Got my first ever death threat today. It was a part of the tense, hatred-laden backlash after my recent Facebook research. The letter was written in blood and had a globule of excrement as a signature. It's always nice to get mail from the parents. I count my self lucky, they could have tried sending me explosive printer cartridges.
If they think they are getting a Christmas card from me this year....
Sunday, 31 October 2010
Thursday, 28 October 2010
A Facebook Manifesto
OK here it is. Months of extensive research has gone into categorising the status update and the person who does it. Read on:
The ing-ers:
These people are usually fans of radio. Adding an "ing" onto a verb isn't clever. I can barely tolerate it when people who text radio shows do it. Don't do it. Leave it to "Gary from Newcastle on the M4 grooving to N-Dubz". Fern Cotton will read out an "ing" text at least 28 times during every 2 hour radio show.
The Attention Seekers:
I'm not sure what is worse; The fact that you are telling Facebook that you've had a bad day or that fact that your "friends" want to know why you are sad.... ON FACEBOOK! Listen! If they were your friend, they would have given you a call. On a scale of cries-for help, Facebook attention seekers are just below those who stub out cigarettes on their chests.
The Silent Types:
Self explanatory this one:
"John Smith is ...." . If you have nothing to say, then don't fucking burden us with your emptiness. No one is impressed with your broodiness.
The Celebrity Grievers:
Fuck me! Michael Jackson is dead! I need to tell Facebook before the BBC reports it! Admit it, you actually enjoy it when you hear news that someone famous has just died. Just wait til Thatcher or Patrick Moore die. My home page will be littered with you guys.
This group includes those who "celebrate" the anniversary of a celebrity death.
The Birthday wishers:
The last time you sent a message to the birthday boy/girl was exactly a year ago when it was their birthday. If you've not spoken to them in a year (emails and "inboxing" does not count) then you do not have the right to wish them a happy birthday. Period.
The Music Video Posters:
Whats that? You were alive in the 80's? You liked Bros? Great! Tell someone who gives a shit! Music video posts take up an huge amount of space on my home page. Don't do it.
The Spouse Lovers:
Using Facebook to declare how much you love your life partner is wrong for 2 reasons.
1) No one cares. We will be annoyed that unlike you, we have failed relationships under our belts.
2) I guarantee that within 6 hours of making that post, you will argue with your other half over who's family you will be spending Christmas with.
Posting declarations like these will only make your divorce more harrowing for you.
The Insomniacs:
Remember when we were young? It was cool if you were up later than 9pm. The insomniac Facebooker hasn't grown out of that feeling. Posting a message at 2am saying that you cannot sleep will only impress your 6 year old nephew/niece who really shouldn't have a Facebook account anyway!
Make a fucking hot chocolate and leave us alone.
The Politicians:
OK you just watched Questions time and you want to tell us what you thought about the verbal crushing that semi-racist politician just took. It's falling on deaf ears (or blind eyes). We true Facebookers only want to know if that same MP died live on the show (See celebrity griever).
The Locations Hounds:
It's simple. The minute you do a location update, I'm fucking robbing your house. If you read your home insurance policy, doing a location post invalidates said policy. Fact.
The CAPS POSTERS:
Alright! No need to fucking shout!
The Likers:
I have to be careful here. Likers are usually aged between 12 and 15. They will spend hours looking for Facebook groups that are essentially ripped of ditties from a Michael Mcintyre stand up. Here is an example:
Billy balls-just-dropped Smith likes "tripping over in public and looking around to see who saw". Get off the Internet and do your homework!
The Nice-day-Outers:
Yes ok, you just got home after a great night with your girlie mates. Fine. But dont post it and then sit there for hours seeing which of your friends "like" the fact that you had a good night out. If someone doesn't "like" the fact that you went clubbing, it does not mean that they hate you. Get over it!
The Quoters:
If Nietzsche or Machiavelli had any idea that someone was going to invent Facebook, they wouldn't have bothered writing down their wisdom. Telling Facebook a wise sentence attributed to Sun Tsu does not make you a philosopher. Especially if you then tell interested commenteers that it "came from my head".
The Film Quoters:
A subset of the standard Quoter. They will quote a movie or show and hope that someone will recognise it and finish the scene. The quote will also be edited to fit in the status' unique structure. These people are an alright bunch. I have plenty of time for them...
The Football Fan:
Facebook was invented for these people. Period.
What better way to remind a scouser the last time they won the league or to tell a Gooner that Wenger is moaning again. I take small issue with those who status update scores. I don't use Facebook to get the latest scores. In this technologically advanced age, there are much better ways of getting the final results. It stops now!
The Pedant (not to be confused with "The Paedo"):
I left this to the end as there will be those who have bothered to read through this who have noted spelling/grammatical errors. They will comment on a genuine human error of spelling but not on a status that uses child slang riddled with numbers to make a point. We embrace your mild autism but at the same time, don't care for your corrections. Save it for your children's homework!
The ing-ers:
These people are usually fans of radio. Adding an "ing" onto a verb isn't clever. I can barely tolerate it when people who text radio shows do it. Don't do it. Leave it to "Gary from Newcastle on the M4 grooving to N-Dubz". Fern Cotton will read out an "ing" text at least 28 times during every 2 hour radio show.
The Attention Seekers:
I'm not sure what is worse; The fact that you are telling Facebook that you've had a bad day or that fact that your "friends" want to know why you are sad.... ON FACEBOOK! Listen! If they were your friend, they would have given you a call. On a scale of cries-for help, Facebook attention seekers are just below those who stub out cigarettes on their chests.
The Silent Types:
Self explanatory this one:
"John Smith is ...." . If you have nothing to say, then don't fucking burden us with your emptiness. No one is impressed with your broodiness.
The Celebrity Grievers:
Fuck me! Michael Jackson is dead! I need to tell Facebook before the BBC reports it! Admit it, you actually enjoy it when you hear news that someone famous has just died. Just wait til Thatcher or Patrick Moore die. My home page will be littered with you guys.
This group includes those who "celebrate" the anniversary of a celebrity death.
The Birthday wishers:
The last time you sent a message to the birthday boy/girl was exactly a year ago when it was their birthday. If you've not spoken to them in a year (emails and "inboxing" does not count) then you do not have the right to wish them a happy birthday. Period.
The Music Video Posters:
Whats that? You were alive in the 80's? You liked Bros? Great! Tell someone who gives a shit! Music video posts take up an huge amount of space on my home page. Don't do it.
The Spouse Lovers:
Using Facebook to declare how much you love your life partner is wrong for 2 reasons.
1) No one cares. We will be annoyed that unlike you, we have failed relationships under our belts.
2) I guarantee that within 6 hours of making that post, you will argue with your other half over who's family you will be spending Christmas with.
Posting declarations like these will only make your divorce more harrowing for you.
The Insomniacs:
Remember when we were young? It was cool if you were up later than 9pm. The insomniac Facebooker hasn't grown out of that feeling. Posting a message at 2am saying that you cannot sleep will only impress your 6 year old nephew/niece who really shouldn't have a Facebook account anyway!
Make a fucking hot chocolate and leave us alone.
The Politicians:
OK you just watched Questions time and you want to tell us what you thought about the verbal crushing that semi-racist politician just took. It's falling on deaf ears (or blind eyes). We true Facebookers only want to know if that same MP died live on the show (See celebrity griever).
The Locations Hounds:
It's simple. The minute you do a location update, I'm fucking robbing your house. If you read your home insurance policy, doing a location post invalidates said policy. Fact.
The CAPS POSTERS:
Alright! No need to fucking shout!
The Likers:
I have to be careful here. Likers are usually aged between 12 and 15. They will spend hours looking for Facebook groups that are essentially ripped of ditties from a Michael Mcintyre stand up. Here is an example:
Billy balls-just-dropped Smith likes "tripping over in public and looking around to see who saw". Get off the Internet and do your homework!
The Nice-day-Outers:
Yes ok, you just got home after a great night with your girlie mates. Fine. But dont post it and then sit there for hours seeing which of your friends "like" the fact that you had a good night out. If someone doesn't "like" the fact that you went clubbing, it does not mean that they hate you. Get over it!
The Quoters:
If Nietzsche or Machiavelli had any idea that someone was going to invent Facebook, they wouldn't have bothered writing down their wisdom. Telling Facebook a wise sentence attributed to Sun Tsu does not make you a philosopher. Especially if you then tell interested commenteers that it "came from my head".
The Film Quoters:
A subset of the standard Quoter. They will quote a movie or show and hope that someone will recognise it and finish the scene. The quote will also be edited to fit in the status' unique structure. These people are an alright bunch. I have plenty of time for them...
The Football Fan:
Facebook was invented for these people. Period.
What better way to remind a scouser the last time they won the league or to tell a Gooner that Wenger is moaning again. I take small issue with those who status update scores. I don't use Facebook to get the latest scores. In this technologically advanced age, there are much better ways of getting the final results. It stops now!
The Pedant (not to be confused with "The Paedo"):
I left this to the end as there will be those who have bothered to read through this who have noted spelling/grammatical errors. They will comment on a genuine human error of spelling but not on a status that uses child slang riddled with numbers to make a point. We embrace your mild autism but at the same time, don't care for your corrections. Save it for your children's homework!
Friday, 11 June 2010
Wardenisations
I subscribe to the laws of the road, I really do but today I had a momentary lapse.... A minion of the highways confronted me and for evidence, I recorded the following:
Warden: Loading pay, sir
Me: What?
Warden: You're parked in a loading bay. That's a ticket!
Me: Whoa whoa.... Backup there, Cuthbert... I was loading!
Warden: I just saw you go into that take away! You've got what looks like a lamb shish in your hands!
Me: Thats right, officer! I'm in the process of loading this kebab into that car!
Warden: Well I'm pretty sure that isn't allowed so cough up?
Me: Well how about we substitute the payment of monies with a smash in the teeth?
After I had thrashed the warden to within an inch of his life, I went home and noticed that yet again, the polish lady across the way was making the same exotic fish dish that she seems to make every fucking day!
The smell is unbearable. It has left me with two options:
1) Knock on her door and show her how to open a window and how to operate the extractor fan
2) Make some faecal pie and waft the aroma over to her stupid flat and see how she likes it. So what if it means her toddlers come down with some horrible illness...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iSpaz
Warden: Loading pay, sir
Me: What?
Warden: You're parked in a loading bay. That's a ticket!
Me: Whoa whoa.... Backup there, Cuthbert... I was loading!
Warden: I just saw you go into that take away! You've got what looks like a lamb shish in your hands!
Me: Thats right, officer! I'm in the process of loading this kebab into that car!
Warden: Well I'm pretty sure that isn't allowed so cough up?
Me: Well how about we substitute the payment of monies with a smash in the teeth?
After I had thrashed the warden to within an inch of his life, I went home and noticed that yet again, the polish lady across the way was making the same exotic fish dish that she seems to make every fucking day!
The smell is unbearable. It has left me with two options:
1) Knock on her door and show her how to open a window and how to operate the extractor fan
2) Make some faecal pie and waft the aroma over to her stupid flat and see how she likes it. So what if it means her toddlers come down with some horrible illness...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iSpaz
Location:A218,Merton,United Kingdom
Saturday, 29 May 2010
iPad
I stole an iPad today.... It was fun and no one was hurt!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, 13 April 2010
Define Irony....
There are several things you can do to heal a sore throat. Some people take medication, some drink soothing drinks and some even commit suicide! I do what the British were born to do.... Suck on a Strepsil. Strepsils are renown to have the noisiest fucking blister packs in the world. It is rumoured that during the retreat at Gallipoli, Strepsil booby traps were strategically laid out to fool the Turks that the Allies were were firing at them... My sources are dubious by the romantic part of me likes to think that this is true.
The problem was that the fucking cherry strepsil I wanted to take had treacherously decided to crumble into a multitude of sweet tasting shards. Far from curing my sore throat, my oesophagus was lacerated to buggery and I nearly died from the blood loss!
Naturally I wrote to the Daily Mail who kindly printed the following headline:
BENEFIT CLAIMING STREPSIL IN THROAT SHREDDING HORROR!!!
And it has to be true if you read it in the Daily Mail....
The problem was that the fucking cherry strepsil I wanted to take had treacherously decided to crumble into a multitude of sweet tasting shards. Far from curing my sore throat, my oesophagus was lacerated to buggery and I nearly died from the blood loss!
Naturally I wrote to the Daily Mail who kindly printed the following headline:
BENEFIT CLAIMING STREPSIL IN THROAT SHREDDING HORROR!!!
And it has to be true if you read it in the Daily Mail....
Friday, 19 March 2010
I went to the cabbages....
... and there was this good old boy digging up potatoes. He noticed me approaching, straightened his wizened spine and lent on the handle of his spade. He peered at me below his wide brimmed hat and scratched his chin...
"Fuck off kid!", he announced in a semi-angry voice. From within the folds of his cardigan he took out a serrated knife.
I'd seen/heard enough. I left sharpish, remembering that I was meant to go to Salisbury's and I wasn't sure what I was doing at the allotments! I could hear the old man laughing at my retreating back...
The joke's on him, though... I made a mental note to go back and take a shit on his Spinach patch. That'll learn the sour codger. While I'm there, I'll probably kill the Sparrows and Robins that visit him. Cunt!
"Fuck off kid!", he announced in a semi-angry voice. From within the folds of his cardigan he took out a serrated knife.
I'd seen/heard enough. I left sharpish, remembering that I was meant to go to Salisbury's and I wasn't sure what I was doing at the allotments! I could hear the old man laughing at my retreating back...
The joke's on him, though... I made a mental note to go back and take a shit on his Spinach patch. That'll learn the sour codger. While I'm there, I'll probably kill the Sparrows and Robins that visit him. Cunt!
Monday, 1 February 2010
Swimanizing
I keep forgetting to defluff by my belly button before going to the local swimming baths. I'm worried that bad things will happen. What if, all of the fluff is gathering in one of them filters with the plasters and verruca pickings formulating a plan.... Eventually its large enough to drift around eating fat kids. I can't have that on my conscience.
Swimming is not as rewarding as you might think. The girls that go generally wear goggles. Like a tourettes ridden Greg Luganis, every time one of them goes past in a glorious butterfly stroke, I involuntarily shout:
"FOUR EYES! Your only swimming 'cos your fat and daddy doesn't love you!"
Not nice, I know. Still, empty pool! I'm expecting a lifetime ban, soon. It's probably for the best. I'm fast getting bored of swimming and that stingy, back of the throat, nearly vomiting, sore eyes, drowning feeling. Stupid side effects...
Squash next. Nice big walls to stop me upsetting people...
Swimming is not as rewarding as you might think. The girls that go generally wear goggles. Like a tourettes ridden Greg Luganis, every time one of them goes past in a glorious butterfly stroke, I involuntarily shout:
"FOUR EYES! Your only swimming 'cos your fat and daddy doesn't love you!"
Not nice, I know. Still, empty pool! I'm expecting a lifetime ban, soon. It's probably for the best. I'm fast getting bored of swimming and that stingy, back of the throat, nearly vomiting, sore eyes, drowning feeling. Stupid side effects...
Squash next. Nice big walls to stop me upsetting people...
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
Dear Facebook...
With age many things change. The most important is the fact that I no longer pray to the supreme being for favours/things/fornication. I will be honest, he has been a little lax in his provision of happiness. I know he isn't there to provide me with that entry level digital SLR that I wanted but come on, make the effort.
It would seem that prayers to the lord have morphed into the Facebook status update. People probably think that God sits around all day reading status updates, hoping he will comment on them. Here are some examples:
Alex is hot
Alex is cold
Alex needs an Alan key that will work on the bicycle seat
Alex can't seem to grasp that being at work is not a time to show people YouTube videos
Alex is feeling rapey
Alex knows that there is no party like an S-Club party
Alex has HIV
Alex has AIDS
Alex is dead
... and so on.
It would be great if the almighty could comment on our status updates. If he did, he would probably say stuff like:
Ahhh don't be sad.... just wait until the second coming. I'm gonna fuck your shit right up for not being nice to the poor! lol
It would seem that prayers to the lord have morphed into the Facebook status update. People probably think that God sits around all day reading status updates, hoping he will comment on them. Here are some examples:
Alex is hot
Alex is cold
Alex needs an Alan key that will work on the bicycle seat
Alex can't seem to grasp that being at work is not a time to show people YouTube videos
Alex is feeling rapey
Alex knows that there is no party like an S-Club party
Alex has HIV
Alex has AIDS
Alex is dead
... and so on.
It would be great if the almighty could comment on our status updates. If he did, he would probably say stuff like:
Ahhh don't be sad.... just wait until the second coming. I'm gonna fuck your shit right up for not being nice to the poor! lol
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