Your Parenting Problems – Spanked

Parents, it’s time to listen up.  I'm sick to the back teeth of your pathetic little womb-escapologists coming up to me and asking stupid questions like “are you my real daddy?” “can you stop standing on my cat?” or “if you’re not selling ice cream, why do you have a van and encourage children to climb inside?”  The answers are far too complicated for their puny brains to comprehend.

What I mean is, it’s time for all the parents out there to take control of their kids.  That’s why I’ve decided to give out some much needed parenting advice online.  I am fully versed on the subject of childcare.  I’ve watched enough 80’s Hollywood movies in which self made bachelors end up caring for a child in unlikely circumstances, too many in fact.  In other words, I reckon I know which end of a child to wipe (answer: both).  Anyway, here are some hapless parents who need some tender loving advice:

Gemma Driveway – Calorie Counter Dear Addman, My daughter is refusing to eat her greens.  I gave her a plate full of delicious curried sprouts, but she wouldn’t eat it.  I even gave her a green potato, but she claimed it was “mouldy” and wouldn’t eat the damned thing.  How can I guilt trip her into eating my hastily prepared cuisine?

Dear Gemma,

I always tell my children (well, not my children, but ones on opposite tables in restaurants) that for every pea they fail to eat, a rabbit who could have eaten that pea, will die.  Children love rabbits, so if they think their actions might go towards the harm of rabbits, they’ll swiftly change.  If your child is particularly stubborn, you can buy some pet rabbits and skin them alive, hanging them about the place like a Turkish butcher’s window.  Children need visual reinforcement, you see.  Failing that, sitting down to eat a fresh rabbit pie should teach her the error of her ways.

Alaister Pigeon – Haemorrhoid Farmer

Dear Addman,

My son’s birthday is coming up soon.  What should I get him as a present?

Dear Alaister,

You poor, naive, fool.  In the same vein as Valentine’s Day or funerals, birthdays are events orchestrated by greetings card companies to con the public out of their hard earned money.  However, if you insist on getting a present, you can’t go far wrong with a shovel.  Imagine how much fun they’d have shovelling the driveway so daddy can go to work in the morning!  Children also love to bury bones in the back yard.  Or is that dogs?  I might be mistaking kids for dogs again, like that time I left my nephew tied up in the garden.

Barry Shogun – Heavyweight Cardboard Boxer

Dear Addman,

My neighbour has two very rowdy young boys who keep kicking a ball over my fence.  They then climb over the fence to fetch their ball back, without my permission.  I tried to discuss this abhorrent behaviour with their mother, who proceeded to hold my head down near her bottom and fart on me.  What can I do?

Dear Barry,

Easy, buy some mutant, electrified guard dogs.  Next!

Stuart Pourer – Head Tester

Dear Addman,

My damn wife wants us to start a family together.  Despite my tendency to be in and out of prison more often than a book library, Ingrid thinks it’s a great idea for us to reproduce.  I’ve told her that I unofficially had the snip during a knife fight that didn’t go in my favour, but she reckons that they can operate and fix this these days.  How can I persuade her that kids are a bad idea?

Dear Stuart,

Kids are always a bad idea.  I don’t know who it was who invented kids, but I’d force him to revise his blueprints.  Basically, they are stupid, miniature versions of yourself who are protected, by law, from being forced to perform simple tasks for your own profit.  The only useful thing about kids is that they provide a vessel through which you can pass your neuroses onto the next generation.  I hope that my crippling fear of bananas will live on in my children, and my children’s children, until one day, an army of my descendants rises up to destroy the banana republic. 

Anyway, the best way to put your spouse off is give her a long list of made up congenital defects that are prevalent throughout your family tree.  Tell her about your great grandfather who had an exploding spleen.  Regale her with tales of your uncle Norris who tragically passed away after a severe case of eyelash cancer.  With enough horror stories like these, she’ll probably decide that inflicting your children on the world is an unnecessary evil.

Nicole Papa – Cigarette Dispenser

Dear Addman,

My youngest child is fast approaching the age where I have to give him “the talk”.  Although I’ve given this talk eleven times before, it never gets any easier.  Are there any tips you can give me on this matter?

Dear Nicole,

I never had “the talk” myself.  I learned everything I needed to know about sex from listening to Bloodhound Gang records.  In fact, it wasn’t until my mid twenties that I learned you could have sex while facing each other, so maybe that particular band isn’t the best example.  I would recommend learning through music though.  Perhaps this video from Tenacious D might educate your little one in how to behave during intercourse:

Brian Herbie-White – Professional Playa Hater

Dear Addman,

My son is getting bullied at school.  There’s a bigger kid who keeps stealing his lunch money, throwing his new shoes on the sports hall roof, and pouring spaghetti down his jumper.  I wanted to go to the school and tell them, but my son begged me not to, as he’s scared the bullying will get worse.  What can I do?

Dear Brian,

Your son needs to toughen up.  When I was younger, me and my friends had some trouble with bullies, so we took up wrestling.  Mr Grainger down the road ran a free wrestling class in his basement.  We couldn’t tell our parents or else it would spoil our wrestling powers, but Mr Grainger taught us loads by throwing us around on a dirty mattress.  He had an unusual technique, and wore nothing but a vest while he wrestled, but it taught me some eye-watering manoeuvres.  My friends refused to go back there, but I kept seeing him up until I was fourteen, when he mysteriously moved house.  Anyway, some combat training might be the best solution for your son.

Alison Packard – Chief Designer Of Chiefs

Dear Addman,

I’m a busy woman who juggles a high powered business career and two children.  Both my daughters want to start gymkhana, but I have trouble even spelling it, let alone having the time to take them to one every week.  How can I let my princesses down gently?

Dear Alison,

If there's one thing I know about little girls, it’s that they hate riding horses with a passion.  I don’t know what your daughters think a gymkhana is, but I think you should set them straight.  Then they’ll take up more appropriate girl hobbies, like running up gigantic phone bills, fantasising about teachers, and learning dance moves in the hopes of getting laid at the school disco.

Marissa Duracell – Child Photographer

My child has been really ill and has been bedbound for a couple of weeks now.  She keeps spewing out green slime, turning her head round 360 degrees, and I’ve occasionally caught her crawling around on the ceiling, shouting swear words.  The doctors have prescribed Ritalin, but it doesn’t seem to do much.  What can I do?

Dear Marissa,

I think I saw a movie that was about this once.  Do her symptoms include masturbating with a crucifix, and an aversion to Holy Water?  If so, I think you might find the answer in an old, yet rather controversial movie. 

I think the movie was called Big.  In it, Tom Hanks wishes he was older, which comes true overnight, leaving him in an adult’s body.  I think that your little girl is becoming a woman, and her terrible behaviour is a result of the growing pains of adolescence.  You need to sit down and have a talk with your daughter, explain to her about the changes her body will go through, then slap her repeatedly until she stops being so repellent.

That’s all for now.  Join me next time when I’ll be teaching people how hitting your kids is bad as you might hurt your hand, and how to handle a toddler who has set fire to himself.  Good bye!

Brain Shits - The Voices Strike Back

By the cock of Zeus (thanks Chiz), its been a while since I've done a Brain Shit.  For those who've never read a Brain Shit before, it's a series in which I just post the first things that pop into my head.  Aside from spelling and grammatical corrections, this is unedited.  For more Brain Shits, see previous postings here:

Brain Shit 1

Brain Shit 2

Brain Shit 3

Today's Brain Shit:

Of all the food groups, one of the most versatile is toast.  Toast shares virtually no characteristics with the bread it was forged from.  It’s brittle, doesn’t fold, and improves with jam.  But what about toast that always lands butter side down?  Scientists reckon that if you butter both sides, then toast is unable to touch the floor and stays suspended in the air.  

Well I think we can take this a step further.  We could butter the crusts of the toast, then try and roll it on the ground like a hula hoop.  The buttery properties of the toast would leave it spinning in the air, unable to land for all time.

Brown toast.  Get it?

I want to harvest this resource in order to make the world’s first flying cars.  Just replace the wheels with buttered toast (applied to the correct areas), and you’ve created an antigravity device.  I can see a bright future full of people zipping around in their breakfast cars, soaring majestically through the skies thanks to crispyfied bread and Lurpak. 

I often wonder what will happen when I’m gone.  Well, I know there will be a funeral, but I mean in the future.  What kind of technology will we have?  I think mankind will have reached its peak when everything in our everyday lives can be done from the comfort of our own beds.  Our beds will hover (thanks to toast) to the bathroom so we can relieve ourselves.  A robot hand will come out of the wall and brush your teeth for you.  Then, the bed will automatically take you to work.  It’ll slide through the doors of your office and dock into your specially crafted desk.  A pull out monitor will hover over your head to stop you having to sit up.  Unfortunately, I have a tendency to sleep naked, so people in the office better get used to seeing an abundance of flesh.  Due to such a lazy lifestyle, I’d probably be really fat as well, so people end up getting more for their money.  Not that people would pay to see me working naked in bed.  Or would they?

I saw a news article today about a man who had a bionic eye fitted.  He’d been blind for two decades, but they installed a microchip just behind his eye, and now he can see shapes in black and white.  In few years time, they might have technicolour eyes, then digital, then HD, then 3D, and you get where I’m going with this.

Google:  Coming in your eyes

Google invented some goggles recently that give you live information about what you’re seeing.  They also display maps for you, and I assume give you directions as you’re walking around.  Right before your very eyes!  That should be the tagline.  I’m waiting for Google Trousers, which give you up to the minute inside leg measurements for an impromptu trip to the tailor, measure seat humidity, and fold into shorts if it becomes too hot.  They could also constantly compare penis size for those insecure people out there.  The trousers could also have routes programmed into them, so they force you to walk a certain way to work (past an open window at the ladies gym), or stand at the back of guided tours so you can pretend you’ve already paid.

There are lots of benefits for Internet enabled clothing.  One thing I would like to see though, is food with GPS capabilities.  You could log onto a website and see how far along your digestive system your cupcake has gone.  This would enable you to plan your toilet trips in advance, making you the most productive member of the office.  Everyone would love you for it.  You’d get promoted instantly because of all the extra productivity.

Also, if you could virus scan potential sexual partners, that would be rather useful.

“I’m sorry, the date was going great, but then I scanned you and noticed Herpes.exe running in the background.  Call me when Dr Watson sorts that shit out.”

If you think this is a geeky post, that’s because I’m a geek.  I’m sorry to disappoint you.  I know you imagined me as a hunky rock idol who constantly rips an awesome guitar solo every time he posts on the Internet, which I do in between saving puppies and breaking hearts, so I’m sorry to let you all down.

My Dining Experience

(The following post was written by my grandfather, Addman Snr)

Hullo there Internetters.  My name is Addman Senior.  At my time of life, I don’t have a lot of time to learn about new technologies, what with all the fist-shaking I have to do, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I make a boo-boo and cause your computers to catch viruses or something.  However, I’ve decided to brave this Internet thing so I can share my most recent dining experiences with you.

There’s a restaurant that opened up in my town about ten years ago.  A lot of you folks may be familiar with its acronym, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it is.  I think the restaurant is called Knaresborough Fried Chicken.  It’s the one with the ghostly, disembodied head of an old western gentleman on the front.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about making a reservation at this restaurant for many years, but I’ve never got round to it before.  When you’re 88 years old as I am, sometimes you forget to do things.  Last week I left my socks on the washing line overnight and they frosted over into pointy shards, fell off the line, and impaled a fox.  It was only when my fox casserole failed to live up to expectations at the local church fete that I decided I should try some more modern cuisine.  Thus I booked myself a table at the fried chicken establishment.

I found the food to be "digit-tasting good"

When I say booked a table, I was a little unsure as to whether I had successfully completed this process or not.  I rang the restaurant and tried to make a reservation, and a young chap told me “Uh, you just come in, mate”, but I told him I didn’t want to get there and find there was no seating.  Standing was not an option, not with my knees.  Since the chap failed to book my table, I drove to the restaurant, and noticed that people were driving up to a window.  I suspected this was how you booked a table, so I parked up behind a blue Ford Escort and waited to reserve a table.  The queue was rather long, which suggested to me that this was a prestigious establishment.

To my surprise, a crackly voice box next to me introduced itself as “Matt” and asked if it could take my order.  "Matt" was a four foot tall, metallic phallus jutting out of the concrete, rooted to spot in order to greet diners.  I got out of my car to greet this kind robot, but realised that I couldn’t shake its hand as it didn’t have any.  Instead, I leaned near the holes which I assumed were its ears, and asked if I could book a table.  “Matt” told me to come round to the front of the restaurant and I could take a seat inside.  I never thought I’d get the chance to talk to real live service droid, not in my lifetime anyway.

As I walked through the door, the first thing I noticed about the place was the state of the floor.  I haven’t eaten out for at least 25 years; since my ex-wife Marlene faked her own death and ran away to Scunthorpe with a young fellow who still had one of his original hips.  Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised to see how clean the floor was here.  Obviously, food standards have improved lately, and the floor was covered in water to prevent dirt.  I slipped twice on my way to a table, but a chap was kind enough to drop a bucket on my head to prevent my embarrassment, and spill a drink on me to cool my blushes.  Regardless, I managed to climb over to a table, but found myself a bit confused by the long, padded benches there.  I called a server over, who explained that these were called “a booth”, and provided additional comfort for diners.  Feeling rather sophisticated, I climbed into my “booth”, and scouted around for a menu.

Oddly enough, this being a contemporary establishment and all, the menus weren’t on the table.  In my excitement I had failed to make an order before I took to my seat, so I approached the counter where a young man named Matt (perhaps named after the robot) said he’d take my order there and then.

There is no place for plates and cutlery in modern cuisine

I ordered the “Boneless Banquet”, which sounded rather delightful.  As many of my bones have been replaced over the years, I figured that the “Boneless Banquet” would be perfect for geriatric connoisseurs such as myself.  They gave me a plastic container of black sludge called “Pepsi”, and asked me what sides I wanted.  Unfortunately, they couldn’t provide side orders of pickled figs or corned beef platters, so I had a piece of corn, and a “slaw”.  This “slaw” stuff was rather interesting.  I tasted some and, using my unique taste buds, was able to identify the ingredients as carrots and lettuce served in a poultry-semen marinade.  It’s a long time since I ate any chicken sperm, not since war rationing, so I was pleased that an older palette such as mine was being catered for.

As for the actual meal, I must say it was truly, truly scrumptious.  The boneless chicken was easy enough to mush down with my gums and swallow, with only minimum mashing required.  I am delighted that modern science has found a way to breed chickens without skeletons, thus giving us boneless banquets such as this.  How do boneless chickens function before they are slaughtered?  Quite how the chickens mate with others when they’re lifeless sacks of flesh and feathers, I don’t know, but the taste is tremendous.  I was surprised to find seven secret herbs and spices in there.  I could probably identify them for them, but I know that some of you don't like spoilers.  Besides, I didn't think Dettol was a spice, no matter how much of it you use.

Overall, I would give my dining experience a 9 out of 10.  I knocked a mark off due to the difficulty in booking a table, and also because they wouldn’t let me meet the chef afterwards.  Perhaps if I was a regular customer, I might get the opportunity to sit at the chef’s table.  Next time, I hope to visit a local venue that has been causing quite a stir amongst my grandkids called “Brewer’s Fayre”.  Until then, I bid you all a good afternoon and a safe surf down the super information autobahn.

You Have Notifications Pending

Is it just me, or is Facebook getting a little passive-aggressive in the notifications emails it sends out?

Dear Addman,

You have notifications pending on Facebook.  Here's some of the tantalising, fun-filled action you've missed out on because you've not signed in for several days, you naughty boy!

17 of your friends updated their status.  Some of the highlights include classic one liners such as "Just had beans for tea!" or the universally acclaimed "put my son in the bath. went outside to have a ciggy, came back and he'd slipped underwater. lol!".

I'm sure you'll agree, it's been an absolute laugh-riot while you've been away!

3 friends were also tagged in drunken pictures.  5 friends changed their profile pictures to ones taken in their bathroom mirror with a camera phone, whilst pouting.  7 friends posted albums worth of photos of their kids, which they're understandably proud of, so you should be too!

You've also been invited to join in with several thousands, pants-dampeningly exciting games.  Log on now to join your friends in Vampires vs More Vampires, Superhero Bugaloo and Farmville 2:  Foot And Mouth Outbreak.  

On the subject of games, perhaps you'd be interested in building an entire city on City Blox?  Thich is in no way a very poor re imagining of Sim City, if it was imagined by a man with no imagination.

Oh, by the way, your girlfriend just changed her marital status to Single.  This is because you didn't respond to her on Facebook Messenger for 20 minutes, you heartless bastard!  I mean, why did you even sign up to Facebook if you don't want to check Facebook that often?  You disgust me.

To stop you offending any more people, we're seriously considering shutting down your account unless you log on within the next 2 hours.  You'll also need to provide your mobile phone number, so we can legitimise your account, and we'll require some DNA samples, just to check that you're still you.  We do this for your own good because you can't be trusted to manage your own friends and contacts.  Why don't you ever tell everyone where you are at every moment of the day?  Why don't you inform everyone what you ate for breakfast?  Why, if you've ordered something and it turns up late, don't you rant about it online?  You're alienating everyone, you twisted weirdo!

Love n' Kisses
Facebook

I've got to admit, I'm a little scared.

Paranormal Post-Its

It’s tiring leading a double life.  By day I masquerade as a lowly, humble pornography dispenser at railways sidings, but this is merely a day job.  At night is where my real work can be conducted, away from the nervous eyes and closed minds of the general populace.  Little do my friends and family know that I am also a paranormal investigator.

Sure, I haven’t worked as a paranormal investigator in any official sense, but I have watched many straight to TV Sci Fi films, and have been able to guess the endings to X Files episodes with a 65% accuracy.  It’s astounding that I haven’t been able to convert this uncanny ability into any kind of monetary wealth, so much so that it could be considered paranormal in itself.  I ought to look into that.  Regardless, I thought I’d talk to you about some of the supernatural oddities that I have encountered during my investigations.

My first case started back when I was 11.  I was just an ordinary kid, eating worms and trying to figure out alternative uses for elastic bands, charting trajectory and velocity, and making mental notes in the name of science.  At school, we were all used to blackboards or chalkboards, but our school was blessed to receive a rare, exotic whiteboard.  This was gifted to us as part of a government grant for having the least decapitated pupils in our area for the academic year.  Whiteboards are just like blackboards except they are a little bit pale in comparison, and you write on them with markers instead of chalk.  Markers that mark things.  The kind that if you marked your own face with one in an attempt to look like a tiger, your mother would pour liquid soap into your eyes and scream “Why won’t it come off!?” while your dad dials for an ambulance.

Markers are for boards, not faces

 I sat in the inaugural lesson in which the whiteboard was unveiled.  A lady popped open a bottle of champagne, a brass band was teleported in, and streamers came out of my ears in celebration.  Once the fuss had calmed down, the teacher went about her usual business of teaching us how to breathe, or something equally unimportant.  Just as the class was nodding off, the teacher nonchalantly picked up a scraggy cloth, and wiped the letters away.  They just disappeared as though they had never been there.

“What kind of devilry is this?!” I shrieked from the back of the room, leaping from my desk and knocking over three other students in my surprise.  As I went to the front of the class to conduct an investigation into this matter, I was restrained by the teacher and removed from the room.   I was never allowed to conclude my experiments, and was promptly excluded after urinating on the board during break, trying to lure the demons out with the nearest holy water substitute I had to hand.

As I grew up I came across more and more strange incidents that are unexplainable by religion, science, or a curious blend of the two that I like to call, reliance.  When I was 17, I woke up for my nightly poo only to find that the toilet seat was mysteriously warm.  No one else had sat on the toilet since I had 10 minutes previously, when I felt having a sit down wee as a treat.  So why was it warm?  Had hot ghosts been using my bathroom?  I was so frightened that I couldn’t finish and had to go back to bed unsatisfied.

A nice toilet will attract a classier sort of ghost

 More recently, I came across a set of paranormal post-it notes that would make your blood crawl and your hair boil.  Unlike ordinary post-its, these ones possess abilities that would make David Blaine eat his own shit.  Simply write something on them, as usual, then tear it off and press it flat against a wall or flat vertical surface.  Then, remove your hand, and these post-its stay in place as if by magnets!  I intend to write a 1000 page dossier on this phenomenon and present it to the Pope, asking how he could allow the production of possessed stationary.

If you have any mysteries that you’d like me to look into, please take my business card.  If you can’t reach them from wherever you are, simply write about your experiences in the comments box below.  I’ll respond to you as soon as I’ve finished molesting the invisible man who sleeps in my bed.

----------------

For more Muppety goodness, I've done a guest post over at Elton Says Things.  Go and read it, then go and read his stuff.  All of it.  Once you're done, you can probably go and read something else.

My Inbox Is Spam: Diet/Fitness Edition

Those of you who have been reading Muppets For Justice for a long time (ie. sadists) may recall a brief exchange I had with a spammer named Christine Chu.  She emailed asking me to advertise her diet/fitness app on my Blog.  I had a little fun with her via email, which I've published before in an earlier post, but for those who don't like to click links for fear of being Rick Rolled, I've posted the original exchange below:

Hi Addman,

I was reading your blog today and wonder if I could get your opinion on a diet/fitness app I am working on?

For me, I think the main problem with being fit and eating healthy is motivation. It's an abstract, overwhelming goal. I think the best way to counter this is to turn it into winnable games and small victories.

So... my app makes living healthy, and fitness into a RPG game, where users earn points, "level up', and earn badges as they accomplish their health goals. Everytime they add something healthy like veggies to their diet, they earn points. Everytime they complete a workout, they earn points. As they achieve more and more, they'll level up and unlock badges, and discounts/coupons to rewards like spas, health foods, maybe even sweet and semi-healthy things like raw chocolate.

Of course, to appeal to people's need for achievements/progress, I'm also adding charts, and graphs to show their progress... I think people love that sorta stuff. The whole idea is to shift people's attitude towards healthy living as fun, achievement, and winnable. We're missing that sense of "win" in fitness. That feeling we get when we finish checking things off a list, or cleaning up a room.

What's your opinion on this idea? Would you want to know when I'm done with it? If this sounds too silly, or absurd, just ignore what I just said, hehe =)

Best,
Christine

Hi Christine!

As you've read my blog, you'll no doubt understand how important diet/fitness is to me.  I simply cannot get by without a daily dose of diet/fitness.  Naturally, a diet/fitness app would suit me like water wings on a bumblebee, but I have a few questions about it?

1)  Would the app be available on Tuesdays and Thursdays?  I tend to perform most of my diet/fitness on these days.

2)  Would the app be free, or would you keep it caged up?  I only download free range apps.

3)  Do you need a smartphone to download the diet/fitness app?

4)  When you level up in this diet/fitness app, do you learn fireball spells?  This is crucially important.

Thanks for informing me about this and rekindling my love affair with diet/fitness.

Thanks

Addman

Thanks for the feedback, I'm glad you like the idea :) Hehe, the app will be for smartphones so you can use it 24/7. But there will be a website version so everyone can use it.

But no fireball spells unfortunately =(

I'll let you know when the site/app is done, so you can check it out. It won't be until later this year when I'm done with it. Creating an app and a website is very challenging, but creating something new that will help others is very exciting! ^_^

Best,

Christine

Christine,

This is all very exciting!  A diet/fitness site/app available 24/7 would be a dream come true!

I understand how challenging it is to make a website.  I once created a website about my brother, it was called "FUCK YOU CONRAD!".  I knocked it up very quickly after he smashed my batman glass by accident/on purpose, and it all ended very badly when the police made me take it down.  I'm not allowed to see him anymore.  Anyway, if you need help on designing your website, I can give you a few pointers if you like.

I'm sad to see the lack of fireball spells, but I think you could redeem this by putting in a +1 Mace Of Corruption, or a Magic Missile.

Thanks

Addman

Well, six months of hard app programming later, and Christine has finally finished her life changing diet/fitness/level up/rpg/omg/wtf/asl app.  This is excellent news!  She emailed me, asking if I could advertise her wares again.  I was all too happy to oblige:

Hey Addman!

It's been a long time since I told you about the diet/fitness "level-up" website I worked on with some friends... I don't remember if I told you.. but our website + app got released last month. If you want to check it out, it's at [URL Removed].

Hope you can share it in your blog if you find it interesting. :)

Enjoy your Friday!
Christine

You're right Christine, it's been far too long!  I feel like I'm getting in touch with an old friend that I haven't seen since school.  It's like Friends Reunited, only my friend is encouraging me to hit the gym and eat veg.  That friend probably drives a Nissan Leaf too.  Pah!

Hey Christine, long time no speak!  How's the family?  My family is alright, apart from a recent event in which my cat found it's way into a neighbour's bag, and he threw it in the pond.  My neighbour says that he didn't know the cat was in there, and that I have to pay compensation as the cat caused significant claw damage to the bag, which is an irreplaceable, one of a kind burlap sack.  I hope I can count on your support during this tragic time.

I surely will share your diet coke fitness/level up app on my Blog.  I'm sure everyone will love it.  As I always say to my 130 followers (yes, my Blog has grown lately) on a daily basis "hey guys, you really need to work on your diet/fitness."  Some of my followers are very lazy.  There's this one guy who is very nice, but he once commented saying that he ate a whole Tesco cheesecake in one sitting.  I hope your app would give him an electric shock for being so greedy and un-diety/fitnessey.

Is there anything you'd like me to tell my members specifically?  Something that might encourage them to try your app?

Yours losing-weightingly
Addman

I have a confession at this point.  It was me who ate the cheesecake.  I'm sorry, but if she asks, I'm going to pin the blame on Flip.

Unfortunately, she never responded.  So I'm disappointed to tell you that I can tell you nothing else about this diet/fitness app.  I could tell you where to download it from, but I'm not a particularly nice person really. Toodle pip!

PETA Killed My Penis

A few months ago, PETA released this information about how turning to veganism is turning men into veritable sex gods.  This quote really caught my attention:

For years, women have been open to the physical, emotional, and karmic benefits of veganism. But now, more and more men are discovering the perks of a plant-based diet. More specifically, a dramatic increase in their wang power and sexual stamina.

Naturally, I was intrigued by their claim of “increased wang power”.  I already possess a powerful wang, but the prospect of using it to subjugate entire kingdoms is too intriguing for me to ignore.  I’ll never have to reply to penis enlargement spam ever again, which is a shame because I’ve met some very friendly salesmen over the years that often send me .zip files.  Those files make my computer to do funny things.  But nevertheless, in the name of progress I will give veganism a try.  Here is a diary so far of my progress:

Day 1

I woke up with a massive craving for bacon sandwiches.  Out of instinct, I reached for the emergency supply of pork scratchings I keep by the bed, but then I remembered that pork is a kind of meat too.  This not-purchasing-dead-animals-to-feast-on-their-flesh lark is actually a lot more difficult than it sounds, so I’ve decided that I must avoid all temptation. 

I started by piling all of my meat on my front door step and inviting people to take it away for free.  A man from the local McDonalds came and stuffed it all into a container marked “Big Mac Meat”.  When I pointed out that I’d accidentally thrown some old magazines and cat litter into the pile, he simply shrugged and continued to gather up the goods.

So now I live in a meat free house!  This evening, the meat sweats started, leaving me feverish and shaking like a crack addict doing aerobics in an earthquake.  I tried to calm my nerves by eating a floret of raw broccoli, which was so underwhelming I just had to watch a documentary on wallpaper pasting techniques to liven things up.  No progress in the pants department yet.

Day 3

I’m trying to take my mind off meat by wallpapering my house.  I finished it off yesterday, but still didn’t feel any better, so I started again this morning.  I noticed that after a fresh bowl of steamed cauliflower water that I was sporting the biggest erection I’ve ever had.  I’m not sure if this was the effect of my new vegan diet, or the new roll of Hollyoaks wallpaper I’m going to put up in my youngest son’s room later.  Perhaps we might be seeing some progress.

Day 4

I was going to have some cornflakes and milk for breakfast, but then I remembered that vegans can’t consume dairy products.  I mean, what’s so wrong with dairy?  I could understand if it came from somewhere hideous, like the mammary glands of hoofed livestock, but it doesn’t and as such, it’s delicious.  Anyway, I decided to have muddy puddle water on my cereal instead.  I would have opted for tap water, but at this point I was looking for something a little more exotic to spice things up.

In terms of sexual prowess, I still haven’t managed to get rid of the hard on I got last night from moving a chest of drawers and accidentally holding it too close to my crotch.  I think it’s safe to say that the diet is working, but I feel rather light headed and dizzy all the time.  Not to mention that my constant trouser bulge makes me look like a hatstand for midgets.

Day 6

The little bastard just won’t stand down.  After a three day stiffy, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve done irreparable damage to my penis.  I mean, once the erection subsides, will it have stretched so much that I’ll have excess skin, like when fat people lose a lot of weight all at once?  I don’t want a flaccid penis that looks like a pug trapped inside a deflated parachute.

There have been some strange irregularities too.  I’ve been trying to get the thing to subside by pouring ice cubes shaped like the queen on my crotch, and injecting a local anaesthetic, but I swear that my penis looked at me.  I swear to God and all of his holy homies, my sexual organ peered upwards and studied my face.  Is this a side effect of becoming powerful, or am I going crazy?  There’s only one way to find out, and that is to continue the experiment.

Day 7

I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I’ve been hearing voices today.  Today, after a delicious plateful of pea-skin sandwiches, I heard a low mumbling coming from within the confines of my trousers.  I swore I heard a voice saying something like “feed me”.  To check I wasn’t going nuts, I pulled down my pants in front of an open window just as a school bus went past.  I didn’t manage to locate the source of the voice, but a policeman has visited and kindly offered to board up my windows if I insist on shuffling around naked during the school run.

Day 8

I wasn’t going mad after all!  Today, whilst I was preparing a scrumptious lunch of potatoes on potatoes, I heard the voice again.  I tried to dismiss it, but then I heard a zipping noise coming from between my legs.  I dropped my potato peeler in horror as I watched my flies slowly unzip themselves.  My first thought was that I was being sexually assaulted by a randy ghost, but then I remembered that my uncle was still alive.  That did little to reassure me as I looked on in revulsion as my own penis emerged from its cradle, gazed up at me like a veiny Cyclops, and said “feed me, godammit!”

“Who are you?” I stammered with a mixture of abject terror, and irritation that my own anatomy was making demands on my already limited diet.

“Oh, that’s real nice!  I’ve been hanging around this joint for 25 years, getting put into places that Victorian explorers would deem to be ‘a bit farfetched’, and you act like you don’t even know who I am?”

In my insecurity, I began to feel around for the potato peeler whilst keeping eye contact with my penile assailant, just in case this confrontation resorted to violence.

“And don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning, fool!” stated my schlong “using that fucking peeler will only be hurting yourself.  Remember the time you put me in the VCR?  It’ll be like that, only there’ll be two motherfuckers screaming this time!”

I dropped the peeler.  This seemed to please my parasitic penis.

“Good choice, bitch!  Now lower me onto those ‘taters boy!”

More out of surprise than anything, I did as I was told.  What happened next will disgust those of you with penises, those of you without penises, and all those in between.  My penis literally ate a whole potato.  For a moment, I thought I was watching a nature documentary in which a snake swallows a bird egg that’s twice its own size.  Once it had finished, it smacked its lips and turned to address me once more.

“Good work, son.  Now, there’s gonna be some changes around here...”

Day 10

My life is a living hell.  My penis has been making demands of me for the last couple of days, getting me to do chores at its behest.  So far, I’ve had to burn all of my underwear, construct a strange hammock for my testicles out of a pair of swimmer’s goggles, and I had to drive to the garage and fill up several jiffy cans full of petrol.  I’m not sure what he wants with these things, but I’m not sure I want to find out. 

I tried to rebel against his tyrannical regime earlier by going onto the front garden, and trying to pull him off repeatedly.  I did this for several minutes and all that happened is that he was sick on me, and that policeman appeared again.  I asked the policeman to use his gun to shoot off my captor, but he said it looked like I’d already “shot a load”, and gave me a £1000 fine.

At the moment, he’s sleeping while I type this, as our struggle earlier apparently made him tired.  It’s only a matter of time before he wakes up, so I’m typing as quickly as possible.  Men of the world, I implore you, eat as much meat as you can.  Let the transfats of dead animals slowly move you towards a blissful state of impotency.  Most men already have no control over their penis, so you’re only one step away from the waking nightmare I inhabit.  Don’t let yourself become a slave to your penis!

My Inbox Is Spam

Long time readers might recall that I have a penchant for replying to spammers.  In a similar fashion to playing the lottery, you know that the one Ugandan millionaire who you fail to reply to will be the one who is genuine.  I'll be damned if I'm missing out on that opportunity.

Naturally, I tend to get a fair amount of spam because I have the tendency to reply.  Most of it doesn't tend to go anywhere, but recently I've had a couple that have led to amusing exchanges.  I thought I'd post them here so that they aren't a complete waste of time.  Today's post focusses on Nenny, a Swiss lady who has more money than healthy breast tissue, as you'll soon find out:

BELOVED,

GREETINGS DEAR BLOVE ONE. I AM MRS NENNY WILLIAMS FROM SWITZERLAND,BUT BASED HERE IN UNITED KINGDOM LONDON, A WIDOW TO MR ANDREW WILLIAMS I AM 55 YEARS OLD,SUFFERING FROM LONG TIME CANCER OF THE BREAST, FROM ALL INDICATION MY CONDITIONS IS REALLY DETERIORATING AND IT IS QUITE OBVIOUS THAT I WONT LIVE MORE THAN MONTHS, ACCORDING TO MY DOCTORS, THIS IS BECAUSE THE CANCER STAGE HAS GOTTEN TO A VERY BAD STAGE.MY LATE HUSBAND DIED LAST FIVE YEARS HERE IN LONDON,WE WERE MARRIED FOR ELEVEN YEAR WITHOUT A CHILD .MY LATE HUSBAND WAS VERY WEALTHY AND AFTER HIS DEATH, I INHERITED ALL HIS BUSINESS AND WEALTH. THE DOCTORS HAS ADVISED ME THAT I MAY NOT LIVE FOR MORE THAN 2 MONTHS, SO I NOW DECIDED TO DEVIDE THE PART OF THIS WEALTH, TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CHURCH IN AFRICA, AMERICA ASIA,AND EUROPE.AND I SELECTED YOU AFTER MY PRAYED OVER IT.

I AM WILLING TO DONATE THE SUM OF ( 2.800.000.00.) TO THE LESS PRIVILEGED. PLEASE I WANT YOU TO NO THAT THIS FUND IS LYING IN THE BANK HERE IN LONDON. ONCE I HEAR FROM YOU, I WILL FORWARD TO YOU ALL THE INFORMATIONS YOU WILL USE TO GET THIS FUND RELEASED FROM THE BANK AND TO BE TRANSFERRED TO YOUR ACCOUNT.

I HONESTLY PRAY THAT THIS MONEY WHEN TRANSFERRED TO YOUR ACCOUNT WILL BE SURE FOR THE SAID PURPOSE, BECAUSE I HAVE COME TO FIND OUT THAT WEALTH ACQUISITION WITHOUT CHRIST IS VANITY. MAY THE GRACE OF OUR LORD JESUS THE LOVE OF GOD AND THE FELLOWSHIP OF GOD BE WITH YOU AND YOUR FAMILY.

I AWAIT YOUR URGENT REPLY.YOUR SISTER IN CHRISTMRS NENNY WILLIAMS

Poor Nenny.  I'd feel sorry for her if it wasn't for the fact that she's an utter fabrication.  In good Christian spirit (why do they always assume that you're religious?), I decided to write back:

Dearest, beloved Nenny,

I am so happy that you contacted me in caps.  We only get a limited time on this Earth, so I'm pleased to see that you are using the small time you have left to pass your wealth over to random strangers via the Internet. 

It seems that you are a good christian woman, and I am a good christian man.  I would happily use the money to build several African schools, churches, church schools, and schurches.  It would be the least I could do after receiving such a generous sum of money.  I would have to take some money myself for my general living, expenses, mortgage, speedboat, and a fleet of suicide geese, but the rest would go to Africa.  Honest

Also, you failed to mention the currency of the 2,800,000.00.  Is that in pounds, rupees, or 'favours'?  I'm severely in debt in 'favours', so this would go a long way to clearing that debt.

Thanks
Me

Nenny seems to mix her business with religion rather a lot.  It's like Jesus is her own personal financial advisor.

BELOVED

PLEASE FORGIVE THE HASTE OF THIS MESSAGE.  I AM RUNNING ON TIGHT SCHEDULE AND THE DEADLINE IS SHORTCOMING AND ONLY SEVERAL DAYS REMAIN. THE BANK REQUIRE SOME OF YOUR DETAILS FIRST IN ORDER TO TRANSACTION THIS.FIRST THEY WILL NEED YOUR ACCOUNT NUMBER.  SECOND THEY NEED THE NAME OF YOUR BANK.  THIRD THEY NEED YOUR SORT CODE.  PLEASE PROVIDE AND WE CAN PRESS ON THIS.

MY HEARTEST THANKS GO TO YOU FOR THIS.  I HAD HOPED IN GOD THAT I WOULD FIND A MAN TO HELP ME CONTINUE MY AMBITION.

Can you imagine my joy at receiving this email?  After a heartest breakfast, I decided to reply:

Dear Nenny-Wenny,

I am pleased that I can make your dreams come true.  This means that I am no longer lying on my Match.com profile.

My heartest goes out to you in the heartest fashion over your breastest condition.  By the way, have you considered using the money to go private and get some treatment for your illness?  Never mind.

As for the bank details, I'm afraid I'm having a few problems finding them.  I went to see my bank (i.e.Tony "The Shark" Tickett who works in a warehouse near the docks), and he said that he wouldn't give me my bank details over a "crazy scam".  I insisted that God was guiding our transaction, but he wouldn't believe me.  He did kindly lend me the bus fare home though, which is set at 1200% APR, which means that my manageable monthly repayments will be £14,972 a month.  I don't earn that much , but since I'm such a shrewd financial person, I'll just take out another loan to pay it off.  Anyway, is there another way I can find out these details for you?

Yours heartestly
Addman

Apparently, going to my bank wasn't such a great move:

BELOVED 

YOU DO NOT REQUIRE YOUR BANK MANAGER FOR THIS TRANSACTION.  IF YOU HAVE A STATEMENT THE DETAILS WILL BE ON THERE.  YOU CAN SCAN DOCUMENT IF YOU HAVE SCAN OPTION.

I PRAY FOR YOUR SPEED AND UNDERSTANDING IN THIS MANNER. I MAY SAY THAT THERE WILL BE A SMALL PROCESSING FEE BUT DO NOT WORRY FOR THIS.  PAYMENT WILL FOLLOW SHORTLY AFTER.

What could possibly go wrong?

Dear Nenny McPhee

I'm afraid that Tony "The Shark" Tickett doesn't tend to give paper statements.  He just usually carves the figure you owe into your forehead with a shard of glass, before washing the wound with a litre of phlegm.  I've tried scanning my face so you can have the details, but the bright lights blinded me and I knocked over the coffee table in a daze.

Upon hearing about our transaction, I'm afraid that Tony has also frozen my account for fear that I'll get "ripped off again".  I explained that I haven't ripped off before, I just haven't received those cookies from that hairy, 6ft tall, bearded girl scout yet.  She also said she'd send my credit card back too.  Regardless, how can I convince Tony that you're a genuine, Christian person?

Yours BleedinglyAddman

Oddly enough, she failed to reply after that.  Yet again I've missed out on a fortune thanks to my backstreet bank manager.

Now I Know My ABCs

The illustrious, bountiful month of April has finally reached it's end.  Such a wonderful time of the year where darling lambs lollop awkwardly and adorably around their paddocks, trees coat the usually drab concrete with vivid blossom, the sun lazes on the horizon for hours on end casting dramatic purples and oranges across the sky, and bank holidays suddenly pop into existence.  It's a glorious time to be outdoors.

Unfortunately, it has rained constantly like a bitch for the last three weeks.  On the plus side though, it's meant that I can focus my attention on the A-Z challenge.

When I join the army, this will be my first medal

For those of you who stumbled upon Muppets For Justice during the A-Z challenge, I welcome you and hope that you're intrigued enough to stick with me.  Some people have described me as a madman, some people have described my posting as a stream of conciousness, and some others have dared to laugh at my very serious and very sincere posts.  As the challenge has bought a large influx of new members, I haven't had chance to welcome some of you, and I hope that you enjoy what you see here.  Posting will now return to a regular schedule of Monday and Friday.

If you're an old member, you may be glad to know that my name isn't going to pop up on your blog roll on a daily basis.  Thanks for stopping by regularly during the challenge to offer comments and support, even if my overwhelming amount of posts have annoyed you.  I appreciate it.

So, what has the A-Z Challenge taught us?  Well, I can now update my CV saying that I have fully conquered the alphabet, which is always handy for a job on Sesame Street.  I've also learned that I am in thrall to some very talented people on this here Blogger website.  Some of what people have posted over the last month has left me in awe in terms of topic and content that has been thought up in such a short space of time.  Considering how long it took me to conjure up 500 words for most letters, I'm envious at the way in which certain Bloggers managed to pull something out of their arse, slap it on the net, and have me clapping like a lobotomised seal at them.  I would like to honour those people by linking to my favourite A-Z posts I've read.  Please accept this humble award that I knocked up in like 5 seconds in Paint:

Awarded to:

Chiz-Chat for his Ransom Note post: Chiz included an insane narrative in which he ended up being kidnapped, and ran for several posts.  This was my favourite.

A Daft Scots Lass for Cock-A-Doodle Do Me:  A Daft Scots Lass came up with a great concept for the challenge; mottos vs insults.  Some of the insults are pretty funny, but I do like "cocksmoker" especially.

Elton Says Things for High Impact Jousting:  Just when you thought it was safe to get back in the saddle...

Hill Blocks View for Carny Matchmaking:  It's difficult to choose a favourite A-Z post from Flip, but I think this one just clinches it.

Seriously-WTH? for Kiss This:  For teaching me how to love paper-thin asians.

The Incoherent Ramblings Of A Moose for Orphelia:  A wonderful tale of meeting a son's friend-who's-a-girl-but-not-a-girlfriend.  The dialogue is fantastic.

Satirical Blog for Peace:  Just utterly clever in every sense.

I'm sure there's more that I've missed, but rest assured that I've enjoyed all of your efforts over the last month.  The challenge probably would have been hell without so many of your creating awesome content, and stopping by to leave just as awesome comments on here.  It's been a blast.