Finally me and Justin Bieber have something
in common that’s not just the animalistic sexual magnetism that attracts females
to us. No we both want to see him in space! Granted I want him strapped to the
front of an X-Wing fighter charging into battle against a Death Star and he
wants to put on a performance. But it’s a start.

 I firmly believe that the worlds governments need to get behind this idea of Bieber’s and work out a way to get him into space. They should then spend double and keep the cunt up there. 
 
Sending Bieber into space really could be the opportunity we need to extend an olive branch out to Iran. They’ve just sent a monkey into space proving they would be more than capable of training Bieber not to open a window whilst orbiting the Earth. We could offer to help with Iran’s internal problems (like needing to enrich uranium we could help them do that right?) and in exchange they could take Bieber into space for us. 
 
Now I’m not saying that the Iranian astronauts sent with him should spend the journey beating him mercilessly with heavy golden copies of the Koran. However that would be a start. Nor do I expect his broken, bleeding body to be pushed into an airlock. His bloody tired hands banging on the pane of reinforced glass as the countdown to the door opening draws to a climatic end. And there is nothing that would sadden me more than looking up at a certain point in the night sky just in time to see a new shooting star being born. 

As his body hits terminal velocity his skin will ignite and his innards will boil forcing all his organs out through his orifices. He will only be visible for a brief moment burning brightly but ultimately fruitlessly as his body can only sustain the light for so long.

Which is weirdly enough a good metaphoric description of how his career will end

I make a lot of bad decisions; like that one time I had no lube and thought Deep Heat was a substitute. That was a bad decision. I couldn’t piss straight for two months. I tend to follow my heart into situations that I would be far better avoiding but I can’t because I’m a passionate person. If I believe I am right I will pursue that course of action until I am proven wrong. Which is most of the time.

In the past eight months I have made a large number of cock-ups and normally I can look back at my decisions and laugh at my own stupidity but not this time. Normally when I make a bad decision it’s because I’ve not done my research or I allow my ego to write checks that my body can’t catch. But I did this cock up by doing the right thing, if I’d have lied, cheated and deceived like I normally do I might have won this round in life. I allowed morality to creep in, that shall never happen again.

In essence I’ve done things that most normal people would regret doing but I just can’t because that is what my life is about. Stumbling from one insane incident to another like an out of control truck sliding down the road just waiting for my engine to catch fire.

My life has never been about what I’ve got but what I’ve missed out on and most of the stuff I’ve missed out on I couldn’t give a flying fuck about. I gave a fuck about one thing and I got burnt, severely it was like the Christmas turkey at my mum’s house. Nothing left but a charred burnt out husk.

Luckily as a“creative person” (read lazy pratt) I should be able to turn this wellspring of outpouring raw emotion into a meaningful piece of work. Out of my misery, grief and sadness I should be able to craft a piece of work that eclipses all my others in a fireball of emotional resonance. Like a triumphant phoenix I shall rise from the ashes of my mistake and soar like a mother fucking eagle (I am well aware I just said I was a Phoenix I just got carried away with similes).


Or I can do what I normally do: Get drunk and write jokes about drinking De-Icer. 

So today passed by and I got a year older, but not much wiser as I’m still convinced that one day Arsene Wenger will ring me and I’ll get to play for my beloved Arsenal. He’s got my number, I know he has as I’ve posted it under his door countless times. I’m now 26 years old (although I do look much older) which in MTV years makes me ancient and about as up to speed with modern pop culture as a coma patient.


I’m genuinely surprised that I made 26 as I honestly thought I would be dead at 25 from a combination of falling and concealed mineshafts. I had a quick look back over the last 25 years of my life and as I enter my peak years I’ve got to say I think I’ve done quite well. For someone who has the airs and graces of a pig in shit and the hand eye co-ordination of a blind shark.

What have I done I hear you ask, well I’ve grown a kick ass beard that Rasputin would be proud of. I’ve also managed to finally curb my temper. No longer do I sit on the bus fingers digging into my skull wishing for the voices to stop telling me to murder the teenager smoking at the back. I used to want to smash his head repeatedly against the window panes until all I was holding was a damp, bloodied collar. Now I just turn my own music up and console myself with the fact that his sperm count will be low enough (due to repeated glue abuse) that he won’t be able to have children.

I also managed to start putting my “work”out there for everyone to read, comment on and abuse. It was the single scariest thing I’ve ever done and I would like to say thank you to whoever takes time out of their busy internet schedule of watching dog fight videos to look at this site. 

And remember I’ve not always done selfish things throughout my life, I’ve donated gallons of blood to donor programs during my time on this ball of dirt. All right it wasn’t normally my blood but the nurses don't know that do they?


 

Iran has sent a monkey into space! Now before you get too excited no it wasn’t one of the Mullahs this batshit insane country has decided to call leaders, but an actual monkey. It was argued that it would be quicker to train the monkey as it wouldn’t spend it’s training telling people how evil the West was. Apparently we all murder babies or something. 
 
Also it wouldn’t have the desperate need to pray seven times while they were up in the rocket.

 The monkey, who refused to be interviewed after the launch, was said to be in a fit and well state despite essentially travelling in a toilet roll holder held together with faith to the edge of space. 

The rocket got seventy miles into the sky which is quite an achievement considering most things above head height are shot down in the Middle East.

Now please don't misunderstand me here, because I love the idea of space ships and monkeys piloting spaceships in intergalactic wars that they didn’t start but are dammed sure their going to finish. I just don't think Iran should be trying to build one. I think that only countries that have a high literacy rate, well fed and watered population and where they don't all own a fucking firearm (yes that means you as well America!) should be building space craft

Here’s my real question: What is it’s objective? To take Shira law to the moon? Or maybe they want to put a satellite up there so they can spy on the US? Good idea until the Americans hear of it because the second they do all their going to see is grainy pictures of men’s arses.

With all the fury surrounding the fact that
there may be horse meat in some burgers it got me thinking. Not about horse meat in burgers because quite frankly I couldn’t give a shit. I’ll eat anything that once possessed a face and I’ll enjoy it. If someone put a plate of Panda cubs stuffed with bald eagle in front of me, my only question would be “where’s the hot sauce”?

And I foolishly thought that as a country of “meat eaters” we would collectively shrug our shoulders say “fuck it” and go back to "Tweeting" about the downfall of childrens conversational skills. I was wrong. The outpouring of outrage was phenomenal, I mean we don't make that much of a fuss when we see the massacre of a hundred school kids in Mali, but stick the looser of the 3:15 at Kempton on our BBQs and we go fucking mental.

 It was almost as if every vegan in the country suddenly sat up and went “yes! Do you see what happens when you eat animals? You eat other animals! Destroy all those burgers, destroy all the burgers!”

If vegans had their way all we’d eat would be handfuls of moss and lichen and Hampshire would have to be renamed. “Quornshire”? I don't know I’m unsure how vegans minds work. I used to live with one who told me he couldn’t drink certain types of beer because it had fish in it. That would explain why Kronenbourg tastes like sweaty vagina.

 Now I get that people were upset that the burgers hadn’t said on them “may contain traces of Red Rum” but so what? Surely you should be able to guess that “economy beef burgers” are going to contain at least 50% grit and the rest of it is going to be the dregs they’ve managed to chisel off the slicing blades. Just be fucking greatful that there's any meat in them at all.

And to answer the question on the very tip of your tongue right now, yes. I would eat the last of a species hell I’d even eat the last human if I could work out a way to put him on a pizza.


 
 

I just read this article http://msn.careerbuilder.co.uk/Article/MSN-378-Workplace-Issues-Seven-career-mistakes-you-need-to-stop-making/?lr=int_ukmsn&SiteId=int_ukmsn_a378&sc_extcmp=int_ukmsn_a378 
 on MSN news thinking it would give me an insight into why I (like so many others) are overlooked for promotion. It didn’t. In fact all the article did was convince me that all MSN news articles are written by a hamster plodding back and forth across a keyboard. None of the reasons given were the reasons why I haven’t achieved a promotion, in fact if I’d done a couple of them I’m pretty sure I would have gotten one; I decided that the article was as fucking useful as a stoner on the Krypton Factor. So once again I take it upon my broad shoulders (strong and powerful like an ancient Norse God) and tell you the truth These are the six real reasons why you’re not getting promoted.

1.  You Smell:   There’s no easy way to tell you this but you reek. Whether it’s of horse manure or just plain old sex stank you stink and this could be holding you back. Because do you know what else smells? Failure.

2. Stealing Work Supplies:  I know you don't think that your boss knows that you steal toilet rolls from the ladies room. But trust me she knows because several times she has been caught “mid push” turned and discovered the toilet roll holder to be empty.

3. Your Religious Views:   Yes I know people aren’t meant to discriminate on religion but come on your a Scientologist. 

4.  Your Drink Problem:   No one minds you having a drink. Hell you can even get away with a couple of pints at lunchtime. But since you started drinking direct from the alcohol hand gel dispensers in the bathroom the management no longer think you’re a suitable candidate for a supervisors role.

5.  Breaking Wind in Meetings:    We know everyone does it but the one you released in the financial accounts meeting last week was like a mustard gas attack. You could chew it, it had texture and reminded me of my granddads Christmas dinner at his old people’s home.

6.  No Money:   The main reason why you will not be promoted is because there’s no money. We want you to do a job with more responsibility, way beyond your capabilities and without any training in half the time. Also we want you to do it for less money than the manager we just gave a nice fat pay off to.

Sadly no matter what field you work in this last one is probably the NO1 if not the only reason as to why you’re fucked in your race for promotion. 

A friend of mine died on Sunday, it was a car crash, I didn’t see it but I can’t imagine that it would have been pretty. It’s not the nicest way to go and not the way he would have chosen I know, he told me. He said he always wanted to die on stage. I told him that I’ve done that several times and it’s not fun. 

Rob was the only person I knew who had more of a natural distrust of people than I do. The sort of bloke if he got his milk delivered to his front door would measure out how much he had in each bottle to make sure he wasn’t been scammed. One of the best things about him was that he flat out refused to get himself a Facebook profile because, his words, “Facebook is a fucking paedophiles shopping centre”. 

I often wondered if he was worried about being chatted up by one, he needn’t have been. He was ugly as sin.

Despite this I do hope someone sets up a Facebook tribute page for him as it would piss him the fuck off, which was my only goal whenever we met up.

A better guitarist than I am a human being, he could have quite easily made it as a music professional but was more than content to teach the next generation of Eddie Van Halen’s. Although I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like to be a student of a man I never saw without a pint of Tetley’s in his hand.

He was a constant source of encouragement for me doing my comedy work, in fact on several occasions he said “I don't know why you bother writing anything at all. Look at your face.” I took this as a compliment at the time but now looking back on it I think he might have been behaving like a bit of an asshole there.

Although we hadn’t seen each other for the best part of a year we remained in contact as much as possible. Not through soppy letters of devotion to one another (he never wrote back) or talking on the phone or even via text (“Text messages are the best way for your girlfriend to keep an eye on you”). However every time he saw a picture of Rasputin I know he thought of me and likewise whenever I let out a very satisfying belch I think of Rob. 

You were a dude, a pain, a borderline racist, a constant source of amusement, a blood donor, a football hater  Nirvana lover but above all a friend. You’ll be missed mate, get the beers in! But I bet you don't you tight fisted bugger!

Rest in Peace mate, the planets a little bit shitter without you.


 

When looking for a holiday there’s always a list of places that you don't want to visit. Afghanistan, Iraq and Skegness to name but a few, however over the last few months one country has shot to the top of everyone’s list like a cat with a firework up its arse. Syria.

I’m sure that when the entire country isn’t trying to blow itself up that it’s a fairly pleasant area to visit. What with its dictatorship, immense poverty and (seemingly) a AK-47 on every street corner. However going there at the moment would be as smart as sticking your testicles in a mincer. For those of you without testicles this is never a good idea.

That brings me round to the big question that politicians have been asking about Syria. “What do we do about Syria?” My answer? “Turn the fucking TV off and let them deal with it”. We haven’t exactly endeared ourselves to the Arab world with our participation in the Iraq conflict, so what makes us think we’ll do any better in Syria?

When I hear Cameron suggesting that we may arm the Syrian rebels, I despair I really do. There are several factions fighting to out Assad and few of them like the other factions enough to stop fighting when Assad is defeated. Cameron suggested that he wanted to “arm the rebels to end the bloodshed”.  If he what he means by “end” is “speed up the killing of Assad’s troops” then yeah that makes sense. When has handing over weapons ever put an end to bloodshed?

Dave has always said that the UK wouldn’t give weapons away freely. Of course not Dave we didn’t think that for a moment. We know we’ll make dirt poor people pay for pistols rather than clean water.

Please let’s be honest here as well, if we (The UK) hand over 20’000 assault rifles and ammunition to Arab freedom fighters. How many of those weapons will be firing at our soldiers in Afghanistan by the end of the year? 

For all the talk of putting boots on the ground as well makes us sound like a fat kid in the dinner hall. We couldn’t finish Afghanistan but we can’t wait to take a big satisfying bite out of Syria. 

I wonder if the Arab League (not a team of evil fighting, headscarf wearing
superheroes, I checked) will do anything about it? Doubtful as a Western led intervention would strengthen many of their own members grip of fear over their prospective countries.

A worrying new trend is sweeping the country. Apparently 28% of people have admitted to sleeping with someone further up the company ladder to further their career ambitions. I am at the bottom of the pharmacy pile, essentially I am a pharmacy monkey doing the menial tasks without complaint nor enthusiasm. So I thought maybe this would be a good idea for me to put into motion. However considering the new “Dispensary Robot” is technically my superior (and mechanical God) this could
get awkward.

Although I, like many teenagers growing up and watching Blade Runner for the first time, have fantasised about sleeping with a robot a number of concerns now have to be raised. For a start how do I get a robot drunk enough to sleep with me? WD40? Anti freeze? I mean it’s already full of drugs so there’s no point in pumping it full of them. What am I to do?

Another pertinent question is timing. Most of the day the robot is surrounded by priests (technicians and assistants) and very few are allowed to interface with it’s...face sort of speak. Most of us most sit patiently near one of it’s teets waiting to be suckled on the medicine
it dispenses. So when would be the opportune moment to make my move?

Very few people are allowed “inside” the robot. I’m not sure if the robot get’s to choose who may enter “her” and who may not. But like most women (and female looking devices) I am not on the “guest list”. 

Maybe I should try and romance it, you know take it to see a shitty “chick flick” film. Like Judge Dredd or take it on a romantic meal to Bob Carvers (I’ll admit I’m a little out of touch with romance). On the other hand I could forget all about fucking a robot to improve my job prospects and just knuckle down and be the best dam Pharmacy Assistant I can be!

Nah fuck that it sounds way too much like hard work.


    

Please don't get me wrong here, I LIKE HULL FAIR. I want to make that perfectly clear because saying you don't like Hull Fair to some people can instigate the same hostile reaction as admitting your gay in Iran. I just finished walking round it (Hull fair not Iran) and though it was fun I didn’t get the same flood of feel-good-Hull-Fair-Ness that I should do. 

I don't do the rides because once you’ve taken LSD on one you never have a desire to get back on. To this day I can’t walk past the Waltzers with sailing ships as cars (if you’ve been you’ll know which one) without thinking I’m getting wet. What I do have a go on is the shooting games. Unfortunately due to the fact that“Carnival Folk” can no longer be trusted with weapons these no longer exist.

I don't understand Hull, because for fifty-one weeks of the year we fucking hate gypsies, but for one short week in October we love them more that a fat kid loves cake. I just want to know where we stand on this. Do we hate all gypsies unless their manning a hook a duck stall? 

A lot of people I speak to say that they “only go for the food” and judging by the size of some of them that is the pnly reason they go anywhere.

If a large amount of people go for the food it stands to reason that it’s for food that you wouldn’t normally be able to get in Hull. So why is the biggest queue not outside the liquorice stall, the Mexican fajita place or the candyfloss shop but outside Bob fucking Carvers! For those of you who don't know Bob Carvers is a fish and chip restaurant in Hull town centre. Something that people in Hull can get everyday if they so wish, these
same people then decide to go to Hull fair for “the food” and buy their everyday fish and chips for twice the price.

I think the reason I picked up on all of this, this year was because a lad I was with at the “Fair” with pointed a bloke out to me. This bloke looked high as a kite but so happy with what was going on. He looked content. And that’s what I missed, the contentment from when I was a child just to be happy with some flashing lights and a go on the dodgems. That
or he reminded me this was the first time I was doing “Fair” completely sober and that scared me shitless. I think I’m growing up.