FatuousThere not really a lot to say about this news story, it’s superb.
Next week I hope to see a story regarding a coyote found unconscious by a tunnel drawn on a cliff with a huge rocket on it’s back and wearing roller-skates. Come on real world, don’t let me down!
Recently for no apparent reason I’ve become incredibly intolerant to nearly everything and everybody in the world. There have always been things that upset me but in the past I’ve been able to control the feelings and get away with thinking “tit” in my head. Now I don’t know if it’s my age but thinking in my head moved onto muttering under my breath and has now become more of a stating out loud accompanied by looks of daggers. I am going to get hit one day.
This will do nothing to improve my mood. Last week was especially bad and culminated in me literally screaming at my monitor in a bid to stop my head exploding like that bit in Scanners. I needed a release valve. I settled for explaining this to Mrs Fatuous and asking if she would mind being everything that was wrong with the world for 20 minutes. I then proceeded to rant and rave at her until alcohol took the edge off my temper.
This is not fair on her and the only person who benefits is the local off-licence. What I need is a way to rant and for it to be acceptable. Then I had a brainwave. Singstar allows people to have fun doing the one thing they probably shouldn’t do in public and get away with it. Why instead of Singstar: 80s, Singstar: Emo and the like can’t we have Rantstar?
Rantstar would allow you to scream along with famous rants from TV and film. You would be scored on aggression, volume and possibly spittle.
Here’s an example of what Rantstar: Joe Pesci might look like
Come on, doesn’t that look like fun?
I thought animal-human hybrids sexing up was wrong. It still is but this is far worse.
Sex with dead model ‘was wrong’
Mark Dixie claimed he did not realise she was dead until after he had sex with her body, the Old Bailey heard.
Did he not try the usual methods? Checking for a pulse, mirror in front of the mouth, watching for the chest raising and falling. The sort of thing they might teach you on a first aid course. If you turn up on a course and a friendly nurse suggests the best way to check is to stick your bits into someone at the very least leave the course. Preferably report them.
Giving evidence, he said: “I don’t know what went through my mind. I took full advantage of someone and I should not have done it.”
Let’s just take a quick look at what Mark Dixie classes as taking advantage of somebody is? Maybe it’s buying them a few drinks, lying about being interested romantic comedies, claiming to like cats?
Prosecutors allege Mr Dixie stabbed her seven times and raped her as she was dead or lay dying.
I’m sorry, that’s a bit more than “taking full advantage of someone.” That’s like claiming to sneak the odd shampoo out of a hotel whilst walking through the door with the shampoo, a bed, last night’s takings and a maid under your arm.
“All I saw was a pair of legs… shirt put down to the waist and I took advantage of her.
Anthony Glass, QC, defending, asked if he thought she was dead or unconscious.
If I was Anthony I would probably have pointed out to Mark that just so he knew, there wasn’t a “right” answer here.
Mr Dixie said: “I would not have expected to see anyone dead in that street.
I don’t expect to see Noel fucking Edmonds walking down my street. If I did my first thought wouldn’t be, “Wow Noel Edmonds, how unusual, I’d better have a piece of him as he’s here.”
But he admitted there was no reaction during the sex attack, even when he bit Miss Bowman.
Again, why not check the pulse. There’s usually some reaction to sex even if it’s just boredom or cramp. You still don’t just bite them.
So in summary he’s accused of
Stabbing some poor woman to death and raping her either while she was dying or after she was dead.
His genius defence is
I found someone unconcious lying in the street so I fucked her and covered her body in concrete dust.
Mark, if you are going to lie in court try and make your defence sound in some way less despicable than what the prosecution are saying.
Ah isn’t it lovely, the first Australian baby elephant is due to be born.
But wait, it’s not lovely because the mother is some dirty under-age slapper.
But the news sparked an uproar, with the RSPCA and the Greens MP Lee Rhiannon both accusing the zoo of recklessness by allowing an underage elephant to mate.
I’m sorry but if you ask me it’s reckless to stand in the way of two elephants about to get jiggy. It also neglects to mention if Thong Dee, yes even the name makes her sound like a stripper, is currently wearing her trunk in a top knot.
Mr Williams said the father, Gung, had been mating with all the females. “He’s at them all the time. He came on second flight [of elephants]. He got off the flight, had a drink, and mounted Thong Dee.”
Smooth bastard. It’s like the gang of lads landing in Ibiza, grabbing a few beers and then getting nuts deep in a nearby slapper before everybody else has collected their luggage. He probably back in the bar right now getting the other elephants to sniff his trunk.
Did you enjoy having a little toss the other day? I’m talking pancakes of course.
We all know the story behind Shrove Tuesday even if we’re not entirely sure what a shrove is. Many, many years ago the baby Jesus wanted to get away from it all with a nice break and decided to make sandcastles in the desert.
Before he went the locals decided he’d need feeding up before going out there.
“Would you like a nice plate of fatted calf?” they asked.
“No thank you,” replied Jesus.
“What about a nice bit of steak? Scotch egg? Findus crispy pancake? Artic roll? An Easter egg?”
“No, what I want is some really thin fried batter with a bit of sugar and lemon on it,” replied Jesus.
“We’re out of lemons Jesus. All we’ve got is this old plastic lemon with juice in that we haven’t used for a year.”
“That will be fine as long as I get to squirt it myself. Oh and you’re not allowed to turn the pancake with a spatula, you’ll have to flip it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the son of God and I say so.”
That is why we still eat pancakes to this day. This year I decided to have a complete meal with two savoury cheese and ham pancakes and then two sweet ones with sugar and lemon. To make it interesting I added a Jack Bauer sense of pressure. Once the first pancake was ready I slid it onto the plate and immediately poured the next load of batter into the pan. I now had the time it took for the next pancake to cook to eat the first one. I did this through all four pancakes whilst imagining being shouted at by a terrorist.
Terrorism lost that day, indigestion had a minor victory.
Warning sense, rationality and logic will not be found in this post. In it’s place you will find swearing, vitriol and gushing bile.
Firstly I don’t watch a lot of television. I hate soap operas. Years ago you could avoid them by going out a few nights a week. Now they’re on every day with omnibuses in case you happen to get a life by accident one day. However they are very popular (like boy bands and happy slapping) so you can see why they fill schedules.
Documentaries have steadily become so dumbed down there isn’t any point in watching them if you’ve read a book in the past 20 years. I don’t need programmes to tell me that fat girls who drink 20 units a night, smoke heavily and have unprotected sex with strangers are not doing themselves any good. David Attenborough is still whispering about animals. They still get born, shag, kill a bit then get killed themselves only now in high def.
Reality TV got boring years ago. Celebrities brightened up the tired format for a few years but now they’ve ran out of celebrities and the same faces pop up more often than an afternoon playing speed “Guess Who” with a child on pure E numbers.
What I do like however is a nice bit of comedy. Not especially sit-coms which have been generally weak for years now. I like light, throwaway quizshows and the stand-up comedians. Stuff that’ll make me chuckle and if I’m distracted by something I don’t especially mind as there’s no plot and a laugh will be along in a minute.
Apparently the programme schedulers in Northern Ireland hate programmes I like. They can’t stand them. Specifically the sports programmers. Any excuse and the schedulers happily replace whatever I want to watch with some turgid match or other. The match is always shown at around 9:30pm. Heaven forbid it would interfere with the viewing habits of the soap ghouls or be shown live. Instead my programmes are replaced by nasal rat-boy Stephen Watson fawning over some shitty footballer who wouldn’t make it into an English non-league team.
This is made all the more annoying by the fact that people in Northern Ireland don’t watch Northern Irish teams play football. They couldn’t give a shit. Your football teams are chosen at birth based on the religious beliefs of your parents and they are Scottish and/or English, never Northern Irish. So I despair as the humorous antics on “have I got news for you” is yet again replaced by Ballyshithole Vs Kilcuntsville. For the 5 seconds it takes for me to realise this the viewing figures are doubled.
I’ve gotten used to my BBC comedy being ruined but tonight I should be watching Al Murray and his pub landlord based chat show. Instead I’m typing this blog because in NI we’ve got Kelly’s Sporting Heroes. I quote “Gerry celebrates the local sports people who have put Northern Ireland firmly on the map.”
To paraphrase – fat, beardy, twat who should have jacked it in years ago, Gerry Kelly tries desperately to find a sporting “hero” from Northern Ireland who hasn’t drank himself to death or wrapped his head round a lamppost on a motorbike. Apparently whilst typing this I’m missing George Best’s sister managing to avoid talking about alcohol and spousal abuse, some footballing guy I’ve never heard of who now does the Spanish commentary for Sky Sports, Pat Jennings who is at least famous mainly I believe for being very tall in Top Trumps, fans of a bike bloke, not even the bloke himself having hoofed himself into trees at high speed 8 years ago.
The shows highlights to me appear to be a blind water skier called Janet Gray. People always say that when you’re deprived of a sense your other senses become better to compensate. Janet appears to have picked a sport where her other finely honed senses are going to be fuck all use. Janet doesn’t need to be Daredevil to know that when your hearing is muffled, you taste salt, you smell liquid and feel wet you’ve fallen off.
Saving the big guns ’til last Gerry chats to Dennis Taylor. He will of course always be fondly remembered for being jolly, ginger and wearing stupid fucking glasses. Oh he also used to play a pub game.
Worst of all they never once cancelled “Give my head peace” the home grown”comedy” that managed to drag one joke kicking and screaming for about 600 series.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVfV2OzEHwg[/youtube]
Somebody has clearly been at the “blood of Christ.”
Is it me or is chief nutter Reuben clearly George W. Bush.
Heads up. All of you sitting there thing “I wish he’d shut up and just eat something stupid again,” won’t have much longer to wait. Hopefully this weekend.
Nearly forgot the link to the demo!
Looking at the website’s logs it appears that my “colourful” language is accidentally attracting people looking for smut rather than idiot comment.
If you are looking for sexy, barely legal, big titted, cum gobbling, slutty, cock sucking, whore MILFs who do anal then I apologise unreservedly. As a way of saying sorry have a picture instead.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ck14LKBI9GM[/youtube]
Where do you start on this one?
0 secs – You see a lithe female figure on a swing. OK so far.
4 secs – Then you see a bear. Could be a worrying attack but Tony the tiger never mauled anyone so still OK.
5 secs – Wait a fucking minute here, the lithe female has the head of a deer. Why? I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.
13 secs – Oh of course it’s so obvious. Females with the head’s of deer love the manky taste of orangina. Not content with tasting really nasty the keep the evil bits in to make sure you really don’t enjoy it. A fact wasted on she-deer.
14 – 28 secs – My dear God he’s tossed his orangy seed on the ground to grow a flower so he can woo this she-deer. Despite the fact he’s a he-bear. This is like a man shagging a dog!
36 secs – No no no no, there’s load of them strutting round like female prostitute version of manimal gone wrong. Where do they come from? To get the human body somebody must have though having sex with animals or mixing animal eggs with human sperm was an acceptable scientific experiment. It’s like being lent the dodgy VHS copy of Animal Farm at school all over again.
51 secs – Great, the he-bear is wearing pants, just what I needed to see.
101 secs – Can they top this? She-deer has just had the orangina equivalent of a golden shower. All we need now is the animal equivalent of John Holmes to appear and we have 70s porn covered in human-animal form.
114 secs – She-giraffe riding a bottle of orange muck like it’s a giant cock. Check.
129 secs – Bottles spurt just in case you missed the cock reference. Followed quickly by what must be the first representation of orangy cum on she-animal tits.
133 secs – Do you know, I’ve had this hole. A nagging spiritual hole that no church could ever fill, no booze could ever sate. Now I’ve realised what it was. Up until now I’d never seen a creature whip the bra off a panda with a human body before. Now I feel complete.
135 secs – My mistake. Up until now I’d never seen an octopi with human bits use oranges as a metaphor for lactating breasts.
145 secs – My life will never be quite the same again. No matter how hard I try I’ll never be able to wipe those 145 seconds from my brain.
On the plus side goatse holds no fear for me now.
“Why do we not drink rats’ milk, cats’ milk or dogs’ milk?” asks Heather Mills.
Let’s break it down animal by animal to explain to the poor woman.
Dog’s Milk – Dog’s are too intelligent to be milked. Cow’s have the decency to stare blankly ahead whilst being milked. If you could get a dog to stop running around long enough to start milking it the creature would look at you inquisitively throughout until you’d have to blurt out, “my God, what am I doing, this is so wrong, don’t look at me like that, I’m sorry, I’ll buy you a nice bone, let’s never talk of this again.”
Cat’s Milk – Also an intelligent animal. Only instead of inquisitive looks it would be more a look of “what the fuck do you think you’re doing you muppet?” Secondly, and possibly more importantly, cats scratch and bite. A lot. I really don’t want my milk to have rich, thick head of blood on it.
Rat’s Milk – I’m going to skim past the whole “vermin” issue. Given time we could recondition ourselves not to think of rats as disgusting little shits. Granted it would take about as long as it would take us to not think “money grabbing bint” every time we see Heather Mills but we would get there in the end. Already I’m starting to think of Heather suckling a rat more than her rolling in a pit of money like a monoped Scrooge McDuck. No the real issue that seems to have escaped Heather is that rats are really quite small. Rat’s are small, we like lots of milk. Cows big – lots of milk, rats small – tiny amount of milk.
I propose we reduce the global warming problem by reducing hot air. Let’s start by firing Heather and Sheryl “one sheet” Crow into space.