Breaking Bad (No Spoilers Honest!)

Tonight in the UK, the nations favourite cancer-ridden chemist will finally finish his story as Breaking Bad draws to an end on Netflix. Americans got the chance to see this series finale yesterday because, due to them being a dominant global power, they invaded the production studio and made the cast and crew film the whole thing 24 hours faster.

So, as of writing, posting, and you reading this, I haven't seen the end of Breaking Bad. I've seen the penultimate episode and there's a lot of questions that need answering. Here's some of the important ends that I hope get tied up in the last episode:

1) What state are Walter White's pubes in? The chemo has obliterated his hair, yet he can still grow a beard that looks like a slug racing circuit. If that's the case, does Walt still have pubes? Does he have radioactive pubes that glow in the dark like a landing strip for paradropping parasites? This needs urgent explanation.

2) Is there anything that Walt "Flynn" Junior doesn't think is bullshit? As much as we enjoy seeing him slam his pancakes down in fury while declaring them "bullshit", I'd like to take a few minutes to find out what he does actually like. It would help to flesh out his character if he was into airfix models or was training to be an Irish dancer. I mean, the kid hates it when his father turns out to be a drug baron, when his father's cancer comes back, when he can't stay in his own house because of gangsters, I mean, what DOES he like? Get a grip, Flynn!

Who is this mysterious chap?

3) Did Skyler change her name by deed poll? I mean, Skyler sounds like a master criminals wifes name. You'd expect her to live in a cloud fortress, cackling to herself like a cracked drain. We need to know who or what benevolent being named her Skyler.

4) Is the smoke in the title sequence a drug reference? This is one of the big mysteries of Breaking Bad, and one which the writers have failed to address. There are many theories on the origin of this smoke, such as a fire breaking out just off screen because of all the floating chemicals, or someone farting liquid nitrogen. We need some urgent closure on this one!

5)  Who is this notorious Heisenberg that all the characters keep referring to?  Will Walt finally figure out this mysterious man's identity, and kill him?  Why is everyone so scared of this guy?  This is probably the most heavily-guarded secret in the entire show, so hopefully the writers will grace us with some kind of explanation before the end.

6)  What does Grey Matter (the company that Walt started as a young man) actually do?  It sounds like they just sit around and think about things.  It seems to be some sort of consortium of philosophers.  There's a lot of stuff we don't know about this company, including what product they make, what they sell, how they make money, and anything else other than it's name.  My bet is on Grey Matter being the international corporation that sells Walt's meth in Europe.

7) When will Breaking Good start?

A Poem On The Macarena

A one and a two and I do the Macarena,
Right here, right now I will do the Macarena,
I don't know the words to the real Macarena,
HEY MACARENA

Last night I dreamed that I did the Macarena,
I got a medal for service to the Macarena,
Then I woke up and promptly Macarena'd,
HEY MACARENA

Once I pop I can't stop this Macarena,
My aching muscles cannot stand this Macarena,
My body will give out 'fore I stop this Macarena,
HEY MACARENA

I can't relate to people unless they Macarena,
There's a void in my soul only filled by Macarena,
I left my wife 'cos she wouldn't Macarena,
HEY MACARENA

She's got a new man who does not Macarena,
Their sex life is dull due to lack of Macarena,
She'll regret turning her back on the Macarena,
HEY MACARENA

Some say my life has been wrecked by Macarena,
That I lost my job 'cos of relentless Macarena,
The job centre just laughed off my Macarena,
HEY MACARENA

I can't get money with my persistent Macarena,
I'm not classed as disabled 'cos I can Macarena,
The benefits office are biased about my Macarena,
HEY I AM STARVING TO DEATH

Rate My Sexual Ability

Dear user,

Thank for choosing Addman as your sexual partner of choice.  In a world of almost endless options when it comes to sexual congress, I am honoured that you have chosen me.  I hope that your experience was positive and thoroughly enjoyable throughout.

As I consider this to be a service, I was hoping that you would take a short survey detailing your experience.  Your feedback is very important to me, not as a badge of honour but as a learning exercise.  Please answer the following questions as honestly as possible, and thank you in advance:


1)  First Impressions.  Were you:

A)  Bowled over by my impeccable dress sense, outstanding wit and buckets of charm.
B)  Impressed by my time-keeping abilities and politeness.
C)  Horrified by my pornographic t shirt which pointed at my crotch and said “To begin pumping, lift nozzle”.


2)  How was the location for our date?

A)  A classy establishment that you never thought you’d be rich enough to dine in, let alone be treated to.
B)  Nice atmosphere, friendly place, good fun all round.
C)  Crunchy underfoot as the floor was littered with teeth.


3)  How was the date as a whole?

A)  Oh my god!  The best ever!  I’m haemorrhaging through laughter.
B)  It went smoothly.  I couldn’t ask for much more.
C)  I’ve had better times at waxing parlours.


4)  What made you decide to come home with me?

A)  How could I resist?  I couldn’t wait to get those clothes off.
B)  You seemed interesting and I was horny.
C)  I thought it would be impolite not to.


5)  When lovemaking commenced, how did you find it?

A)  An absolute blast.  Highly recommended.
B)  An enjoyable time was had by all.
C)  At least the smell of garlic on your breath would ward off any night prowlers.


6)  Did I treat you to my signature move “The Tarzan”?

A)  Yes.  Oh my holy good lord, yes!
B)  Yes.
C)  Tarzan?  More like Mowgli!


7)  How would you describe the overall experience?

A)  Once in a lifetime.  Never had better, never will.
B)  Jolly good.
C)  An interesting study on my own low standards.


8)  Last but not least, how were the amenities at my house?

A)  Clean, tidy, welcoming, beautifully and tastefully decorated.
B)  Working toilet and shower were in order.
C)  These possum bites don’t seem to be healing.


Thank you for taking the time to fill out this questionnaire.  The results will be posted onto an external database, correlated with sexual habits, and processed to give me an overall score out of ten.  I plan to use this as a talking point on my CV.

As an extra incentive, everyone who enters this survey will be put into a prize draw to win a love token.  The holder is entitled to a free session with me.  Use it wisely.

The Northampton Clown

What do you call a clown without a circus?  Fucking creepy, as this picture clearly demonstrates:

The residents of Northampton have been positively delighted to have this individual skulking around their streets.  The first sightings of Mr Jelly’s friend appeared on Friday 13th, and already the Northampton clown has a sizeable following of thousands online.  A Facebook page documents all of his appearances so far.  He is usually spotted with a teddy bear in hand, peering through windows and waving at passing traffic.
 
Interestingly, nobody seems to have approached or spoken to him, except for one woman who claims that he turned up on her doorstep and offered to paint her windowsills.  In the report, she notes that he “didn’t have the proper equipment”.  I thought it was common knowledge that clowns carried a squirty flower (could be filled with paint) and a string of knotted hankies (a potential brush), the perfect equipment for painting windowsills.  I bet she kicked herself when she realised that she’d turned down a free clown paint job.

Although his outfit seems to be modelled on Pennywise, the serial killing clown from Stephen King’s IT, he has yet to kill anyone.  In fact, although his behaviour is highly unusual, he doesn’t pose a threat to the public in any sense.  It’s obvious that he’s just a prankster trying to spook a few people, or is just trying to spread joy to the town in the most deluded manner possible.  In fact, nobody knows or understands his motives, which only serves to deepen the mystery.

Either way, opinion on the Northampton clown is polarised.  Some people love snapping grainy mobile camera shots of a terrifying clown in the dark, while others are threatening to beat him up.

Frankly, I think it’s awful to threaten a harmless clown with violence.  If being creepy was enough to warrant assault, I’d be on a daily beating these days.  It’s the same crowd who threaten to attack people because “they look like a paedo”.  Because some rudderless clown turns up in your town, unannounced, to spread joy to the world, people want to kick his head in until confetti falls out?  Nonsense, we should embrace this opportunity and try to learn more about his bizarre clown culture.  To the residents of Northampton, I urge you to invite this man into your home and make him welcome.  Think of it as a cultural exchange type thing.  Offer him a biscuit in exchange for a custard pie.  Ask him if his comically small car is fuel efficient.  These are all questions that need to be answered regarding these mysterious beings.

 

I reckon more towns in Britain could be livened up through the introduction of a clown.   Send in the clowns.

Some More Pointers On Last Night’s Orgy

Hello everyone!  I’d like to start by congratulating all the participants in last night’s orgy.  It would seem that many of you have taken my previous comments on board and, as such, I felt that the whole orgy experience was much improved.  Go team!

However, I’m sure many of you will call me a nit-picking nancy for this, but there were still a few niggles that I would like to see addressed.  For those that haven’t blocked me yet, please consider these minor points for next week’s gathering:

1)  You are all required to bring food to the orgy, no exceptions.  In the midst of steamy session, we all feel the need for nibbles.  It helps us push through that pain barrier caused by strenuous exercise.  Those who do not bring food, then proceed to empty a whole tube of Pringles by themselves are doing us all a disservice.  You need to contribute, people!

2)  Speaking of Pringles, empty tubes do not count as prophylactics.  Neither do bin bags, cling film, nor hollowed out baguettes.  If you aren’t coming equipped with the correct contraceptives, don’t expect to get any action.

If I used a Pringles can as a sheath, it would have to be a Super Stack

3)  This is not a pet hotel.  I’m sick and tired of being drooled over by a Doberman when I’m trying to enjoy myself.  The final straw was when said spittle-dried dog tried to join in, meaning that I had to lock it in the garage for the rest of the evening.  People, please find a sitter for your pets if they cannot be left home alone.

4)  I take a lot of pride in my appearance, as do most who attend.  However, I would like a little bit of acknowledgment when I’ve made an exceptional effort.  Last night I had shaved a lovely design into my pubis as a special treat, and people refused to comment on it.  I understand that a swastika may be a little extreme, but I was merely trying to draw a comparison between sex and fascism, hoping to raise a philosophical discussion.  Perhaps it went over most of your heads.

5)  The playlist is set for the evening and cannot be altered.  Do not ask me if I can put Lady Gaga on again.  Not only is it an insult to music, but most attendees would prefer the soothing tones of a classical piece to your horrible pop lullabys.  I always perform better to Rachmaninoff’s Flight Of The Bluebottle, and I’m sure my sexual partners appreciate it too.

6)  Condoms do not flush.  I thought this would be common sense, but as of five minutes ago I was elbow deep in my tank trying to remove a slippery, rubber blockage.  I always put out specific jonny bins when I host an orgy, and I expect people to use them.  They’re not difficult to find.  There’s a prophylactic disposal point in every room, and a map in the hallway to guide you.

7)  Please don’t fiddle with my thermostat.  I like to keep the temperature at a balmy level to promote sweat and healthy pores for my guests.  Consider it a cross between a sauna and a workout.  If you are too warm, may I suggest going outside, making use of the outdoor pool, or if you’re feeling adventurous, the shed.  I already have a few hoes in there, so what’s one more (a little orgy joke for you there)?

8)  I understand that many people like to cry out whilst in the midst of an exciting sexual escapade, but please can people refrain from shouting “Oh God”?  We are a multi-faith orgy and respectful of all deities.  Your cries of passion might offend Vishnu.

 

Watchin' you fuck

9)  If I put a “Do Not Enter” sign on a door, I don’t expect people to enter and start making love on the bed.  As a result, I have a rather traumatised 6 year old who wants to know why naked people were bumping into each other over and over in his room.

10)  Spillages are a part of the lifestyle and I am rather used to cleaning any kind of bodily fluid from a rug, mattress or table cloth.  However,  please be careful while drinking red wine and rutting like squealing pigs.  I’m sure bonking with a glass of chardonnay in hand might help the wine ruminate in your glass, giving it a unique flavour, but cleaning it off my wallpaper is a chore and a half.  Please be more considerate.


Thanks for taking the time to read this.  I’m sure if we’re all a little more respectful, we can all have wonderful orgies in future.

Film Pitches

Those who read Muppets For Justice regularly will already know that I am a massive cinephile.  So much so that I have broken into several projector rooms, wrapped the film reel around my naked body, and started the projector.  I am still appealing a ban at Cineworld (if it was illegal surely they’d lock the door to the projector room, right?).

But anyway, since the advent of Netflix I have found myself watching many more films than usual.  Too many films.  So many films in fact, that my brain has been reprogrammed with movie logic.  For example, I don’t mind if the police destroy whole cities in shootouts and take countless lives as long as they catch the criminals.  I don’t question why the eagles don’t just fly everyone to Mordor in the first place.  I also know that, if I have a fight with Mrs Addman because I’ve been a colossal cock face, I just have to propose in a public place to resolve it.

Anyway, I think it is safe to assume that my movie enthusiasm is the perfect catalyst for great film ideas.  Somewhere in the recesses of my cranium exists a Hollywood Blockbuster worth eleventy-billion pounds.  Like throwing spaghetti at a wall, I’m going to throw some ideas out there and see if any stick.



Title: You Me Marley & Me and Dupree

Genre:  Dogmantic Buddy Comedy

Pitch:  Owen Wilson stars as Owen Wilson’s ill-mannered dog that comes to stay with newlyweds Owen Wilson and Owen Wilson.  Owen Wilson is initially annoyed at Owen Wilson chewing the sofa and disrupting his sexy times with Owen Wilson.  Eventually, Owen Wilson comes to care for Owen Wilson, who then dies of a twisted stomach.

With your donations we can give Owen Wilson the life-saving stomach surgery he needs.

Title:  Kramer vs Predator

Genre:  Action/Family

Pitch:  Dustin Hoffman has to save his son from a predatory alien (Meryl Streep) who is hunting them for sport.  The film culminates in Hoffman covering himself in mud while shouting “GET TO DA CHOPPAH!”



Title: The Dark Knight’s Tale

Genre:  Action/Comedy

Pitch:  Heath Ledger plays a medieval knight who has to kill The Joker (Heath Ledger) and save the kingdom.  Unfortunately, Heath Ledger as an actor dies before filming can be completed, so other actors are drafted in to complete the film.  This is explained in film through several face transplants which happen for inexplicable reasons.



Title: Beverley Hills Chupacabra

Genre:  Monster/Vapid

Pitch:  Dazzled by the glamour of Hollywood, a mythical, goat-killing beast tries to make it big on the silver screen.

 

Chupacabra:  Before The Bling

Title:  Whaling Boats

Genre:  Kids/Whaling boats

Pitch:  From Disney/Pixar comes a heart-warming tale in which a small fishing trawler (voiced by Steve Carrell) dreams of carrying dead whale carcasses on his back.  With the help of his Japanese friends, they eventually upgrade him to the point where he is able to drag a thrashing leviathan from the depths of the ocean, and slowly allow it bleed out for two hours, on screen, in front of an audience of captivated kids.  Children will marvel at the way Greenpeace ships are crushed in order to get at that succulent whale blubber.



That’s all the ideas that I have today.  However, I would love to hear what you, my dear readers, can come up with.  You guys have proven time and time again to be a resourceful and imaginative bunch, so hit me with your best movie pitches!

Parallel Poo-niverse

It’s often said that you need to journey far in order to really find yourself.  Some people travel to India, give up their worldly possessions and follow a nappy-clad guru around in a tour bus.  Others spend their whole life chanting and bowing at statues in the vain hope of achieving enlightenment.  Then there are those who are willing to pay to ascend the Thetan ranks.  I, however, found myself while visiting the bathroom.

There I was, crunching my abdominal muscles as I tried to push a potato-sized object through a hole the size of a nostril, when I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of relief.  At first I thought this was down to my bowel excavation, as I glanced back and admired my dense handiwork.  This was definitely one for the scrapbook.  As I went to fetch my camera, I caught a glimpse of myself.  That is, I noticed there was another me stood there, in the bathroom, looking at my poo. 

He was as shocked as I was to see me.  We both stood there in disbelief for several seconds before I dared to move a muscle.  He must have had the same idea because he also raised his hand as a greeting.

This person thought exactly like me, did the exact same things as me, and even danced the Macarena with as much gusto as me (trust me, nobody Macarenas like Addman).  It was like our minds were one, but our bodies were two.  I had found an identical copy of myself, a being from an alternate dimension summoned through the intense muscle spasms of a spectacular faecal incident.  My poo had torn through the fabric of space-time and transported myself from a parallel universe to witness the event.  At least, that was the most logical conclusion I could draw from all this.

Just think, having two bodies and brains could make me twice as smart, multiplying my intelligence by 1.5.  Or maybe we would become greater than the sum of our parts, like a desk from Ikea with a few spare screws at the end.

It's shocking how often I post pictures of toilets on the Internet

It was our civic duty to use this opportunity for the good of mankind.  Taking myself by the shoulder, we set out into the open world to cure cancer, solve world hunger, or find out what Silica Gel actually is.  We went out into the streets to spread our message of jubilation and to let the world know that all of their problems were over.

Unfortunately, there weren’t many people willing to listen to us.  When we shouted at people walking by, they tried their hardest to ignore us.  Perhaps they couldn’t comprehend the paradox that we creating, but their closed-minded bullshit was really starting to grind.  Couldn’t they see that everything we were doing, we were doing for love?  Love of our fellow man?  But not in a gay way. 

Anyway, in the end we felt so disillusioned that we went to a funfair to cheer ourselves up.
The man at the Candyfloss stall wouldn’t sell us any, mainly because we didn’t have any money and kept asking each other to pay.  We vowed revenge, but decided to check out one of the spooky houses as a fun treat.

Inside, I started to feel as though I was being watched.  These places are meant to make you feel unusual, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.  As we rounded the corner, there in front of us were countless other me’s from countless other dimensions.  Some were tall and skinny, others were short and fat, and some probably liked the taste of Marmite.  Here, located entirely within the confines of this small room, stood an entire legion of us.  Our overwhelming numbers would be enough to conquer the globe, and that’s when my thoughts shifted from helping my fellow man, to dominating my fellow man.  After all, they refused to listen when I tried to spread the word.  They deserved it, starting with that candyfloss guy.

Leading the charge, we ran out of the house in innumerable numbers and proceeded to launch our assault across the dodgems.

That’s the last thing I remember.  I woke up in hospital with no sign of the other Addmans.  Apparently, I’d been hit by a bumper car while holding a bathroom mirror.  Since that day I have felt a gaping void inside me, left by my alternate copies.  A part of me died that day.  But do not fret dear reader!  I have had a whole bowl of chilli for dinner tonight, so it’s only a matter of time before the porcelain throne becomes a portal to a parallel me once again.

I'm Gonna Kick Your Arse

Recently, I have found myself subject to a fair bit of sass online.  The culprit knows who they are and shall not be named for privacy reasons, but let it be known that this person is aware of the low down, dirty deeds they have been committing.  Rest assured though that I am going to kick their arse.

Let this statement of intent ring out across the Internet.  Don’t say I haven’t given you fair warning for your impending arse-kicking.  Let it come as no surprise when foot meets buttock with stinging justice.  However, a simple kick of the old arse isn’t going to suffice in this instance.  There’s a whole list of vengeful acts I intend to commit upon you.  Here’s what you can expect to happen to you over the next few days/weeks/months/years.

One day, you’re going to come downstairs and find a parrot in your living room.  You have no idea where this parrot has come from, but hey, it’s a free parrot so you decide to keep it.  At first, the parrot seems perfectly pleasant as it whistles contentedly to itself and only ever says “Who’s a pretty boy?”  However, a few days later it suddenly starts shouting “You’re a cock!”  As the days pass, the parrot that you’ve now grown so attached to starts learning more and more swear words.  Unprompted, it starts calling you a "Cock Goblin" and declares you to be "Twattish" at best.  It even begins to coin new swear words such as “Cludgey Hole” and “Shitacular”.  This culminates in a dinner party in which your guests are individually insulted by this horrific bird, then subjected to racist and homophobic abuse.  Your friends will all hate you as a result.

After this, I’m also going to start moving items around your home during the night.  First I’ll start off small by putting the remote between the sofa cushions, but slowly, I’ll build up to bigger items such as your Sky Box in the shower,  bleach in your rabbit’s water bottle, and your dining table on the roof of your shed.  You’ll suspect this is all the work of a poltergeist, and call in an exorcist to fend off the demons.  Before long, your house will appear on Britain’s Most Haunted, subjecting you to a fierce infestation of Derek Acorah.

Who you gonna call?

Once that’s over with, I’m going to start leaving post-it notes around your house that say “I know what you did!”.  On the first day, there will be just one note, and you'll just think it's someone in your household kidding around.  The second day, there will be two notes, and so on until a few months later when your entire is plastered with these notes.  You’ll wrack your brain trying to figure out what it is that you have done.  Was it the time when you told your boss that you’d seen Phil photocopying his nipples to remove him from the running for promotion?  Was it the dick pics you sent on those anonymous imaging sharing apps?  Perhaps it was when you forgot to feed the cat for three days in a row?  The relentless nature of this event will start to drive you insane.

After that has concluded, I’m just going to knock on the door and tell you that you suck, that you smell, and you’re a stupid baby.  This will be the straw that finally breaks the camel’s back.  You’ll sob uncontrollably for the rest of your life until you are committed to a mental asylum and lobotomised.  I will then declare victory and throw a celebration at your family home in honour of the occasion.

Rest assurred, you will rue the day you messed with Addman J. Addmanson.



P.S. could you cut a front door key for me?  No particular reason, I just reckon it might come in handy.  Thanks in advance.

Podcast Episode 4

Here is episode 4 of the podcast:




Credits:

Bumferry Hogart - Hugh Huxley

Music:

Eiffel 65 - Blue
Venga Boys - We Like To Party
Frank Sinatra (Nancy Sinatra) - Something Stupid

I was going to post transcripts, but I've improvised so much that they no longer resemble what I originally wrote.  Rather than write them again, I'll just say sorry and hope you enjoy listening rather than reading.