Posts filed under 'Rants'
I don’t even watch a lot of television anymore, and if I do thanks to modern technology I fast-forward the f*ckers whenever I get the chance. One particular recent t*rd of note however keeps cropping up between the hither, the thither and whatever is left.
That advert about Disneyland / Disneyworld where the parents tell their children and they all erupt into a screaming void of excitement. As cute as it was the first time by the second and third rounds you despise both the kids and the mums and dads. Why? It’s so horribly scantily-clad it’s like a page three model; zero detail, nothing more, a simple and direct message of you should take your kids to Disney because then the magic begins and if you don’t you may as well throw yourself into a bonfire for denying your kin this level of happiness. The worst one is the moron who took time to make a sort of screensaver for his television so, his children with their faces so close they could see through the mechanism itself, they read a delightful message of ‘We… are… going… to… Disneyworld.’
Oh, and any advert featuring Martine McCutcheon should have vinegar rubbed on it first to remove any impurities.
March 7th, 2011
Sometimes I feel like covering other people’s songs.
Sometimes I feel like the hype just isn’t justified.
Sometimes I feel like selling out.
Sometimes I feel like releasing a deluxe four disc edition of my debut album which is entirely unnecessary as it features the same ten songs over and over again.
Sometimes I should just stop.
(Musical parody and rant done with. To continue and resume again shortly.
Plus, have you seen her face? I wish I hadn’t. FACT)
December 5th, 2009
I’m confused. I’m mystified. I’m dragging myself all over the place and not settling on any sort of sane or reasonable explanation.
December. Prime Panto season, right? So why is it that every year I am forced to watch posters of these two knob jockeys crop up around Newcastle?
http://www.theatreroyal.co.uk/whats_on/pantomine.asp
The poster boasts that the two main actors, and I use the term loosely, Danny Adams and Clive Webb are returning again for what seems like the fifth year in a row due to, and I quote, “overwhelming public demand”. Overwhelming public demand? Who are these people that their lives are so devoid of any life or sense of purpose that they go into the Theatre Royal on a regular basis to enquire when those two lovely lads Mr Adams and Mr Webb are returning? Do they have an “Overwhelming public demand” voting box and whoever gets the most votes they get the moniker to appear on their next poster?
Bring back the Chuckle Brothers. All is forgiven.
November 23rd, 2009
Do you remember the days when our websites were just endless lists about things that didn’t mean anything?
Well, ours was I don’t know about yours. It was easy, it was simple, it was just plain fucking lazy let’s face it but every so often it doesn’t hurt to re-vist them for tear-stained nostalgia. So to honour another year of da beans’ existence let me present, in no particular order, the top five weird names from the Metro map I saw before going out tonight.
Drum roll please!
- Lamesley
- Kibblesworth (good name for a dog)
- Biddick (juvenile but funny)
- Wideopen (again, very juvenile)
- Witherwack (my personal favourite)
See? Don’t you wish we could all do lists and be happy?
July 7th, 2009
Scotland is very good at producing glum rock bands. At the very cheeriest end are bands like the Fratellis, who have a vague sheen* of upbeat cheeriness but actually have no real substance to them anyway. Nothing they say means anything. In the middle of the scale are bands like Del Amitri who have a superficial sing-along niceness but are ultimately quite maudlin and have something of a victim complex.
The other end of the scale – the very crowded end – is where the rest of the bands go. Idlewild and Ultravox and all that. Glasvegas are currently squatting at the darkest corner of that spectrum, frowning and grunting at passers-by.
Glasvegas are really a modern-day Ultravox: pompous, pretentious, deeply miserable and with a very acute sense of their own importance. Their “wall of sound” (for which read, “big noisy tuneless background that is the same in every song”) gives every tuneless wail the same relentlessly funereal atmosphere of annoyance.
The lead singer, with his bouffant hair (Morrissey circa 1989) and too-cool-for-this-shit attitude (Midge Ure circa all his life) makes him particularly ripe for binthood, and I recommend that he is the bintiest bint of this month, with other band members in a secondary bint status.
In short: Glasvegas = major net loss.
* Buff to sheen.
February 22nd, 2009
And I thought drinking high levels of coffee and Redbull was a bad idea. This really takes every biscuit ever. In what can only be described as an act of stupidity I decided to buy one of those keyfinders that when you whistle beeps so you can find your keys. It’s a reasonable purchase, and it was for only £1.50 or so on Ebay. The thing though is that the little sh*tstain is so sensitive that you can do other things to set it off, some completely unintentional. So far I have discovered that the following makes it beep:
1. Turning on a tap
2. Audrey laughing
3. Reuben laughing
4. Reuben talking
5. Opening a drawer
6. The Bee Gees (from the next f*cking room!)
7. Coughing
8. Sneezing
Any sane person could take a few days or so of this but I shoved it in my drawer and every so often without wanting it to it would beep. I was therefore forced to accidentally hurl it down the stairs and watch it break into four separate pieces. Then I was forced (I really was) to stand on it and smash it into many more pieces to prevent the evil from ever escaping.
Oh and if anyone wants one I have a spare…
January 23rd, 2009
Where is everyone? It’s been dead as a very dead, inanimate deceased thing on here for ages now.
Let’s liven things up a bit! With a Pouring Beans disco! Yeah!
Please submit a full explanation of where you have been and why it has prevented you from contributing to the Beans.
September 23rd, 2008
Shut up. I’m in charge here and I demand the following. Pay some fucking attention.
- Cash
- Big car
- Holiday somewhere sunny
- Right smart lass
- The results of Kev’s picture competition
- A field of cows and someone to deal with them
- A helicopter
- A battenberg cake
- A less battered-looking box for my Father Ted box set
- Less fraying on the strap of my bag
- Somewhere to keep my nice pen
- Ready salted crisps in the cupboard instead of salt and vinegar
- Some ham
- A working magic 8-ball
- An extra four to six hours each day
- An end to hob nobs
The deadline for my demands is midnight on Tuesday. If any of the above requests are not met with complete and total compliance I will be forced to take action, possibly by aching tactfully.
Now jump to it!
July 16th, 2008
Yes ladies and gentlemen, we are back. Once again we have risen like the mighty pheonix from the burning heap of our twice hacked server.
I have restored hastily made backups of databases, trawled directories of php files looking for imposters and .htaccess files, and now, finally, we are up and pouring like the proverbial beans once more.
PS. All fucking dirty scum lowlife bastard fucking dog licking hackers, should be made to run naked through brixton with a sign saying “I hate all of you please shoot at me” with a pineapple up their arse, that’d teach em.
March 9th, 2008
I appear to have found the problem which has led to us being suspended several times by our wonderfully helpful host www.namehog.net
It turns out some scumbag calling himself “Noble” had loaded a php script onto our server and was using it to send 40,000 SPAM emails a day, which ultimately got namehog’s web server dns blacklisted. Not fun for them! If I ever met one of these sad little nerds who sends all this spam or writes crappy little viruses which achieve little more than pissing off IT admins, I’d like to skin them alive and dunk them in a vat of lemon juice, that’d stop the little bastards!
Ahem, rant over…
October 16th, 2007
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