Random musings from the front line (well, more like the support trench, or perhaps the castle 10 miles away, supping Chateau Lafite with the General Staff) in the battle for curiosity, inertia, grammar and a Dachshund called Colin.

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Cruisin'

Mmmmmmmmm. Love that taste. Click HERE to see certain South Park episode

There's always been gay rumours about diminutive cult-following actor Tom Cruise, as if anyone these days outside of the Leviticus-tastic US Bible Belt (who are hardly avid viewers of his movies anyway) gives a shit about that sort of thing. The odd thing is that they persist in spite of lawsuits, lack of pictures, a couple of children (I think?) and a succession of marriages. If I were a gay Hollywood actor trying to keep my sexuality quiet (and I'm NOT saying he is), the last thing I'd do is threaten a cartoon series with legal action for broadcasting a series of thinly-veiled double entendres about a plotline that involved me hiding in a child's bedroom wardrobe.

But that's apparently exactly what Tom Cruise (an odd choice of surname given the connotations of the word, and the fact that he was born Thomas Mapother) has done with an episode of South Park, allegedly threatening to sue any British TV Channel that broadcasts the latest installment of the scatological Colorado-based cartoon series. In the hilarious offending scene, Tom Cruise locks himself in Stan's closet after his acting "skills" are compared unfavourably with those of Leonardo di Caprio. What follows is that various people, including Nicole Kidman, fellow loony Scientologist John Travolta and a gun-wielding R Kelly, appearing in Stan's bedroom and begging him to "come out of the closet" no fewer than 28 times. It's VERY funny, and thanks to the lovely Smit from www.smithappens.com, you can view a clip from the episode by clicking the dodgy photo above, or just here. Enjoy!

Friday, January 20, 2006

SWM, GSOH, WLTM SWF for N/S fun.

Come and play with my enormous cockIt's always been a joke amongst my friends that the personal advertisements in local newspapers and Free-Ads-type publications are a goldmine of blindingly obvious euphemisms and barely disguised descriptions of major personality flaws. I've been compiling a list for a blog post for a while now and, together with a few pointers from the world of the internet, here's what I've come up with. Let me know if you have any additions.

WOMEN SEEKING MEN

Adventurous = Owns strap-on dildo and will use it. On first date.
Athletic = Flat-chested.
Average looking = Fat and very ugly.
Beautiful = Either a) Liar or b) Major personality flaw.
Bubbly = Fat
Cuddly = Fat
Curvaceous = Fat
Educated = Didn't lose her virginity when she was at university.
Feminist = Lesbian.
Forty-ish = Just turned 50.
Free spirit = Hippy on the dole.
Looking for friends = On the rebound and desperate. Has a child.
Fun = Fat and irritating.
Gentle = Men walk all over her
Good Listener = Stupid. Will stalk you when dumped.
Good Sense of Humour = Laughs at Xmas cracker jokes. Normally fat.
Happy = Drunk by lunchtime.
Loving = Desperate for husband.
New-Age = Hairy hippy on the dole.
Old-fashioned = Bad taste in clothes. No sex until 10th date.
Open-minded = Goes like a belt-fed wombat.
Outgoing = Fat, irritating and loud.
Passionate = Cries a lot. Will stalk you when dumped.
Poet = Hippy who works at Starbucks
Professional = Lost her virginity at university. No friends at work.
Reubenesque = Morbidly obese.
Romantic = Owns many teddy bears.
Slim = Flat-chested.
Sociable = Alcoholic. Wants to go dogging.
Voluptuous = Makes "Reubenesque" women look thin.
Wants Soulmate = Will stalk you even before being dumped.
Young at heart = Just turned 55.

MEN SEEKING WOMEN

Athletic = Played sport at school. Subscribes to Sky Sports.
Average looking = Looks hideous in daylight.
Caring = Desperate.
Cuddly = Fat and lives with his mother.
Educated = Will patronise you. Dresses like someone 10 yrs younger.
Free Spirit = Wants to sleep with your best friend. And your sister.
Fun = Wants to take you dogging.
Good looking = Arrogant. And good looking.
Good Sense of Humour = The pub bore.
Very good looking = Very stupid and not very good looking.
Honest = Married and a liar.
Huggable = Fat and hairy
Looking for friends = Will shag you after he's got you drunk.
Mature = Older than your father
Open-minded = Wants to sleep with your best friend. And your sister. At the same time.
Poet = Gay
Sensitive = Virgin
Very sensitive = Gay virgin
Professional = Wanker. Will dump you first time you refuse to have sex.
Rugby build = Very fat.
Sporty = Women a very long way behind his favourite football team in terms of priority.
Spiritual = Felt guilty once after having sex with a nun.
Stable = Arrested for stalking, but not convicted.
Stocky = Fat, hairy and smelly.
Thoughtful = Says "Excuse me" when he farts.
Urban = Chav.
Young at heart = 45 years old. Dresses like a poor 25 year old. Wants to go out with 18 year old.

MEN SEEKING MEN

18 years old = Either a) 15 years old or b) 23 years old.
24 years old = 29 years old.
27 years old = 32 years old.
29 years old = 34 years old.
Active = Angry. Possibly married.
Bisexual = Gay.
Cross-dresser = Married.
Curious = Gay.
Discreet = Married.
Non scene = Ashamed of being gay.
Ready for relationship = Reached the 100 different men stage and wears colostomy bag.
Passive = Quiet. Wants to be Active.
Versatile = Active.
Wants Fun = Wants fumble on the common.
Wants "No Strings" fun = Married and wants fumble on the common.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

The Hoff is Hooked On A Feeling.

Michael. My sensors indicate that you have created the scariest music video ever

Click on his devil eyes to see the mighty Hoff "hooked on a feeling" (or click here). So THAT's why he's so popular in Germany. It doesn't download anything, it's safe for work, and it's addictive. WHAT posessed him?

RECENT UPDATE: Courtesy of Fuckkit's comment,why not play "Hoff Invaders" as well? Click on the image below. What IS it about him?


Hoff Invaders

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

R-E-S-P-E-C-T Men Who Hit Women.

R E S P E C T, find out what you mean to me...

Came across this little gem in (where else?) The Guardian public sector jobs supplement. This infuriating document contains more than a hundred pages of non-jobs, all of which are highly paid and come with gold-plated pensions and, worse of all, are funded by us.

But this job takes the biscuit. If you fancy being paid twice the salary of a nurse (or 3 times that of a junior soldier, sent to die for his country) in order to "develop a system of accreditation for domestic violence perpetrator programmes and associated support systems", why not apply to work for "Respect"? It seems that George "I salute Saddam's indefatigability" Galloway's political party has a sideline in teaching wife-beaters how to get qualifications in their chosen hobby. Yes yes, I realise that this organisation is probably not the same as the party of choice of Bethnal Green's fundmentalist "community", but with the word "RESPECT" being in the news at the moment thanks to His Toniness' latest soundbite, it seems somehow apposite.

"Me, guv? I've got a GCSE in slapping the missus, and a NVQ in shouting "slaaaaaaaaaaaaaaag" the loudest."

The
world's
gone
madder.

Monday, January 16, 2006

Top of The Pops

I was recently sent these scans of old LPs, and am so intrigued by the following albums, I'm off to invest in some fantastic software that "rips" old records to iTunes. I particularly feel sorry for Julie, and can't help wondering if she made it to 17 without committing suicide.

Oh Julie. It's time.

The "Minister Quartet" prove that New Labour ministers aren't the only ones to indulge in a bit of touching.

Don't move, mother, the brown jellyfish has landed on your head.

"HOW many inches, Tino?"

I use my ESP to predict that major dental surgery is needed.

Second man on the right - where is his right hand. Could that explain the facial expression of the second one on the left. And what is the front man saying?

Now for hire in the Sidcup area for £40 per night. No bar mitzvahs.

Joyce shows that for 50c, she'll do anything.

From the days when ensuring that outfits matched was more important that ensuring that they didn't make you vomit.

The shoes, the facial expressions, the anguished cries, the pain of the girl on the left. Classic.

Welcome to Film 2006B

*WILD, UNSTOPPABLE, APPLAUSE*

Thank you, thank you. Hello everyone, and welcome to Film 2006B. I'm your host for tonight, Desmond Fagina, and today's presentation has been brought to you by the lovely Miss Patroclus from Quinquireme, in Surrey. Before we review the gay cowboys, big monkeys and barely-disguised-leonine-messiahs, let's get down to business with our first feature - "TAGGED". Here's our special pubic correspondent, The Merkin.

ONE (1) earliest film-related memory: Going to the now-departed Regal Cinema in Henley-on-Thames with my mum and brother, and listening to the amazing organ playing before the film, as this vision of Art Deco neon musically rose up from a hidden pit in front of the screen.

TWO (2) favorite lines from movies: As Patroclus says, anything from Withnail & I has the status of instant classic dialogue, so I'm going to nominate almost any line from there as the best in the universe, especially if Uncle Monty is involved. I shall then nominate 2 lines from other movies, as it's my blog. My favourite non-Monty Withnail line (of many) has to be the following dialogue:

Withnail: Scrubbers.
Schoolgirl: Up yours, grandad.
Withnail: Scrubbers. Scrubbers.
Peter Marwood: Shut up.
Withnail: Little tarts, they love it.

I've always liked Dr Evil's monologue in the therapy scene from the first Austin Powers film, because it's a film as puerile and silly as I have always wanted to be myself. I have always tried to memorise this, but frequently failed:

Dr. Evil: The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

But the only line from a movie that I've used in a professional capacity is this, from the otherwise dire "The Rock", between Sean Connery (as John Mason) and the fucking awful Nicholas Cage (as Stanley Goodspeed):

John Mason: Are you sure you're ready for this?
Stanley Goodspeed: I'll do my best.
John Mason: Your "best"! Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and fuck the prom queen.
Stanley Goodspeed: Carla was the prom queen.
John Mason: Really?
Stanley Goodspeed: [cocks his gun] Yeah.

THREE (3) jobs you'd do if you could not work in the industry: Rather obviously, I don't work in "the industry", but my list of aspirations include:
  • Prime Minister.
  • Captain of Sir Donald Gosling's motoryacht, the MV LEANDER.
  • MD of a multi-national adult film import business.
FOUR (4) jobs you actually have held outside the industry:
  • Mushroom picker in a dark, wet, stinking railway arch, plucking the fungi from pure horse manure slurry, lit only by UV light. And it was cold.
  • When Danone changed the name of one of their yoghurt product lines from "Baby Danone" to "My First Danone", someone had to go around their refrigerated UK distribution centre and stick a label on every single yoghurt pot in the warehouse (over 100,000 of them) saying "Soon to be known as 'My First Danone'". That someone was me. I very nearly became frostbitten.
  • Pot washer and occasional checkout monkey at the staff canteen for the lorry drivers who worked at, and delivered to, the Marks & Spencer distribution centre in Thatcham, Berkshire.
  • A very junior civil servant in the MoD, booking in torn/ripped/damaged fabric stores items from Army depots around the UK to be repaired by the army of lovely, but slightly daunting, seamstresses. This was when I first realised that the military spoke a different language from everyone else. For example, a sleeping bag is known as a "Bag, Sleeping".
THREE (3) book authors I like: Julian Barnes, Patrick O'Brian and Annie Proulx.

TWO (2) movies you'd like to remake or properties you'd like to adapt: I'd like to remake any film with Nicholas Cage in it, replacing him by either a narcoleptic monkey, or a dressmaker's mannequin. Either way, it would be a fantastic improvement.

ONE (1) screenwriter you think is underrated: Whoever wrote the amazing 1997 movie, The Game. One of the best films ever, but it completely failed to register on the public's conscience at the time of it's release. One of the cleverest plots and tightly-wound storylines I've ever seen. According to IMDB, the writers were called John Brancato and Michael Ferris, who always seem to work together. However, looking at their other credits, they haven't exactly troubled the Oscars nomination committee recently.

I'm not going to tag anyone else, as the questionnaire is obviously designed for movie-industry types, but that was fun. Thanks, P!

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

A Fatwa Lot of Good That's Going to Do

Now I try not to get involved with religion very often, as it all seems a bit silly that Free Presbyterians of the Western Isles believe that only they will go to heaven (it'll be very empty then, won't it?!) and that Jews think you should chop bits off your old fella to please God and other such strange supernatural goings on. Besides, there's a TV series on at the moment with Richard Dawkins that rehearses the arguments much better than I could. But I couldn't help notice the following item on a news website:

Naked-marriage-sex ban
From: Agence France-Presse


From correspondents in Cairo
January 11, 2006

AN Egyptian cleric's controversial fatwa claiming that nudity during sexual intercourse invalidates a marriage has uncovered a rift among Islamic scholars.

According to the religious edict issued by Rashad Hassan Khalil, a former dean of Al-Azhar University's faculty of Sharia (or Islamic law), "being completely naked during the act of coitus annuls the marriage". The religious decree sparked a hot debate on the private satellite network Dream's popular religious talk show and on the front page of Al-Masri Al-Yom, Egypt's leading independent daily newspaper.

Suad Saleh, who heads the women's department of Al-Azhar's Islamic studies faculty, pleaded for "anything that can bring spouses closer to each other" and rejected the claim that nudity during intercourse could invalidate a union.

During the live televised debate, Islamic scholar Abdel Muti dismissed the fatwa: "Nothing is prohibited during marital sex, except of course sodomy."

For his part, Al-Azhar's fatwa committee chairman Abdullah Megawar argued that married couples could see each other naked but should not look at each other's genitalia and suggested they cover up with a blanket during sex
.


Um. OK. It all seems a bit barmy to me. I don't think that a disputed fatwa from one scholar would stop a devout Muslim from having a sneaky peek at his wife's naughty bits anyway, but the fact that there's a dedicated "fatwa committee" that looks at things like this took me a little by surprise. I can't quite imagine the Church of England doing the same....

PRESS RELEASE (Reuters) - Vicar reluctant to commit himself on the allowed use profanities following Parochial Church Council discussions of forbidden language. During heated scenes in the Bridgewater Village Hall, the Naughtiness (Male Genitalia) Committee of the Gurney Slade Parish Council once again failed to reach a decision on whether the word "willy" is an acceptable alternative to "member" in the monthly 'Thou Shalt Not' section of the Parish Newsletter. The issue has caused controversy since the celebrated 1993 instruction forbidding the use of the word "fanny" to be uttered by non-American citizens within parish boundaries.

The motion from the Somerset WI to only allow the word "penis" to be used was rejected following an impassioned plea from the churchwarden to consider "John Thomas" when used in a humourous context, and the issue was later postponed for further discussions to take place after next month's Village Fete and the subsequent 'Save the Church Roof' Scout Jamboree. The Reverend Baxter Falletio, vicar of St Nicholas the Lesser in the village of Gurney Slade, said afterwards "it's a victory for common sense and those who like to say 'cock' in everyday conversation."

The World's Gone Mad.

Thai Die Tee-Shirt

A double celebration last night, as one of my housemates has just got engaged to his lovely girlfriend (AND I found out that girls don't like the word "fiancee". Nor do they like being called "Beyonce the Fiancee". And they especially do not like being telephoned at 3 o'clock in the morning and called "Beyonce the Fiancee". Some people have NO sense of humour...) and the 3 of us blokes who live in my place went for a fantastic Thai curry to mark the event. After a very nice meal, we went to our new local and drank copious amounts of red wine, one bottle of which was donated by the very nice owner of the pub who listened very politely as we told him how to make his pub better.

ANYWAY, we were soon joined (inadvertently - he stole one of our stools) by Elmer J Chickenshit III - a very thick-skinned, and thick, American who was in the pub on his own. Now I'm a complete lover of the USA, but this guy made me want to nuke the place. After he barged into our circle (and he refused to introduce himself or tell us him name) we had the following surreal conversation:

"So what are you doing here in Portsmouth then?"
"I'm in the US Air Force, on exchange in the UK"
"Really? Are you over here working with the Royal Air Force?"
"No, I'm in the US Air Force"
"But you must be working with the British over here?"
"No, I'm in the US Air Force"
"But you said that you're on exchange here. Are you working with the Navy in Portsmouth?"
"No, I'm in the US Air Force"
"But you must be working with the British Armed Forces if you're on an exchange"
"No, I'm in the US Air Force"
"But .. oh never mind. [At this stage we decided to have some fun with him] So you're in the US Army?"
"No, I'm in the US Air Force"
"Is that part of the US Navy?"
"No, I'm in the US Air Force"
"Oh, I see. Like the US Marine Corps"
"No, I'm in the US Air Force"
"And you're a sailor then. How interesting."
"No, I'm in the US Air Force"
etc

At 12.30am, we stumbled home and it soon became apparent that one of the three of us wasn't as 'pub fit' as the other two. Our suspicions were first aroused when he collapsed on the floor in the hallway and started snoring. He couldn't in fact be woken, so we were about to put a duvet on him (he's 6 ft 4 - and uncarriable up the stairs) when he let out an almighty belch and promptly showed us what his Thai meal looked like 4 hours after being eaten. We thought this was hilarious, and took photos for future blackmailing purposes. We then convinced him to stumble upstairs and left him asleep in the recovery position while we scooped, mopped and disinfected.

Can you tell what it is yet? Is it art? No, it's photo-manipulated gunk. Don't click this image. PLEASE

Annoyingly the next day (ie this morning), the smug git (with no hangover because his stomach was strangely empty of alcohl overnight) found the pictures on my camera, deleted them, and wiped the camera card clean. BUT he'd forgotten about the "Sent Messages" folder on the PC (didn't you, mate?), so one image remains. Click on the magic 3D button (a pixellated and reblurred close up of the image - ain't technology great?!?) above for the full technicolour glory - WARNING - IMAGE IS (UNCHARACTERISTICALLY FOR ME) NOT VERY PLEASANT. Best you don't look if you have eaten recently. Or even if you don't want to see a not-very-nice image of my lovely marble tiles being defiled. Actually, you'd have to be a bit weird to want to look anyway, only not as strange as you'd have to be to post it!

I did warn you...

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

BIRD FLU - DANGER DANGER (not)

From: Lee Potter[mailto:lee.potter3@fco.gov.uk]
To: Press Release Department
Sent: 10 January 2006 11:48

Subject: Foreign Office Travel Warning - Bird Flu

BIRD FLU - MESSAGE TO ALL TRAVELLERS

With the outbreak of Bird Flu in Turkey, and the usual hysterical headlines in the Daily Mail, the Foreign Office has today issued the following Travel Advisory Notice:

As well as the whole of Turkey, the following specific places are now considered to be Medium Risk areas of Bird Flu, according to The Worldwide Epidemiological Etymological Taskforce (TWEET):

  • Gander (Newfoundland, Canada)
  • Partridge (Kansas, USA)
  • Goose Green (Falklands)
  • Robin (Manitoba, Canada)
  • Starlington (Alabama, USA)
  • Crowborough (Berkshire, UK)
  • Pigeon Street (CITV)
  • Sparrow Bush (NY, USA)
  • Northern Dove (Papua New Guinea)
  • Ravensdale (Ireland)
  • Gull Bay (Ontario, Canada)
  • Blackbird Landing (Delaware, USA)
  • Finchley, (KwaZulu Natal, South Africa)
  • Peacock Siding (Queensland, Australia)

and…

  • Great Tit (Jordan)

Travellers are advised to avoid these areas if at all possible, but if absolutely necessary to visit, then possession of the 2003 Daily Mail “SARS – It Will Kill Us All” Handy Travel Kit (one handkerchief, two “Baby Wet Ones” and a small prophylactic) should provide 100% protection.

Yours

pp Lee Potter

A L Armist-Nonsense CMG LVO

Deputy Permanent Under Secretary
Directorate of Scaremongering and Reaction
Foreign & Commonwealth Office

Sunday, January 08, 2006

A Leo in London - HEAR ME ROAR

They don't make hairstyles like that anymore...It's late on Sunday night. I've just taken the slow train from London Waterloo to the sunny South Coast, with my head spinning and my speech slurred. You could say I've just been on what-we-used-to-call a "Leo" (as in Sayer - "All Dayer"). My mood on the journey back was worsened by the workshy arseholes at the RMT union deciding to go on strike from 1830 because someone asked them to do some work for a change, but bettered by a couple of hilarious Ricky Gervais podcasts that I listened to in the absence of a newspaper to read (lucky really - I would have struggled to focus).

But it wasn't all a weekend of alcoholic debauchery and romantic dinners in the metropolis - I was doing some serious research as to what, in my occasionally humble opinion, are the top 3 pubs in London. As a non-native, but regular social visitor to our nation's capital, I am fully aware that my overall pubbing experience is limited compared to a born-and-bred Cockney sparrow, but the wonderful thing about my opinions are that they frequently coincide with cold hard fact. Lucky me. So here they are - Merkin's top 3 London pubs - the official list:

  1. The Grenadier, Knightsbridge. Almost impossible to find, used to be the Duke of Wellington's officer's mess. Very old, very haunted, fantastic food and beer. The best Bloody Mary in England. 9.5/10 (as I didn't see the ghost).
  2. The Prince of Wales, Clapham Old Town. A cross between a junk shop and the staff canteen for everyone in Clapham who isn't a Ben Sherman-wearing spikey-haired coke-addict merchant banker. The "POW" has good beer, a great atmosphere, and is an all round eccentric but friendly place. 9/10.
  3. The White Horse, Parson's Green. The "Sloaney Pony" - unofficial HQ of the non-pretentious regiment of the "we don't give a shit about living south of the river you ponce" brigade. Superb outside in the summer, and a perfect layout and arrangement inside all year round. 8/10.

His younger brother looked on with shock. 'I thought this was supposed to be VIRTUAL reality', he whimpered. Which brings me on to the game which one does when drunk, and when one's little brother is close enough to be able to inflict pain. Yes, it's the quickly-moving-knife-between-the-fingers game. I'm shit at this game in real life, because I'm completely malcoordinated, and having just played the online version (click the lovely image to play) I realise I'm shit at that as well. Well done me. It's a good game though!

And if that isn't enough excitement for you - check out this amazing (and I mean mind-blowingly amazing) amateur video of Russians jumping across buildings. It's hosted on Google Video, so there's no file to download, it streams in a webpage. (I was sent there by Brock).

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Swedish Singing Horses

OOOOOOH eee-oh mn mn mn eeeooh OOOOOH. EtcClick here to hear the Swedish singing horses. Touch their noses (muzzles? snouts? help!) and gently drift off to their lullaby. The weirdest post I've ever made. But the best horses I've ever heard sing - and not a rectal foreign body to be seen...

Friday, January 06, 2006

Doctor Proctor's Dilemma

There's quite a famous article (supposedly from a 1986 issue of "Surgery" magazine) entitled "Foreign Rectal Bodies". Every few years someone you know emails it out and we can all giggle about people who tell doctors that they were (hoovering naked/drinking wine naked/taking the gerbil for a walk naked) - delete as applicable - and when they slipped over, something became inadvertently wedged up their backside. The poor lambs. There's is (as you might imagine) a huge amount of information about this topic on the internet, but I particularly like the following abstract from "Anal Eroticism: Two Unusual Rectal Foreign Bodies and Their Removal" by Drs. Roy W. Graves, E. Jackson Allison, Jr., Robert R. Bass, and Richard C. Hunt - Southern Medical Journal -- Vol.76 No.5.
"In one review of colorectal foreign bodies and their management, all patients were male and mostly in the fourth and fifth decades of life. Most often the foreign bodies had been self-introduced. All patients had physical examination, biplane abdominal roentgenograms, and proctosigmoidoscopy to determine location, type, and number of foreign bodies. Transanal manipulation and extraction of the foreign bodies were attempted only after regional anesthesia. After removal, a repeat proctosigmoidoscopic examination was done to assess the condition of the bowel wall, and the patients were then observed for 24 hours for possible complications. Sohn and Weinstein reported more than 100 cases of successful removal of foreign objects in the office, with local, perianal, and submucosal anesthesia."

But now - I have proof that these things exist in areas outside of medical journals and sicko websites. Picture the scene - you're an adolescent boy, feeling a bit horny, and your parents have gone out for the evening. You find your sister's small vibrator and decide to do a bit of self-exploration. Unfortunately, in the process you lose your little pink friend - ahem - inside yourself. You try for a long time to remove said item, but only succeed in pushing it further inside. You panic, and embarrassingly make your way to A&E, to be confronted by two junior doctors who (whilst trying not to wet themselves) arrange for surgical removal of the toy.

Now, put yourself in the ethical dilemma of the junior doctor. You take X-Rays, and after a successful operation (a dildectomy?) telephone the poor lad's mum to come and pick him up. Just as worried parents burst into the ward, wondering why their son is in hospital, you choose that moment to return a certain pink item of property back to his possession. Furthermore, you take photographs of the X-Rays to email to all your friends, who then do the same, and so on and so on.

And the ethical dilemma? It' s this: Just how much of an evil bastard do you have to be to be a junior doctor these days? Next time I prepare cucumbers, I'm doing it with my pants on. For a change....

Thursday, January 05, 2006

The Queen Escapes From The Police...

I don't go to nightclubs very often, and even then it's normally under duress. Over the summer, however, I was forced into quite a few sticky overpriced hellholes in a period of 6 weeks, and forced to dance like my own Dad to music that I should (but didn't) recognise. It was while hiding by the bar in a nightclub in Guernsey, however, that I caught sight of a hilarious music video on the big screen next to the dancefloor. It appeared to be CCTV footage of the Queen herself escaping from Buckingham Palace in full regalia, and going out for a night of debauchery in Soho.

Click photo for the Real Audio Video

Since then, I asked all my muscially-literate friends about this track, browsed search engines and kept an eye on the satellite music TV channel, but all to no avail. No-one in the world had heard of it, at least that I could find. It is, after all, difficult to discover the track name and artist of a song with no information other than "the video has footage of the Queen in a lap dancing club, honest" (cue pitying looks)! But 6 months later ... I have succeeded thanks to the wonderful world of the new iTunes, where you can browse music videos by "theme", even if you don't own an iPod Video. So, no thanks to the useless teeny-screaming forums at Clipland.com various music video fansites on which I left messages, I now know about this brilliant video (even if the music track is not one of the artists' best).

The track: "U Don't Know Me" (from the 2005 Album - "Singles (XL)")
The artist: Basement Jaxx
The video: Directed by Matt Kirkby, created by XL Recordings, it can be seen (legally and free!) by either clicking the image above, or clicking here (low resolution here).

Answers.com says "The video for "U Don't Know Me" featured a drunken, carousing, and violent Queen Elizabeth II lookalike and was banned from daytime rotation on MTV". Apparently MTV only banned it because of one short clip of the Queen grabbing a lap-dancer's bum. The track itself was released in June 2005, but only reached number 15 in the charts.

I just wonder whether Her Majesty has seen it? If she has, it's unlikely we'll see a Sir Matt Kirkby for a while....

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

The Bear Necessities for 2006

So. It's 2006. Yippee. Another year further away from my childhood. This year, for the first time ever, I held a New Year's Eve party at my house, you know, and all of .... 4 people came. Of those 4, one was me, one is going out with me, one was my housemate and one is going out with my housemate. So, after some nifty arithmetic, you can calculate that no one else actually turned up. I'm not exactly unpopular, I hasten to explain, but once you delete the many people that I didn't invite (some for unfortunate reasons of tactful necessity), the explanations were that my sister and her bloke were ill, lots of my other (richer!) friends were doing exotic things abroad, my housemate's friends were in Scotland and my other half's friends all cancelled on the 30th. Actually, it was a fun party, with far too much booze, food, alcohol, canapes, champagne and (my first ever) lasagne for 4 people (I'd naively assumed 10!) - and weren't those London fireworks amazing? - so it was 100% worthwhile. It was just a bit quieter than I was expecting!

Copyright Jason Pultz at www.scarybear.com. Probably. Click for larger image.As is traditional for rapidly fattening people like me, I even made a New Year's Resolution at midnight - to try and get back down to the weight I was in the summer (that's actually 13 lbs away - shit). I've been trying for a few days now but am rather hungry all the time (see image above - natch). Just as soon as I've finished all the food from the party, I'll start a diet, I promise....

Anyway, after the hangover had worn off on Sunday morning afternoon, and I'd travelled to London for a few days to relax a bit more (can you tell I'm on leave?), I returned to the blogosphere tonight to try and catch up with my old pals/gurus/role models from the linkstrip on the right. So, after blushing at Aginoth's extensive vocabulary (Roger and his amazing Profanisaurus have a competitor, it seems!), I clicked on LC's place for a read. At the end of his manifesto for becoming the next Withnail, he mentioned - in passing - that the latest Comic Strip had made him laugh.

So I clicked on his link (http://www.scarybear.org/) and that was the rest of my evening gone. The guy from British Colombia that created the strip, Jason Pultz, is clearly a comic genius. Every week since 2001, he creates a cartoon with a collection of characters including Cowboy Rick (drunk cowboy), Scarybear (not very scary bear), Philis (local crack whore) and Bird Boy (a half bird/half boy whose freakish nature is due to his mother's heavy use of crack while she was pregnant). It has plotlines that come from the dark recesses of a mind that only a true Canadian can possess, it is definitely not PC, and Jason even appears in it himself, even if his cartoon character looks considerably more like this male model than his band's photos suggest (sorry Jason)!

Consider me a convert. I'm now a weekly subscriber (after 2 hours of reading the "back issues", I think I know who I want to be), and I've even bought Jason a pint via Paypal to thank him for the laughs. Go on, have a read - you know you want to (and wasn't I right about the JCB Song?!). If you're still not convinced - here are my favourite three issues:
  1. "Allergic Attraction" - Cowboy Rick goes on a date.
  2. "Birds and the Beets" - Jason Pultz pitches book idea.
  3. "Robopicture" - Scarybear and Rick discuss art.
Oh, and as for my other blogging pals - I'll promise I'll read your efforts tomorrow. Probably. Happy New(ish) Year!