doesn’t, well he might have but not on TV at any rate.

Why stop with just using pigs and cows to heat our schools? People are getting fatter and less religious. Looks like there’s a handy supply of “heating oil” at the local crematorium. Donated your lungs to science? Why not donate a bit of warmth to a class of schoolchildren  on a cold February morning?

That little bit of warmth may just be the tipping point that causes an embarrassing stirring in some hormone riddled teenage boy and that’s got to be worth something hasn’t it?

Categories
Pointless Inventions

Pointless Inventions No 1

I was waiting in a reception area the other day that had a coffee machine on free vend. It was a fancy looking device and I was thirsty so I pressed the button for a coffee. It was then I noticed something unusual, it wasn’t that the machine had an LCD as lots of coffee machines have displays these days. It was the fact that the LCD was displaying a progress bar as it prepared the coffee.

I don’t know if the makers of this machine were aware but all coffee machines have a progress bar. When the funny dark liquid makes its way to the top of the white container the coffee is ready.

How did we ever cope.

Categories
Inane Banter

and still the most liked Thatcher

It appears that Carol Thatcher has been taken off the one show for calling a tennis player a golliwog.

For those that don’t know a golliwog was a popular character years ago. A cheerful, cute little guy he’d still be popular today were it not for it’s stonkingly obvious racial overtones.

This was being discussed on the BBC news last night and about half way through they had an interview with a lawyer.

I’m saying nothing.

Categories
Debunk

Popular Myth Smashed

They say you always want what you haven’t got.

Now I’ve grown a pair of my own breasts I can confirm I still like the ones attached to ladies just as much as I did before.

The site has been going for just over a year and there’s your first joke. Same time next year.

Categories
Inane Banter

Sale Now On

Here is how I imagine sales working.

Company X gets product Y that they want to sell. They add a margin on it and then sell these onto the customer. After a while the product Y becomes old and stale and everybody wants product Z. Company X wants rid of product Y to make way for the new hotness that is product Z. Company X has a sale and drops the price of Y. People who liked Y but couldn’t afford it now can whilst people with money enjoy product Z. Everybody is happy.

Christmas sales work in a similar way only there’s a huge amount of product as everyone is buying for Christmas. Some things aren’t as popular or the shop buys too many of them. After Christmas it has a January sale to get rid of the excess to make way for next years greatness.

All with me so far? Nothing too complicated with that is there?

OK, now explain to me why a car rental company has just emailed me with it’s January sale? Has it suddenly found itself with a big pile of rental in the corner. “Quick Dave get rid of all this unsold rental, it’s stinking up the place. The new rental arrives next week.” “Fucking hell Steve this rental is getting a bit threadbare, lets sell it on this car quick so we can stick the fresh rental on it as soon as it gets back.” “Oh my God, did you just see Michelle in her January rental? That’s so last year, it’s got to be February rental this season.”

I though that was bad enough until I walked past the bookmakers yesterday and noticed they a sale sign in the window. “Ah shite Sean would you look at all the horse bets we’ve got left over. whatever will we do with them?”

Categories
Inane Banter

We’ve Been Expecting You Mr Fatuous

You know how when you are little even silly things can seem perfectly valid and even likely. Logic flies out of the window dragging common sense along with it. It even seems silly enough for you to even dare mention it to peers or family but still the thought remains.

Eventually you grow up and shrug off the silly idea. You admit the were no monsters under your bed, that the bogeyman isn’t hiding in your loft and that your imaginary friend Dave didn’t even exist let alone pull your sister’s hair.

In spite of being well into my 30s, ignoring the logistical nightmares involved let alone the health and safety issues can somebody explain why my adult brain is still toying with the idea that every swimming pool in the country has a shark underneath the pool that they keep locked up until you are the only one in the pool and then they press a button which opens up the little grates at the deep end releasing said chondrichthye?