A quick question for you all: Where is the one place on Earth where you are 100% guaranteed to find at least one paedophile, one religious fanatic, one alcoholic who's on the verge of a nervous breakdown, one conspiracy theorist and several teenage girls whose vaginas have been used so many times they contain graffiti?
School, that's where.
Only the government-enforced education system could bundle such a diverse and volatile group of people into the insane social gathering we call school.
Now, the chances are that if you belong to any ethnicity or social group whatsoever, I will probably indirectly insult you in the course of this blog. If you touch children, you will definitely be insulted.
So, where to start with this blog? Well, let's travel back in time about 11 years, to when I first started school.
My first school was a dismally pathetic establishment called Broadwater C of E school. That's right - a Christian school. I understand that it may be hard for you to visualise me - an outspoken atheist - in a Christian school, but it happened. I'm not sure why my Mum sent me there, or if she knew that I'd spend the next 7 years at that place fending off religious propaganda and bullies who could claim that Jesus told them to beat up the atheist kid.
I spent 7 years at that Christian school, and while I don't look back on my time there too fondly, I'm just pleased that I managed to avoid being raped in a broom cupboard.
The first 2 or 3 years of First School didn't really involve much education. We basically used glitter, pasta and paint to make crappy pictures of magical cows or whatever our innocent, crazy little minds could think up, while the patronising teachers gave us encouragement and ridiculously big smiles. I think the encouragement was somewhat misleading - kids shouldn't be told they're talented when they're not, because once they reach the adult world, the realisation that everything they do is actually shit will be rather shocking.
Similarly, I think High School Musical is to blame for giving many kids misconceptions about how high school is going to turn out. No-one starts singing a jaunty pop song as they're queuing up for the canteen; they'd be punched in the face for acting like a twat. High School Musical is a complete misrepresentation of reality; if I'd been directing it, I'd make it like a real American high school – Gabriella would take some cocaine at a party and give a stranger a blowjob, and Troy would consequently become depressed, drink himself into a stupor on his Stepdad's vodka cache, go to school and murder his classmates with a hunting rifle before blowing his own brains out in the gymnasium.
I quickly made friends with two other kids - Matt and Sam. We weren't exactly "The Cool Kids" in our trio, a fact which didn't change for the rest of our time at the school, especially since Sam acquired the nickname "Shagger"- a nickname I would be rather proud to bear, but he seemed to be extremely uncomfortable with it. He was one of those people who thinks that girls have "cooties" and still thinks that a clitoris is a type of fruit.
After condemning myself from an early age by landing myself with the weirdoes, I did little to improve my social status. In Year 4, I moved to Southampton for several months, which was bloody miserable, because I was quite frankly a dick and a social reject. I think I amassed a grand total of 1 friend in that terrible school. It did have some rather amusing characters, though, such as a pathological liar who had actually convinced himself that he was on the run from the FBI for hijacking a military jet, and was hiding out in our school as a fugitive. His paranoia had reached the point where on a Boy Scout camp, he decided to start patrolling the campsite at 4 in the morning with a large stick, in search for any "intruders".
Eventually, he tired of this, went for a piss in the bushes, and returned to the tent in order to throw Mars Bars at us.
So, after spending 7 years as a friendless dick, I moved up to high school, where I was fully anticipating the moronic world that awaited me. I decided to try and make some friends, which worked. Unfortunately, all my friends were, and still are, total dicks. Still, I like them in a warped way. Actually, they'll probably end up reading this, so to all of my friends: I hate you, stop putting your crisp packets in my bag.
It took me a few years, but I finally managed to propel myself up the social ladder, into my current position of hanging out with a broad assortment of trolls and idiots. I even have a girlfriend – one of the few people who I don't hate. My school is populated by a rather interesting selection of people, ranging from anti-social yobs to self-harmers to sex-obsessed midgets.
One child has anger management problems and only one arm that functions properly. If I had a conscience, I'd pity him, but I instead use him as a reliable source of laughs, seeing as he's constantly being antagonised by a particularly stupid, fat chav – a situation which often degenerates into the angry kid chasing the fat kid and trying to "chop" him with his arm.
There's also a kid who has a fascination with anal fisting. Yeah, you read that correctly. Apparently, the trick is to lubricate the fist and insert with a single, swift movement, though I still don't get how it would work… It would look like someone trying to swallow a boxing glove.
I like the idea of him getting with a girl for the first time – she expects him to put on a condom, and he instead starts strapping on a rubber glove. I'd give her 5 weeks at the very most before the diameter of her anus has expanded to the point where it looks like a second mouth.
Other notable characters include a child whose head is shaped uncannily like a giant egg, a sexually aggressive gay kid with a lisp, a guy who looks like Frankenstein with slightly more stylish hair, and a kid who managed to include the word "chapatti" in almost every one of his sentences for a couple of months.
But before you think that my school is completely made up of freaks, I should probably mention a certain "local legend" who attends our school – an undeniably incredible superhero known as Stevie T – an idol and inspirational figure for every young man. He looks like a werewolf and he speaks as if his oesophagus has been replaced by a broken moped engine.
Whoever decided it was a good idea to assemble such a diverse group of zany freaks in one place is probably not the smartest guy around, as you can probably assume. However, a group of equally moronic people known as teachers have been tasked with controlling, and – get this – educating us. All the teachers at the school start out perky enough, but after a few degrading months, they either begin to have violent moods swings that cause their prim exterior to melt away into demonic rage, or they simply fall into a state of clinical depression. Many of them achieve a good balance between the two.
I often feel a beautifully rare sense of irony when teachers tell me off, and especially when they make comments like "You'll get nowhere in life!"… The beauty here being that they are a middle-aged, low-wage drone, who spends their time teaching and arguing with morons, while lapsing into an ever-worsening state of depression that will probably induce an alcohol-fuelled heart attack by the age of 50.
There are many interesting individuals that make up the teaching staff. My history teacher's chin contains an enormous crevasse, for example. I suspect that it is actually a portal to another dimension. I'm looking forward to the day when he gets so pissed off with a pupil that he simply walks over and consumes them in his chin.
One of the Maths teachers is a particularly masculine woman, who boasts a crew cut and a pair of breasts that sag down to the point where they rest on top of her skirt. She always wears a watch, though her ability to tell the time is restricted by the fact that the rolls of fat on her arm cascade down to engulf the timepiece.
The best part of our Maths lessons is hearing her from across the Maths department, shouting. If you were to imagine how a gruff army sergeant would look and sound, you'd have a pretty good idea of what she's like. Alternatively, imagine a rhinoceros in a cage, which you've just spent half an hour throwing peanuts at.
One of the members of the leadership team at my school is a middle-aged white man, who's convinced himself that he's actually a young black man. He also seems intent on reminding us of his "blackness", as well as the fact that his wife and sons are black. Still, I guess that he's just trying to appear "hip" and "cool" to appeal to the chavs. He may as well dress up as Mr Blobby and recite his favourite parts of the Conservative Party manifesto, for all the popularity it gets him.
You're probably wondering – surely there's a paedophile in here somewhere! Yeah, we've got a few. My former drama teacher was one of the most easy-to-spot paedophiles I've ever encountered. I'm glad I didn't ever have to experience one of his detentions - whereas most teachers increase the amount of time you have to stay behind for, depending on the severity of your crime, I expect our drama teacher just increased the amount of fingers that he uses... I'd often wondered why there was a gimp mask and a saddle at the back of the props cupboard.
So, that's my school years in a very small nutshell. School may be abysmal in many ways, but it's also provided me with the most entertaining experiences of my life. I'm going to miss high school when I leave – I doubt I'll ever found a place quite so moronically lovable. I'd like to congratulate Worthing High School on being awesome. Awesomely shit, but awesome nonetheless.
Friday, 4 December 2009
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
The Undeniably Hilarious Subject of Childhood Obesity! (And fat people in general)
Welcome to another blog. Remember to leave a comment so that I can feel some sort of self-satisfaction after typing out this long, relatively pointless piece of writing.
Oh, and just before we start - I recently got Once by Nightwish, which is bloody awesome, and one of the best symphonic metal albums I've heard. A few samples (this is quite an acquired taste, so I don't expect many others to like it...) :
Dark Chest of Wonders
Planet Hell
Ghost Love Score
Now onto the meat of the blog, and it's very meaty indeed today. This blog is all about fat kids, so here are some pictures to stimulate you before I launch into another semi-understandable rant:
Ah yes, childhood obesity - is there anything more naturally hilarious yet disturbing?
Of course there isn't - we all love to laugh at a fatty. There's just something inexplicably comical about their appearance - the bloated faces, the way the rolls of fat gather on their arms (see picture 2), the huge breasts, the way they waddle; shifting their enourmous weight from side to side as they struggle to walk, the way they're always sweating and panting... I could go on for hours about the comedic merits a fat person possesses, but I'm sure that we can all appreciate them for ourselves.
So really without their consent, fat people are providing us all with laughter every day, simply by gracing the perceptive eyes of modern society with their noticable and bloated figures.
But one of the great mysteries that puzzles me while I study the bodies of these larger members of society is how kids can get so fat in such a short time!
Childhood obesity is apparantly a big problem, because the little fatties get their arteries clogged up and die an early death when they collapse on the floor in a giant, spongy heap, incapable of continuing their journey through life while several tons of blubber cling to their frame, concentrated fat lies in their veins, and every time they need to crap, a new challenge arises - they must first locate their anus, remove the covering rolls of fat, then squeeze out a particularly large crap through their vitamin-deprived colon, resulting in the toilet being blocked and a large amount of brown water splashing up against the fatty's bum.
But never fear! The government is here! The government will reduce childhood obesity with their master plan - mandatory dance lessons for fat kids! It's true!
You see - we've got two big problems with the kids in this country - obesity and depression, and these dance lessons won't actually help obesity, while making the depression worse. I mean, think about it- the kids won't get slimmer, because they won't dance; they can't dance! You need a bloody electric cattle prod just to get them off the sofa...
And then of course, the depression gets worse - you already look like a beached whale, and then a toned, fit dance teacher comes along and starts prodding you, trying to make you do the fucking tango! Could your self-esteem possibly get any lower already?
I do appreciate that the government is actually trying to tackle the obesity problem, but I think they should deal with depression first - what do you think has prevented the depressed fat kids from hanging themselves so far? Everytime they try to do it, the bloody rope snaps.
Fat kids don't want to dance! Just give them some fucking jaffa cakes and leave them alone!
It's time to look on the positive side of obesity! Imagine the joys of being a big fat fatty!
Fat sex would be great - there's loads to grip, if you ever get low on energy there's bound to be plenty of warm snacks nestled in the deep reaches of the rolls, and you've got half an hour of great foreplay trying to locate (and clear a path to) each other's sexual organs.
So to conclude, fat people shouldn't feel bad about themselves! You've got a lot to offer society - even if it is just unintentionally comical mishaps. Watching a fat Santa Claus look-alike attempting to free himself from a rollercoaster was an extremely amusing experience for me!
If this blog has offended any obese people, I'm sorry. No wait, I'm not - and you're all too fat and lazy to do anything about it, har har har.
So as they say in the fat community - goodbye, and may you live another week without heart disease.
Oh, and don't forget to add me on Last.FM!
Oh, and just before we start - I recently got Once by Nightwish, which is bloody awesome, and one of the best symphonic metal albums I've heard. A few samples (this is quite an acquired taste, so I don't expect many others to like it...) :
Dark Chest of Wonders
Planet Hell
Ghost Love Score
Now onto the meat of the blog, and it's very meaty indeed today. This blog is all about fat kids, so here are some pictures to stimulate you before I launch into another semi-understandable rant:
Woodlice would love the dark, damp living area that is found under this child's moobs.
It's the son of the Michelin Man!
His Mum probably doesn't really love him... Or is that his Dad?
Ah yes, childhood obesity - is there anything more naturally hilarious yet disturbing?
Of course there isn't - we all love to laugh at a fatty. There's just something inexplicably comical about their appearance - the bloated faces, the way the rolls of fat gather on their arms (see picture 2), the huge breasts, the way they waddle; shifting their enourmous weight from side to side as they struggle to walk, the way they're always sweating and panting... I could go on for hours about the comedic merits a fat person possesses, but I'm sure that we can all appreciate them for ourselves.
So really without their consent, fat people are providing us all with laughter every day, simply by gracing the perceptive eyes of modern society with their noticable and bloated figures.
But one of the great mysteries that puzzles me while I study the bodies of these larger members of society is how kids can get so fat in such a short time!
Childhood obesity is apparantly a big problem, because the little fatties get their arteries clogged up and die an early death when they collapse on the floor in a giant, spongy heap, incapable of continuing their journey through life while several tons of blubber cling to their frame, concentrated fat lies in their veins, and every time they need to crap, a new challenge arises - they must first locate their anus, remove the covering rolls of fat, then squeeze out a particularly large crap through their vitamin-deprived colon, resulting in the toilet being blocked and a large amount of brown water splashing up against the fatty's bum.
But never fear! The government is here! The government will reduce childhood obesity with their master plan - mandatory dance lessons for fat kids! It's true!
You see - we've got two big problems with the kids in this country - obesity and depression, and these dance lessons won't actually help obesity, while making the depression worse. I mean, think about it- the kids won't get slimmer, because they won't dance; they can't dance! You need a bloody electric cattle prod just to get them off the sofa...
And then of course, the depression gets worse - you already look like a beached whale, and then a toned, fit dance teacher comes along and starts prodding you, trying to make you do the fucking tango! Could your self-esteem possibly get any lower already?
I do appreciate that the government is actually trying to tackle the obesity problem, but I think they should deal with depression first - what do you think has prevented the depressed fat kids from hanging themselves so far? Everytime they try to do it, the bloody rope snaps.
Fat kids don't want to dance! Just give them some fucking jaffa cakes and leave them alone!
It's time to look on the positive side of obesity! Imagine the joys of being a big fat fatty!
Fat sex would be great - there's loads to grip, if you ever get low on energy there's bound to be plenty of warm snacks nestled in the deep reaches of the rolls, and you've got half an hour of great foreplay trying to locate (and clear a path to) each other's sexual organs.
So to conclude, fat people shouldn't feel bad about themselves! You've got a lot to offer society - even if it is just unintentionally comical mishaps. Watching a fat Santa Claus look-alike attempting to free himself from a rollercoaster was an extremely amusing experience for me!
If this blog has offended any obese people, I'm sorry. No wait, I'm not - and you're all too fat and lazy to do anything about it, har har har.
So as they say in the fat community - goodbye, and may you live another week without heart disease.
Oh, and don't forget to add me on Last.FM!
Saturday, 12 September 2009
12/09/09 - New Music and The Return to School
New music! I've been getting into some "clean metal" lately -none of this screamy satanic crap, just 100% clean vocals and great music. I particularly like the symphonic metal and power metal genres, my favourite new bands being Kamelot, Falconer, Angra, Blind Guardian, Nightwish, Rhapsody of Fire and Epica. Epica do ruin alot of their music with their awful backing vocalist who uses harsh vocals, which I can't stand. I also plan to check out Sonata Arctica, Lacuna Coil and someone else I can't remember.
I've also found another orchestral group - Corner Stone Cues. They performed Requiem for a Tower for LOTR 2.
Now onto the meat of the blog - the return to school. Lots of people seemed to be dreading it, though I was actually rather excited to be back. It was great to see everyone and unleash all the thoughts that had pent up over the summer holidays.
Our school has introduced a "vertical tutoring system", AKA "operation giant screw-up". You see, our school tutor groups have been arranged so that each contains 5 year 8s, 5 year 9s, 5 year 10s and 5 year 11s. Brilliant... Stuck with a bunch of ginger-haired, squeaky-voiced morons... I've become something of a class celebrity with my form, as I'm very outspoken - some of the kids came up to me and said "You're the class clown aren't you? :P" Brilliant. Good to see that we all know our places in society.
I also have tiny little kid who's started tagging along to me... I like to think of him as my dwarf companion, but he's not that cool really - he looks more like the sort of midget who might grant you a wish if you say his magic password.
Luckily, that's only for 15 minutes per day, before we all depart to our separate lessons. These have all remained pretty much the same. I took my maths GCSE a year early, and found out my results during the half-term - A*. :D Bangell is happy. I also passed in Critical Thinking, a rather useless subject but a small qualification nonetheless.
My geography teachers have now been swapped around, a decision which I'm relatively pleased about. My previous teacher was a rather boring old man with a tendency to talk about his boat for the entirety of the lesson, and he also repeated most of his sentences straight after saying them. I think if heonly said things once, we could get twice the learning done... Well anyway, he's been replaced by my teacher from 2 years ago - a Mr Kaczmarek. While he has the demeanour of a depressed sloth who's suffered a mild stroke, he's far more interesting, and a much better teacher.
In Media Studies, our latest topic is popular music - the most depressing thing to learn about ever. I was forced to listen to rap, pop, hip-hop and a slew of other pathetic genres masquerading as music. When the teacher asked what I would like to listen to, she was unsurprisingly incapable of catering to my extremely selective tastes.
I was glad to see that the drama teacher had been removed from the school - he was almost definately a paedophile, and an extremely easy to identify paedophile at that. I'm glad I didn't ever have to experience one of his detentions - whereas most teachers increase the amount of time you have to stay behind for, depending on the severity of your crime, I expect our drama teacher just increased the amount of fingers that he uses... I'd often wondered why there was a gimp mask and a saddle at the back of the props cupboard. (Too far with the pedo jokes? :P)
In English, we've started studying Jeykll and Hyde. We got to watch a silent film from the 1920s based on the book, which was so bad, it was funny - when Jekyll was transforming, he looked like he was receiving a prostate exam from a rhinocerus. The book itself isn't completely awful, though it's not great either. The writing style is a nice change, though the author seems to feel the need to describe everything in extreme detail.
I've continued to do swimming as my PE Option, which is now even more enjoyable because a girl with a surprisingly large pair of jugs has joined the group... She displaces a fair bit of water.
So, school is quite fun. I've already got alot of homework and coursework to complete (I should really stop procrastinating over it). But despite the crappy work, it's good to be back amongst my broad circle of friends. Life is good for Bangell.
I've also found another orchestral group - Corner Stone Cues. They performed Requiem for a Tower for LOTR 2.
Now onto the meat of the blog - the return to school. Lots of people seemed to be dreading it, though I was actually rather excited to be back. It was great to see everyone and unleash all the thoughts that had pent up over the summer holidays.
Our school has introduced a "vertical tutoring system", AKA "operation giant screw-up". You see, our school tutor groups have been arranged so that each contains 5 year 8s, 5 year 9s, 5 year 10s and 5 year 11s. Brilliant... Stuck with a bunch of ginger-haired, squeaky-voiced morons... I've become something of a class celebrity with my form, as I'm very outspoken - some of the kids came up to me and said "You're the class clown aren't you? :P" Brilliant. Good to see that we all know our places in society.
I also have tiny little kid who's started tagging along to me... I like to think of him as my dwarf companion, but he's not that cool really - he looks more like the sort of midget who might grant you a wish if you say his magic password.
Luckily, that's only for 15 minutes per day, before we all depart to our separate lessons. These have all remained pretty much the same. I took my maths GCSE a year early, and found out my results during the half-term - A*. :D Bangell is happy. I also passed in Critical Thinking, a rather useless subject but a small qualification nonetheless.
My geography teachers have now been swapped around, a decision which I'm relatively pleased about. My previous teacher was a rather boring old man with a tendency to talk about his boat for the entirety of the lesson, and he also repeated most of his sentences straight after saying them. I think if heonly said things once, we could get twice the learning done... Well anyway, he's been replaced by my teacher from 2 years ago - a Mr Kaczmarek. While he has the demeanour of a depressed sloth who's suffered a mild stroke, he's far more interesting, and a much better teacher.
In Media Studies, our latest topic is popular music - the most depressing thing to learn about ever. I was forced to listen to rap, pop, hip-hop and a slew of other pathetic genres masquerading as music. When the teacher asked what I would like to listen to, she was unsurprisingly incapable of catering to my extremely selective tastes.
I was glad to see that the drama teacher had been removed from the school - he was almost definately a paedophile, and an extremely easy to identify paedophile at that. I'm glad I didn't ever have to experience one of his detentions - whereas most teachers increase the amount of time you have to stay behind for, depending on the severity of your crime, I expect our drama teacher just increased the amount of fingers that he uses... I'd often wondered why there was a gimp mask and a saddle at the back of the props cupboard. (Too far with the pedo jokes? :P)
In English, we've started studying Jeykll and Hyde. We got to watch a silent film from the 1920s based on the book, which was so bad, it was funny - when Jekyll was transforming, he looked like he was receiving a prostate exam from a rhinocerus. The book itself isn't completely awful, though it's not great either. The writing style is a nice change, though the author seems to feel the need to describe everything in extreme detail.
I've continued to do swimming as my PE Option, which is now even more enjoyable because a girl with a surprisingly large pair of jugs has joined the group... She displaces a fair bit of water.
So, school is quite fun. I've already got alot of homework and coursework to complete (I should really stop procrastinating over it). But despite the crappy work, it's good to be back amongst my broad circle of friends. Life is good for Bangell.
17/8/09 - Theme Parks, Politics and The Legacy of Michael Jackson
This blog is about my recent trip to Thorpe Park - an amusement park, as well as the run-down on the major British political parties.
4. A new contender is the Green Party. These are a bunch of hippies. They were probably smoking pot one evening and decided they'd go for government, with their main policies being Peace and Love. Boo hippies.
5. Lastly, the BNP - British National Party. These are racist, fascist bastards, and disturbingly, actually have a relatively large number of supporters, who have probably been influenced by reading The Daily Mail too much. A very big boo for the BNP. Pricks.
Let's begin with the late King of Pop, Michael Jackson. Bangell, I hear you cry - he's been dead for over a month now - isn't this a bit late? Well no, it's not - everyone's still banging on about him, so I'm going to throw in my bile-covered 2 cents.
For once, I almost don't know what to say - MJ is like a perfect topic for jokes - he was black, then became white, he had a plastic face, he wore 1 glove, he hung babies from balconies, he touched kids... It's like when you go to a great restaurant and you look at the menu, but everything's so good you don't know what to have. So anyway, MJ is quite possibly the most famous pop musician ever. I'll admit I used to be a fan of his music when I was younger, though I'd never consider attending one of his concerts. And it's true - his music was alot better than most other pop artists, but it's his controversial personal life I'm more interested in. It seems the media is a fickle and hypocritical machine (as if we didn't know that already). Before his death, MJ was being demonised as a strange paedophile. After he croaked, he's suddenly some kind of hero. "Forget the child-touching, he made good music!" appears to be the media's attitude to all this. Somehow, I doubt Gary Glitter is going to receive such positive media attention when he dies... Then again, his music sucked. And I doubt anyone in the world is going to receive a funeral like MJ's - it looked like some kind of singing competition. So it looks like Michael Jackson's memory will live on as one of a great musician, and his body will live on because plastic doesn't bio-degrade. After watching the Thriller music video, I wouldn't be surprised if he returned from the dead - a zombie paedophile! Sounds like your common Japanese horror flick.I think you've all worked out how I'll be remembering MJ. A dead paedophile is still a paedophile. Yeah, they found him innocent at court, but if we took away MJ's expensive lawyers, who are you really more likely to believe - the sobbing face of a young child stripped of his innocence, or a guy with a plastic face? Plus, they recently found a room full of child porn at the Neverland Ranch. Make what you will of that.Plus, MJ's ghost apparantley still lingers at his former home. Maybe he's stuck in between heaven and hell - his music pulls him up, but the molestation thing is dragging him down. I'm sorry if this section of the blog has offended any MJ fans.
For once, I almost don't know what to say - MJ is like a perfect topic for jokes - he was black, then became white, he had a plastic face, he wore 1 glove, he hung babies from balconies, he touched kids... It's like when you go to a great restaurant and you look at the menu, but everything's so good you don't know what to have. So anyway, MJ is quite possibly the most famous pop musician ever. I'll admit I used to be a fan of his music when I was younger, though I'd never consider attending one of his concerts. And it's true - his music was alot better than most other pop artists, but it's his controversial personal life I'm more interested in. It seems the media is a fickle and hypocritical machine (as if we didn't know that already). Before his death, MJ was being demonised as a strange paedophile. After he croaked, he's suddenly some kind of hero. "Forget the child-touching, he made good music!" appears to be the media's attitude to all this. Somehow, I doubt Gary Glitter is going to receive such positive media attention when he dies... Then again, his music sucked. And I doubt anyone in the world is going to receive a funeral like MJ's - it looked like some kind of singing competition. So it looks like Michael Jackson's memory will live on as one of a great musician, and his body will live on because plastic doesn't bio-degrade. After watching the Thriller music video, I wouldn't be surprised if he returned from the dead - a zombie paedophile! Sounds like your common Japanese horror flick.I think you've all worked out how I'll be remembering MJ. A dead paedophile is still a paedophile. Yeah, they found him innocent at court, but if we took away MJ's expensive lawyers, who are you really more likely to believe - the sobbing face of a young child stripped of his innocence, or a guy with a plastic face? Plus, they recently found a room full of child porn at the Neverland Ranch. Make what you will of that.Plus, MJ's ghost apparantley still lingers at his former home. Maybe he's stuck in between heaven and hell - his music pulls him up, but the molestation thing is dragging him down. I'm sorry if this section of the blog has offended any MJ fans.
No wait, I'm not.
Now for a brief view of Britain's political parties.
You Americans can complain about Obama, but I think he's a cool guy. Let's have a look at the major candidates for election in Britain:
You Americans can complain about Obama, but I think he's a cool guy. Let's have a look at the major candidates for election in Britain:
1. We've currently got Gordon Brown of the Labour Party. He's doing a crap job, and everyone wants him out. Although in reality, he's being manipulated by Peter Mandleson, his "advisor". He reminds me of Grima Wormtongue from Lord of the Rings - whispering in Brown's ear and driving him towards Darth Mandleson's own evil goals. Boo Labour.
Look at him - he's planning something...
Look at him - he's planning something...
2. The next candidate is the Conservative Party; "The Toris". They're led by David Cameron, the biggest prick in the universe. Do not want. Boo Toris.
3. Now we have the Liberal Democrats. No-one will vote for them; if they came into power, they wouldn't know what to do anyway. Sympathetic boo for Lib Dems.
4. A new contender is the Green Party. These are a bunch of hippies. They were probably smoking pot one evening and decided they'd go for government, with their main policies being Peace and Love. Boo hippies.
5. Lastly, the BNP - British National Party. These are racist, fascist bastards, and disturbingly, actually have a relatively large number of supporters, who have probably been influenced by reading The Daily Mail too much. A very big boo for the BNP. Pricks.
So there's the run-down on British political parties! Seriously, Mr Blobby could run for PM, and he'd probably win. Actually, I'd vote for him.
Lastly, a bit of info about my trip to a theme park.
The other day, I went to Thorpe Park. It was rather enjoyable, on the whole.The chicks on display were fantastic! To quote The Inbetweeners talking about Thorpe Park:
"Are there really loads of girls there, Neil?"
"Oh, yeah! Sometimes on the rides, their boobs pop out! You only get a split-second of tit 'cause they're going at about about 70 miles an hour, but it's still good though!"
Love that show.
The other day, I went to Thorpe Park. It was rather enjoyable, on the whole.The chicks on display were fantastic! To quote The Inbetweeners talking about Thorpe Park:
"Are there really loads of girls there, Neil?"
"Oh, yeah! Sometimes on the rides, their boobs pop out! You only get a split-second of tit 'cause they're going at about about 70 miles an hour, but it's still good though!"
Love that show.
Anyway, we got to go on about 6 or 7 rides in total, seeing as queue times were so long. I've often wondered why I get entertainment from waiting for an hour to get my guts turned inside-out for 45 seconds. But everyone else does, so I'm not weird. I even got to ride the new rollercoaster, Saw. I don't know why it's named after one of the worst movie franchises ever, but the ride was good. My friend has been banging on about it for weeks. During the queue, to try to make it more atmospheric, speakers play out random voice clips every now and again, imitating a police radio. It was very annoying, but the mood was lightened when it played the line "Come in! Come in, where are you?" To which a rather stupid member of the public shouted out "I'm queueing, fuck off!" Brilliant. For lunch, I got a Burger King. When I walked up to the counter and examined the staff, I thought I'd walked into the Iranian Embassy. Anyway, it seems that while the quality of BK's burgers has gone down, their chips have got better. Yum yum. Well, that was a good day out.
12/8/09 - Britain is crap.
In this blog/rant I'm going to tell you all about how crap Britain is, and how equally crap my caravan holiday was.
So yeah, I went to Dorset with my family. Sounds crap, huh? Well you're right. I think I'd rather spend a week in Zimbabwe dressed as a homosexual. Anyway, we arrived at the caravan park, which was largely populated by old people and chavs - the two most unlikely groups to mingle. The park was almost split into two factions, with we normal families stuck in the middle. The caravan itself was relatively spacious, though it was still as flimsily-built as any other caravan. I couldn't masturbate for fear that my cock would burst through one of the ridiculously thin walls, like some kind of Scooby Doo porno. On the first day, we went to the swimming pool. Well, I say swimming pool... Someone had simply dug a hole in the bottom of a greenhouse. I decided not to enter the pool and instead sat on the side, surveying the chicks on offer. I was disappointed; every pair of boobs was either underdeveloped or sagging down to their owner's knees. The largest pair of breasts I spotted actually belonged to a man. He looked like a silly-putty sculpture of Mr Blobby. All in all, the holiday was just as poor as I envisaged it to be. At least the TV worked, so I could tune into Mock the Week and You Have Been Watching (which has become pretty poor all of a sudden), and ignore my family as much as possible. It seems seaside holidays in England just aren't as good as they used to be, and my capacity for survival without internet connection is waning.
So onto the subject of Britain being awful... Well, it is. Let's be honest; everyone hates the British. Even the British hate the British! Patriotism is stupid; what have we got in England? I'll tell you.
We've got three things more than anyone else - chavs, rain, and a Prime Minister who looks like the leader of the monkeys from Planet of the Apes going through a mid-life crisis.
One of the main symbols of British pride is the bulldog, for crying out loud! The most fucking ugly dog in the world! It really says alot about our country, doesn't it, when out culture is embodied by a dog whose face looks like Adrian Chiles after he's been smashed round the head with a piece of wood, had the flesh ripped from his face, put through a PlayDough spaghetti machine, and then had the contorted lump of flesh reattatched to his skull.
People who say Great Britain is still great are fools. Who are we better than, really? Germany, maybe - they did alot of bad shit. (I kid, I kid!). And was Britain ever great in the first place? All the British Empire did was invade lesser-developed countries, used its superior technology and armed forces to take over, then stole the natural resources and enslaved or killed the inhabitants, who they deemed inferior. I remember the Nazis did something very similar, but no-one remembers that too fondly, eh?
That concludes this blog.
So yeah, I went to Dorset with my family. Sounds crap, huh? Well you're right. I think I'd rather spend a week in Zimbabwe dressed as a homosexual. Anyway, we arrived at the caravan park, which was largely populated by old people and chavs - the two most unlikely groups to mingle. The park was almost split into two factions, with we normal families stuck in the middle. The caravan itself was relatively spacious, though it was still as flimsily-built as any other caravan. I couldn't masturbate for fear that my cock would burst through one of the ridiculously thin walls, like some kind of Scooby Doo porno. On the first day, we went to the swimming pool. Well, I say swimming pool... Someone had simply dug a hole in the bottom of a greenhouse. I decided not to enter the pool and instead sat on the side, surveying the chicks on offer. I was disappointed; every pair of boobs was either underdeveloped or sagging down to their owner's knees. The largest pair of breasts I spotted actually belonged to a man. He looked like a silly-putty sculpture of Mr Blobby. All in all, the holiday was just as poor as I envisaged it to be. At least the TV worked, so I could tune into Mock the Week and You Have Been Watching (which has become pretty poor all of a sudden), and ignore my family as much as possible. It seems seaside holidays in England just aren't as good as they used to be, and my capacity for survival without internet connection is waning.
So onto the subject of Britain being awful... Well, it is. Let's be honest; everyone hates the British. Even the British hate the British! Patriotism is stupid; what have we got in England? I'll tell you.
We've got three things more than anyone else - chavs, rain, and a Prime Minister who looks like the leader of the monkeys from Planet of the Apes going through a mid-life crisis.
One of the main symbols of British pride is the bulldog, for crying out loud! The most fucking ugly dog in the world! It really says alot about our country, doesn't it, when out culture is embodied by a dog whose face looks like Adrian Chiles after he's been smashed round the head with a piece of wood, had the flesh ripped from his face, put through a PlayDough spaghetti machine, and then had the contorted lump of flesh reattatched to his skull.
People who say Great Britain is still great are fools. Who are we better than, really? Germany, maybe - they did alot of bad shit. (I kid, I kid!). And was Britain ever great in the first place? All the British Empire did was invade lesser-developed countries, used its superior technology and armed forces to take over, then stole the natural resources and enslaved or killed the inhabitants, who they deemed inferior. I remember the Nazis did something very similar, but no-one remembers that too fondly, eh?
That concludes this blog.
1/8/09 - I Have Returned from the Deep Wilderness of the English Countryside
I've just spent a week in a tiny, backwards town in Devon, where my step-uncle runs an ice-cream company and makes alot more money than the rest of the residents, who still haven't realised that there are no jobs in the little town of Appledore.
Seeing as 90% of the population of Devon still haven't heard of a computer, I had to experience a week without any way of entering the mystical realm full of dancing, naked ladies known as the internet. It was hard, especially as intelligent conversation was sparse in a town full of people whose IQ barely rose above that of a pig with AIDS. And they'd know all about that.
The weather was unsurprisingly crap. How come the rest of the world at least recieves some benefit from global warming, whereas due to the Gulf Stream, England's climate will be getting even colder? We always get the shitty end of the metaphorical stick, it seems.
Anyway, due to the poor weather, the activities we were able to undertake were somewhat limited. We went to see the new Harry Potter film, which was actually pretty bad. Even the presence ofEmma Watson couldn't make the experience a great deal more enjoyable. They tried to make the film funny, and that resulted in being unable to take it seriously when it actually got to the good stuff, which took an annoyingly long time. Seeing as it was a cinema in Devon, there was even an intermission in the middle of the unnecessarily long film, seeing as the residents of Devon aren't used to long flicks, and they had to call in the most intelligent man in the town - a fisherman with a PHD in fish - to flip over the tape. Anyway, the film sucked, with only one good scene - the one where Dumbledore had to drink the stuff. I thought the cinematography and everything was great. But on the whole, the film was poor, not that I was expecting a masterpiece. Hell, I doubt if JK Rowling even knows what she's writing about any more - she probably just shouts out random words to her scribe while she's bathing in her money and dragon tears.
Other activities included going to the run-down bowling alley, which was despairingly devoid of any attractive females. Infact, the entire female population of the town seemed to be pretty damn ugly, except one girl I saw. I kept my distance though; she seemed to be a native of Devon, and as such was probably already being tapped by her step-father.
There was also a storm down there; I listened to Moving Mountains and pretended I was Zeus, Lord of the Skies. It was awesome in a slightly dorky way. It was a pretty fierce storm; the lightning was literally flashing every five seconds. If I had epilepsy, I think my face would have turned inside-out by the end of the evening.
All in all, it wasn't a bad holiday, especially as I was entitled to free ice-cream with my step-uncle owning the company. My crap is going to smell of vanilla for the next three months.
I've got another 4 weeks away from school, and I'm surprised to find that I already miss it. There is nowhere else on Earth that you can find a boy with only one functioning arm and an unpredictably active ballsack chasing a fat kid who has just stolen his sweets and is heading towards the broom cupboard in an attempt to locate a defensive weapon, while the school moron shouts out "yer mum" themed insults from his strange-smelling corner of the classroom.
Seeing as 90% of the population of Devon still haven't heard of a computer, I had to experience a week without any way of entering the mystical realm full of dancing, naked ladies known as the internet. It was hard, especially as intelligent conversation was sparse in a town full of people whose IQ barely rose above that of a pig with AIDS. And they'd know all about that.
The weather was unsurprisingly crap. How come the rest of the world at least recieves some benefit from global warming, whereas due to the Gulf Stream, England's climate will be getting even colder? We always get the shitty end of the metaphorical stick, it seems.
Anyway, due to the poor weather, the activities we were able to undertake were somewhat limited. We went to see the new Harry Potter film, which was actually pretty bad. Even the presence ofEmma Watson couldn't make the experience a great deal more enjoyable. They tried to make the film funny, and that resulted in being unable to take it seriously when it actually got to the good stuff, which took an annoyingly long time. Seeing as it was a cinema in Devon, there was even an intermission in the middle of the unnecessarily long film, seeing as the residents of Devon aren't used to long flicks, and they had to call in the most intelligent man in the town - a fisherman with a PHD in fish - to flip over the tape. Anyway, the film sucked, with only one good scene - the one where Dumbledore had to drink the stuff. I thought the cinematography and everything was great. But on the whole, the film was poor, not that I was expecting a masterpiece. Hell, I doubt if JK Rowling even knows what she's writing about any more - she probably just shouts out random words to her scribe while she's bathing in her money and dragon tears.
Other activities included going to the run-down bowling alley, which was despairingly devoid of any attractive females. Infact, the entire female population of the town seemed to be pretty damn ugly, except one girl I saw. I kept my distance though; she seemed to be a native of Devon, and as such was probably already being tapped by her step-father.
There was also a storm down there; I listened to Moving Mountains and pretended I was Zeus, Lord of the Skies. It was awesome in a slightly dorky way. It was a pretty fierce storm; the lightning was literally flashing every five seconds. If I had epilepsy, I think my face would have turned inside-out by the end of the evening.
All in all, it wasn't a bad holiday, especially as I was entitled to free ice-cream with my step-uncle owning the company. My crap is going to smell of vanilla for the next three months.
I've got another 4 weeks away from school, and I'm surprised to find that I already miss it. There is nowhere else on Earth that you can find a boy with only one functioning arm and an unpredictably active ballsack chasing a fat kid who has just stolen his sweets and is heading towards the broom cupboard in an attempt to locate a defensive weapon, while the school moron shouts out "yer mum" themed insults from his strange-smelling corner of the classroom.
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