Category: Face Update

Avatar Fake baby hair?

In the last few weeks we have had all manner of visitors to chez McIver to see the newly-hatched Northern Orb. My parents and brother turned up last week a little bit late after somehow getting sidetracked at Scotch Corner services for 45 minutes (don’t ask).

They were kind enough to bring all manner of presents, including a few essentials for the Orb. My brother handed me a packet of nappies and said, “look at the kid on the front of that.”

Oh, I said, umm what’s going on with his hair? That doesn’t seem natural.

Apparently my nieces had been laughing at this image for a while because of the hairpiece. It clearly doesn’t look right and, like that old picture of George Jones from the office days, the more you look at it the funnier it gets. This then raises the question as to why it looks so wrong? Is it:

  1. The baby didn’t have the “right” hair so they put a wig on them?
  2. Someone in IT added fake hair to the existing picture of the baby to make it look more “appealing”?
  3. The baby isn’t real and AI generated the whole thing, bringing a level of unreal hair not seen since the days of old men on Saturday night TV in the 1970s?
  4. The hair is real but it looks SO real it makes it look unreal?

I’m torn between 1 and 4. I want to believe someone exists with such exquisite hair that it can’t exist and people won’t accept it exists because of that level of perfection.

What do YOU think?

Avatar Newsboost – Chris catastrophe continues

News just in! Reports are claiming that, after the Chris Marshall / Mecha Godzilla collaboration in August, a new concoction has been sighted in an industrial estate in the South of England.

Some bright spark decided that it was time to splice the Chris DNA with children’s 80s stop motion animated favourite Bertha, resulting in a sight that will either warm your heart or frighten you to within an inch of your life.

The Chris Bertha (or the awkwardly-named Chrertha) was spotted churning out items earlier on this week. The types of items varied greatly from garden gnomes and beach balls to jumping kangaroos and inflatable plastic bears. Once the Chris DNA had properly taken over however it decided to make a hugely illustrated and highly detailed map of the A282 as well as some interesting recipes involving avocados.

“This is the worst news I’ve ever heard,” spat news correspondent Harsh Blenchley, “you don’t see it? You don’t see the monumental disaster on the horizon? Do I need to spell it out to you? Do you even English, my friend?”

After ten minutes of this, she finally explained herself.

“Everyone knows that Bertha is capable of manufacturing anything in the world. She was the original 3D printer. A complete original. That kind of power mixed with the monstrous C-Marshall DNA could easily be used to disastrous effect. If you installed a time machine and a matter transporter into Bertha then she’d be able to go anywhere, at any point in time and make anything she wanted. The world would be on its knees.”

Ms Blenchley could see the big picture even if the rest of us couldn’t.

After the information was reported to the local police, a raid was planned on Tuesday morning. Officers burst into the premises only to find a few empty boxes and a windmill money box.

There were rumours that the C-Marshall strain of DNA was being used in some unscrupulous experiments in Korea and China, although they have remained unsubstantiated until now.

Needless to say, if the Chris Bertha has been moved to a new site, and a time machine and matter transporter been added to it, then we’re all doomed. Stay tuned for more details.

Avatar Newsboost – Mecha Chris attacks!

News just in! Tokyo has reported a mechanical monster on the outskirts of the city. When questioned as to what it looked like, experts merely shrugged and mumbled something about some berk from France.

Mecha Chris appears to be the combination of a giant 100ft machine and our very own Christopher Marshall who unwisely posted the details of his genes on the website. Seemingly innocent, this has caused most of the dark web to steal his DNA and weave it into a multitude of diabolical projects. We’ve also heard rumours of a giant octopus off the coast of Italy sporting his viso/volto and a hive of bees in Washington DC, buzzing about roadworks and a string of road closures on the A47 in Norfolk over the summer holidays.

“It must be a synthetic mesh of man and machine,” gushed monster expert, Dylan Stretcher, “DNA on its own is useless, you’ve gotta mix it in with a bunch of other goo to make life. If you then take that goo and stick it in a humongous robot then we’re all doomed. I’m surprised Eamonn Holmes didn’t think of it sooner. Science is a cruel mistress.”

Recently qualified Kevin Hill, science master, was unavailable for comment, possibly due to laziness and things.

Though jovial in his appearance, Mecha Chris has already crushed several sandcastles, one ice cream van and a sushi hut as he emerged from the sea. People have been unable to buy overpriced iced lollies for over an hour. If he continues along the same path, he is expected to crush most of Tokyo by 6pm today.

We can only hope that some equally large competitor can emerge to stop the menace before it spreads to the rest of the world.

What else will happen now that the world has access to his life pulp? Will Chris ever learn from his mistakes? Can we expect to see dozens of clones of him running security at a Spice Girls tribute act? Only time will tell how long this joke will go on.

Avatar Your new favourite blank

Okay, hear me out.

You want to make a statement. You’ve been living in your house for a while now and it’s getting a bit drab. You’re tired of looking at the same old bits of furniture. What you need is a bit of something something to make the living room sparkle.

You need a focal point, a conversation starter, one of those magical items that nobody else has. You need people to walk into your living room or dining room and be so stunned by what’s there that they are putty in your hands.

You can’t buy the kind of shock value this piece will give you. It’s one-of-a-kind, it’s classy and it’s sassy, and it’s in stock right now. I can give you the deets and you can swing by to pick it up in a few hours. You can’t say fairer than that.

Avatar The return of…

As the ravages of time affect us all, I stare into the mirror and I am greeted by a face that looks both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. There are traces of the young boy who once flapped around gurgling nonsense about loins and chagrins mixed with those unavoidable lines and bags around and under the eyes. It’s always the eyes that give it away.

I am awash with melancholy. Has it been twenty years since Reuben was born? Almost twenty years since I moved to Newcastle? Coming up to twenty-three years since finishing sixth form? Where has the time gone?

I look back through the photos in my phone to make sense of the madness, to try and find a firm grip on the rockface of life. I must shackle myself to something tangible because I will go out of my mind if I do not. My most recent photos are of the Florida holiday: cheery blue skies, sunshine lollipop backpacks and rainbow cookie wonderlands. All of it warms my soul to see it once more like an old friend visiting. Then I see him:

SERIOUS IAN?!

He’s crept into one of the photos. He is pushing boundaries this time because, sat in a tiny car going around the Toy Story ride at Disney, shooting at aliens with lasers for points with his technicolour space gun, there he is. The irony is delicious. When did he turn up? I didn’t see him flipping through t-shirts trying to find one with Launchpad McQuack on. I didn’t witness him stuffing burgers into his grill and then finishing up with a strawberry milkshake, pretending that in a way it would count as a “balanced meal”. He must have snuck into my suitcase when I wasn’t looking.

About halfway through the holiday I caught what felt like a bad cold and needed to rest more. Was it me that woke up every time or have I been myself less and less? Could it be:

  • Maybe he tiptoed out to watch the Superbowl at some aggressive masculine sports bar and put a huge wager on one of the teams to win, watching the TV with a pint and a grimace as he realises he’d backed the wrong side
  • Maybe he walked around the vacant tourist trap landscape, shaking his head about the silly offers in the windows of souvenir shops, muttering to himself, “this country used to mean something.”
  • Maybe he complained to the hotel because the swimming pool didn’t open early enough and that it should be available shortly after the time he usually awoke at 5.45am
  • Maybe he told the family in front that they needed to calm down and that it wasn’t the “real” Mickey Mouse that they were waiting to greet.

I mean I’m not Fight Club so that probably didn’t happen but if he can creep out when I’m living it up abroad then it means he can appear anywhere. Literally anywhere? Literally anywhere. You’d best watch out.

Avatar Floater

Recently a new floater has entered my life. It is a dark spot in my right eye that is very obvious when I am looking at something white – a blank Word document, for example, or a sheet of paper, or this empty blog post that fills the screen. It hovers a bit below the thing I’m looking at and is only sometimes visible.

There it is. Little bastard. Go away, floater.

Generally speaking anything that has the title “floater” is something I disapprove of. I like floats perfectly well, of course – there are three that spring to mind:

  1. Vehicles moving in a carnival, carrying people who wear bright costumes and wave a lot. I like waving. These floats are good.
  2. A glass of coke with a block of vanilla ice cream in it, forming a weird foamy top and offering the pinnacle of hot day refreshment from the 1980s. Coke floats are delicious and I haven’t had one for ages but I might now have to go make one.
  3. The small amount of cash put into a shop’s till at the start of the day. I don’t have any strong feelings about this but I certainly don’t disapprove of it.

Floaters though? No. Nothing good comes with that name. The lavatorial variety need no discussion. The eyeball kind haven’t bothered me much until now but they are not welcome here.

I’ve always had a couple of little floaters in my eye, of course – virtually transparent ones only occasionally visible when I look at a bright clear sky and focus my eye a certain way, or something. But now this little dark bastard is here, uninvited. He will probably be a feature of my vision for the rest of my life, and is visible proof – highly visible proof, since he’s literally everywhere I look – that I am growing older and my eyes are only going to get worse.

Last year I went to the optician for the first eye test I’ve ever done. I have been lucky with my eyes until now. I’d noticed that reading anything with small writing now involved moving that thing slightly further away from my face. The optician said no, my eyes were great, nothing needed, thank you. Excellent, I said. Come back in two years, he said. You’ll need glasses then. My face dropped. Is there anything I can do, I asked? No, he said. You’re just getting old.

Now my glasses deadline is just 12 months away and, as if I wanted or needed a reminder of my gathering years, in what is likely to be my last year of unfiltered ocular excellence, my floater has arrived to remind me of my mortality.

Floaty little bastard.

I’m off for a Coke float.

Avatar Beans: questions and mysteries – ‘Kevbeard’

It’s a new year and it’s time for a fresh ‘chude too. There has been a lot of fan mail recently asking questions about us, inquisitive and rather personal questions, so rather than respond to each and every person I have decided to answer the letters on here because it also gives me a scrumptious post towards my bean count. THAT and you know there were letters with duplicate questions so I’m not going to be a hack and start photocopying letters like some cheap so and so and then sign the bottom as if they’re all original, genuine articles. There are standards to be upheld, you know.

People (and by “people” I mean the two people who somehow managed to obtain my personal address) keep asking me, “what’s the deal with Kevin and his facial hair?”

“Where is it?”

“Does it live in a shoe by the back door?”

Calm down, I said, then pummelled a glass of Bichon Frisé and two slices of toast. Let me set the record straight before all you conspiracy nuts chase me down.

It’s all very simple and wholesome when you know the truth. Yes, it does exist. Kevin has the most wonderful, most bountiful, more buxom beard out of all three of us. He has been growing it since the late 90’s and to this day refuses to pass on his cultivation techniques. Many a time have I plied him with brandy and sought the secrets of his grooming (steady now) abilities and no matter how many bottles I tip down his throat he will not relinquish the goods. Though I may be a little sour of note, I do appreciate the moxie shown by this young man to keep steadfast his confidentialities.

Kevin chooses not to wear his beard in public because it would attract unwanted attention. In the early days when beards were still scorned by the general population he would occasionally bring it out on a lovely summer’s morn. If it were quiet the sun would glow and it would pulse like a rabbit in a hutch filled with alfalfa. His little face would fill with delight to feel the rays, the cool breeze blowing through his bristles, he looked like a young Grizzly Adams. The modern world has taken a shine (no pun intended) to a man’s face candy so there is no chance for any such displays anymore. When the heat got too much, Kev put his beard on a barge to Malta and there it lives in a stunning villa on the West coast. He visits thrice a year, sometimes more if his schedule will allow it.

To catch a glimpse of Kev and his beard would be a rare treat indeed. I get several lucrative offers from the paparazzo every year to disclose the location of the villa so they can but for one moment capture the beauty of the beard and each time I turn them down. Holster your wallets, I say, I cannot be bought. There are more important things than money. We could all learn a lot from Kevbeard (not a pirate however could also be a pirate name).

Avatar Business balloon update

After careful consideration, I have decided that perhaps my first effort of Chris wafting into Europe with his business ideas was not completely on point meaning that a revision was on the cards.

I have therefore gone back and drafted a whole new version to unleash upon those unsuspecting Europeans. Boy, they don’t know what’s about to be shoved up their viso / voltos.

I feel as though I have got the likeness that was lacking in Chris version 1.0 and with the inclusion of a monobrow and a more jovial facial expression I have addressed the criticisms of comments past.

What’s left then is to bask in the joys of my efforts before the balloon can set sail in the morning.