Brioche, Always an Afterthought
And on that day, nobody bought
The brioche, always an afterthought
The brioche, always an afterthought
9 comments June 22nd, 2010
Posts filed under 'Tragic'
Smug Balls
After recently re-discovering the utterly discusting and quite frankly disturbing picture of the smug Will Young alike who was beaming out smuggish vibes from the front of that Specsavers windows I thought that surely since then other smuggers, as they have been tagged as, would have come to the surface to rival Kev.
As it happens on my travels not many have come up, that is until I was greeted with the poster for the new film ‘Letters To Juliet’, yet another dreary wander into romantic comedy with some American in somewhere in Europe. Whilst the woman may take a few smug points it is the grinning goblin to her right which takes centre stage. Chris Egan, who I have investigated and has quite a sincere face normally, manages to out-smug the rest of the world only using three quarters of his face which is an amazing achievement.
Unfortunately I couldn’t locate a copy of that picture and so sought a semi-smug replacement:
10 comments June 14th, 2010
Here Comes The Clichemonger
You know me I’m as American as apple pie along with being the best thing since sliced bread but right now I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. I don’t want to cover old ground however you must know that what I’m going to say will probably make you less fresh as a daisy and more dry as a bone. Let’s go with the flow, let’s take some time to smell the roses. I mean a tree doesn’t move unless there is wind and we’ll certainly cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now I’m a fish out of water. I feel like a rose is a rose is a rose. Play a harp before a cow and put that in your pipe and smoke it. Once in a blue moon I’m alright but I’m no spring chicken and I wouldn’t say that again for all the tea in China.
Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow.
4 comments May 19th, 2010
The Loss Of An Institution
It is with deep and sorrowful regret that I must inform the world of the imminent closure of Jerry Loinsford’s Loinsford Academy. Despite trying to struggle with modern times and the recession it has unfortunately taken its toll on one of life’s great survivors. Jerry Loinsford, owner, founder and discoverer of many hidden secrets that you and I will never know about, is trying to stay optimistic about the news.
“It’s a shame yes but the same thing happened in 1987 and we came back stronger than ever after that! It’s just at this point in time the Academy is no longer needed, and I fully accept that. One of these days though when you least expect it we will return, like a tidal wave to the face!”
He then picked himself up by the seat of his pants and left through a gap in the sky.
Each of the remaining students has had their fees returned along with a signed copy of Mr Loinsford’s latest collection of poetry entitled ‘Loinsfully Yours: In And Out Like A Rushed Job’. Copies have been trading on Ebay for up to seven days with no buyers.
16 comments March 26th, 2010
The Last Post of the Year
Bane broke Batman’s back
Bane broke Batman’s back
Bane broke Batman’s back
Bane broke Batman’s back
Bane broke Batman’s back
(and keep saying it ’til 2010 baby!)
7 comments December 31st, 2009
Rubbing the Lapels of History – The Coca Cola Wars
A lot of people aren’t old enough now to remember one of the great wars of the last twenty-five years or so. Some still take precident over others and it is because of this phallic and intrinsic obsession with the Middle East that only a few people now can recall the devestating affair that resulted because of the Coca Cola Wars.
Before we start touching that though let us set the scene. It was around the eighties; texts are now few and far between which account for just how it all began. Two drinks industry giants stood tall, dominating the US and indeed most other countries around the world with their carbonated beverages. But then something happened. Mr Coca Cola was sat in his study enjoying the warm summer breeze floating in through the window when, apparently, Mr Pepsi stormed in and cut his head off with a scythe. When Mr Coca Cola’s head was later re-attached at Washington State Hospital he decided that such an unprovoked attack could not be ignored.
Back at his base, Mr Coca Cola organised his troops and sent three of his Coke Ninjas into Pepsi HQ to deliver a message. This message was fatal to anyone who came across it. Luckily nobody actually came across it because they left it in the men’s changing room that nobody used anymore and when it was located it was by a cat who had been trying to take her life. Mr Pepsi immediately identified who the message had come from. It didn’t say anything other than a picture of a smashed bottle. Anyone else would see this as some sort of poetic visual display but Mr Pepsi knew what it meant. It was war.
(the following exert was provided from ‘Suck On This: Coca Cola vs Pepsi (in a war)’ by Blardy Blardy Bloomer)
December 22nd, 2009
What I Didn’t Do
Here is a list of things I didn’t do today:
- I didn’t thrust my loins at any given time.
- I didn’t eat lunch properly; I ate my sandwich the wrong way round.
- I didn’t whoop like a songbird at the prospect of receiving both a tin of Quality Street and a tin of Heroes.
- I didn’t sing all the words to ‘Roxanne’ by the Police but I did do it in a bad funk falsetto voice.
- I didn’t put up all the Christmas cards I’ve received on the wall so they look tidy beyond all kinds of imaginations.
- I didn’t finish this…
December 21st, 2009
F*ck Everything
F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ckpiles! F*cking F*ck of a slow F*ck Computer! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! Sh*tstain Mother F*ck!
5 comments December 16th, 2009
Uncomfortable Conversations With Strangers: #729 – Takeaway
Stood in the takeaway after going to Digital at about half two in the morning. The pizza has been ordered and it’s taking longer than it should. I spy a strange looking man stood directly opposite me and even though I’m watching the awful music video on the TV behind him I can tell he thinks I’m looking at him and debating whether or not to come over and start a…
“You know that food shop two places down?”
Erm yeah.
“Don’t go in there. The guy touches himself up whilst he’s doing the food. Behind the counter when you’re not looking he’s doing it. You believe me, don’t you?”
Of course I do man.
“It’s disgusting, it’s just disgusting. Touching yourself and doing the food and… it’s disgusting…”
He then proceeds to wander off with his equally odd-looking friend.
I didn’t sign up for that.
8 comments December 4th, 2009