Monday, 28 October 2013

Real Halloween Horrors 2013

Do you have your costume sorted for Halloween yet?  No doubt you’ve thought about it but, being the disorganised moron that you are, you’ve left it until the last possible moment.  Now, you’re about to rush off and buy the only remaining, overly expensive costume you can lay your procrastinating paws on.  You better get a move on, go on, hurry!

Wait!  Before you go, I need to show you something.  Your pathetic, panicking brain is overflowing with information right now, and you run the risk of making a bad decision through sheer confusion.  Below are several examples of terrible Halloween costumes.  I want you to study these disgusting specimens, learn from their mistakes, and make sure that you never turn out like this.

Union Jack

This is the result of combining Geri Halliwell and Austin Powers in a genetic splicer.  A show of patriotism this strong, whether ironic or not, is quite simply appalling. 

As a resident of the offending landmass, I sincerely apologise to the global community for this costume.  It’s terrible enough to bring to mind all the atrocities that the British Isles have ever committed, and now I feel guilty.

I will now take a moment to start apologising for everything that the UK has ever done.  I’m sorry for hundreds of years’ worth of colonial rule.  I’m sorry for our implicit compliance with international surveillance.  I’m especially sorry for the steep decline of Paul McCartney and the fact that he is still allowed to perform.  In short, I am just sorry.

Big Foot

What’s that?  It’s a foot.  It’s big.  It’s a big foot.  Get it?  Get it?!  GET IT?!

Would it be ironic if I kicked this guy in the face?

Human Toilet

This is possibly delightful.  Your kids have just been waiting for the opportunity to dress up as a shitter, and now they can, sponsored by Armitage Shanks.

The main problem with this costume is that, when worn at a family Halloween party where certain alcoholic uncles might be drunk, those inebriates might mistake this for a real toilet.  Can you imagine little Jimmy’s face when Uncle Dave curls out a gigantic turd on his head?  That is definitely not worth the risk in my opinion.

Baby/Sexy Baby

People in baby costumes always seem creepy to me since I discovered this is a fetish.  Yes, there are people who like to dress as babies, wear nappies, and shit themselves with alarming regularity in the pursuit of sexual fulfilment.  While I’m not saying these two are into the baby fetish scene, I just can’t take them seriously.

Besides, the female costume is especially disconcerting.  Why are they trying to make a sexy baby costume?  I’m sure Operation Yewtree are tracking down anyone who purchased this costume as we speak.

Coors Gladiator

I am Maximus Tastius, and I’m here to refresh your tastebuds!  Oh wait, its Coors.  I take that back.

Sexy Oscar The Grouch

Everyone loves Oscar The Grouch.  He’s like a world-weary Womble and there is nothing at all sexy about him.  The lack of sexiness that Oscar The Grouch has is one of the most important factors of his Sesame Street stardom.  However, evil costume designers have tried to undo this with a sexy version of everyone’s favourite bin-dweller.  Now, thanks to this horrifyingly horny image, I can’t watch The Street without sporting swollen sweatpants.

Honey Badger

So, this costume consists of a black hoodie and a deformed snake, and nothing else.  For reference, the slogan “Honey badger don’t care” is a poor meme from a Youtube video, and that derpy serpent is a reference to the badger’s taste for snakes.  In other words, this is the living embodiment of a meme, which makes it the equivalent of someone screaming “CAN I HAZ CHEEZBURGER?!” into your ear canal.

Also, I have to award even lower marks to the female version, which is just a black dress.

Sexy Walter White

Last but by no means least, we have the wonder of a sexy Walter White costume.  All the time I was watching Breaking Bad I kept thinking “I wish Brian Cranston had a hot daughter”, and now my dreams have come true.

This costume is actually quite liberating.  Not for women; no, women should only be sexual counterparts to male characters, if the costume industry is to be believed.  However, this costume does open the doors for all those other sexy male character costumes that just haven’t found a market.  How about a sexy Tony Soprano?  I, for one, am salivating over the possibilities.  With that prospect, I’ll leave you with my final thought:
I like my women like I like my meth; coloured blue and sought after by drug barons.  Have a great Halloween everybody!

Friday, 25 October 2013

My Most Ridiculous Adult Failures

The childish obsession with growing up is one of the greatest deceptions in the universe.  As kids, we are conditioned to believe that all the ills of our lives will all be fixed and resolved by the time we reach adulthood.  Every year closer is an inch towards independence, wisdom, and an all-encompassing constitution.  Adults know everything and always know best.

So, when you reach 18 and you are still reaching all-time lows on a five-a-day basis, you start to realize that even adults can make mistakes.  I was recently inspired by a post over at the wonderful Scarlett Wonderland (seriously, visit her Blog for further fun and shenanigans) which detailed her 3 biggest blunders of her mature life.  Naturally, this got me thinking about the stupid crap I’ve done since I turned 18 and, coming up with far more than 3 and being unable to choose between them, I decided to list them.  This list is not in chronological order, nor is it in chronological disorder.  It just is.

1.  Used an old pizza box as a bathmat for 6 months.  In my defense, I simply couldn’t be arsed to buy one.

2.  Made a double-decker sofa by fixing a bed frame onto some struts and putting a bean bag on top.  It was all going well until someone decided to sit on the top storey, at which point I realized that Blu-Tak wouldn’t support the weight of a human.

3.  Called the local cryptozoologist to examine genuine chupacabra scat in my back garden.  The black droppings turned out to be roasted bees from the “Barbeque Under the Beehive” event that I hosted the day before.  Well, that and a bit of my own scat that I used to claim my territory.

Tasty when grilled

4.  I once bought a pineapple under the sea to be more like my hero, Mickey Mouse.  The estate agent who sold it to me was a shady character; absorbent and yellow and porous was he.  He also didn’t explain that I’d have to have gills to fully utilize this piece of real estate, meaning that I lost most of my savings in the process.

5.  Tried to plumb in my own bathtub, only to inadvertently create a sentient robot made entirely from brass pipes and powered by steam.  The robot couldn’t speak or move since I didn’t give him limbs or a mouth; all he could do was whistle in pain as piping hot steam scalded his body.  A local steampunk convention travelled across the country to set up in my front room, which was annoying when I was trying to watch Take Me Out.

6.  Broke gravity by gluing some buttered toast onto a cat’s back and throwing it in the air.  The cat couldn’t land for days until, eventually, the realm of physics was destroyed and had to be restarted.

7.  Offered to make balloon animals at a kid’s birthday party, but didn’t have any balloons.  Luckily, I had a fresh supply of condoms that had only been partially used (managed to avoid a massive fail with that one).

8.  Went on a voyage to the bottom of my goldfish tank to find ancient treasure.  It turned out the treasure was cursed by Aztecs, which gave me numerous medical conditions such as impotence and an irrational fear of Philip Schofield.

9.  Accidentally, yet purposefully, ran over the cat next door, simply because it was prettier than me.

10.  Went around irritated for three weeks because I could feel something in my eye.  Turned out it was my eyeball.

That’s all the embarrassing things I dare to list right now.  You guys better not take the piss out of me.  I’m sharing my inner soul here.  My cat-killing, cursed soul that is, but my soul nonetheless!

Monday, 21 October 2013

Song Dissection – Beck Edition

Hello friends!  Welcome to another Song Dissection, my series of post mortems on popular music.  Today, I shall be cracking open another Beck song in the form of Devil’s Haircut.

Now, Beck is quite simply a riddle trapped in an enigma, hidden inside a Where’s Wally picture.  Trying to discern some sort of sense from a Beck song is like trying to knit custard, but nevertheless, I shall attempt it.

Something's wrong 'cause my mind is fading
Alzheimer’s is a terrible affliction.  I extend my deepest condolences to Beck’s family.

And everywhere I look
There's a dead end waiting

This sounds like someone has left Beck in a hedge maze.  That is totally a dick move to do to someone with Alzheimer’s.  I take back what I said earlier, not cool Beck’s family, not cool.

Temperature's dropping at the rotten oasis
An oasis, by definition, is an idyllic sanctuary in otherwise inhospitable surrounding.  A rotten oasis cannot be an oasis.  Sounds more like a cesspool to me.

Stealing kisses from the leperous faces
So Beck has gone down to his local plaguepit to sexually assault the ill and infirm.  Wow.

Heads are hanging from the garbage man trees
Beck needs to watch his step.  It would appear that a serial killer inhabits this part of town, and I doubt he’d take kindly to the surprise kissing that Beck is subjecting everyone to.

Mouthwash jukebox gasoline
Is this a shopping list? I doubt you could pick up these items at the cesspool.

pistols are pointing
At a poor man's pockets

This would be more threatening if the poor person is wearing those pockets at the time.  At this point, I’m guessing that the gunman is the same fellow who hung those heads on the garbage tree.  He seems even more mentally unhinged than Beck, and Beck is coming across like a forgetful rapist at this point.

Smiling eyes ripping out of his sockets
Yep, definitely unhinged.

Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind

What does the devil’s hair actually look like?  In all the satanic depictions I’ve seen/drawn/conjured up through black magic, he’s always been bald.  I think it’s safe to assume that Satan is a slaphead, so unless he’s taken to wearing a variety of fancy hairpieces, this line is utter bollocks.

Love machines on the sympathy crutches
The last things we need are mobile love testers.  Giving them crutches will grant them mobility, and they’ll chase us down the street trying to eat our fingers and telling us how hot we are.

Discount orgies on the dropout buses
Why was I not informed about this?

Hitching a ride with the bleeding noses
I hope these noses are attached to people, and not just disembodied bleeding noses giving people rides around town.

Coming to town with the brief case blues
This is the most sensible line in a verse of utter nonsense.  I think we should discard this verse as it does nothing the narrative whatsoever.  I want to hear more about Beck the rapist vs the cesspool serial killer!  That was just getting interesting.

Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind

Back to this again.  NEXT!

Something's wrong 'cause my mind is fading
We’ve already covered this Beck, remember?  Oh no, I forgot, you’ve got Alzheimer’s!  Hahahah!

Ghetto-blasting disintegrating
I think it’s time for a new ghetto blaster in that case.  In fact, invest in an MP3 player or something.

Rock 'n' roll, know what I'm saying
According to Wikipedia, rock and roll (often written as rock & roll or rock 'n' roll) is a genre of popular music that originated and evolved in the United States during the late 1940s and early 1950s.  So yes, I do know what you’re saying.

And everywhere I look
There's a dead end waiting

Still in that hedge maze I see.  I guess that hedge maze was installed at the cesspool, probably as some ill-advised attraction by the tourist board.

Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind

So, what have we learned from this blithering mess?  Basically, we know that Beck is a mentally challenged rapist (his words, not mine) who enjoys chasing disabled people around a hedge maze.  We also know that he has a nemesis who wants to decapitate him and hang his head on a garbage tree.  We’ve learned that life around the cesspool is brutal, especially for those with existing conditions.

If you’d like me to dissect a song, feel free to make suggestions in the comments below.

Friday, 18 October 2013

Rihanna - The Celebrity Vigilante

Since Christopher Nolan’s exceptional Dark Knight trilogy came a close, the world has experienced a distinct lack of vigilante types who dare to take the law into their own hands.  That is, until a little-known pop starlet named Rihanna took up the mantle and started serving the world with her own form of justice.

That’s right.  That sweet little girl who once sang “come on rudeboy boy can you get it up?” has transformed herself into a bruising vanguard of righteousness. This recent article in The Guardian chronicles her heroic exploits to date.  So far, she has busted two illegal animal traders and shut down a Taiwanese sex club.

The illegal pet sales industry is something that needs urgent action from the international community, but sadly, no one has ever taken this issue seriously. Until now that is, as Rihanna took to Twitter to highlight the plight of everyone's favourite toxic primate, the slow lorris.  She posted up a picture of herself with two animal traders and a slow lorris, which was seen worldwide, but specifically in this case, by the fuzz.  Trading these precious creatures is highly prohibited, and it didn’t take long before the local authorities caught up with these criminals.  This was all thanks to Rihanna’s irrefutable evidence.

Free thanks to Rihanna

Then, only a few weeks later, Rihanna destroyed a local sex business with the following Tweet:

"Either I was phuck wasted last night, or I saw a Thai woman pull a live bird, 2 turtles, razors, shoot darts and ping pong, all out of her pu$$y,"

Despite this undoubtedly entertaining scenario in which creatures came out of a woman like sinister Russian dolls, the authorities caught Rihanna’s online tip again and arrested the club's owner.  As it turned out, he was showing naughty ladies without a license, so was promptly thrown in prison.

It would seem that the Thai authorities are holding Rihanna up as their moral centre.  Everywhere she goes she exposes corruption and filth, so the police just follow her around and hoover up the baddies in her wake.  Proximity to this corruption-busting starlet almost certainly leads to criminal convictions.  Either that or our heroine is just stumbling across illegal activities and naively posting them online.  Nope, that can’t possibly be the case, can it?

So what’s next for our little maverick?  If I were a criminal (which I’m not.  Unless you count all those robberies), I would be rather nervous about Rihanna’s latest world tour.  Especially if I were a ticket tout for it.  Judging from the sexualized outfits she tends to wear, it won’t be too much of a leap for her to don some evil-spanking spandex and lay the smackdown on some mafia kingpins.

Criminals across the world; beware!  Once you fall under Rihanna’s umbrella, there ain’t no escape!

Monday, 14 October 2013

Yet Another Brain Shit

Hello everyone and welcome to an all new Brain Shit.  For those who haven't read a Brain Shit before, I basically go ahead and write without an agenda and put down the first things that spring to mind.  The only editting I've done is spelling corrections and the addition of a picture.  Please enjoy my unrestrained bollocks:


I’ve been thinking lately about obtaining a parrot.  I don’t want to spend a lot of money, so I’m just going to put glue on my shoulder and wait for one to land on me.  Parrots seem to like landing on shoulders, and glue seems like the best way to snare them.  I’ve caught plenty of pets through similar methods.

I once lassoed a snake which was quite a spectacular feat, and I earned a reputation as the best snake wrangler in town.  This feat was made even more amazing by the fact that there are no snakes where I live.  In the end, it turned out that I caught another piece of rope, but I refused to give back my badge and trophy.  I am still on the run from the law over this misunderstanding.

During my time on the run I’ve learned to fend for myself.  I’ve seen that Bear Grylls chap before, so I know a thing or two about survival.  For example, if you fall into freezing water, the best to keep yourself warm is to strip naked and roll around in the snow.  If it’s not snowing, just roll around the vegetable drawer of your fridge until you’re suitably warmed up.  In fact, I believe that is the Bear Grylls solution to any problem, to strip naked.  If you get attacked by a bear, get naked.  If you are lost at sea, get naked.  If you find yourself without any clothes, get naked.  When I tried this on Clapham high street and was promptly arrested, to which my solution was to get even more naked.  I suddenly developed alopecia while I was lead to the police car.

I mentioned Clapham high street there even though I have never been.  I think it’s on my mind because I watched a programme about a fried chicken shop.  It’s supposed to be a documentary about people who go and purchase fried chicken, however, I noticed that several of the customers had microphones when they walked in.  The show’s producers had obviously chosen people specifically to go in and get chicken so they’d have something interesting to film.  I was planning on making a visit myself to see if I got on the show, but considering their usual clientele consists of 60 year old transvestites who criticise people’s dress sense, I don’t think I’ll get chosen.  Only the chosen few may purchase chicken from this establishment.  It’s the most elitist fast food restaurant in the country.

Speaking of chicken, I went to an all you can eat buffet at the weekend called Cosmos.  It served food from all around the world.  There was Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Italian, British, Vietnamese, Brazillian and I’m sure there are a couple more cuisines available.  The food was actually quite nice, although I did get a touch of food poisoning from something.  I don’t which country to blame my dysentery on.  It wasn’t British for a change as I didn’t eat anything from there.  I get enough chips at home.

I’ve always wanted to travel the world and try different foods.  However, I’m not a huge seafood fan.  I’d basically like to travel the world and try all the different ways they cook chicken.  I’m kind of picking on the chickens.  That’s because a flock of hens once pecked my father to death.  He’s alright now, but it traumatised me as a child.  I went straight into KFC and began a war on poultry.  The Colonel is a good man who wants to destroy all evil avian life, and I want to support him.

This post is very bird-centric at the moment, so let’s talk about alligators instead.  I don’t especially like alligators but I thought it was nice change of topic.  Perhaps we should talk about monkeys instead.  Everyone loves monkeys.  Monkeys are like us but we keep them in cages and peer at them and make them sell teabags.  That’s all I have to say on the matter.

In fact, that’s all I have to say on every matter that ever mattered.  Let us close all discussion and just bask in the infinite silence.  At least until I want to say something again.  Goodbye.


If you enjoyed that, I encourage you to read other Brain Shits like this one, this one, and definitely this one.

Friday, 11 October 2013

Changes To Your XBox Live Subscription

Dear valued pleb,

We are writing to you today to inform you of important changes to your XBox Live Gold subscription. To ensure the smooth transition of your account, you must accept the full terms of service. Recent changes include the following:

1) The following Gamertags are reserved by Microsoft employees for testing purposes. Anyone attempting to register these tags will automatically be banned:

A) SexDad69
B) pu55ayeater
C) Wa$hInGt0n SnIpA
D) Rudeboy23
E) Rudeboy24
F) John Jameson

2) Kinect owners will notice a software update which will improve biometric/ballsack data recognition. This is a requirement. You must register your ballsack with Microsoft in order to unlock your console.

3) Kinect will also monitor your conversations and automatically ban you if it hears key phrases. Examples include "gay", "shoot", "bang", "help", "haha" and "fight". Users of these words shall be banned to protect the 12 year olds playing Grand Theft Auto.

4) Sausages are not to be stored in your XBox 360 console. We will not honour your warranty if your console is filled with sausages.

5) The XBox Live interface is to upgraded to show you unskippable clips of movies that you don't want to rent because you smartly chose a Netflix account instead of renting movies from us at 5 quid a pop. All dissenters will be banned.

Insert balls on Kinect sensor to unlock

6) Any men found not to have Halo in their games collection will be banned for suspicious activity. Same goes for Forza.

7) Your console is designed to always be turned on and online. The cooling fans will eventually suck all of the breatheable oxygen from the room.

8) Your stupid shitty avatar thing is very important to us. To celebrate, please enjoy a free hairstyle for your character.

9) If you give someone bad rep, Microsoft will endeavour to make sure that you end up in every game with that person. Our hope is that you'll put your differences aside and learn to love.

10) If your console breaks, fuck you, you can just buy a XBox One in a couple of months. The new XBox One will never break because we certainly aren't making last-minute, untested hardware changes to compete with Sony. You won't end up owning 5 different XBox Ones over the course of it's life cycle like you did with the 360.

Happy gaming from all the folks at Microsoft.

Monday, 7 October 2013

Podcast Episode 5

For those of you with ears, you may be interested in checking this out:


Bumferry Hogart - Hugh Huxley
Melvin Flamprider - Narrator of The Noomies sketch


The Five Stairsteps - Ooh Child
Air - Ce Matin La
REM - It's The End Of The World As We Know It
Antonín Dvořák's Symphony No.9 (Brass Arrangement)

Please let me know what you think.  I crave validation like a giant baby, but I would also like to know if it's bad.  Thanks

Friday, 4 October 2013

Hug A Hater

The rap game has taught us many valuable moral lessons that are essential within modern society.  For example, we know that California knows how to party, that anyone who doesn’t partake in bong hits is automatically a cop, and, most importantly, that haters gonna hate.

Immortalised in these hip hop tomes is the concept of hating haters.  Haters are a very modern construct, and I’ll concede that it’s annoying when you’re trying to do business and a furious hater keeps hounding you.  But how should we address the issue of haters?  Typically, the usual response is a drive by, but I’m here to propose an alternative solution.

Haters, by the nature of their very existence, are filled with hate.  Why should we hate someone who only knows hate?  That’s essentially the same as trying to put out a chip pan fire with grenades.  As Ghandi once said “Hatin’ a hater gonna make you a hater”, or as it was more commonly translated “An eye for an eye makes us all blind”.  Although I never fully understood that version (the only thing that stopped Ghandi going blind was his prescription spectacles), he is suggesting that we throw our arms around a hater rather than throw punches at them.  Hate breeds more hate, which in turn breeds more hate, like a battery farm of hate.  We all know that hate can also lead to spite, envy, wrath, death, farts, and hauntings, which none of us are all that keen on.  Master Yoda warned us, but we didn’t take heed because he was just a shitty little puppet living in a swamp.  Now look at us.

These haters have never known love, so it’s about time someone showed them some.  That’s why I’m starting my “Hug A Hater” campaign.  If we try and force our love upon those who wish us ill, perhaps we can change their attitudes.  I’m encouraging people to give tight squeezes to those who displease us. 

My Sentiments Exactly

You can get involved by buying the t-shirt, the badge, and keeping those hugging arms supple.  If someone calls you names on Twitter, simply respond saying “thank you sir, my arms extend towards you”.  If you’re walking down the street and someone throws a drink over you from a car window, don’t chase them down and tear their vehicle apart, dispose of their rubbish and compliment them on a good shot.  If a mugger tries to shank you in an alley, lean your lifeless body into them and try to warm their heart with your rapidly diminishing body heat.

As that famous scholarly gentleman known as Will.I.Am once said, “Where is the love?”  It’s a pertinent question; where exactly is the love?  Is it tucked into the sofa cushions?  Is it in that mattered wad of tissues I have to dispose of when I see Scarlett Johansson popping down the shops on her bike (we live in a very privileged neighbourhood)?  Perhaps it’s time for us to find it again.

For those who are interested in Hug A Hater, you might also want to consider joining my Kiss A Kidnapper and Marry A Molester campaigns.