I ate his liver with some Alphabetti Spaghetti and a Fruit Shoot.
Ff-ff-ff-ff-ff-ff-ff-fffff!
It just doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it? I told the scientists these miniature livers would never take off, but as usual they didn’t listen.
New information: I stand corrected. Apparently Brewster’s have put in a bulk order for their new range of stem-cell burgers with curly fries. Never let it be said I don’t admit when I’m wrong.
Today is a day for celebration, for blogrot is now officially the world’s 277,199th most popular blog! I know, I can scarcely believe it myself! And it’s all down to you. Jeez, I love you guys.
New information: We’ve now slipped to 326,085th. You rotten bunch of arseholes. I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you! Piss off.
Further proof that White Van Man is some kind of post-ironic gay subculture: not only do they swerve closer to men in wigs, they also like listening to Queen.
I think this is the smoking gun we’ve been looking for, gentlemen.
Quick! Ooh! Everyone get over-excited! Google’s buying a SPACESHIP! Let’s run around squealing! Let’s call it Space 2.0! Ooh, I like that! Let’s tell everyone! Googlegooglegoogle!
I hope you’ll forgive my scepticism, I’ve had a long day. Plus I’ve managed to get hold of a photo of what’s really going on inside Google’s secret hangar, “Building 43″.
UPDATE: DROP EVERYTHING AGAIN! AMAZON’S BOUGHT ONE TOO!
Radio 4′s PM did a piece last night about a Scottish Catholic group’s plan to out gay priests on its website. When invited to comment on this, Alistair McBay of the National Secular Society came out with a phrase that was either inadvertent or genius. You decide.
(p.s. Apologies to the BBC for nicking their stuff and podcasting it again. In my defence I did pay for it.)
I often find it helps to have a couple of Emergency Conversation Topics handy for when you hit one of those embarrassing silences amongst a group of friends. ECTs can either be memorised or if, like me, you’re a bit forgetful, you can write them down on a small piece of paper which you keep in your pocket. If you go for the latter I recommend a bit of practice in front of a mirror on your cribbing technique. For example, I usually sneak it out under the table with my right hand whilst exaggeratedly checking my watch with the left – that kind of thing. (Paul Daniels refers to this practice as “palming” – not to be confused with Debbie McGee’s practice of palming, which is something else.)
Anyway, without further ado, here’s the first ECT:
ECT #1: Isn’t that Gordon Burns off The Krypton Factor?
This one’s a cracker – completely fail safe, as you will see. It’s based around a few basic premises:
Just combine any of those facts and I’m sure you can already begin to see what a great ECT this is. Ignoring for now the possibility that you really have just spotted Gordon Burns, in which case all ECTs are unnecessary, you simply have to point at any middle-aged man with his back to you and away you go. Everyone will turn to look, at which point one of two things will happen:
This will then get everyone talking about their favourite sequences in the Krypton Factor (The zip wire? The giant shape puzzles? The general knowledge round? etc.). If you’re in the Manchester/Liverpool area you might also try reminiscing on memorable episodes of North West Tonight. If not, try the conspiracy theory that the Krypton Factor was shut down by Islamo-fascists inside the UK government for being too close to their own training camps.
Look what I saw at the petrol station tonight:
Clearly designed by a blogrot reader.
I bought one of course. When I think of all those unseasoned meals I’ve eaten during power cuts… that dreadful stroganoff from the total eclipse of ’98… but there’s no point in dwelling on these things.
Hey, see that story in the news about the jelly security alert in Germany? Yeah, that was me. I knew it would shit them up a bit. Far too serious about stuff like that, the Germans.
Keep your eye on the papers for my follow-up attacks: a hundredweight of blancmange at the Colosseum in Rome; sherry trifles appearing overnight outside Israeli embassies worldwide; packages containing Angel Delight powder mailed to Bush, Putin and Blair.
Make no mistake, this campaign will continue until my demands are met – probably something to do with a better selection of hundreds and thousands at Sainsburys.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to present my latest movie. This one’s a music video entitled Do The Hood Thing (Right At The Back):
(There’s a YouTube video here that you won’t see on the RSS feed. View it on the website instead.)
Music by Nokia.
Vocals by Hannah and Lauren.
Snorting by Nicola.
Shapes by Me.
Update: At time of writing (about 5 minutes after posting the video) its two most “related” items on YouTube are entitles NIGGAZ HAVIN FUN and Booty basics #1. I think that’s what we call a result.
Went to see The Departed last night. Don’t get me wrong, it was very good, but it did get me thinking: couldn’t they get Ray Winstone to play all the cockneys Don Cheadle‘s supposed to play, and get Don Cheadle to play the Americans Ray Winstone’s supposed to play? It would solve a lot of credibility issues, not to mention saving a fortune in wasted voice coach sessions.
Update: It’s just been suggested to me that Winstone is in fact play a Boston Irish hoodlum who has had a stroke which has left him with a partially Cockney accent. In that case I would like to commend his excellent performance and shift my criticism to Scorcese for losing this crucial back story detail in the editing suite.
Google’s new Code Search feature is good news for software developers who want to avoid reinventing the wheel by finding an existing solution to a problem. It’s even better news for software developers (or anyone else for that matter) who are bored on a Friday afternoon and want to look up some rude words.
A couple of my favourites to date, hidden deep inside the source code that powers the world’s computers:
Searching for testicles…
# FrSIRT 24/24 & 7/7 - Centre de Recherche on Donkey Testicles.
# Free 14 day Testicle licking trial available!
Searching for bollocks…
A note: the CTCP protocol sucks bollocks. If I ever meet the fellow who
came up with it, I'll shave their head and tattoo obscenities on it.
But the best ones combine swearing with technical jargon in a way that is almost poetic, for example:
/* this is one of the fucking FPU tables out of the 00-BH range */
/* did I mention how much I hate Intel? Fucking wankers... */
Did Tennyson ever come up with such purity of expression? Did Wordsworth? Did Ayres?
I think not.
I had that Jack Straw in the back of my cab once.
He said, “Do you want to take that thing off your head, mate, so we can have a reasonable conversation?”
I said, “Ere, what you doing? Can’t you see my light’s off?”
I remember it well. I’d been sitting with the engine idling and the light off, just outside the bank.
He said, “With respect, that isn’t what’s pertinent to this debate. I put it to you that, in order for us to talk as individuals without the hindrance of cultural barriers…”
But then the alarm starts going off and the next minute Baz and Big Dave and Jimmy the Bastard are jumping back in and it’s all “Who the ‘ell’s this?” and then we’re off. Later we bashed him on the head and dumped him in an alley way. They reckon he’s never been right since.
Apparently there are people out there who object to serving their country on so-called “moral grounds”. There are no two ways about this: these people are cowards and traitors and have no right to call themselves British.
The rest of us know what we must do for our Queen.
