Archive for August, 2007
Well I’m sorry but I’m sick of hearing about her. It’s not nice when people die and it was a bit of a downer when she did but for crying out loud first they had that stupid music gig for her which consisted of a bunch of bands and artists that were loosely connected to her and then they were still showing programs and tributes this weekend. Ten years since she’s been gone, I was half expecting someone to come up with some silly name for the whole affair and due to my bad eyesight and pondiferous imagination I thought they had. There was an advert for that shitty program ‘Dance X’ on BBC1 and I thought it said ‘Diana X’.
It would have tied the whole thing together and annoyed me at the same time. Due to the consistency of her exposure she is, controversially, the silly bint of the month.
August 28th, 2007
Just take a look at this and then try tell me we aren’t the most street buch of mo fo’s ever to come ouf of G to the arforth.
Streetify!
Word.
August 27th, 2007
I took some and then I sent the camera on. I demand to see the photographs soon and I fear the whole project is being held up by Kev’s enormous, unjustified ego.
YOU’RE NOT THAT GOOD, YOU HEAR ME? STOP WASTING ALL OF OUR TIME.
August 20th, 2007
I wonder if you out there in the virtual haven of The Beans can help me answer a question which I have been pondering for a while?
Which is better a slice of cake or a whole bun?
vs 
The two things are generally evenly(ish) sized. On one hand you get the satisfaction of knowing you have eaten the whole of something but on the other hand you get to share in the joy with someone else. Which is better…. You decide…
August 20th, 2007
Yes! It’s a lovely zorse, with a weird woman on top.
I don’t really have anything more to say in this post, and its purpose was basically just to bring to your attention the vital information that zorses do exist, and that they are hybrids made when a male zebra gets jiggy with a lady horse. (If it’s the other way round, with a stallion makin’ whuppee with a zebrette, you get a hebra.)
I will now leave you with a little Zorse gallery.
 
 
August 17th, 2007
There’s something special and unique about bacon. It is the salty, slightly chewy, potentially crispy path to heaven. It is the most divine and sought-after of the meats. It is the reason that god made pigs and knives compatible with each other.
This is an ode to bacon. This post is a tribute. A moment of quiet thought in reverence to the finest meat product the world knows.
Ahhh, bacon! Please feel free to share your bacon stories here.
Here are some bacon links.
August 13th, 2007
This is at the prospect of another visit to sunny Newcastle for the both of you:
Driving that train, high on cocaine,
Casey Jones you better watch your speed.
Trouble ahead, trouble behind,
And you know that notion just crossed my mind.
This old engine makes it on time,
Leaves Central Station ’bout a quarter to nine,
Hits River Junction at seventeen to,
At a quarter to ten you know it’s drivin again.
I know it’s a song about a train but I couldn’t think of anything involving a car (cars, driving in my car, born to be wild, ace of spades). Alright shut up, no-one asked you!
August 8th, 2007
I like good music, unlike Marshall and Kevin, and therefore I feel I must push my interests on other people. As a result of this I’m going to promote Fionn Regan for the following reasons:
1. His album, ‘The End Of History’, is brilliant.
2. His voice is great.
3. I liked him before anyone else.
Obviously number three is debateable as I’m sure there were other people before me who liked him but I would still like to pretend I did. To further promote him I’m going to include a picture of his album cover and whoops uncontrollably:
WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!
August 7th, 2007
GIVE KEVIN HIS MONEY, MARSHALL!
Don’t let it slide bwoi. We’ve got your number, and it’s odd.
August 7th, 2007
Look at that below me, right. Look at that sh*t. I don’t care if someone was in a band man I’m in one right now. Yeah. I’m living in the dream. I’m counting the pennies. I’m swirling the hips in the knee-high boots on Shakespeare’s grave. Yeah.
None of us can play instruments and since Paul left Dickinson Dees to join a rival firm in Sunderland is has kind of crippled the whole band ethic and the closeness but we’re still together and still knocking out the tunes like they were sarnies on a Sunday. Here’s a little ditty we’ve been scooping up. This is Snowy Cakes by The Festive Do-ers:
Snowy Cakes – Festive Do-ers
I pieced together snowy cakes from snow that hit my drive
I threw the snowball at my dad, it’s great to be alive!
He didn’t take it badly but he didn’t take it well
He told me I had sinned and I was going straight to hell
I worried all that winter, I never took a rest
In fact I always had to sleep with a knife upon my chest
In case Satan decided to come and get me early
After three long months of sleepless nights dad handed me a curly wurly
It was all a bunch of horrid lies, I was as good as gold
Those eight young years of good behaviour was sufficient, so I was told
To keep my away from fiery gates and the jaws of Mr. Death
It’s a shame I’m such a b*stard now and there is no time left
Going down, going down
Yes I swear I’m going down
Going down, going down
Pretty sure I’m going down.
August 6th, 2007
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