The Bear Necessities

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Is it just me or is Obi-Wan Kenobi a bit of a titty-twat? From a certain point of view, I mean! Consider that he's fully aware that Luke's dad is an asthmatic black dildo and yet rather than tell him the truth he instead throws him a load of bullshit and then buggers off to die. Just think about that for one second! He actually sent someones son to unknowingly kill his own father by saying “Hey, that evil guy killed your dad! Now go and stab him in his fucking head”. I mean surely that's a bit much, isn't it? And this whole lie was just because he preferred to paint the truth with metaphors over simply admitting that he'd been a bit of a shit teacher to Anakin. I mean, to be fair, if I was training somebody to protect the universe and then they turned into a kill-crazy dictator, I'd probably hush it up too. I suppose that's got to be like being a human-biology teacher and then finding out that your star pupil is Josef Mengele. It's not that it's your fault but you'd definitely refrain from mentioning it in future job interviews. My point is that, where poetic license is concerned, there's a time and place. Everybody will have a different opinion on when you can get creative with the truth although surely we have to agree that patricide isn't one of them!  

Sell Yourself

Although wanking and crying takes up most of my time, I do try to be productive in the half hour of each day that I'm completely free. Sometimes I like to take my dog on a walk and other times I enjoy playing Grand Theft Auto to see how many prostitutes I can kill before having to commit suicide. Occasionally though, I also like to read books with my latest effort being Jon Ronson's enjoyably un-comforting The Psychopath Test. The book followed Ronson on his one-sided adventure into the world of the crazies, whilst detailing how he suspected they're fucking up society from the top. For birdwatchers looking to take their weird hobby to the next level, the book also detailed how one might go about spotting a real life psychopath in the wild. Turns out they're manipulative, glib, callous, have rather ambitious long term goals and as such make pretty good politicians, serial killers and in some cases, step-parents. It also pointed out that if you've ever panicked about being a psycho whilst doing something a bit kooky like microwaving the cat, masturbating with shit, or enjoying a Michael Bay film then you shouldn't worry too much. A psychopath has literally no interest in how another person might define them and so you're probably fine.

A Bad Book

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Is it just me or does it seem unfair to refer to a single parent family as 'broken'? Sure, single mums sometimes get stressed and drown their children in the bath, but that's not to say a couple with a kid is any better. I'm from a single parent family and to be honest I prefer it to when my parents were together. Some people just aren't right for one another and before my Mum moved out I wasn't allowed to stay up late, so I can't say I was too arsed. If anything was upsetting, I suppose it was the inevitable custody battle where parents fight over who gets to keep their child. It's not that I felt torn between the two but rather that it simply never happened, as both sides were happy to leave me with the other. Bastards! It was a shame too as not only was my loyalty up for the highest bidder but I think a large scale game of 'Who Loves Me The Most' would have done wonders for my confidence. Sure I was almost in my twenties by the time they got divorced but fuck them it'd still have been nice.

More Human Than Human

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Does anybody remember the Furby? They were toys that looked a bit like if somebody had cut off a real animal’s head and then glued some feet to its neck stump. They are actually still available for kids today but I'm not sure how popular they are. I think young children are less interested in playing with little hairy robots these days than they are Xboxes and fucking. Well I had one when I was younger and it was quite fun I suppose. More fun than any of my real pets, anyway. I had some rats too but one was a cool, English speaking toy, and the others would literally piss all over me. Anyway, as is the way with such things, I eventually grew bored and my cute little cyborg found himself covered in dust and buried at the back of my wardrobe. Cut to about seven years later and I'm woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of a creature in agony. Electronic screams and moans came from somewhere in my room and scared the living shit out of me. As it turned out, my Furby had been sitting dormant, growing old alone and now it was time for him to die. The poor little fucker seemed to be having some sort of stroke as all his words came out all slurred and garbled. I dug him out from where he'd spent the bulk of his life, felt an unexpected pang of guilt and then ripped out his batteries for the final time. His loneliness and pain was finally over and I honestly can't describe how terrible I felt. I'm not too sure what happened to my rats... I think they got a load of tumours and so we threw them in the bin. What a poor little Furby.

A Family Affair

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I was once talking to my Mum when she turned with deadly seriousness and informed me that The Queen had ordered the hit on Princess Diana. I started to laugh because of how she'd delivered such conspiracy theorist bullshit with absolute certainty. Her eyes narrowed and, as if daring me to continue mocking, she asked “What, you don't think The Queen could have you killed?” After a pause, I took the dare and laughed even harder. Resigned to the fact that I wasn't going to indulge her paranoia, she delivered her final and most chilling warning. “Actually” she said quietly, “I wouldn't laugh about it if I were you”. What the fuck was she waffling on about? Usually my Mum is quite rational with her conversations, rarely venturing further than the subject of her two dogs or weekly caravan trips away. I never got to the bottom of why she was telling me this and it's now been so long that she claims not to remember it. In which case, all we can do is analyse what was said and try and work out what was really going on. Maybe she'd accidentally stumbled across clues as to our monarchy's murderous ways or perhaps it was something to do with the six cans of apple cider that she'd spent the night pouring down her throat. If we know what's good for us then I suppose we should never find out.

Spineless Swines, Cemented Minds

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When I was sixteen, my plans to have a Mohican hair style like DeNiro in Taxi Driver were scuppered by my Mum who decided it looked too much like “fanny pubes”. We compromised and decided I could have the Brazilian strip down the centre, but just short on the sides rather than bald to avoid any real resemblance to a vagina. So I went into the hairdressers where they did as I'd asked, I looked into the mirror and told them it was fine. I thought it looked good! I then got home and my Mum decided I should have had it slightly shorter on the sides and so dragged me back to get more shaved off. “Wait outside for a second” she said to me before going in on her own. She returned a minute later and said that they'd agreed to correct it for free. That was nice of them, I thought! I went in cheerful as ever and was greeted by the frostiest haircut I've ever had in my life. They didn't speak to me, they didn't look me in the eyes, they didn't smile… turns out that in an effort to save a few quid, my Mum had told them that I thought their original efforts were full-on shit and that I was fucking pissed off. Oblivious to this, I then re-entered like a smug little twat and tried to make casual small talk as though I hadn't just sent a banshee in to do my dirty work. That was the last haircut I ever went for. Even if being a skinhead would make me look like a massive racist thug, it's better than returning to that void of social awkwardness.

A Loose Bond

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So I went to see Roger Moore on stage recently and, as an obsessive Bond fan, I couldn't have been more excited. When I found out I had tickets, I was on the floor and wailing in the way that racists imagine foreign women do when their children are killed. I once applied for a Job at MI6 simply because of my love of the franchise and under the assumption that spies spend most of their time drinking, gambling and fucking women that have a history in the sex industry, or at the very least are a bit thick. Turns out they were looking for a person who was more into analysing data than ‘keeping the British end up’ which was a shame, and I'm sure it'll come as no surprise for you to learn that I didn't get the job. No idea how I didn't fulfil the criteria they were looking for though because I'm 6ft, British, slim, and even have the right coloured fucking hair. I mean, sure I probably failed every one of their online tests before blabbing to anyone who'd listen that I was applying for my licence to kill but fuck it, at least I'm not blonde!

Our Finest Gifts We Bring

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Personally, I've never learnt how to play a musical instrument but that's okay because people assume I have anyway. I'm scruffy, I have an eyebrow piercing and my hair hasn't been cut in years. If people aren't asking me if I've found somewhere safe to sleep for the night then they're asking if I'm in a band. Sadly the only thing I lack to be able to start a group is any musical talent whatsoever... Although when did that ever stop Nickelback from giving it a go? I tried to learn the ukulele a few years back but as I wasn't a master player straight from the beginning I threw the thing in the cupboard and haven't touched it since. Maybe I'd have had a chance when I was younger but fuck it, I've since been inflicted with a strong desire to not be arsed with anything that doesn't provide me with instant enjoyment. This is why my grandparents are in an old folk’s home, my ex-girlfriend is my ex-girlfriend and my Ukulele is currently gathering dust. If I did have the patience, I think I'd start by learning to play the drums. Not because I have any interest in the instrument but more because I can't fucking stand my next-door neighbours. 

The Best Of A Bad Situation

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Like Kellogg's Crunchy Nut Corn Flakes, they say that revenge is a dish best served cold… but maybe revenge isn't the end of the situation? I went to court once because I'd heard it was free to watch and what else is a young boy to do with his days off? So, after asking the man at the desk what the best thing he had on that day was, I went and sat in on a murder trial. To cut a long story short, the guy we saw had been driving one car and managed to shoot a bloke in another car square between the eyes. He was claiming he'd only meant to scare the guy and not actually kill him with his defence being that it was such a brilliant shot that he couldn't possibly have meant it. Got to love it when your reason not to go to jail is actually you bragging about the exact reason you definitely should be going to jail for. Anyway, the shooting was some gang related thing which had been going on for fucking years. Person after person would kill and then be killed like a lethal domino effect of falling twats and it's obviously not going to stop anytime soon. The judge obviously called bullshit on the defendants excuse and so sent him down for twelve years. Justice was served, the victim’s family breathed a sigh of relief and I had a bloody good day out!

Bye-Bye Dreams

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Hands up who can think of an aspect of life that isn't completely fucking miserable. If you have your hand up, you're wrong. I can enjoy something up until I get to the halfway point but then I realise the conclusion is coming up soon and I can't help but focus on the total bullshit of being alive. I quite like Saturday but then I tend to spend most of my Sunday's simply weighing up if I'd prefer to spend the next five days in work or just save myself the bother and stick my head inside the fucking oven. Some people see an old couple walking hand in hand and think it's sweet that they've managed to stay together for so many years. I just wonder which of them is going to go first and selfishly leave the other to wither in a misty fog of loneliness, Alzheimer's and piss. It sounds like I'm being mean but I swear that I'm speaking the truth. The only way you could possibly end your life on a high is by making sure you leave your loved one in the shit by fucking dying on them. When I reach old age, I think I'll keep a cyanide pill in one of the gums of my false teeth. If my partner so much as sniffles, I'm cracking it out, biting down and burning my insides into oblivion safe in the knowledge that things could literally never have ended better than this.  

I Know That I Know Nothing

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I know that when I meet new people I ask a lot of questions, but what's so bad about that? Oh look, there was a question! But are questions really so bad? Oh- there was another! People criticise me for asking pointless questions but if you're talking to another human for the first time then I think there's a lot of important things that need to be asked. Do you believe in God? Do you like cartoons? These are decisive factors regarding whether or not I think we can be friends. For me the answer to both of those big questions is of course not, I'm not a fucking child... just kidding, I love cartoons! Also, for the record, if I am asking too many questions then maybe it's because you're not pulling your weight in whatever shit conversation I'm being forced to have with you. If I don't know you then the odds are I don't want to be talking to you and so have ended up in the situation against my will. So you know... do your bit, dickhead!  

Wings And Desire

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In many ways I envy people who have religion. I'd much rather believe that I'll one day be sitting on a cloud instead of simply being chewed up and then squirted out of a worm’s anus. Not only that but religious people believe that God has a plan for us all. How nice is that? Life might seem fucking pointless to me but even if it's pointless for a religious person, that's okay because that's what the Sky-Boss wants. As of right now, the only things I have planned for the week are to go to my soul destroying job in the day and then spend the evenings fantasising about the ways in which I could commit suicide. For me, I think the old noose-and-a-wank is currently the top of the possibilities. I'd like to have some higher-power comforting me that there is some reason to the misery of life but sadly I'm not a fucking idiot. God is dead and we're all alone in an angst-ridden vacuum of meaninglessness. Anyway, so to get to the point, I really enjoyed that new Michael Keaton film.

Members And The Public

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So there was this one time that I ‘blacked up’ one of my close chums for a short movie that we were making. It was nothing offensive though before you jump to any conclusions, as all I wanted him to do was to walk around town like a bad motherfucker. Okay- looking back, maybe this wasn't in the best of taste but I can swear that there was no hate involved and we were much younger at the time. It's hard to judge what's socially acceptable when you're only a mere twenty-one years old. Anyway, the walk to the set involved a brief journey along the main road where my friend suddenly became infected with a sort of strange, hysterical confidence. Seeing the ridiculousness of the situation, the cars driving past began to beep and wave causing him to respond accordingly by aiming his guns and pretending to shoot. Did I mention he had guns? No? Well he did! Politically, 2009 was a different time so please don't judge us by your modern standards. Anyway so we filmed the scene, hid from the police and then went home safe in the knowledge that we'd had a productive day. I asked my friend if he could sum up his experience of mingling with the public whilst in disguise in one word to which he replied “fucking weird”. Technically that was two words, but you know... who’s going to argue with a white guy that thinks he's fucking Shaft.

There And Back Again

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Is it just me or is the saying “It's always in the last place you look” the most annoying phrase ever. Obviously it's in the last place I'll fucking look! I'm hardly going to continue the search for something once it's already turned up am I? At this point in the Hobbit franchise, the Dwarves have made it to the mountain having woken the resident dragon up and told him to move his scaly arse. Their leader Thorin also appears to be going mad which could be due to the magical power of his gold or simply because he can't find a great big shiny stone. If I can't find my keys then I start smashing the shit out of the house in search of them, and so I think stomping around a mountain and threatening to banish all of your closest friends from your kingdom is more than reasonable behaviour. Anyway, because the dragon has buggered off, a bunch of freaks have decided that they also want to claim some of the gold it was guarding. As a result of this, five separate armies square-off at the foot of the mountain like a particularly well organised gang of looters. Oh and for the record, I wouldn't bother seeing this movie if you haven't seen the other two as it's basically just the last third of one massive story. Without the context of the previous movies I think you could easily confuse these battles between beautiful male elves and beefy skinhead Orcs as being like a riot in the Gay Capital of Brighton. It's not.

The Power Of Faith

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Back in the day there was a man who was rather like a real life version of Father Christmas!! Jimmy Saville made children's dreams come true and raised so many millions for charities that you'd think he was a modern-day saint. Also, he was a raging pedophile and seemed to make no attempt to hide that fact. I was born after his popularity and so to me, Saville just looked like a creepy old fucker who couldn't have appeared more sinister had he presented his television shows whilst fingering his belly button and dribbling onto his pedo-bling. Aside from a few political connections and an apparent conspiracy of pedophile entertainers, it seems that Saville convinced people that he wasn't a nonce by doing his absolute best to seem exactly like one. For me this is very much how the Church seems to work. People worry about these shadowy groups that control the world from behind the scenes. Is it a secret Government organisation? The Illuminati? The Masons? Meanwhile there's a fucking great big shrine to the magical Jesus in almost every village in our country. On the surface it pretends to be all about spreading good-will and acceptance of all of God's children. Below this however it is a woman hating, gay hating, money obsessed organisation that is more than plagued by its own homegrown infestation of kiddie-rapists. I don't think that religion is bad. I think that some people are bad and that they use their faith in the make-believe sky lord as a justification for being massive evil cunts. Anyway, this all quite clearly leads us to the lighthearted comedy, drama, film, Philomena.

A Person Is Smart, People Are Dumb

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I sometimes wonder what the worst thing someone has done, who I’ve randomly been in close proximity to is. I walk past strangers all the time, at least one of them must have been a fucking nutter. I mean, I must have walked past a murderer at some point but have I walked past a murderer who then went home and shagged a dog? It's not impossible is it? What about a murderer who shagged a dog and then worshipped a statue of Mel Gibson that they'd made out of shit? I have walked past a lot of people and so I don't think we can rule it out. It's one of the many reasons that I tend to assault people who attempt to shake my hand. To me a stranger is basically a cat locked in a box with a can of poisonous gas that may or may not go off. They exist in a hypothetical state where they could either be Earth dwelling angels of kindness or even turd-obsessed whore killers who believe that Cliff Richard wants them to burn things. I'm more of a ‘glass-is-half-empty’ kind of chap and so if a human is being presented to me as a blank canvas then I'll assume that they're all animal rapists, child killers and Michael Bay fans until I'm proven wrong. If I don't know you then I think you're scum and I'd like you to leave me the fuck alone. In many ways, I think that this is one of the biggest reasons that I love the 1997 family movie, Men In Black.

Panem's Got Talent

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A few years ago I made an exploitatively low wage as a videographer. We made everything from promo videos for crap businesses to wedding films for some fat brides and their toothless husbands. It was not an easy job though because at the end of the day it was less about filming what we saw and more to do with rolling a turd in glitter. One video for example was a message from a family to their son who was about to move away to Australia. At one point they wheeled the old Nan in to say goodbye with her knowing full well that she would likely be dead before he returned. With tears in her eyes she gave an emotional rendition of an old war time song and it was beautiful. Or at least it would have been had the walls to the house not been so thin that we could clearly hear the sound of somebody pissing in the adjacent bathroom. Ah well, moment ruined, let’s move the fuck on. Oh and on top of that there was also another video we made in which one man demonstrated- on his brother- the methods used in measuring people for bespoke clothing. As the man measured the inside of his brothers leg, we followed the tape measure up to the groin were we found that he was now sporting a rather profound erection. What is it they say about incest? That it's fun for all of the family! Anyway, the point is that people are fucking idiots and making them look good is not easy.

A Journey Into The Mysterious Hole

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Science seems like a fairly interesting subject so I have to give credit to my school teachers for making it seem so fucking boring. In fact at this point, I think the majority of my scientific knowledge comes from Breaking Bad which I suspect was dubious at best. In school they taught me that friction will slow a tennis ball after it's rolled down a slope. How fucking mind blowing... In Breaking Bad though, I saw Walter White throw a bag of white shit at a wall and the whole thing fucking exploded. I don't even care if it's possible, that's science, bitch!! To be honest, I'm generally one of those people who doesn't care how something works so long that it does. Do I need to know how it's possible for me to get an internet signal on my phone wherever I am? Nope! But the knowledge that I can be anywhere in the world and still have access to hardcore pornography is more than comforting. 

Crazy As Hell

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There are two directors with similar names and who have had two very different careers. The first is Paul Thomas Anderson and the other is Paul W.S.Anderson. Paul Thomas Anderson is the man behind such masterpieces as There Will Be Blood and Magnolia whereas W.S. Anderson is responsible for such shite as AVP: Alien Vs. Predator and the ball-haemorrhagingly dull Resident Evil. Anyway, so if you too find it difficult to keep track of which is which, I have a handy little tip to help you remember. Just imagine that P.T stands for Pretty Terrific whereas as W.S stands for Wanky Shit. It works for me, so you're welcome! Anyway- bearing in mind that I know the poor fucker as Paul Wanky Shit Anderson, I was always curious about his 1997 sci-fi film Event Horizon. There really is no denying how crap his films are however this one seems to have become a bit of a cult hit and not just in a The Room style 'what-a-load-of-shite-that-is' way. Not only that but I listen to a lot of podcasts because they're easier to deal with than real friends and Empire Magazine's one bangs on about this film almost every week. I therefore decided to gamble an hour and a half of my life on their recommendation... Although fuck it, I'm single so it's not like I had anything better planned than tossing off and having a cry.

What Are You Thinking?

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Relationships are a tricky thing to balance. It's all about consideration, compromise and not laughing in your partners fucking face when they say something stupid. Believe it or not but I had a girlfriend once and she used to come out with some right shit. There was this one time that she was awake at like 2 o' clock in the morning and so I said, "you're up late" to which she genuinely responded with, "I'm a plate?" Anyway she was a raving psychopath as it turned out and so her undeniable stupidity at least wasn't her worst trait. I won't go into the details except to say that her subsequent actions near the end of our relationship left me somewhat damaged and for at least a year I became I massive raging sexist. "Why would anybody want to go near girls?" I'd wonder to myself as I'd scratch out the eyes of women in fashion magazines. I've gotten better since then and, although women still insist on trampling all over my heart like they're using it to get dog shit off their shoe, I've come to a new conclusion. Women aren't as evil as I at one point suspected but rather they're a completely different species. I don't think either of us are bad, it's just that we think on a slightly different wavelength. Then again, I have female friends that I love so maybe it's just my taste in people I want to bang. I'm still single now so if you're around my age, nice looking and totally fucking deranged then give me a shout.

Hell Hath No Fury

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There's a person in my life who I can't stand. I won't refer to them by name but if you're reading this, you leather-faced old bitch, then I hope you fucking die. Just so that you have something to imagine, she's coated in three inches of fake sun-tan and has wrinkles so deep that she looks like a satellite photo of a mud slide. If you can picture a pair of testicles that somebody has stuck some googly eyes and a frowny face onto then you're pretty much there. Anyway, the hag pisses me off to the point that often I'll call somebody up to vent to. On one occasion this just happened to be my Mum where I said that I wished that this person would get stabbed in the face and bleed to death. That was fine. Then I said that I hoped they'd get cancer of the soul, painfully slip away into the afterlife and then spend an eternity boiling in a pool of hot, molten shit. It was at that point that my Mum started having a go at me for wishing cancer on somebody. Where's the fucking consistency there? Apparently it's okay to hope somebody gets a sharp blade jammed into their face but not to wish they get a fairly common disease. My Mum said it was different because anybody can get cancer. Who'd have thought that saying "I'm pretty sure anybody can get stabbed in the face, too" would lead to such an argument?

Hooray For Chavs

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I was talking to a girl the other day when I was suddenly faced with a tricky decision. We'd somehow gotten onto the subject of UFOs when she revealed that she believed in them, before asking what I thought. Now, obviously I don't believe in Flying Saucers because I'm not a fucking idiot, so what was I meant to do? Lie and tell her that I thought that a group of green men with fat heads were out playing silly buggers with our crops and stuffing things up our arses? I couldn't do that even if I was trying to get into her pants! No, I'm afraid my only option was to tell the truth and unintentionally make her look like a right dickhead. So no sex for me, but at least I didn't have to pretend that I thought Plan 9 From Out Of Space was a fucking documentary. I'm not, by the way, saying that I don't believe in aliens. The universe is a big place and I've seen enough weird shit on this planet alone to think that life elsewhere seems more than plausible. There was this one time for example where my rabbit shat himself so badly that the crap got wedged up his arse hole. Flies then laid eggs in this mess without us realising it and before we even knew what had happened, they'd hatched. I don't believe that aliens visit our planet, however I don't think that we can rule out the possibility of life elsewhere- having seen maggots survive in the hostile regions of my rabbits anus.