Posts filed under 'Ian'
As it happens, and with December looming out of the woodwork, I really need to get my arse in gear with the Christmas Gangster Rap album. I’ve got some rhymes down here and there but at the moment it’s a page with some song titles dotted across:
Possible Song Titles
Pimp That Tree
Check Tha Cold / Check Tha Snow
Cold Piece of Coal, Peace To Tha Soul
Meal for Three: You, Her and Me
Brave Tha Sales
Shopping Like a Mother F*cker
Crackers and B*tches
Cook That Bird!
No Christmas for Me (I W*nked in my Stocking) – instrumental
It’s really, really, really hard being an inspirational music writer / producer / maestro you know.
October 13th, 2009
Are you in? No, not you, the other one at the back. Yeah you… are yo… what? So that’s a… a no right, okay.
Episode 18 – Noose Lips Chop Chips
Hanging from the nose of the president Vixen uses the last of her strength to pull herself back up on top of Mount Rushmore. The eternal monument has a red haze; a lot of blood has been spilled and all in the name of death!
Still, with Sir Chester Lester finally behind bars it appears as though the greatest enemy of the city has finally been vanquished, or has it? Has he? Will they now?
Vixen attends a celebration in her honour only to have ti crashed by a very attractive and familiar-looking woman. Before she can change into her now slightly more alluring costume guest speaker Angela Lansbury has been captured. The streets are filled with screaming people. Bobby Paul needs to take his shirt back to Next and get a refund. Such a tall order. Vixen follows the trail left by her new nemesis to a crocodile-infested swamp. Luckily though theur gnashers are nothing compared to our heroine’s personalised style of judo karate kendo martial arts, taught to her secretly at the age of three. She was still on rusks then.
In a cafe in the middle of the swamp Angela Lansbury hangs in a cage next to the specials menu above a pit of seedy vultures, desperate for attention. The queue at the cashier hasn’t moved for the last five minutes as a minor searches through his pockets for enough change to buy a custard cream. The evil capturer is revealed: but… it’s Vixen! How can this be? Oh no no, the capturer may look like her but she’s no Vixen. This is Crazy Gazey, Vixen’s identical half-sister who could also be her cousin only nobody went that far with the family tree. A titanic battle ensures however it ends with the inevitable yet satisfying conclusion with Angela Lansbury safe in the arms of a 2.99 coffee and donut lunchtime deal. But what of Crazy Gazey? She escapes and comes back in the, ah ah, that would be telling.
October 6th, 2009
The following documents are the minutes of a top secret meeting and should be treated as such.
(Me and Ian are secret agents right?)
Continue Reading September 24th, 2009
This morning I woke up and I decided to lie in bed a little bit longer before I got up at my usual time. My usual time is 8:12 because I like the even numbers. If I wake up at an odd numbered time I immediately close my eyes and pretend to sleep until the time flashes to an even number, than I wake up. Titter titter.
For breakfast I put two pieces of bread into the toaster and heated them up until they weren’t white anymore. Only two minutes and out they came, brown as brown, hot and toasted somewhat. After opening the fridge I decided upon two different spreads for my toast; butter and jam. It was a tough choice between strawberry and blackberry but in the end strawberry won for the following reasons:
1) it has strawberries in itÂ
2) it tastes like strawberries and
3) the other one doesn’t have strawberries in it
I put the layer of butter on before the strawberry jam because that is very important. If you don’t put the butter on first then it goes very wrong. I spent several minutes deciding whether or not to remove the crusts from the pieces of toast eventually ending on the decision to leave them on because my hair is already curly and anymore curliness won’t damage my hair. I then moved my attentions to the kettle where I stood for the next hour…
(to continue at a time when it becomes more exciting)
September 22nd, 2009
As it happens, before any of us have realised, we are hurtling towards Christmas on a broken truck with three wheels, two gears and a wing mirror covered in toffee. Did you like that? You can sing it if you want to.
In order to really get into the spirit I have devised a new concept that can neatly fit into most of the ideas I come up with as well as sparking up a few imaginative pennies along the way. I am currently in the process of writing a Gangster Christmas Album and was wondering if you would like to contribute. Obviously beneath the violence, the swearing, the carnage and the chaos there will be heartfelt tales of shopping and families as that’s what Christmas is all about, right?
I’m pulling in a few guest collaborators to help with the music but any song lyrics, titles, ideas or anything like that would be gratefully acknowledged. You can also help with the tunes too. There are no boundaries when it comes to Festive Hip Hop.
September 14th, 2009
This made me weep hot manly tears of dismay:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/LEGO-Batman-7785-Arkham-Asylum/dp/B000EJ9OJK/ref=sr_1_10?ie=UTF8&s=kids&qid=1252481289&sr=1-10
Then this sealed the deal and I lost four days:
I wish I had a box that told me when things were going to get deleted or disappear so that I can go out, buy all the suckers, and then join the rip off ebay crowd so I can make a packet too. Plus… I want them. I don’t particularly want to build them but owning them would make me smile like a Jabberwocky. Is that wrong of me?
September 9th, 2009
Bought me a cat and the cat pleased me,
I fed my cat under yonder tree.
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a hen and the hen pleased me,
I fed my hen under yonder tree.
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a duck and the duck pleased me,
I fed my duck under yonder tree.
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a goose and the goose pleased me
I fed my goose under yonder tree.
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a sheep and the sheep pleased me,
I fed my sheep under yonder tree.
Sheep goes baa, baa,
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a pig and the pig pleased me,
I fed my pig under yonder tree.
Pig goes oink, oink,
Sheep goes baa, baa,
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a cow and the cow pleased me,
I fed my cow under yonder tree.
Cow goes moo, moo,
Pig goes oink, oink,
Sheep goes baa, baa,
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a horse and the horse pleased me,
I fed my horse under yonder tree.
Horse goes neigh, neigh,
Cow goes moo, moo,
Pig goes oink, oink,
Sheep goes baa, baa,
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a dog and the dog pleased me,
I fed my dog under yonder tree.
Dog goes bow-wow, bow-wow,
Horse goes neigh, neigh,
Cow goes moo, moo,
Pig goes oink, oink,
Sheep goes baa, baa,
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
September 8th, 2009
I have to say it. It has been burning a hole in my face for some time now and it’s too much. If I don’t let it all out I will surely end up a crust of a man, a shallow bed and breakfast at the end of the country serving hot oil instead of coffee and making toast out of tyres. Something like that.
I FEEL OPPRESSED GENTLEMEN!
You see me, right, I am one, right? As a person I am one person therefore I am one. You see the world, right? The world is like six billion or so, I don’t know the exact figures. So, with this in mind, one up against six billion is not only bad, possibly terrible odds but also horribly oppressive. I feel oppressed by the whole world.
How’d you like them apples?
September 3rd, 2009
I have recently been informed that two astonishing new phrases have been immediately made up for the consumption of da beans website. They come aficionado and long-time sponsor Keveel De Heel, currently showing his work around the Northern shores of Italy.
Unfortunately due to his busy work schedule Mr De Heel didn’t have time to tell us what they meant so it has been thrown open to da beans community to establish their meanings. They are as follows:
Sponge Hammer
Cleaning out the fish bowl
Pet away! Pet away!
July 20th, 2009
Get up-a, get on up. Get up-a, get on up.
Arrive on the scene, at 3:15 (get on up).
Get up-a, get on up. Get up-a, get on up.
Come on the scene with a sparkling tureen. (James Brown – the early posh years).
Episode 7 – The Seventh Episode
After narrowly defeating the very un-PC and highly controversial Cex Machine in the previous episode, Vixen escapes with her now re-united boyfriend Bobby Paul for the weekend to a cabin hidden away in the mountains. What they wanted was time to themselves. What they got was something completely different. They would have gotten what they wanted were it not for the fact that Sir Chester Lester had placed a tracking device the size of a swollen bee in her handbag.
After a few convenient hours alone to lure the couple into a false sense of security the Mono Bots crash into the cabin leaving Vixen to go “all out” to ensure their safety. Knowing that their little haven is now a threat to their lives, and discovering the tracking device after looking for a spare chapstick, the two begin to make their way back into town under cover of darkness.
Bobby Paul is angry that their weekend away has been ruined by Vixen’s active social life and goes in a huffy fit on the passenger side. Before she has a chance to destroy his arguement with basic facts two Mono Bots jump out from under the dashboard. To make matters worse they are then forced to push Bobby Paul’s Nissan Cherry to it’s top speed of possibly 67 mph when a gigantic ball of yellow snow starts rolling towards them. Only a dramatic case scene could satisfy this situation!
… Twenty long minutes later the sun is seen rising over the mountains. At the bottom there is a wreck. The Cherry has lost three of it’s wheels. Vixen emerges from the carnage but where is Bobby Paul?
Someone will pay, and Vixen Hawk will be there to ensure a generous tip (of ass-kicking).
July 8th, 2009
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