Friday, 26 March 2010


Making each day of the year...


Apparently Beyonce is pregnant. It might be true, it might not be, that's not really my concern. What I want to know is, did anyone else immediately think "well, that'll be easy, with those hips!" ...?

It'll just fall out when it's ready, surely?

Thursday, 25 March 2010


I don't know if you've seen it, but a theme of trending topics on Twitter for the last few days has been the hashtag #dearfuture[wife/husband/children]. These have produced some very entertaining reading indeed. Some have been sentimental, some hilarious, and some truly terrifying, but the majority have been badly spelt.

Top 6 #Dearfuturechildren:
  1. #dearfuturechildren I promise not to lock you in a cellar or leave you unattended whilst on holiday.
  2. #dearfuturechildren I will molest you every Christmas.
  3. #dearfuturechildren please never look on my twitter |:
  4. #DearFutureChildren please dont come out ginger
  5. #dearfuturechildren Do not make up words like skeen, seen, fambo and brap
  6. #dearfuturechildren i shagged your mum.
Top 6 #Dearfuturewife:
  1. #DearFutureWife I'm only gay on Tuesdays and Thursdays......
  2. #dearfuturewife your money is my money. My money is my money*
  3. #DearFutureWife guns will be kept in the house lol. nobody touches them but me
  4. #dearfuturewife You're worth waiting for.
  5. #dearfuturewife You’re probably being born right now cuz Ima be like 40 when I get married and you gonna be 20.
  6. #dearfuturewife please don't do a #dearfuturehusband they scare me...

All the future husband ones were really boring, except one which said:

#dearfuturewife u better have always had a vagina! Cuz if I find out ur really my #dearfuturehusband #IMKILLINGEVERYONE !!!


*This gets on here because it's what my mum says to my dad.

Tuesday, 23 March 2010

We Can Work It Out?

John Lennon's face at 0.10 is hilarious. Anyway...

Try to see it my way,
Do I have to keep on talking till I can't go on?
While you see it your way,
Run the risk of knowing that our love may soon be gone.

We can work it out,
We can work it out.

Think of what you're saying.
You can get it wrong and still you think that it's all right.
Think of what I'm saying,
We can work it out and get it straight, or say good night.

We can work it out,
We can work it out.

Life is very short, and there's no time
For fussing and fighting, my friend.
I have always thought that it's a crime,
So I will ask you once again.

Try to see it my way,
Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong.
While you see it your way
There's a chance that we might fall apart before too long.

Dear Paul McCartney,

'We Can Work It Out' is one of my favourite Beatles songs. Jane Asher, who this song was written for, is just amazing in every way, a lovely lady indeed.

However, what you don't mention in this song is that what you're 'working out' is the fact that you cheated on her. Repeatedly. Whilst you were engaged. I don't give a shit if you're Paul fucking McCartney - that's never going to be worked out. You're a massive wanker and I hope you get squashed under the weight of your own (totally justified) ego. See it your way? How about I stab you?! How about that for 'seeing it your way' you lady-cheating, song-ruining motherfucker?! I regard Heather Mills as relationship karma for this.

Why did you have to ruin this song for me, Paul McCartney? You're only good looking with a beard, anyway, and that was only for like a year. Things like this are the very reason that Ringo is, and will always be the #1 Beatle in my life.


An angry stalker who's thought too much about this


Ps. Stop playing the ukulele, you're too old and it's embarrassing for everyone.


Four observations on The Beatles
  1. Paul sings anthems.
  2. John sings mantras.
  3. Ringo sings nursery rhymes.
  4. George sings badly.

Monday, 22 March 2010

James Dean

I've always loved this photo, it's just awesome.


"This is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood"

-- Regina Spektor, On The Radio

Quelqu'un m'a dit

On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand chose
Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses
On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud
Que de nos chagrins il s'en fait des manteaux
Pourtant quelqu'un m'a dit...

Sunday, 21 March 2010

Hangover Playlist

This is a list I keep meaning to make, mostly for myself because I like listening to music, but it can be quite difficult when you have a hangover. Here is my hangover playlist:

The Beatles - Blackbird

The Beautiful South - Rotterdam

Spandau Ballet - True

The Beta Band - Dry The Rain

Feist - 1234

Semisonic - Secret Smile

The Smiths - Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want

Carla Bruni - Quelqu'un m'a Dit

The Kinks - Waterloo Sunset

Fleetwood Mac - Dreams

Saturday, 20 March 2010

It's Contagious

"They'll give us a talking to, 'cause they've got years of experience..."

Friday, 19 March 2010


Why don't you...
underestimate me?

...because I love how it scares the shit out of you.

P Mc Ney

This photo is half for me (Paul McCartney) and half for Fergus (Patrick Macnee).

Thursday, 18 March 2010

Oh! #2


If I were Woody Allen
I'd be a sexy Jew
I'd make films about ladies
That I thought were sexy too!


If I were a lobster
I'd have some pinchy claws
They would make it hard for me
To take part in applause!


If I were a little fish
I'd live under the sea
I'd swim around in water
Most of which is wee


If I were a book
I'd have a lot of words
I'd live in a library
And get sneezed on by nerds!


If I were a toothbrush
I'd live right by the sink
I'd help you clean your gnashers
So that you won't stink!


Pick a noun, any noun, and write me one...

Wednesday, 17 March 2010


Nice and clean!

Tuesday, 16 March 2010

Luke Warm

The name's Warm. Luke Warm. Licence to be tepid.

Who the fuck is Luke Warm? Why do we describe something that's in between hot and cold as "luke warm?" Was there once someone called Luke who never changed temperature? Was the man who invented the concept of medium-heat called Luke? Was his last name Warm?

In that case, surely it makes more sense for his first name to be 'Cold' then it would be Cold-Luke-Warm, so the Luke bit would be the middle temperature? No?

Well the whole thing is stupid and it doesn't make any fucking sense and I hate Luke Warm, he's a wanker. I hope he dies of hypothermia, but he's probably incapable. I'm just saying.

Monday, 15 March 2010

Waitress Voice

If you've worked in the service industry (, not that service industry, you whores, I mean anything involving working with the general public, really...) then you'll have used a "waitress voice". I don't care if you're male. It's a waitress voice, that's what I've named it. As of now... no, wait - ready? ... nnn... now. Now. Waitress voice!

A waitress voice is something we all do. When you're talking to a customer, you put your professional voice on. The waitress voice is approximately 30% posher than we are in our day-to-day lives, and is variable depending on how posh the place you work is.

It makes customers think that we know what we're doing. We usually do know what we're doing, of course, but we need them to believe that as well, hence the voice. Sometimes I realise I'm putting on a voice and try not to, but really it's a habit. It just doesn't feel right to go around dropping one's 'h's like they're hot, when they're pretty much luke-warm*.

At work, you assess the person you're speaking to and adjust the level of the waitress voice. A middle-aged woman in a skirt suit might gain more enunciation than a group of teenage boys. Unless they're drunk, in which case we generally feel free to speak to them how we please.

For example, a group of presentable yuppy type ladies came in the pub the other day, and proceeded to drink about a bottle of wine each over about 2 hours - not too shabby. However, as I'm sure you know wine tends to make people screechy, and they ended up sounding like a pack of twatted hyenas on helium.. Their laughing could be heard all over the (pretty big) pub. So, the waitress voice that was around 30% when they had first came in diminished to around 10% when I walked over to them and (politely but firmly) said, "Ladies, could you keep it down, you're annoying a lot of people... including me." They didn't shut up, and I had to kick them out, but that's another (quite boring) story.

If you're telling someone bad news, such as the kitchen is on fire (such was the other week), then the voice may even increase to a flabberghasting (and exhausting) 50%. Last week a group of men had come in to celebrate one of their 40th birthdays, only to be told after waiting for over an hour that there would be no food, because the kitchen was on fire. Waitress voice to the rescue! I got them a round of free drinks, etc. etc... They were the happiest anyone could be in such a shit situation, because they knew that I knew what I was doing.

So there you go, if you're presented with a particularly nice waitress voice then you should be happy. Anywhere between 15% and 30% is probably average. If there's not one at all then you probably appear smelly, ugly and drunk, and fixing this should really be your priority over dining.

*More on this tomorrow...

Saturday, 13 March 2010

Top 5 Burton-Depp Characters

5. Edward Scissorhands

It's impossible to watch this film and not want to give that adorable scissory freak a big hug.

4. Wonka

This is how a conversation between me and a colleague went the other day -
Them: "He's (Wonka) a paedophile"
Me: "Yeah, but he's Johnny Depp and he's got his own fucking chocolate factory."

Gene Wilder is still the best Wonka.

3. Ichabod Crane

I like my 19th century detectives how I like my tea: in a mug, and preferably from Yorkshire.

2. Ed Wood

He makes an awful director and an even worse transvestite, but gets major points for trying so hard at both.

1. Sweeney Todd

He looks like Johnny Depp and sings like David Bowie.

Friday, 12 March 2010


Lady Fights

"Ladies do not start fights, but they can finish them"

-- The Aristocats

Thursday, 11 March 2010


Four Reasons The Barmaid Hates You
  1. You don't know how or what to order
  2. You look like a wanker/druggie
  3. You're on your phone whilst being served
  4. You're playing pub golf (see: look like a wanker)

Wednesday, 10 March 2010

Almost Famous

"One day... you'll be cool."

Sunday, 7 March 2010

Proper Tea

Four Things Eliza Doolittle Looks For In A Property
  1. A room
  2. Somewhere
  3. Far away from the cold night air
  4. One enormous chair

Saturday, 6 March 2010


Un oiseau fait du merde sur ma tête aujourd'hui. Est-ce considéré comme chanceux?

Je ne me sentais pas très chanceux.

Hey Prude

I'm writing this after downing a can of Monster energy, so forgive my caffeine brain.

Here's something I've been wondering lately... am I a prude?

Did you ever do that facebook quiz thing where you work out what your 'fine' is? You know, you add up all the immoral/disgusting/perverted/illegal/dangerous things you've done, and the person with the highest 'fine' gets pelted to death with chocolate covered raisins. You don't have to actually pay the fine, don't worry.

I tell you what though, if you did, a lot of my friends would be bankrupt. People I know were getting around £700 on that bloody thing, and do you know what? I scored under £100. Who does that say more about? What does this ultimately mean? Am I boring? Probably. Are they morons? Yes. Riddled with STIs? Almost certainly.

I choose to go for the moron option. However, looking at the questions it does seem to me that a lot of my friends must be dreadful slags. Even the ones I thought were OK, they're still putting it about, just in secret. Forget about the quiet ones, it's the ones with their tits out that you've got to look out for these days. Subtlety is over, this is 2010. People are proclaiming how many people they've slept with, how, and when, all over facebook.

It's enough to yearn for the archaic 1950s view of sex - if you have sex with someone, you better be bloody prepared to have a child with them, or their dad will shoot you. OK, so maybe this is taking it a bit too far, but I'm sure there's a nice middle ground. Whatever happened to courting for fucks sake?

It's called self respect, people. Your body is the most important thing you own, so don't rent it out to any old wanker that tells you you're pretty. Know you're pretty, and tell him to fuck off and stop being a dirty old bastard.

Maybe it's because I fell in love at 17, or maybe it's because I'm a one-eyed chicken in the kingdom of the rabbits. Either way, I can't help feeling like there's an entire aspect to my generation that is kept secret from me. I think I'm too old fashioned for this time, my temperment belongs a few decades in the past. Regardless, my dears, it's important to remember: no one's going to buy your cow when they get the milk for free, especially if the cow has crabs.

Thursday, 4 March 2010

Who Doesn't?

Odd or Not

Do you think it's weird that the market in Salisbury sells urns and floral wreaths for funerals?

I thought this was horrific. Fergus didn't think so.

Who is right?

All I'm saying is, if you get mine from there, you're getting fucking haunted.

Wednesday, 3 March 2010


The Wikipedia entry for Rumplestiltskin reads:
In order to make himself appear more important, a miller/commoner lied to the king that his daughter could spin straw into gold(1). The king called for the girl, shut her in a tower room with straw and a spinning wheel, and demanded that she spin the straw into gold by morning, for three nights, or be executed(2). She had given up all hope, when a dwarfish creature appeared in the room and spun straw into gold for her in return for her necklace; then again the following night for her ring. On the third night, when she had nothing with which to reward him, the strange creature spun straw into gold for a promise that the girl's first-born child would become his(3).

The king was so impressed that he married the miller's daughter(4), but when their first child was born, the dwarf returned to claim his payment: "Now give me what you promised". The queen was frightened and offered him all the wealth she had if she could keep the child(5). The dwarf refused but finally agreed to give up his claim to the child if the queen could guess his name in three days. At first she failed, but before the final night, her messenger(6) discovered the dwarf's remote mountain cottage and, unseen, overhears the dwarf hopping about his fire and singing. While there are many variations in this song, the 1886 translation by Lucy Crane reads:

"To-day do I bake, to-morrow I brew,
The day after that the queen's child comes in;
And oh! I am glad that nobody knew
That the name I am called is Rumpelstiltskin!"

When the dwarf came to the queen on the third day and she revealed his name, Rumpelstiltskin lost his bargain. In the 1812 edition of the Brothers Grimm tales, Rumpelstiltskin then "ran away angrily, and never came back". The ending was revised in a final 1857 edition to a more gruesome version where Rumpelstiltskin "in his rage drove his right foot so far into the ground that it sank in up to his waist; then in a passion he seized the left foot with both hands and tore himself in two." (-1)

Ok, so that evens out at 5 cases of misogyny in a randomly chosen fairytale. The version I shall be telling my daughter involves several kicks to the groin and a restraining order.

Tuesday, 2 March 2010


Why don't you...

Cry me river, build me a bridge, and then set up a toll booth

... because it looks like a fun job.

Monday, 1 March 2010

Wouldn't It Be Nice?

Well? Wouldn't it?

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older
Then we wouldn't have to wait so long
And wouldn't it be nice to live together
In the kind of world where we belong

You know its gonna make it that much better
When we can say goodnight and stay together

Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up
In the morning when the day is new
And after having spent the day together
Hold each other close the whole night through

The happy times together we've been spending
I wish that every kiss was never ending
Oh Wouldn't it be nice

Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray it might come true
Baby then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do
We could be married
And then we'd be happy
Wouldn't it be nice

You know it seems the more we talk about it
It only makes it worse to live without it
But lets talk about it
Oh, wouldn't it be nice

You've heard it. You know it.

Don't you just hate it when awesome and happy songs make you sad? This song I have always thought of as a sad song, but the other day I was listening to it and I thought - actually, this is a happy song. I just thought of it as a sad song because of my associations and experiences.

Have you ever realised that a song that you think of as sad isn't really, and you're a just sentimental dickhead?