Some people at work said I looked like this cartoon drawing of a policewoman so I decided to do one myself which was more fitting to the grace and lovliness of my face. This was the outcome.
FYI, I never wear a tie and I only drew shades because I didn’t want to risk messing up the EYES.
2 comments September 20th, 2010
From the moment I set eyes on her there has not been a part of me that hasn’t either shivered in disgust or mentally thrown up. Christine Bleakley represents the part of the celebrity world who appeared out of nowhere and hasn’t really justified her existance yet.
Do we need her? I suppose if you ask Adrian Chiles for his expert opinion, and that’s expert in the loosest sense of the word, he would conclude we did having spent many an evening flirting with her on the set of ‘The One Show’, the vacuous light entertainment show which continues to limp across television sets across the country. This is not a chance to set up awful BB shows though; there will come a time and place for everything. However you look at Bleakley she just comes across as smug and empty, like a Toby jug. You could crack open her head and there’d be enough space in there for a Harrier Jump Jet. You could probably use her body as a sled over Christmas and she wouldn’t notice, unless she was missing a date with Frank Lampard.
So they both continue to filter on-screen stupidity in Daybreak, ITV’s replacement for GMTV. The only valid reason for its existance is to provide an outlet for Jonathan Ross’ band ‘Four Poofs and a Piano’ now that his ‘Friday Night with Jonathan Ross’ program is finished.
I doubt that she will ever rise in my estimations. I don’t like thinking badly of people (heh heh) but there are some that you just cannot put up with and she firmly remains one of these. I’d sooner train a bear to maul me than spend five minutes in her company.
September 14th, 2010
It would appear that under increasing strain in every day life, including rises in gas and electric, the struggle to reduce carbon emissions and a grim prospect of the coalition government trying to ensure the country recovers from the billions of debt by making sacrifices, people are unable to keep control of their finances. In a radical move though helplines and websites that offer advice to those who are unable to make ends meet have been telling their callers to listen to pop music.
“We get on average ten to fifteen hundred calls a day and that’s a lot of phones to answer,” says volunteer Jeff Noodle, “so it’s only fair that we filter those numbers down by providing alternate means. There are a lot of songs out there that quite frankly could end helplines like these. They tell you what you should be doing with a bit of sass and a catchy chorus. Who can argue with that?”
Top of the list of these songs is ‘Moneys Too Tight To Mention’ by Simply Red, closely followed by Shania Twain’s ‘Ker-Ching’.
“You wouldn’t believe the feedback we get from people once they’ve had a spin of Simply Red. They’re all smiles and laughter then. I don’t know what it is but it works and that’s fine by me.”
Sometimes the system doesn’t work however following the recent report of Charles Edmonds who half heard what the advisor told him and listened to ‘The Right Thing’ by Simply Red instead. Mr Edmonds is due to attend Leeds Crown Court on 29th October for lewd public acts and indecent exposure.
September 7th, 2010
I thought my subconscious had returned to normal but clearly it hasn’t. Luckily this was a lot shorter than the previous ones.
I’m in my old bedroom, as in the one back at my mum’s house and I must be something like twelve or thirteen. As I sit on my bed covering the wall directly in front of me is a large collection of plastic drawers and in each drawer are things like pens and stationary items. I look through each one diligently and to my surprise all the ones on the far right have hamsters in.
I shut the drawers quickly to make sure they don’t escape however I’m not quick enough. Hamsters seem to pour out of nowhere and go underneath my bed. I’m worried I’ll squish them so I move out of the way towards the window. It’s get a little too much and I weep openly and I’m pretty sure I ask for someone’s help but whoever is in the room with me offers some useless words of advice and carries on reading their magazine.
So I stand there not knowing what to do, feeling as though I’ve let my hamsters down.
What does it mean?!?
September 1st, 2010
And on that day, everyone bought
The brioche, never an afterthought
The brioche, never an afterthought
August 26th, 2010
Following the global smash that was the debut album ‘Wasting My Life’ the Papples have leapt forward in front of the musical crowd to deliver what can only be described as the biggest twenty-five minutes you ever heard. Check out the multitude of FIVE star reviews:
“The second album is better than the first… I loved the first one but this one is a quantum leap musically” – J McIver
***** – Smoochies Inc
“Masterpiece is brilliant! Ass Pumping Gas (Pumping Ass) remains my favourite” – S McIver
“Immense” – N Simpson
How can they improve on perfection? How will the third album sound? Only time will tell.
2 comments August 19th, 2010
Germany is not known for its love of cider. In fact, you are more likely to come across a dog with three legs rather than a pub or bar selling cider inside. Of course the country is known for beer and wine, so why would you go out of your way to try and find a drink that hasn’t been embraced? When you drink it most nights, that’s when.
Bruno prefers cider to most other drinks. We did our very best to try and find some. We checked online at the nearby bars to see if they had it listed as a beveridge. We looked in supermarkets. It would appear that despite having a word for cider, ‘viez’, it doesn’t get used often. We went into a restaurant half a mile away and asked for a viez only to be greeted by confused looks by the staff. Bruno then using the international sign language for ‘apples’, ‘fermenting’ and ‘the internet’ tried to explain our endeavours. One of the bar staff went away and came back with a very dusty bottle which looked as though it had languished on some shelf for a couple of years. This was apfelwine, a sort of apple liquor / wine that was as popular as a slap across the chops. We made our excuses and left quickly.
In the end, with some of Siobhan’s family travelling across Europe by car, they opted to asking them to stop off at a Tesco before leaving the UK to pick up a crate of Strongbow. Ironically by the time they arrived Bruno had gotten so drunk on vodka the previous night that he couldn’t even bear to eat let alone crack open a couple of cans. They remained practically untouched until I left.
Germany 2, Bruno 0
August 10th, 2010
Our plane got into Frankfurt Hahn at 2pm on Wednesday morning. We picked up some shopping, including some very cheap Jagermeister (bad spelling) from a supermarket called Toom, and headed back. I then proceeded to drink a third of the bottle and woke up on Thursday feeling the burn.
Later on after a day of physical activites which I mostly sat out for we went for a drink in one of the bars down the road. Where we were staying was in the bottom of this valley surrounded by many stunning views. We were dropped off at this grand-looking place over the river and went inside. Germany unfortunately has not really heard of cider much so Siobhan’s brother Bruno found it very hard trying to locate any with no concept of the language and their unwillingness to understand what “fermenting apples” really means. That’s another story.
We sit down with some drinks and Bruno heads to the toilet. He returns a few minutes later.
“I tell you what, they have some weird things here. I couldn’t find the toilets but eventually I came across them.”
“Did you know which ones to go in?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” says Bruno.
“Well, did you know which was male and which was female?” asks Siobhan.
“I think so.”
“Did they have any urinals in the toilets?”
“Erm… no. Look I went in the one that had ‘Damon’ on the door.”
“Damon means women you idiot!” laughs Siobhan.
“I went in that one because it was a guy’s name, I thought it would have to be the gents!”
Germany 1, Bruno 0
August 9th, 2010
So it began around the turn of the century when that hidden, underground factory in Doncaster started churning out fabricated women that looked real but really they weren’t. They were pretty much all identical as well. You must have seen them for they were many: Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Mandy Moore, Jessica Simpson etc, collectively known as “zombie blondes”. They played their part well and made millions for the South Yorkshire region. But what next for women?
Then came the phenomena that was known as the “piano bints” wherein another rival factory, wanting a cut of the profits, decided to try and muscle in on Doncaster’s territory. They chose the perfect time to strike as the zombie blondes were failing in the charts; nobody wanted them anymore expect for fake nudie shots on the internet. So strode forth the “piano bints”: Delta Goodrem, Lucie Silvas and Vanessa Carlton. Unfortunately they didn’t have the staying power of the zombie blondes. Sure they could play their own instruments but it didn’t matter, they couldn’t keep up. The “piano bints” died out shortly afterwards.
So strode forth another generation of musical women, but what ho, where could they go now? They needed a gimmick, another reason to stand out in-between where Katherine Jenkins belted out the tat and Dolly Parton hollered the classics. Bring forth the kooky women: Florence and the Machine, Marina and the Diamonds, Paloma Faith. They swoosh. They swirl. They sing in high voices and then don’t. It doesn’t matter that Kate Bush did it better and thirty years previous because look at the record sales!
The whereabouts of the factory that produced the kookies is still unknown but let it be known that once we do locate it, well, that would be telling…
August 3rd, 2010
