Mr Fall

Intestinal Fauna
Private Pyle
Private Pyle
"ok YOU try having a fictional relationship with someone after they'd fictionally used you for marzipanning trepanning while they wore fictional upset toddlers as legs, and not be bitter"
  Mr Beatings
  Bad Things:

An explanation is in order methinks. I used to write for a diskmag on the Amiga in the mid-nineties called Aggravated Assault. This section stems from an article where I childishly listed all my grievances with the world. And when I say childishly, believe me they were. Mostly to do with complaining about parents and young love.
Below I've kept the majority of the stuff I wrote from back then, all merged together chronologically with everything after the diskmag died. Please bear in mind that I've been writing and collecting these since I was 15, so expect some really ropey stuff early on. It gets better, I assure you. Some of the early stuff was co-written with Zippy Barnacle Mr F J Biscuit Pie 3:16, which I'd better point out otherwise he'll go all stroppy and not email me for a few days. Women eh?

Anyways, enjoy them. Scratch your head about the Shane Ritchie comments. Ask what Superock was, then realise you're sitting in a darkened room, alone, as usual, talking to yourself, with commas. Barren *fnarr*!

  • Your Mother catching you "Being Busy" in your bedroom.

  • Noels House Party.

  • Your Mother accidentally finding your porn stash.

  • Walking downstairs to find that your parents are watching your Body of Evidence tape.

  • Sticky floors in the Cinema.

  • Bed and Breakfasts

  • Comedy such as Rory Bremner. It is made for old people.

  • Most American sitcoms (e.g. Roseanne, Cheers and Ellen)

  • The amount of adverts on MTV. Every FUCKING time I turn this channel on I get FOUR FUCKING MINUTES of adverts.

  • Stepping in dogshit when you're wearing your new Doc Martens with the extra deep grip, and then the resulting excavation of said dogshit with a spoon.

  • Stepping in sloppy dogshit when you're barefoot. This happened to me TOO MANY TIMES FOR COMFORT!

  • Girlfriends when they're slagging off their Mothers, and you try to say something to make them believe you're on their side (you have to do this or you get no oats), such as "Yes, your Mother IS a walrus.", and then they don't talk to you because you had a go at their Mother. BASTARDS!

  • Crappy air freshener that smells like the toilet.

  • Breathing in your Mother's farts.

  • "Alternative" music, that has become too mainstream to be called "Alternative".

  • The disappearance of Most Wanted off MTV..

  • Old people when they dodder around getting in everyone's way.

  • Spaceman by Babylon Zoo. What a fucking let down. I expected this song to be excellent thanks to the Levi Jeans advert, but it turns out to be a crappy grungy type affair that makes you feel sorry that you were born.

  • People in the Sixties. Weren't they ugly?!? No wonder that band was called The Troggs, and Herman's Hermits should have stopped where they were and not come out into the outside world.

  • People who leech off other people's talent. Such as Robson & Jerome and.... erm.... us.... I suppose.

  • Nappy adverts that repeatedly show baby's bottoms being rubbed.

  • Screaming brats in the supermarket.

  • The Mother's reaction to said screaming brats.

  • My Mother when she encounters someone she knows in a shop. She'll scream "OOH! HELLO!" in a really high pitched voice and then proceed to have an half hour conversation with them while I cringe up the corner pretending I don't know her.

  • People stopping dead in front of you so that you walk straight into their back.

  • Goscote. The dregs of humanity live in this town just outside Walsall.

  • TV Fishing shows.

  • Going to public toilets for a dump.

  • The adrenaline rush you get before falling over. I hate that.

  • Falling down the stairs and then being subject to lots of ranting on how you ripped the wallpaper on your way down.

  • The Shane Ritchie Experience. The idea of people getting married on T.V. is so stupid. Can you imagine afterwards, "Oooooo, Muriel let me see your wedding photos" and then having to show every photo containing Shane Ritchie in them. No.

  • Shane Ritchie. He is a monkey. With sideburns.

  • Angus Deayton. He is barren.(In other words, not funny - Sinisterism)

  • Sitting on a very cold toilet seat which makes you scream.

  • Sitting on a public toilet only to find that it's still warm. This is bad.

  • Little kids at markets. Why do they insist on darting out in front of me? This causes me to either (a) fall over (and when you're my size, you do not get up again for about ten minutes), (b) Teeter with my arms flailing wildly, or (c) kick them out of the way. (a) causes IMMENSE PAIN, (b) makes me look like a tool, and (c) causes the little bastards to fly across the market place, landing in a pile and BAWLING THEIR FACES OFF! Obviously the last is preferable.

  • Bobby Davro. He is barren.

  • When old people meet someone they haven't seen for ages in a crowded street. They will insist on standing in the busiest part of the path and conduct an information sharing meeting for the rest of the day. This will result in turmoil. People will barge you out of the way, you will get stepped on and hit, just to avoid the old fuckers. They are a clot in the bloodstream of townlife and should be eradicated.

  • Phil Cool. He used to be funny and entertaining. Now he is barren also.

  • The so called `trendy` camera work on such programmes as E.R. and NYPD Blue. It gives me a headache.

  • Situations like this

  • (Phone rings)
    "Hello, it's me."
    (panic) "Oh hello."
    (Embarrassing five second pause)
    "Is that Karen?"
    "I'm sorry, I think I've got a wrong number."
    (hangs up, followed by lots of dancing around induced by SEVERE embarrassment)

    This bastard actually happened to me. My Mother laughed. A lot.

  • Magazines like 'Woman's Own' or similiar, that your mother leaves in the bathroom. You occasionally glance at the cover to be confronted with headlines like

    This sort of shite FORCES you to pick them up and read them. Curses.

  • The way some people totally ignore the queue that you're in and instead wait at the side of the counter then they're served before you. DIE YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!

  • The smell that you get when you take off your watch after a hard days work. Not that I'd know anything about a hard days work of course.

  • People who, when going up or down stairs, take up the ENTIRE bastard staircase and won't move for anything. This forces you to squeeze through the gap that their kindness allows. These people should be put to death.

  • Bands releasing albums, making you go and buy them, and then releasing a 'digi pack' album with an extra song on it or slightly different packaging about a month later, which makes you buy it again.

  • Sometimes when you go for a piss and you think you've finished. So you put Him away only to find he dribbles down your leg. Bastard.

  • Shane Ritchie is still a Bad Thing and will remain so.

  • Michael Barrymore, he is a barren one.

  • I dread the day when I move in with my girlfriend. This is because of what will happen.

  • (Dimrill goes to CD player to put on his music)
    "If you want to listen to that heavy metal crap, use your personal CD player."

    Goodbye Carcass and Nalpalm Death, hello Robson and Jerome. I curse now. CURSES! WANK! FECK!

  • Turning round to find that someone has stood so close to you, that you can actually smell their rotting breath.

  • Alanis Morrisette. Her music is barren.

  • Being on a bus trying to listen to your CD, and the bastard driver will always drive over every bump on the road causing said CD to jump. Thou are cursed!

  • Kids. I fucking hate kids. They smell, they've got shit like tar, and their only purpose in life is to suck you dry until the day of your death.

  • Stepping on a drawing pin while you're barefoot.

  • Sitting on the bog and farting, then it smells so bad you're sick into your underwear.

  • Never trust a man with two first names, such as Craig Charles, George Michael, Andrew Dean or James Dean. These people are Sinister and should be treated with extreme caution.

  • The same goes for anyone that's been called a stupid name such as Peaches, Fifi Trixabell, Destiny, Atlanta or anything else stupid. Women seem more prone to this strange phenomenon.

  • And men with women's names, like, Shirley or Tracey. Americans suffer the most from this ailment.

  • The Munsters Today. Terrible programme.

  • Hearing my mothers banshee like laugh when she's watching something like Barrymore. I always think they're laughing at me.

  • Shane Ritchie again.

  • Crippling chest pains that strike without warning.

  • Sleeping on one arm all night and the resulting dull ache in the morning, forcing you to ingest foul paracetamol.

  • Blossom. Jesus Christ! Bad, bad programme.

  • Belly Button sweat.

  • Those big hairy moths that invade your bedroom in the summer.

  • Flies that constantly buzz around your head.

  • Evil little spiders that invade your face and build webs in seconds, while you walk through a forest.

  • People with annoying voices. These persons will stand there and start talking, and you just feel like saying "SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOANING FACE!" or "JUST STOP TALKING!".

  • Walking into the bathroom in the morning to be confronted with the toilet full of piss because the sinister parentals can't flush the toilet at night. "It'll wake everybody up!" "No it won't Mother. You pissing wakes everybody up!"

  • Those bastards that ruin your game of Quasar/Laserquest by running after you and repeatedly blasting your back. This calls for physical retribution.


  • People who have nicknames that are longer than their original names. Why is this? Most people have nicknames that consist of one syllable, that can be said in an ape like grunt. My sister's is Del, mine is Day and the sinister Police's is And. Simple. Why confuse it by adding more?

  • Breathing in piss fumes.

  • People who just want to pick fights with you. There are some people out there, that just don't like me and would have me beaten into a pulp because I've done nothing. I'll mention no names.

  • Arse pubes.

  • The linesman in football, now being called a 'referee's assistant'. Fuck off he's a linesman.

  • Going to the toilet, only to find that your extremities touch the inside of the bowl.

  • You know.... when it comes to being a bad thing, Shane Ritchie can't be beaten.

  • Superock on MTV.

  • Julia Valet on Superock on MTV. Truly she talks shite like "Gasp, gasp, (smack lips), gasp, (wet mouth noises), gasp, Marilyn Manson.". Grr. She also makes grunting noises like a baboon when she interviews people.

  • The music on Superock. She plays some good stuff and some not so good stuff that I don't like but others might, but my main concern is about the appearance of such "bands" as The Prodigy, Chemical Brothers and Lunatic Calm on there. I'm not getting into the big crap debate "are they metal or not?", because they obviously have metal leanings, it's the fact that they already get enough cover elsewhere on MTV. One of the main points of Headbangers Ball was the fact that you could see videos by bands that weren't shown on normal MTV and got little to no coverage elsewhere. I don't see Dancefloor suddenly start playing Fear Factory, do you?

  • Hanson are the spawn of the union of The Horned One and evil corporate executives.

  • The fact that MTV blurred out a CARTOON head coming out of a CARTOON mans stomach, a CARTOON man cutting off his CARTOON legs and CARTOON arms, and some CARTOON nipples on CARTOON mermaids in the Paranoid Android video by Radiohead, but then allow the Rolling Stones video to be shown which involves REAL naked women in baths and loads of REAL nipples and breasts. They also show CARTOON nipples on one of their MTV animations. I'm convinced that they would show excerpts of a hardcore porn film on daytime TV if the woman was wearing an MTV T-shirt. I don't even like Radiohead, but I hate censorship.

  • Slopey Lego, Lego Windows, Lego blocks with smiles and eyes on them, Superglued together Lego, flat 6x2 Lego that was robot incapable and Lego that had too big sockets that dropped off the knobs. When we were young that is.

  • Hedgehogs being given mail to give to the Riddlers. Cryptic.

  • Showgirls.

  • She was in Saved by the Bell (disappointment and anguish).

  • He was in Dune (anguish and MwyraabhlhtaltibhaicnfhtmfbaithwqgiD [Man who you respected and admired but has lowered himself to a level that is below himself and i can never forgive him the mother fucking bastard and i thought he was quite good in Dune ])

  • People who say "You ought to like {Insert Dinosaur Rock band name here}, because if it wasn't for them, you'd have none of this modern rock and extreme metal nowadays." This really annoys me.

  • The bunch of wankstains collectively known as No Doubt. Fucking hell I hate them.

  • Especially Gwen "Stupid Slut" Stefani. What do people see in her? She's as ugly as a toad and has no visible characteristics that proclaim her to be female.

  • The TV programme Friends. As mr F pointed out once, sometimes you'll let out a little laugh at one of the 'jokes' thinking it was funny, but afterwards you think "Nah, it wasn't" as the predictability and sameyness sets in. How does a paleontologist make so much money that he lives in a massive apartment?

  • People who use the word 'quit' instead of 'stop' i.e. "Quit doing that" GRRRRR!

  • People who think that because you listen to Metal, that you're a racist. This is bullshit.

  • People who call you a pervert for looking at a woman walking down the street in a short skirt. I don't call a healthy interest in the opposite sex perverted, I consider a sexual interest in animals and children perverted.

  • Robocop the TV series and Highlander the TV series. Injustice is done to once great films by these mediocre attempts at making more money.

  • When you ask people what day it is and they respond "Thursday, all day!". Wank stains.

  • The Mosquito Coast starring Harrison Ford. I think I had to watch this film about 10 times in a year when I was young. Very poor.

  • Fist of The North Star the movie.

  • Ellen the Degenerate.

  • Patriotic American films.

  • Being skinned alive and sprayed in deodorant.

  • Being accosted by a Hare Krishna bloke TWICE in a two month period. I was wearing my Cannibal Corpse T-shirt, leather jacket and I was in a major bad mood. He obviously thought "I must save that poor man's soul". Thanks mate, but JUST FUCK OFF!!!

  • "Bingo" by Catch. Probably the worst song in existence.

  • Aqua. Terrible bollocks. This, ahem, 'band', will be forgotten in about six months from now. Mark my words.

  • Trendy drinks that are sold in tiny bottles and cost twice as much as a pint (e.g. Budweiser).

  • Watered down piss like Budweiser.

  • Really bad trendy names for drinks like 'Bud'. My friends sound like rights twatish bastards when they say 'I want a Bud'.

  • Budweiser. I HATE THIS SHITTY 'DRINK'!

  • When your mind wanders when reading a book. You could be really engrossed in this book, but your brain suddenly starts thinking 'ooooo! You want to buy (insert item here) tomorrow', but you carry on reading, not taking in a single word.

    {reading}"and i say that you..."
    [mind] Must buy the new Dismember album tomorrow
    [mind] and that cut price Cathedral album you've been meaning to buy for some time now.
    {reading} ".... spike that water melon!!"
    (saying)"Eh? What? What the fuck happened there?"

  • The _three_ CD single set of "Unforgiven II" by Metallica. So you're telling me that all of these live tracks couldn't have fitted on two CD's?

  • mr F's sister is very bad.

  • When my sister has a bath she leaves her TV on so that she can listen to it while bathing. This blares the entire house out with Coronation Street or some similar bollocks. Very poor.

  • Being consumed by your petty hatreds while on a bus. I do this on a regular basis. I start thinking about something I really hate, and I get so worked up about it that I'm soon punching my fist, or gurning in a ridiculous fashion. I always look up to find all the passengers staring at me in horror. Cringe.

  • I've also been known to whisper "I'll fucking kill yer!" under my breath during these tirades. The person in front of me normally gets off at the next stop.

  • I also think about something I've done in the past that I'm particularly embarrassed about, and I get to a point where I actually feel embarrassed again. At this point, I feel compelled to say something to cover my embarrassment so I shout out something ridiculous like "Look at that wall!", "Where are the dogs?". "What time is it?", "How much will it cost? THREE THOUSAND POUNDS!!!" or "It's time to bake!". Much to the amusement and terror of everyone else on the bus.

  • These past three Bad Things explain the artwork on the index of this page.

  • When I get off the bus, I always think that the people are staring at me, and saying to each other "I'm glad that fat bastard got off!". This compels me to shout "YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!!!" to the bus as it pulls away. I can't stop myself. It's dead bad.

  • I hate the entire nightclub scene, I hate crowds in a pub, I hate trendy people in pubs, who talk bollocks about something they know nothing about. I want a nice, quiet pub, where me and a select group of friends can get drunk with as little interference as possible.

  • When embarking on a walk down to the supermarket (a half mile away). I always say to myself "I've got to get down this motherfucking road". Another little mantra that I chant to myself automatically.

  • I live in constant fear that I'm being spied upon. Many things I've wrote or done for Aggravated Assault or this page, have been on TV after I've wrote it. I'm scared.

  • Cricket is the worst sport ever invented.

  • 1/2 an hour of the Camel Clutch.

  • The braindead fucks that they get to be in studio audiences.

  • Said braindead fucks who clap along in time with any music that is being played.

  • Phil Phallus, fill us up with me phallus Jones the Cat. Phall fill up with me phall Jones. Phil us us us the Cat.

  • The shitty computer graphics on the inside of 'Back From The Dead' by Obituary.

  • The Spice Girls are all pigs.

  • When you go out for a drink, have about five pints, moderately dizzy, and then people tell you a load of bullshite about what you supposedly did the next day. I have a crystal clear memory of every time I've got drunk, and people still tell me 'Wow! you got plastered last night! You were going to go up to the college and tell all the lecturers to fuck off!' Bollocks, I said it might be worth a try at the college, to see if the toilets were still open. Lying Bastards. Cunts.

  • That squinty whiney thing out of Third Rock From The Sun.

  • Third Rock From The Sun.

  • That Sainsbury's Advert where lots of nasty food gets forced down the throats of lots of nasty people in what looks like a classroom. That in itself is not so bad. However; the voiceover... the chap goes from speaking in a fairly high up-beat voice when the advert starts to speaking all gravelly and shitey sounding when he says 'crusty french sticks'. See it and you'll understand. It's hard to put into words.

  • Look in that box! Wow, I wonder what's in that box? I dunno but it's looks pretty exciting! Hey it's that crazy box again - who knows what's inside? Dum-de-dum... the box! The box! Wonder what it could be inside? Hey!

  • Mukluk.

  • Abispa.

  • Samoa - that bloke with big sweaty hands.

  • Don't scare her.

  • It pisses itself for no reason.

  • Crusty knee scabs.

  • Cramp that is so painful that it wouldn't hurt as much, if someone removed your leg. Then it happens again 10 seconds later. Then again. And again.

  • Tony Shiavone ???????????????

  • B*Witched - ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly, 'What are you like?' etc. on a fucking primary coloured hill.

  • Adverts are the main cause of worldly strife.

  • People who sit there saying 'I'm mad me', or something similair.

  • The fact that college knocked most of my creative writing ability out of me. I now find it very difficult to write anything, because of the bollocks I had to write for my assignments.


  • British talk shows.

  • Richard Madely and Judy Finnigan outside of their shitty programme, doing other shitty programmes.

  • Money. Lack of.

  • Riverdancing. Saturation point.

  • Branco White Blanco Folhas Sheets Hojas.

  • TV progs that don't require you to think. e.g. Friends, Cheers, Keeping Up Appearances, Birds of a Feather, Absolutely Fabulous, Roseanne, Ellen, THIRD ROCK FROM THE FUCKING SUN.

  • CD's that have asterix after certain tracks on the listings, causing me to search for what they mean in the liner notes but not finding anything in the entire booklet.

  • Yogi Bear is bad.

  • Scooby Doo - Fred, Daphne and Thelma = Bad

  • Scooby Doo + Scrappy Doo = Bad

  • The fact that a woman convicted of manslaughter, like Louise Woodwood, was welcomed back like some heroine when she returned to Britain.

  • Floodlit night cricket matches. The only good thing about this awful sport is that it ended when it got dark. Now some bastard has found a way for it to carry on.

  • People who 'high five' or clasp hands after something. Whether it's a strike at bowling, or someone just scored. Just go to the toilet and have a fuck to get it out of your systems.

  • People who use debit/credit cards in the 'cash only' queue at the supermarket.

  • People who don't put that 'Next Customer' barrier after their shopping on conveyer belts. I FUCKING DO IT! I'VE DONE MY BIT FOR QUEUE HAPPINESS! whydon'tyou?

  • Cashiers who use those 'Next Customer' signs to halt the conveyer belt leaving it half empty. very frustrating if you're at the back of the line trying to put your shopping on the conveyer. When they do move it to allow the shopping to get closer to them, they give you only about another millimetre to get your shopping onto.

  • Impromtu harmony singing sessions on buses, perpetrated by teenage girls. They expect that everyone on the bus is thinking along the lines 'OOoo! They're good. Let's admire them and ask them to sing some more.' Or they wish that a record producer is catching the bus, and for some reason signs them to a contract.

  • Marilyn Manson. If there is such a thing as an antichrist, I think that when it does appear it'll do worse things than wear womens clothing, a piece of plastic in its eye and show its arse very often.

  • Being so bored that you go to the toilet for something to do.

  • When win95 creates swap files of 91meg, you know the game isn't worth it.

  • "We went into McDonalds the other day and he expected me to say BigMac meal and when it came to our turn at the desk guess what I said BigMac meal it was so funny that we laughed for hours well we laughed and laughed like hahahah like huhuhu it was like hehehe like...." (breathe)

  • When I was a child McDonalds meals were a treat. I used to look forward to them every time my family went shopping. The burgers were tasty, the fries as well. The other day I went there and all the 'food' appeared to be made from old newspapers.

  • Denise Van Outen.

  • Imbruuuuyahhhhhhhh.

  • Having a really good idea then thinking "I must write that down so I won't forget it", not writing it down, then forgetting it.

  • Webpages that consist of one page with LARGE and
    P R I M A R Y coloured CAPITAL fonts.

  • The phrase 'da bomb'

  • "There seems to be a party going on nowadays, 'Hey I'll email you', 'Whats your email address?', 'I'll send you an email' I don't have email. I mean, it's confusing expensive.. well I've got good for you, now there's a computer that's so easy to use that ten minutes out of the box you're emailing everyone you're part of the party!"

  • What party? Has anyone ever had a party over email? No. They haven't. It's impossible. What would you do? Send each other email saying "Wahay! I'm pissed!" or such like? The conversations would be very disjointed too, with a wait of about 2 or 3 minutes for the other side to respond.

  • Out of the box? Boxed computers are almost universally shite. Ten minutes after getting it out of the box, their customer is still wondering where all the wires go. They certainly don't know how to set up dial-up networking, choosing an ISP or configuring their email client to work properly. To test this, they ought to send this 'wonder' machine to my Mother and time her to see how long it takes to get connected. If it's longer than 10 minutes surely that's a case of false advertising.

  • The way Ck deliberately mispronouces things. Like gauge as gorge and so forth.

  • The incredible pettiness of some people on MUD's that I frequent. Are we in our twenties or are we 2?

  • Looking for photo clip art on the internet but only being able to find CD collections or shite line drawn things. I NEED pictures from the forties or fifties of people looking happy while walking down the street. I thought there'd be thousands of sites just full of photos I could use, but noooooo. They have to be awkward.

  • My mom's boneheaded belief that if you ignore something it'll go away. "Mom, I've found a lump on the dog's stomach", "Well, we'll wait a month and see if it's cleared up."

  • Tomato ketchup sachets were not made for mortal men to open with hands alone.

  • Trying to watch the Fifth Element while my family discusses at volume which cheese is best.

  • People singing "Let's all meet up in the year 2000" and "Tonight I'm going to party like it's 1999". Predictable shits.

  • pEoPlE wHo AlTeRnAtE cApItAlS aRe TwAtS.

  • People putting misplaced human 'values' onto animals.. e.g. expecting them to marry. Or something.

  • I wish harm upon those persons that made the old arcade games "Shinobi" and especially "Gunsmoke", so difficult.

  • 6:30am.

  • Walking into the bathroom and finding a V shaped arse shadow of grime at the back of the toilet seat.

  • Suspicous green material found within a toilet roll.

  • So called 'bagels' and 'muffins'. They taste the same. The only difference is a hole in the middle of one, but not in the other.

  • Amiga Power emptiness heartache.

  • Owen Hart's death.

  • Bounty - hideous.

  • People who alter smilies. :) is good *3o] is stupid and wrong.

  • Having about three arguments with mrF about his belief that Jimmy Saville has passed on, proving that he is alive each time, then him bringing it up again a few months along the line, even more convinced of his death. Then proving that he is alive by his appearance on 'Have I Got News For You'.

  • The way mrF's memory twists things around, so that he thinks he was me in a conversation we had months ago. Or, in fact, anything he has heard on TV that he believes is quite good, then starting to believe it was him who said it.

  • Distance overconsideration of supermarket cornflakes.

  • The resulting blockage of aisle.

  • MTV is a bag of shite, M2 is good.

  • If I have to see one more music video of someone walking down a street singing, murder will be commited.

  • Oooh I am drunk English woman... see how I am drunk and mix my words up whilst dancing around in a pathetic fashion.

  • I have remarkably forgotten how to drive and have crashed my 1920's car into this fruit stand.

  • Quickly now, this is your last chance, jump down this sewer. No, I must bravely fight off warty people although inevitable death will find me.

  • And other things associtated with 'The Mummy'.

  • Don't mistake a good memory for intelligence.

  • Shania Twain and her 'need one more line in chorus' poor songs.

  • Shania Twain and her 'this doesn't sound right' poor songs.

  • If she was so desperate to get out of that desert why didn't she catch a lift with the 5 or so men that happened to come by in 5 minutes?

  • Foxes that scream in the night.

  • Being forced to mourn for somebody that you think was poor.

  • Watching about 15 minutes of adverts when you go to the cinema. I pay my money to see a film, not for the privilege of seeing marketing that is on TV at home.

  • Disney cartoons are poor. Especially Pluto. Apart from Goofy.

  • (w/ mrF) Bees that form into question marks and chase after fictional dogs.

  • Pineapples that let off fireworks 2 feet away from their face whilst holding them, as a banana develops photos of sea monsters below deck.

  • Losing 20 bad things that you've written due to hard drive failure and being unable to recall a single one when trying to re-write them.

  • I'm never going there again. No way. Not me. That's it for me.

  • I can't believe I'm here again.

  • The Pleurisy / Fluerety Stafford fiasco.

  • CHOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW pika pika pika CHOO pika pika pika CHOO.

  • The "Reet Petite" video.

  • And I was like, I was like, the, and i was like, i was like, cat, and i was like, i was like, sat, and i was like, i was like, on, and i was like, i was like, the, and i was like, i was like, mat.

  • I find it strange that a species that largely lives underground, with no other life at all on the planet, was able to evolve into life forms that could fire explosive projectiles from their arses into space. Makes you wonder what sort of conditions gave rise to these creatures.

  • With the lack of air to carry sound waves, surely it should have called the Big Explosion. Theory.

  • People who walk down the street in a 'hard' manner. Normally associated with adolescent males between the ages of 15 and 25 who think they are Benoit's gift to the world. Let's call these people Ape Boys.

  • Shaved head and shirt open regularly too.

  • People who put the classical ringer tone on their mobile phones to try and add an air of sophistication to themselves.

  • They then sing along with it if there's a call.

  • Catching a mouse with a tupperware bowl and then passing an electric current through it does not make a Pikachu. Unfortunately.

  • Unwrapping mummies after dinner.

  • The marketing phrase "By the [x], for the [x]" where [x] is a social group e.g. students. It is used overbearingly by everybody trying to sell something, it seems.

  • Want some attention do we?

  • The toning down of the Reeves and Mortimer product.

  • And overuse of the "hitting each other with things" bit.

  • The "only volume one of On The Air" heartache.

  • Why are there so many CDs I want?

  • Having to wait 24 hours for a parcel that was not delivered, to reach the sorting office 5 miles away.

  • Then they lose it.

  • The Not Buying Jabberwocky In Walsall fiasco.

  • People who stand at bus stops, or somewhere where other people gather, and play with their mobile phones.


  • This is DVD. And this is what happens when you watch DVD. You turn into a twat who does stupid faces every time an explosion appears on the screen.

  • Record companies deleting music.

  • Not being able to squeeze out a Bad Thing for this slot.

  • There's a moral to all this. Don't mess with a Jigglypuff. It has Da Skillz and is wikkid badd.

  • The intrusive video titling on MTV.

  • How does seeing a small boy being attacked by a shark make me want to buy a Vauxhall car?

  • Those oh so funny music videos that consist of clips from 1940s cartoons.

  • Or people from the 40s or 50s dancing, set to modern day popular music. So much fun.

  • Being constantly misunderstood.

  • I hate fish fingers.

  • And Yorkies taste like sick.

  • Robbie Williams 5th most influential artist of the millenium my arsehole.

  • For a start he hasn't had time to influence anyone, having only released two or three albums to date. I haven't seen any major new mainstream stars quoting him as an influence.

  • Melodramatic facial expressions and ways of speaking.

  • Being so directionless that simply concentrating on anything for more than five minutes is impossible because of the nagging feeling that there's something else I should be doing instead.

  • Spending all my available cash on CDs that I will never be able to listen to once I move in with my fiance.

  • I remember once being able to play it for ten whole minutes before crashing Pat's van repeatedly into the same wall. Truly magical times.

  • I can guarantee that if I'm ill for any period of time and have to take a day off work/university, and I don't show any symptoms for a length of time greater than two or three hours, my parents will start making comments. It's not enough that a couple of hours earlier I had stomach troubles (or in the vulgar vernacular, pissing rusty water out of my arse), they have to start saying "are you going to wag tomorrow off too?" as crude smiles slowly creep across their pockmarked, bloated faces in some semblance of callow self satisfaction at their wit.

  • "Ooo! It's just like surgery isn't it?" explaimed my mother whilst digging in to barbeque rack of ribs that looked exactly like half a dead pig. "Well, it's already dead so it's more like an autopsy." I replied. Cue disgusted faces and general scorn that I should DARE to suggest that her meal was already dead.

  • They look like somebody else! They're saying something that that person wouldn't normally say! THAT'S HILARIOUS!

  • "I went to muffins dot com and loads of porn came up, can you clean it up and put some recipes on there please".

  • Flavourless boil-a-thon.

  • Actually nearly vomiting from laughter (the sort which builds up unbearable pressure in your skull) at slight perspective imperfections in a children's animated series.

  • If Mokey was the one who risked her life everyday to fetch radishes from the Gorg's garden, where did the Doozers get their radishes from?

  • Freshly cleaned, gutted and sterilised, M2 is now YOUR new fourth channel of shrink wrapped MTV cack.

  • Amateur sociologists.

  • Are, is, was, were ARGH.

  • 1st September 2001

  • Trying to hide it with a smile or anger.

  • There are probably thousands, if not millions, of people out there complaining about the amount of retro-styled nostalgia programming on T.V. nowadays, so let me join them. Normally I quite enjoy those sort of things, but the recent "Top 100 Children's Programs" show on Channel 4 really annoyed me. The show started innocently enough with Button Moon clips which elicited enthusiastic responses from my fiancee, along the lines of "I remember that!" and so forth, before various D-grade celebrities and journalists gave their profound insights into the shows (which usually went along the lines of "I remember that!"). This went on for a while until the "chart" reached into the top 20 where shows such as "The Magic Roundabout" dwelt. After the clips for these were shown the bottom-of-the-barrel famous people went into frothing fits about how obvious it was that Dylan was on pot, and the rest of them were on several other types of drug. Hnngh, as I was once wont to say. Things reached even greater levels of stupidity when "Bagpuss" was shown and the "celebrity" was, ooooh I don't know, some sociologist twit who tried to make it into some sort of allegory for communism (or some other political thing).
    Several other shows were treated in the same way (including a quite hilarious Crackerjack reasoning that said cabbages represented the participating children's working class values) but with these cases in particular I was struck with what utter shite people would try and explain their enjoyment of a simple children's program with. In the first case, it's obviously "not cool" to enjoy a kid's show for what it is anymore and simply watch it as a child again, so they have to force a trendy drug reference into it which gives them an excuse to enjoy it. In the second, it's obviously so UTTERLY STUPID AND LOW-BROW to watch Bagpuss for enjoyment's sake as she was FAR TOO INTELLIGENT to do so, and as a consequence has to crow-bar a flimsy intellectual context onto it.
    Anyway, this is probably the longest Bad Thing I've ever written, so I'll just wrap it up by saying: just watch the shows for what they are. Enjoy them. Don't try and justify it to yourself.

  • 13th June 2002

  • Do you read The Sun because you're stupid, or are you stupid because you read The Sun?

  • "Don't theorise, accessorise!" In other words, don't think, buy things!

  • Call me old fashioned, but aren't supermarket trolleys supposed to be pushed from the rear? Don't mind me though, continue to manouver it from standing at the side and TAKING UP THE ENTIRE FUCKING AILE.

  • As a slight return to the toilet humour showcased in the early bad things: why is it that as a child you never used to notice you needed a shit until it was touching cloth?

  • The difference between American and British pornography can be summed up in three words commonly used in the latter's promotional attachments: Bonk, Romp and Slag.

  • Slag. Worst word ever.

  • But also, strangely, the best.

  • Watching irritating American 'celebrity' editions of the Weakest Link, where they constantly declare their everlasting love for each other while voting contestants off.

  • 2nd July 2002

  • Shane FUCKING Ritchie has got a new job on East BASTARD enders.

  • Star Wars: A New Hope is a bad film. I don't care how much you whinge about its 'magical' qualities, it's bad. I was one of the millions of others who were enamoured by it as a child, and if I were still a child I probably would love it as much now as I did then. But as I'm not a child anymore I'm quite able to see its quite dire, paper thin, linear plot for what it is.

  • Anna Kournikova is a mediocre tennis player, yet is nigh on worshipped by the press because of her face.

  • My Mother has an extremely bizarre regard for food use-by dates. For instance, a favourite food that is regularly bought in this house is egg custard cakes. Now, anyone with a tenth of a brain would consider the use-by dates on fresh cream cakes such as this to be vitally important in avoiding crippling stomach illnesses. Not my Mother. Nope, according to her these lovely cakes stay fresh for up to 5 DAYS after the clearly posted "DO NOT EAT AFTER XX/XX/XX ELSE DEATH!" stickers on the boxes. Now, I can usually figure out that this is not an ideal circumstance for continued life, and justly avoid said out of date foodstuffs. HOWEVER, my Mother knows I do this so she'll buy a fresh pack, eat a few nice fresh/non-poisonous ones and PUT THE DEATH-INDUCING ONES INTO THE NEW PACK TO TRY AND TRICK PEOPLE INTO EATING THEM. Sometimes I think she doesn't like me all that much.

  • In fact, her regard in taking advice goes further than simply ignoring stickers on cakes. While watching a certain breakfast television show the other day, an expert from Oxford University was being interviewed about her new research into childhood asthma. She reasoned, from years of careful study, that children were more likely to suffer from asthma if their house was kept "too-clean". Now, this professor had studied this and conducted experiments to prove this fact. My Mother? Why, she shouted "rubbish! utter crap!" at the TV because GOD KNOWS she's more of an expert in this.

  • While I'm on this tack, she's also unable to comprehend that I've maybe learnt something by going to University. She automatically knows more than me by "keeping a house" (as she puts it) for so many years.

  • AND ANOTHER THING. She's had a really bad back for the last year or more as a result of lifting and handling disabled and elderly people as a part of her job as a community care worker. Now, both me and my Father have spent countless hours trying to get her to go to the doctors or a chiropractor to remedy this quite crippling pain she has on a regular basis. She refuses or just ignores us by nodding her head in a condescending fashion. A month ago she gave in to demands and went to a local chiropractor. The result? Pain free days of splendour and a new found ability to sleep through the entire night. Acknowledgement of incorrect denial of advice? Nope. Hngh.

  • In fact, this behaviour dates back quite some way. My Mother (and to a lesser extent, myself) suffers from asthma and up until five years ago, she smoked like a trooper. Now, you'd think that given this condition she'd take both doctor's advice to quit and her family's insistance to this end as a serious consideration. Well, I think you can guess the rest.

  • 11th July 2002

  • You know how you're asked to completely finish a course of antibiotics when you're ill, and you're not supposed to keep antibiotics past the time when you're ill? Well my Mother doesn't. In fact, I had a bad case of the scritti pollitis not long ago and like any other person I went in search for some of those lovely Immodium pills in our medicine cabinet. When the search for the elusive box returned a null value, I asked the keeper of the make-poorly-betters, my Mother, whether she'd hidden some in the biscuit barrel or something. Sure enough, she responded that such tablets were in existence somewhere in the medicine cabinet and in she came to prove how FUCKING RETARDED I was with my inability to find anything ever. Within a matter of seconds she retrieved a small brown bottle and gave me The Look (read: God you retard. Can't find anything even when it's under your nose, dimwit). Now here's me looking down, confused at the vessel in which these rusty water stoppers were kept, as I was looking for the normal white box with blister packs of pills contained therein. Upon closer inspection of said bottle, certain facts were found to be self evident. 1: These Immodium tablets were prescription strength from a GP. 2: These Immodium were not prescribed to any body currently residing in the house. 3: These pills were in fact prescribed to an old lady that used to live down the street. 4: The old lady in question died 5 years previously. And finally, 5: The pills were dated 3 years before she died. When my swollen eyes (from crying) had finished reading the presented facts, a quick calculation revealed that these pills were nearly a decade old. Untrusting of the curative abilities of such beasts, I presented my findings to my Mother, along with the accusation of Blofeld world downfall type aspirations on her behalf due to drug-resistant strains of bacteria. "DON'T BE SO STUPID, YOU STUPID MONGREL!" she screamed, laughing and pounding her thigh whilst giving me another Look for good measure.

  • And food hygiene? Get da fook outta here! Nope, in this house we shall NEVER store fresh cream cakes ABOVE dripping raw meat. We shall NEVER organise the fridge in a less life-threatening manner.

  • And AND(!) when I have a Balti meal delivered from the local take-away restaurant, she always chants the same mantra while I transfer the food into suitable eating vessels: "Scatter matter pudding and green snot pie, all mixed up with a dead dog's eye. You get a bit of bread and spread it on thick, and wash it all down with a cup of cold sick." Replete with facial expressions and mime. Really puts you in the mood for eating, that does.

  • A news item on TV the other day, detailed a "comedian" (their words) who got arrested on some Mediterranian island of tourist decadence for showing his bare arse to some passers by (and was actually SURPRISED about it). I for one would be first in the queue to see his live show where he hilariously bares his buttocks to his adoring, hysterically laughing public. He could even bellow his catchphrase of "ALRIGH' DARLIN'!" as an encore. If that's comedy, I pray for our society.

  • I was shopping with my missus the other day, and was quite literally dumbstruck with the latest fashion of denim jeans with dirty stains down the front. What's next? Underwear with the skidmarks already in them?

  • FUCKING FIREWORKS! I remember when they were only available close to November 5th, and let off only on that day or at pre-arranged public displays. NOT EVERY FUCKING SATURDAY. "BANG!" huhruruhruhrur "WHIZZ! BANG!" HURHURHURHRUHRUHRUHRUR!

  • Pez has entered my life.

  • I have a gnat bite inside my nose. How?

  • Why is everything regarded as genius all of a sudden? Mike Myers writes a mediocre spoof on James Bond (a spoof which has been tried many times before, by many people over the decades) and suddenly he's a genius. The problem with that, is that when REAL genius comes along that REALLY CHANGES THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT (and not in a transitory entertainment sense), such as an inspired invention or new way of thinking, it's completely overlooked because it's been lumped in with this now meaningless term.

  • There's another small point. Why is there such a concentration on the entertainment aspect of our culture? It's as if being entertained is all that matters to anybody nowadays, and the irritating conversations people have about what a footballer is wearing in publicity photos. You know what this means don't you? This means that people have had their thinking taken away by distracting, mundane matters. YOU HAVE NO SOULS!

  • "Do you consider yourself cultured?" he asks. Well, it depends what you mean by "culture". If you mean it in the way John Cowper Powys does when he said "Culture is what is left after you have forgotten all you have set out to learn", certainly. If you mean it as in agri-culture, I have got some fungus growing somewhere.. but you don't really want to hear about that. Whereas if you mean "culture" as in "was I grown in a petri-dish?" then no.

  • I am so sick of going in to record shops and having to flick through endless CDs stored in stupid ways. Is it so hard to simply turn them on the shelves so that the spines are showing? Then I can let my eyes browse instead of my fingers, and I can see at a glance if there's anything there that I want. Instead I spend fucking hours flipping the endless rows of CDs forward and scanning the covers. What am I saying? That's why you do it you bastards! Also, reading the spine requires literacy. YEAH! BASH THE ILLITERATE! THEY'LL NEVER KNOW I WROTE THIS!

  • All my knuckles are bleeding. Wah!

  • According to the media scare mongers on a certain channel's news broadcast, people are reluctant to crack down on Internet paedophillia due to the lack of financial incentive to do so. Not that it's notoriously difficult to track down such people, or repugnant in almost every culture on this planet or anything. Nope, according to these dimwits there's simply no money in it.

  • If paedophillia is such a repugnant practise and thought in this country, why are we encouraged to find school girls sexually attractive? Every time I flick through my girlfriend's women's magazines lately, there's an advert for some shitty dance music compilation with "sexy" drawings of women dressed up as school girls. The local nightclub has regular "St. Trinnians" nights where female party-goers are encouraged to dress up in school uniforms "sexed up" with shorter skirts, crooked ties and ripped tights. And you're telling me this isn't giving incentive?

  • In fact, while watching the Wimbledon tennis championships this year, the play was suspended due to the frequent rain we get in our wonderfully NORMAL TEMPERATE CLIMATE. During which, the BBC aired a clip compliation of previous championships. On there was clips of a female competitor (sorry, I can't remember her name), who aged 14 was the youngest ever participant at the Wimbledon finals (so far). During said clip a song was playing, the lyrics for which went "Isn't she lovely, Isn't she wonderful. Isn't she lovely, she's made for love." Feel disgrace. I SAID FEEL IT!

  • Don't you think that, maybe, it's because more people are getting actually arrested and charged with such offences with the associated increase in media attention, rather than an increase in actual abuse of minors in this way?

  • Note: I'm not condoning paedophillia here, and feel quite upset that I need to state this explicitly rather than trusting people to read the cynical tone used in the above points as a rejection of such practises. Fucking hysteria.

  • Oh no! I've typed the word "paedophillia" on my website! I'm sure to get shut down now!

  • 12th July 2002

  • If TV is the new artform, then, to carry the metaphor slightly further, Blind Date is the equivalent of someone writing "SEX COCK" and badly drawing a penis next to it on a derelict industrial unit's wall.

  • Yet again reading my fiancee's oestrogen magazines the other revealed its usual cornucopia of cack. I was struck particularly by a story (true life, I hasten to add) of sexual abuse delivered on a child by a babysitter. The article was written in such an over-dramatic cod-like detail as to render it completely laughable. It was probably the worst thing that has ever happened to this child, yet putting in such petty details as breathing patterns makes it read like a soap-opera, thus robbing it of any believablity. After reading this article and then glancing through the morass written within the rest of the pages, produced similar results. NOTHING IS REAL, IT'S ALL PRETEND.

  • I was watching MTV the other day (not a fact I'm proud of, I was bored and stuff) and yet another of these irritating Bouncy-Castle-'Metal' bands arrived on screen. And sure enough, the frontman was spouting quite laudable crap along the lines of "Open your eyes, to all the lies, the advertising people say!" with an hysterical attempt at venom in his voice. What are we supposed to do? Suddenly think "Goddamn right bro! Daz DON'T wash my clothes as good as they tell me on tha adverts! HOOOOWEEE!". No, I'd rather think for myself than listen to 35 year old men dressed as 15 year olds.

  • 15th July 2002

  • The other day I was complaining to my Mother of not being able to find suitable shorts (in my size) to wear in this hot weather. For anyone who doesn't know by now I'm rather large, and finding clothes to fit particularly good looking clothes, is a very hard task to achieve. So, here I am sweating in the current heat wave spreading over the Kingdom of Mercia, whilst wearing thick insulated track suit bottoms, or black jeans. Not ideal. The shops don't sell my sizes in the just-below-the-knee cut off jeans/combats line, so I complained to my Mother to see whether she has any idea where to get such clothing. She didn't, but in she came from work today and presented me with some horrendous shiney swimming trunks with the accomanying speech of "Alan sent you these". This means that one of her incontinent old people has sent me clothing. And further more she expects me to wear them.

  • 85 degrees out there today, and every night she turns the heating on as soon as the sun dips below the horizon "because it's getting nippy".

  • Right, RIGHT, this has annoyed me for far too long and I'm just a little pissed off with myself forgetting to post this one every time I update this page. BBC TV announcers, in particular the ones on BBC2. Why? Well, they used to be good. They used to just tell you what's on next in a non-obtrusive way (e.g. not over the credits of another show). They used to use a tone of voice that reflected what was coming next. BUT NOW they say EVERYTHING in that irritating subdued laugh tone. There is nothing more that fills my gullet with bile than the sound of that "oh! we're having so much fun! wait 'till you see what's next!" tone of voice.

  • I detest the phrase "wash it down" when referring to drinks with a meal. The food must be fucking disgusting if you need to swill the taste out of your mouth. Wash. A woody word, but made of horrid wood. A worm infested chipboard of a word.

  • Lenor's smell advert. As if the life and soul of a party is a 40 year old man walking around with a blindfold on trying to identify people by their odour. "AH! B.O! My daughter, she never washes!"

  • 16th July 2002

  • At the weekend I was quietly sitting around in my underwear sweating and moaning in the unbearable heat produced by Sol and the array of electrical materials in my room. Scene set. "DALE!" came the scream from downstairs from my sister. After several screams, I replied. Apparently her door was knacked on her car and she wanted me to see if I could fix it. Dressed I get and downstairs I go. Now, I knew I wouldn't be able to do anything to help in this situation, as I'm not a mechanic and have no knowledge whatsoever of how door lock mechanisms work. "Well why didn't you tell her this?" I hear the questions ringing inside my head. Well, because I wouldn't be able to adequately explain this to her as she NEVER ACTUALLY LISTENS TO ME. Anyway, here I come striding towards the car... ok, wobbling. So to get things straight, I was striding towards the wobbling with a screwdriver in hand. One probatory outing of the screwdriver later revealed a quite amazingly stationary door lock mechanism. Now, as a certified know-nothing of practical use, I've got a much greater chance of doing more harm than good to this particular problem. Also, by drawing from my experience as a computer technician in a school where children attempted to "fix" problems themselves by tipping orange juice into the monitor, I thought it best to cease trying to force fix the lock and recommend the calling of a professional. As I turned round and gave my judgement to my sister, I get the screwdriver quite literally wrenched from my hand and a tirade of curses cascade from her, erm, gob. The neighbourhood reverberated with the cries of "CHRIST YOU'RE FUCKING USELESS, YOU USELESS FAT SHIT!" And as such, I'm never going to help her ever again.

  • So, you're telling me that if I buy this car, my girlfriend will be leered at by jet pilots threatening my life at high speeds? Or, she'll be leered at by a crude special effect? How does this tell me how good the car is?

  • "Slit" is such a terrible colloquialism for female genetalia. Bonk the slag's slit.

  • The way that this section of my site started with listing things that ticked me off but were quite inoffensive, and now is a diatribe of genuine bitterness towards everything ever.

  • Scraping the leftover food off my plate after I've finished eating makes me feel very, very unwell. After dinner yesterday, in fact, my Mother happened to be holding open a supermarket plastic bag whilst my girlfriend scraped the mush into it. Nowt wrong with that, but the fact that they were standing in the only exit from the room to do so, with me physically retching and desperately asking to get past, caused the cries of "Hang on a minute will you?!" This is akin to someone locking me in a cupboard with a hole cut into the door for me to look out of, whilst they vigouously fucked a squealing pig right in front of me, and when I complain and beg to be let out they respond with "For Christ's sake hang on I've nearly finished!"

  • 21st July 2002

  • I love Zoos. Actually, I'll rephrase that: I love Zoos which care for their animals in a manner that is as close to their natural environment as it is possible to currently get in a captive situation. I believe in Zoos acting as education centres and sanctuaries for endangered species. Without these institutions species such as the Golden Lion Tamarin and the Przewalski horses would now be extinct. This is a Good Thing. So don't look at me as if I'm some sort of mentally retarded infant when I say, with genuine excitement, that I'm going to the Zoo. Ok?

  • On Wednesday I was not At Here, I was at Whipsnade Wild Animal Park just outside of Dunstable on the edge of the urban sprawl of London. It is without a doubt one of my favourite places to be in the entire world. So there I was, with my missus, enjoying my surroundings while trying in vain to keep away from peacocks intent on eating MY egg sandwiches. Heading back to the car with empty Tupperware in hand and full stomach extending several feet in front of oneself, we happened to stumble upon the talk being given on the Chimpanzees. There's probably not much more that Helen and myself could learn about the current knowledge of Chimpanzee behaviour from such dumbed-down announcements that these volunteers give, but we stopped and listened for a few minutes anyway just to learn about the particular social group that lives at Whipsnade. During this talk there were several children running around screeching their faces off, kicking the fences upon which several people were leaning, and just generally making nuisances of themselves. The volunteer talking was quite noticably upset by this and so asked if anyone present knew who owned the sprogs. Cue woman. "Yeah, one of them's mine!" she said with an expression on her face whcih clearly indicated that she thought everyone present were only so much shit on her shoe. "Could you please try and control them," asked the put-upon speaker "as some of the adults here would like to hear about these Chimps." "No," came the reply "Zoos are for kids ain't they?!" Sigh... conservation... education... sigh... etc

  • If you can't FUCKING CONTROL THEM, then FUCKING KILL THEM. Ooh! Controversy!

  • Or take them away to calm down. Your choice.

  • Drax "Moonraker" had it partially right you know. And I'm not talking of the bastardised semi-Neitzschen superhuman part.

  • "There are too many people in the world, somebody needs to say that by the way" - Bill Hicks. God Bill, I miss you.

  • "Catch as catch can". I can't.

  • My fiancee plans my life out. Not in the good way, such as "I want to live there when we buy a house together" or "I want a wedding dress like that", no, I'm talking about the little things here. I normally love pedantry, especially if I can get justly frothed up with rage about things, but planning SIX WEEKS IN ADVANCE whether she wants to go to Burger King if we happen to go out that day takes pedantry into whole new meanings for me. She is so insistant of doing these types of things down to amazing levels such as which shops she wants to go into on a given day. And I'm expected to remember them! Sure enough, six weeks rolls by whereby everyday conversation between us involves complex plotting and planning on her part for every moment I'm awake and/or sentient. I use the word "sentient" justly, as most times I'm not sure whether I exist and my mind overflows with her concerns whether there might be a paving slab out of place which may cause a slight delay as she helps me up off the floor, that I'm just not self-aware most of the time. Sure enough we go shopping and I'm concentrating so hard on not falling over, curling into the foetal position and screaming in the street, that I happen to accidentally walk past a shop she'd planned on going in. An arm wrench and shoulder seperation later, I'm humbly trudging along behind her, head bowed, as she examines rack upon rack of clothes for stitching faults before the rigmarole of fitting rooms and exchanges and sizes and trying not to look at the underwear, while she regales me with "you KNEW I wanted to come in here, I've been telling you for weeks blah blah blah." Please help me. Please.

  • 2nd August 2002

  • "You are a useless vagabond. I have acrylic, creosote and turps - the triumvirate of manliness, and i douse all manner of things with all three. Compotars are for poofs and kwee-ahs, and you will do well to remember that."

  • Had a night of fitful semi-sleep in the week due to being forced to sleep earlier than usual by the missus. Huffing and general figiting soon elicited the cry of "what's wrong?". "War... Famine... Pestilence... Death" I responded. "*fuff* no, what's wrong with you?" she further enquired. "Pestilence." It was a quiet time.

  • "The best of the weather" is not equal to 85°. That is akin to hell.

  • Yet another "The Innerneh Is Evil" TV programmes on the other night, and sure enough the discussion came around to pornography. Sometimes I seriously wonder how many times these spurious claims of the damage caused to children's so-called morality can be attributed to the corrupting influence of the Innerneh porno world by these "experts". Especially when one of the claims are this daft (direct quote): "I'm a child alone at home, mom and dad are on holiday, oops they've left their credit card."

  • There is nothing more bowell-grippingly chilling than the four little words my fiancee conjures up on regular occasions: "We need to talk.."

  • 8th August 2002

  • I'm sorry, but there's no such thing as a "naughty" animal. It's just being an animal, stop imposing your stupid human morals on them.

  • Why is it necessary to use glue most commonly used to hold warships hulls in in one piece, to adhere two thin slivers of toilet paper together?

  • I think I may have the world's only molly-coddled venus flytrap. I actually walk around the house with a pair of tweezers catching flies for it to digest. It caught one on its own last night. I was so proud.

  • Quite a good proportion of lightning/thunder storm related deaths occur from people using the phone during such storms. Makes sense when a small amount of thought is applied to such circumstances that overhead phone lines are quite likely to be hit by lightning, thus carrying the electricity surge along the copper wires for miles. Since you have your ear next to the phone during calls, it's a simple step for the lightning to arc into your ear/brain. Great fun. During a storm a while ago (marsupial), my Mother proceeded to call my Grandmother (mammal) to discuss "what a big storm this is phweeeee!" Frantic "GET OFF THE PHONE!!!" type screams issued from my mouth, which resulted in "Oh well, I'd better go, Dale's going mad. *rolls eyes and tuts loudly*" Who's the irrational one here?

  • Now, if my burglar alarm went off during the night, I'd be cautiously walking down the stairs with some manner of weaponry in my hands, then I'd systematically search the lower floor of the house for what actually tripped it. I certainly wouldn't, ooh I don't know, stomp downstairs in a huff at being woken up, turn the alarm off and then return to bed not bothering to re-set it. Nope, not I the fool here.

  • The freezer in my house is overflowing with food. Seriously, I can't buy anything that I'm not going to eat the same day because there simply isn't room to store it. "Why don't you eat something from the freezer?" I hear the cries. Well, I would if I wasn't vegetarian, as our freezer is packed full of meat products. About the only thing in there that belongs to me are some onion rings and assorted peas and sweetcorn products. So packed out it is, that my parents actually bought another freezer to try and make some space. Sure enough, that one is now full and since it's one of those chest freezer types, things are buried at the bottom where no Man can get them.
    Why is this so? Well, my Mother tends to buy vast quantities of things that are on special offer at the supermarket. Not only that, but if you profess a mild liking for any particular product, the next time you open the freezer there'll be 15 million packets of the stuff. This then forces you to eat said product, exclusively, for several days. This then results in the joy of food being removed from your life, which rapidly descends into complete hatred of certain foodstuffs and overwhelming nausea when even thinking of eating it again. You then realise that there's still 14,999,980 packets of this food left in the freezer which will now be left for the cockroaches to discover when we've all blown each other up.
    This situation of over-stocked freezerhood came to a crisis point not long ago when I had to take a knife to the ice build-up in order to get the door closed. A clean-out was in order. Do you know what was found? I'll tell you (well, you wouldn't find out any other way would you?).... a pizza..... from 1993.

  • Did you know that my Mother used to be a classically trained dancer? Did you know she used to perform in major stage-acts and at venues around the midlands? Did you know that she went to elocution lessons to improve her voice and eradicate her accent to make her performances better? Well now you do. So if you meet her, don't be confused at her incredibly broad brummie accent, slouched posture and tendency to say "Pacific" instead of "Specific".

  • My sister is a nursery nurse and as such spends most days talking to and being around children. This results in all conversations with her degenerating into shouting contests because she's so condescending towards everybody. My Mother is a community care worker and as such spends most days around semi-deaf old people. This results in all conversations being conducted at high volume because she's so used to doing so. So theoretically, when I get home from work I should try to open up my girlfriend and tinker around with her insides before upgrading her BIOS. Well it's as good an excuse as any.

  • Just as I drift off to sleep at nights, I'm treated to one of nature's own treats. The sound of my Dad urinating into the toilet whilst the door is open. The magical sound of the urine hitting the toilet water, combined with the occasional sigh and sly squeaky fart is just.. so special.

  • In fact, quite a few of my childhood experiences revolve around toilet related matters. I used to go on holiday with my parents in a small-medium sized motor-home (basically a caravan with built-in engine) to camping sites around the British Isles. Well, Skegness mainly. It was a rickety old Bedford that was built in the early 1970s, but we kept it on the road until the mid-late nineties. As it was so old, it afforded little in the way of amenities and consisted of one large area in the rear of the van where all living/sleeping/cooking activities were carried out. Let me tell you something: There is no worse way to wake up in the mornings, than hearing the sound of your Mother's piss hitting the plastic insides of a chemical toilet stored in a cupboard under YOUR clothes. If you dare to open your eyes, you may see her squatting down in there, looking at you with a big grin on her face.

  • Nothing else spurs me onwards to mindless violence than watching my Dad drink a cup of tea. Irrational maybe, but there's just something about the way he takes a double gulp of the literally boiling hot water and then licks his lips with the smallest possible amount of his tongue. I just can't take my eyes off him while he's doing this each morning, with my face slowly flushing with rage. It's got so bad that even if I don't see him do it, I can hear him. It's a special lack-of-noise that occurs which brings the rage veins in my neck to bursting point. It's what I call the Tea Drinking Silence Syndrome.

  • Actually no, there is something worse than seeing him drink a cup of tea, watching him eat a traditional British Sunday lunch. The sights and sounds of him working a piece of gristle from the lump of beef he's just inserted into his mouth is bad enough, but when he slurps it out from between gritted teeth and leaves it half chewed on the side of his plate it makes me feel physically ill. It was partly this that turned me vegetarian. BUT not only does he do this but every mouthful, he also chews it for about a minute and breathes through his nose which whistles with every breath indicating some sort of hard blockage in the path of the air. It's got to such a point that I'll try and avoid eating and drinking around him as much as possible.

  • Hur hur hur. I still live with my parents. I must be one of those scrubs them thar TLC gurls sing aboot. Guess I'll never get close to one of them now. Wouldn't want to fuck a rotting corpse anyway.

  • Children (mainly toddlers) who walk in a stomping and teetering manner, arms out wide with one chubby fist clenched around some foodstuff, slapping their lips together with lashings of said foodstuff dribbling from their masticating faces.

  • 13th August 2002

  • I discovered whole new levels of idiocy on a recent trip to the supermarket. Upon examining a packet of peanuts I was greeted by "Warning: This product contains peanuts" written in small print on the rear of the packaging. The big lettering of "Peanuts" on the front sort of gave that one away.

  • To me, the worst thing in the world is the foam padding that's used to make sofas. Just thinking about the fucking stuff is making the hair stand up on the back of my neck and has caused my lips to receed over my gums. I would have to kill anyone who dared to rub their be-socked feet on a wad of this stuff in my presence.

  • Courtney Cox? Not lately, no.

  • Calling these chocolates Quality Street is a contradictory statement.

  • Whatever did we, as a society, do before the Innerneh was available as an excuse for bad parenting? Oh yes, it was television wasn't it..

  • Gotten.

  • Here we go again. The worst "chat" show I've seen so far has got to be Maury Povich. In particular, I saw an erm.. episode?... show?... whatever.. of it the other day which was simply a modern day freak show. Children with absolutely terrifying disabilities and physical abnormalties were showcased in traditional carny fashion one after the other. I especially enjoyed the slack-jawed drones sitting in the auidence oohing and aahing with mock compassion. There was a spectacular line that issued forth from Povich's face at one point during a heart-warming compassionate moment with a pair of conjoined twins, where he spewed "We want to keep these children alive for the rest of their lives."

  • "We're so compassionate in accepting these children without judgement, but just get that one to turn around so I can get a good look at its disfigured face please."

  • I suffer from an unfortunate condition. **Looks at the hoards of no-people waiting to aah in compassion at the mental freakshow they're about to witness**. Quite. Anyway, yes.. since I was a kiln (child... maybe) I've suffered from what can only be called night madness. It's not nightmares, not even night terrors, but it can be rather comical in retrospect. As a kiln, it simply meant my parents would get up in the night to go to the toilet, only to find me walking around the house wrapped in a quilt talking about bullets in some bread. Then it progressed to me screaming and clawing at windows in an attempt to get out. It happens most when I'm undergoing stressful periods of my life, a connection that my girlfriend has noticed since she's started staying over.
    Yes, she's now having to experience me in full mentler swing, tearing the bedclothes off and throwing them across the room screeching about snakes rearing up next to the bed or taking the curtains down for some unknown reason. In fact, she's so used to being woken up with me scrabbling around in the bed for the insects that I'm sure have just fell off the ceiling, that she's started to ignore me while I'm doing such things. But. The other night I woke up convinced that two spiders had fell into the bed and duly screeched out loud to alert her to their presence. "Shut up, go back to sleep" came the answer. And in a rare moment of lucidity in such situations I said, "No, I'm not going mad, two spiders really have just fallen into the bed." I was so convinced that this was true at that moment. She got up and turned the light on, and in that exact instant I realised that I was indeed going mad and it was all a semi-dream. However, it was too late to just suddenly say "Ah.. in fact..." and so forth, so I simply gave the bed a cursory rub and proclaimed that the spiders must have gone away. Satisfied, I rolled over and started to try and go back to sleep. But now my girlfriend is convinced that there're spiders in the bed and starts throwing the quilt aroun din an attempt to flush them out. This lasts five minutes. I have successfully passed my condition on to another host. I am truly sorry Helen. Please forgive me.

  • Nostalgia, huh? No better way to fool yourself into thinking things were better way back when and make TV programmes about it. I may have covered this before in a previous Bad Thing, but the Kids TV Top 100 on Channel 4 has a long reach and even now I'm still fuming about things contained within. I'm not going to re-tread tired ground, but one thing has suddenly come to mind. Low down in the 80s-90s of this chart resided Pokemon. I have to confess a huge liking for the programme, game and sundry materials connected to Pokemon and I FEEL NO SHAME. Hows about that then. Anyway, this was a chart of the people! Of the people, I say! But sure enough the assorted 'celebrities' had to condemn it as a work of Shitty McShit, stating in the main that it was "the worst animation I have ever seen." Fair enough, opinions etc, BUT.. occupying a space the upper echelons of this revered list of champions (20s-10s) was He-Man and The Masters of the Universe. Of course, this happened in, or at least close to, the childhood range of the 'celebrities' and praise was heaped upon its gravestone. "The animation was just great.. brilliant." I now invite you to visit Matt's excellent X-Entertainment site and find the downloadable He-Man episodes, and then to watch an episode of Pokemon. The difference between the two can be attributed to a gap of 15-20 years of non-viewing and Halcyon Eye Syndrome.

  • So, back to tales of my Mother.. I really do love and respect her you know, but she does some really dappy things. For instance, she came home one evening after a hard day of wiping soup off chins, with stories of how one of the old people in her care had had to call out the drain engineers to unblock the sewerage pipe. Upon success, the drain... erm... dhokta proclaimed that it was the fault of a certain recently released toilet paper and its tendency not to 'break up' and dissolve once flushed. "I'm never going to buy that bloody stuff again! Bleeding hell, I knew it weren't good for nothing!" came the strained cries of my Mother as she quite over-reacted to the situation. Three months later the bathroom is now stuffed floor to ceiling of this toilet paper because "it was on special weren't it."

  • Friday night is chipshop night in my household. Chipshop food, for non-British people, consists of large rectangular pieces of fried potato, accompanied by anything fried that can be fried. Anyway, Fridays have had this special connotation for We since I was an kiln, and were generally bought from the same shop every week until I was about 21 or so. The last two years of custom from this shop was dismal to say the least, as the 'food' was undercooked and literally quite dangerous to eat if you ordered a piece of chicken. However much I whinged the chips were bought from this shop. Two years ago I made a change and refused to eat the poison and bought mine from a different shop about two miles further up the road. It was like heaven! Actually tasty and delicious food from a shop that's won regional and national awards for quality! My parents relented and started buying the Friday meal from this shop.
    Two years of happiness followed, smiling at each other whilst eating followed by a quick frisk around the garden which bloomed with flowers, rabbits scampering around and blue tits tweeting in the trees. Last week we had one bad meal from this shop. Doors slammed, grids rattled down over the windows, the garden was bulldozed and the birds shot. Metaphorically, at least. To my parents now ALL CHIPS ARE BAD FROM EVERYWHERE. NOWHERE IS GOOD. One bad meal = all meals will now be bad and we'll never buy from that place again! And they put up with the last place for years!

  • Whilst shopping for some New Type Booze the other night, I happened upon the quite delicious Red Square Wolfberry. Baby Booze I know, but enjoyable none the less. Upon seeing this bottle when unpacking, my Mother remarked that these berry names must be made up because she'd never heard of them before. "There're quite a lot of things you've never heard of Mother, and these things exist. Like pulsars, RISC processors and quantum physics." Cue hysterical laughter from her accompanied with cries of "Quantum physics! Don't be so daft! *shakes head with eyes tightly closed and pounds thigh*"

  • Wolfberry (Lycium barbarum): A deciduous shrub (Symphoricarpos occidentalis) of western North America, having white berries and pinkish bell-shaped flowers.

  • A package arrived the other day. I was looking forward to this one for quite some time as it contained the sixth and final volume of Katsuhiro Otomo's masterpiece "Akira". I opened it with delight etched on my face and settled down to read in the lounge. "Reading kiddy comics again are you?" came the derisory remark from my Mother perched in the corner behind her copy of The Sun. I don't have to say any more.

  • I ran out of CDRs in the week and had to venture Out, no less, to purchase more. My favourite venue for such transactions is the local computer shop called Chaos Computers (in Chase Terrace if anyone from near Here is reading). It was quite the most distressing transaction I've ever had to make. From the start the usual gaunt, depressed looking individual who normally serves in there was not. In there. Instead there was a gentleman of the older variety. Nowt against that in my mind, let me assure you, but somehow I got the feeling he was trying to be just a little bit too jovial. I placed my CDR pack on the desk and he rang them up on the till while mumbling incomprehensibly about God Knows What. It was impossible to make out even the gist of most of what he was saying to me, apart from the occasional isolated word or two. mumblemumblemumblemumblemumblemumble Busy mumblemumblemumblemumblemumblemumble etc and so forth. Five minutes later I was still standing there smiling, nodding, occasionally laughing and saying "Yes? Really?" in a polite manner. In this time I'd managed to fathom what he was trying to say to me about the shop being rather busy of late and him having to work up to seven days a week in there to cope with the demand. Furthermore, he said he'd had his first day off in two weeks just the other day and his wife had suggested he cut the hedge, on his only day off no less. His next utterance will go with my to my grave. "And they wonder why they get stabbed in the night!" My smile freezes and starts to crack.

  • "[quite famous burger shop]: compensation for being six". That's great! Heap your brain washing filth onto the television! EAT BURGERS KIDS! YOU LOVE THEM! Always remember: burgers are good. Children must like burgers.

  • 16th August 2002

  • HOW CAN MISS HUBBARD BE ON EVERY FUCKING SCREEN?!?! IS THIS THE VILLAGE OF THE CLONES?!?!? I personally don't think it's fair that I'm docked fifty points every time I run her over either. I mean, she rides in the middle of the road how the cunting fuck am I supposed to avoid her? Everytime I deliver a parcel to her door she asks me to fetch her drugs, and then I see her riding her FUCKING BIKE around the village on my way to the doctor's surgery. She's a lazy drug addict with a deathwish as she rides UNDER THE WHEELS OF MY VAN even when it's stationary.

  • One would be tempted to say that if a car insurance company was set up for the exclusive use of men, there would be public outrage and marching in the street.

  • Nothing says "scutty" more to me than turquoise leggings. In fact, the colour turquoise full stop. I'm so used to seeing primitives dragging their knuckles around Walsall in turquoise clothes, riddled with scabies and sporting various brown stains.

  • "Hello! It's only me! You've not answered so I'll phone back later!" said my Mother on the answering service of my mobile phone. Cost me 15p to listen to that.

  • I love stationery. Cue cries of "NERRRRRRRRRD!" Post-it notes especially make me feel funny in my tummy.

  • What the flying fuck is that loud beeping noise in Burger King shops? I've spent an entire meal sitting there being deafened by that frigging noise.

  • I was in a clothes shop in Merry Hill Shopping Centre today, happily (ok, begrudgingly) trailing along behind my fiancee as she examined the goods for sale. Stopping next to the sale section she held up various garments to see if they looked alright on her and to gather my opinion, whereupon I felt a sharp pain in my ankle. Turning around I was confronted by a woman pushing a child in one of those three-wheeled pram things. I assumed she was trying to get past me to the rear of the store but lacking the usual social graces of asking me to move, she'd instead viciously rammed me with the pram. Being a generally nice person in real life, I took a step back to allow her to pass between me and my girlfriend. She took this opportunity to do so, but instead of continuing on past the missus and I (who were still looking at these clothes, I remind you), she stopped right inbetween us and started rummaging through the racks of clothes herself.

  • Just because you've managed to push a mewling sprog out from between your drooping labia, it does not give you the right to mow me down from behind with your irritating sprogmobiles.

  • And it doesn't instantly make you more important than anyone else in the world either. "But, but, I've got a child to raise now, I've got to live for my precious baby!" Oh shut the fuck up, so did that cow you ate for dinner last night but I don't see many people weeping for that poor thing.

  • Wherever a Karaoke/Singing Contest is being held, the law of the land insists that someone must murder "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston. Delusions of grandeur.

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