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Friday, 6 September 2013

Fancy Dress

I have met a lot of people in my time and let me tell you straight up; You are all awful. Like really, really awful. You are the reason I live on my own and you are the reason I drink. That being said there is a sure fire way to make you even worse and that is to put you in fancy dress. Fuck you, you fucking kook.

Some prick once said ‘sarcasm is the lowest form of wit’ – They were completely wrong. The lowest form of wit is you dressed as a kangaroo. Or a zombie. Or a nurse. Or fucking Lady Gaga.

Hold on a minute… Are you telling me you went to a party dressed as Lady Gaga? Really?? I mean you, a male, dressed as a FEMALE celebrity?! You’re blowing my mind… Hold on, you didn’t have a lightning bolt painted on your face did you? You did?!! Holy shit man, YOU are a fucking funny guy and not at all a cunt.  

Being in fancy dress is like shitting on your hands and clapping.

Shitting? Fine.
Clapping? Fine.
Shitting on your hands? Weird, but fine.
Shitting on your hands and clapping? Why the fuck would you do that? I’m stood right next to you. You’ve sprayed faeces on me and you’re getting it everywhere. Your once private act has now left you and everyone around you covered in shit.

Likewise, when you leave the house dressed as Charlie Chaplin you’re basically covering everyone you come into contact with, in your own filth.

Leaving the house? Fine.
Seeing your friends? Fine.
Leaving the house dressed as a wookie? No need. Fuck your life.

Trust me, no matter how hilarious you think you look dressed up as a pirate – You are NOT funny. When you and your friends enter a pub and wave your plastic swords in peoples face – You are NOT funny. When you stand up and loudly announce that you are going to the ‘barrrggghh’ – You are NOT funny. No-one in the room is thinking ‘Jesus those guys are having a great time’ they are thinking ‘Fuck I hope that guy dies’ You are covering yourself and everyone around you in metaphorical shit.

When you run down the high street dressed as the 118 men and shout ‘I’ve got your number!’ at the people you pass by – You are bringing yourself, and everyone around you, down. People aren’t thinking ‘Those guys are class’ they’re thinking ‘I’ve just brought I kid into this world… What the fuck was I thinking?!’

You are the lowest of the low and I find your very existence abhorrent. So if you’re planning on wearing fancy dress this weekend, come find me. I’ve got a bowel-full of shit with your name on it.

Wednesday, 23 January 2013

Moustache Tattoos

That's a weird pose... Why are you standing like that? That's odd. Ohhhhh... I seeeeee... You've got a moustache tattooed on your finger... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Very good.

No, no I get it. That is VERY funny. You are quite the comedian. I mean, it looks like you've got a moustache tattooed on your finger. What's not funny about that?

What? Uh, no it doesn't look like you've actually GOT a moustache... Because, well, that tattoo is on your finger...

The more I think about it, the more I don't understand why you've done that... I mean... 13 people liked your Facebook photo, that was pretty much all you could of hoped for with that.

To be honest, if you wanted to look like you had a moustache you should probably just grow one. That WOULD be funny... or maybe get one tattooed on your lip? That would also be funny. You've sort of taken the cowards way out there... It just looks like you've got a moustache tattooed on your finger.

I don't get it. You look like a cunt. 

Friday, 18 January 2013

Keep Calm and Carry On

It’s been a long time since I wrote a blog. I’ve been busy, I’ve been lazy, I’ve been drunk and each of these things have contributed equally to our little blog falling by the wayside. Unfortunately, our silence has not meant that all is well. In our absence the world has grown more disgusting than ever. I still spend my days surrounded by people I despise and evenings drinking gin from the bottle, curled foetal on the floor.

A myriad of things have repulsed me over the last few of months. Students, onesies, students in onesies, fedoras, movember, Bognor Regis, dancing, that fella from Xfactor with the ears, that repugnant show ‘Two Broke Girls’… The list goes on and on. Top of the pile however, and by quite some distance, is the grotesque fad of ‘Keep Calm and something something’ advertising and it is fucking EVERYWHERE.

Originally developed in the 40’s to ‘Keep’ people ‘Calm’ during the Blitz, this once quite creative piece of propaganda has recently been mercilessly raped but the 21st century. It’s impossible to walk through a town centre without coming across piles and piles of mugs, tote bags, shirts, hoodies, posters, badges, magnets, bottle openers and all other manners of useless fucking tat with ‘Keep Calm…’ slogans branded on it.

Keep Calm… is the advertising equivalent of some fella following you around town and hitting you over the back of the head with a pillow.

The first time it happens is a little unexpected. ‘Oh!’ you think ‘that was weird… I mean, I guess it was sort of funny in an annoying way…’ but you presume that decency and common sense would dictate that it stops there. You continue walking about town in your own little world, wondering if you have time for another pint before football when he hits you again. ‘Fine’ you think. ‘It doesn’t hurt. It’s just annoying. I can handle annoying. He’ll get bored before I do’

Several hours later you’re sat in Grubbs trying to concentrate on your burger but the fella is still there and is now hitting you with the pillow every 30 seconds.

Hours turn to days, turn to weeks, turn to months and this fella is still following you around with the pillow, clocking you at every opportunity. You complain to your friends but they don’t see the problem ‘It’s funny’ they tell you.

Eventually the hair on the back of your head disappears through the constant abuse. Your skin thins and begins to weep puss and blood. Each blow begins to sting and burn more and more and soon a gaping hole opens up in your skull. Still your assailant bludgeons you with the pillow, now screaming at you to compound the misery.

‘Keep Calm and Drink Coffee!’ He screams
Keep Calm and Ride Bikes!
Keep Calm and Shop Local!!’
Your knees buckle and you fall to the floor.

Your attacker, sensing weakness, tips back his head and screams ‘YOLO!’ and out of a nearby craft shop comes a girl in a homemade dress who starts whipping you incessantly with a screenprinted ‘Pugs Not Drugs’ tea towel. You look around for help but everyone nearby is too busy drinking craft beers from koozies or else taking Instagram pictures of the scene. More blows descend on your head and your body gives out. The last sound you hear is someone asking ‘Hey, anyone wanna go to Infinity Foods for lunch? We can go up to the craft fair afterwards’ Your torment is finally ended by the pillow wielding maniac crushing what’s left of your skull with his fixie.

I don’t want to over exaggerate things but if you make ‘Keep Calm’ merch, you are a cunt. Not only have you jumped on an already overcrowded bandwagon but you are doing so with the most minimal skill and effort possible. You are the worst. The VERY worst and you are what is wrong with the world.

Using clip art does is not creative. It does not make you an artist. The 'Keep Calm...' Pun that you've come up with ISN'T funny. YOU are not funny. There is absolutely zero merit in what you are doing.

Fuck. You.