What the blue fuck is this?

Browsing the web and found this:

http://www.bastardclownsforfuckinghire.com/

I really, really fucking hate clowns…

Why the hell would anyone want one of these? The only possible reason I can think of is to instil respect through fear into small children. It’s something I’m planning on doing when my child gets old enough to start playing up-I’ll hire a clown to “entertain” them for a few hours. It’ll seem like a lifetime of balloon animals and terrifying red-painted rictus grins to them…

I think I would probably only need to hire a clown once-the psychological scarring on my child’s delicate sensibilities should be sufficient that the mere mention of “Do I need to call the clown?” in stern voice should be enough to ensure instant obedience. It uses many of the same concepts as the much vaunted “naughty step” but reinforces the lessons learnt with unreasoning terror.

In many ways, it’s the extension of my own concept of “the naughty tree” where bad children are placed to learn the error of their ways. It’s particularly effective in autumn, when they have to fight off hungry crows as well as maintain their balance on the slippery bark. Teaches them a lot about life I think.

For those in more urban areas (or just those with more restricted space), I would suggest the “naughty cupboard” as a viable alternative. If there are spiders in there, all the better-if they don’t like spiders, they shouldn’t have stolen a biscuit, should they?

These hints and tips, plus many more, on child rearing will soon be available in my new book “I’ll Have Respect From You, By God I Will..!-A Guide to Subduing Insolent Children” which is a follow up to the bestselling guide “Mantraps, Caltraps and other things to dissuade inquisitive little feet”, both by Dr Fat Edgar.

I call my Girlfriend “Slinky”- that’s because I like to throw her down the stairs every so often…(Badum! Tish!)

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/Battered Wives Hit Back!

Even as I write this there are women with black eyes all over the country, grimly polishing their biggest frying pans in readiness for their fat twat of a husband to return home. About time too…

It seems only fair that because if I was to appear in court charged with strangling my common law wife I would probably be let off by a sympathetic judge because “She deserved it” or “all women are whores and are asking to be killed” or any one of the myriad of sensible and progressive reasons the judiciary still appear to use.

Interestingly the only time the term “Common Law Wife” is ever heard is when someone is up in the dock for strangling them. If you don’t believe me you can Google it and check-“Common law Wife Strangling”-14 Trillion results, “Common law Wife (exclude “strangling”)”-about 4 results.

It’s a fair crack of the whip now anyway-it should keep dysfunctional couples on their toes a bit more as they now have an equal amount to lose.

For some reason it reminds me of a friend’s mother who (he claims) donates all her unwanted goods to, as she puts it, “The Charity for Battered Wives”…

The overriding cynical part of me thinks it just another way of keeping the prison population down. Did you know it costs approx £30,000 per year to keep someone in prison. Typically you are looking at £200, 000 – 500,000 to support someone sentenced to murder.

For those with super quick maths brains, that works out at over £80 a day. What do they feed them for fucks sake? Swans?

For something that costs us nearly £7 million pounds per day it's nice that Someone seems to be making money out of it somewhere though... and it would appear that “Last year the government spent more than £10,000 on 80 PlayStations and 15 Xboxes for young offender institutions”. If you think that’s just me being a reactionary lunatic and making stuff up, I read it here .

You're doomed-aye, you're all doomed...

I’ve been dealing with Scottish people a lot recently. And a very fine race of unstable ginger bearded lunatics they are too. I have bonded with them however, with the liberal use of colloquialisms within my emails-words like “Hoots mon”, “Och aye the noo” and it’s a braw bricht moonlit nicht” and so forth.

I have even added substantial digressions on the subject of haggis and other offal based products and have resisted the urge to refer to them as “Scotch” (which is a drink, not a race) or “Porridge Wogs” (which is a racial slur)

I have however picked up a few useful pithy old Scottish phrases I thought were very amusing and can be used in conversation-they are more effective if you try to sound like Private Frazer from Dads Army when you say them:

• A gowk at Yule'll no be bricht at Beltane: Literally this means that a person who is a fool at Christmas will not be wise in May i.e. you cannot change a person's inherited character.
  
• A green Yule maks a fat kirkyaird: A mild Christmas fills the cemetery.
  
• A'm no a scone o that bakin: I’m not one of that sort.
  
• Dinna cuist awa the cog whan the cou flings: Do not give up at the first misfortune - try, try again.
• A puir man is fain o little: We have the highest incidence of heart disease in the UK due to our appalling diet of deep fried filth.
• A stap out o ane's bicker: In many of the more remote parts of our bleak and godforsaken country the only recreational activities available are binge drinking and rape.
• A tod nivver sped better nor whan he gaed his ain errand: We have been an economic millstone around the neck of England for several hundred years now.
• Aye stickin his graip in his neibour's midden: Our national dish is made from bits of animals even Indians would throw away. Mmmm, tasty muck…..

OH FLOWER OF SCOTLAND!!

When will we see your like again
That fought and died for..

Mumble mumble mumble….

What the fuck is this all about then?

Apologies for the length of this entry. I’ve had lots of thoughts in my head and very little chance to exorcise them…

For a start, what kind of terribly fucked up world are we living in where Frankie Dettori has his own brand of fucking tomatoes ? I saw them in the supermarket. What the devil is that all about? He’s a jockey, not a chef or even a food critic.

It’s not even like those bloody awful “Lloyd Grossman sauces” (which taste awful by the way. If that’s the way you think a dopiaza should taste Lloyd, I suggest you don’t act as high handed with the contestants on “Master Chef” in future) or Ainsley Bastard Harriott's magic cous cous , where the feeble minded could actually be forgiven for thinking the celebrities might have had a hand in formulating the recipes.

Are they trying to make us believe that Mr Dettori has something to do with the manufacture of these fucking tomatoes? That he either goes out at dawn into a sun kissed field and plucks them from the vines with his own tiny hands with the dew still on them, or just that he puts on a hair net and does a few shifts in the canning factory between races? In either event, I hope he cleans his hands after he has been touching horses, the dirty little bleeder…

Utter fucking rubbish.

I’ve also been off work recently, due to some health problems, and have once again been exposed to the never ending garbage that is daytime TV, the most disturbing aspect of which seems to be frequent reoccurrence of adverts featuring either Gloria Hunniford or June Whitfield (and now and then it’s Cilla Black capitalising on having lost a husband) wistfully advertising pensions, funeral insurance or those awful schemes to make the elderly sell their houses. It’s very disturbing-most of them start with a shot of the crone in question in a lovely quaint house or garden saying something like “Well, if you’re anything like me, you’re nearly dead. It won’t be long now, you know. Have you ever thought about that? Have you?” It really is very macabre.

In other news, it has come to my attention that all matters in this country, whether they are judicial, social or political, could all be solved equitably if they were presented to a triumvirate made up of what I like to call “The Three Jeremy’s”

• Jeremy Paxman
• Jeremy Kyle
• Jeremy Clarkson

Each of them could bring their own special skills to bear on the problem as each one of them represents a different but equally important aspect of humanity-one represents the “logical”, the second the “emotional” and third the “twat”.

I feel that this could be the basis of a whole new way of living for the people of this great country.

Obviously, it’s fraught with bureaucratic difficulties at present. These men all have busy schedules and convening them in the same room, even for the most minor or trivial matter, would be a logistical nightmare of the highest order.

I have however checked with some scientists (or at least some men in glasses-for me the two terms are virtually interchangeable) who have confirmed that it should soon be possible to “download” the personalities of these great men of our age into one giant computer (which I propose should be named “Aegis” as it will be our shield and protector) into which problems would be fed in one end and judgements worthy of Solomon will be excreted out the other, thus dispensing with most of the Judiciary, Civil Service, DHSS and many other Government functions at a stroke.

So there we are-the blueprint for a new, and far less messy, society.

Lady Nazis on the Web

Sometime ago someone was kind enough to give me (via the comments) a link to a specific article on the daily mail website. Unfortunately I have never been able to access it, as the link is truncated, however this does not matter as the "FeMail" section of the Daily Mail has been a revelation to me. It’s like cross between Heat Magazine and Der Sturmer .

A wonderful mix of articles ranging from “Has young Prince Harry taken Chelsy up the arse yet?” to “10 things to do if pakis move in next door”.

I’m aware that this type of media isn’t aimed towards me as I am a) a Bloke and b) not to the far right of Norman Tebbitt but even so it’s beyond the normal lazy, turgid and reactionary drivel we expect from the Mail. This aspect is clearly designed for those people who enjoy “Sex and the City” but also think that Asians don’t drive well…

Duncan Bannatyne fights Gypsies

Having had an epiphany about this man I have started thinking of other things I’d like to see him do on TV. Top of the list has to be gypsy fighting or bee eating.

I quite like the idea of a program called “Duncan Bannatyne: Bee Eater” and he looks pretty handy, so I bet he’d be good at fighting gypsies. Or maybe not, as gypsies are notoriously crazy/scary people who steal babies and stuff. My partner says that when she was a child her mother used to make them hide when the gypsies came round selling clothes pegs so they wouldn’t cursed or stolen. I think that’s going a bit far myself, as in my experience the most common thing you’ll get is either a good beating or a bad tarmaccing.

As for eating bees, that’s just mental. We’d never get clearance from the health and safety people for a start, even if he agreed to do it. The whole thing's a bureaucratic minefield.

Actually, as part of my fact finding mission for this blog, I’ve just seen a picture of Duncan Bannatyne and I have just realised he has the look of a Hollywood gangster from the 1930’s. Look at a picture of him and you’ll see it yourself. Now imagine him in a baggy pinstripe suit and hat and carrying a tommy gun. You can imagine him saying (in one of those weird 1930’s “Noo Yark” gangster accents where they didn’t seem to move their lips) “You godda go see da boss-jimmy don’t like to be messed around by no deadbeats, see..Youse guys bedda wise up, pronto...”.

Uncanny isn’t it?

Maybe was wrong…

I have on more than one occasion accused Duncan Bannatyne of being a cunt. Being the well balanced individual I am however, I am more than happy to back down and admit I might be wrong.

I watched this last night:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/programmes/this_world/Duncan Bannatyne is VERY Scottish

I was most impressed with his Scottishness, his popeyed charm, barely restrained aggression and also his sheer all out, balls of brass interview style. Basically, he made Paxman look like Richard Madeley, and coupled with what appeared to be genuine anger about the subject matter made what could otherwise have been a very worthy but dull program very good viewing.

Being one of those genuinely irritating born again ex-smokers I thoroughly agreed with his views regarding the advertising of smoking when it’s targeted towards children (Conversely, by all means target it towards adults-if you don’t know by the time you’re an adult that it will kill you, then frankly I’m surprised to managed to negotiate enough of life’s little obstacles to stay alive this long).

One of the most effective things that Bannantyne does whilst interviewing some poor bastard of a PR Flack is to maintain a perfectly neutral and friendly facial expression, which although seemingly innocuous does suggest that he is looking at the person who is talking to him and thinking “I know you’re fucking full of shit, you lying little cocksucker, but I’m going to nod and smile even though we both know that this whole endeavour is a complete fucking charade and that you know that you look like a proper cunt”. He’s like a particularly urbane attack dog…

He also has a spectacularly chilling smile. It’s the kind of smile that I imagine might well be the last thing that some people ever see.

So it’s made me look at Dragon’s Den in a new light. Yes, he is undoubtedly very rude to people, but to be honest if I was faced with a seemingly never ending series of fools asking me for huge amounts of money for miniscule stakes in preposterous schemes and products like “a talking horse brass with a USB connection” or whatever I would start telling people to fuck off pretty quickly as well.

See? I learned a lesson today…