I bumped into myself at the weekend and I had a good chat. Cleared up a few things.

CRUNCH BOY #3 Oiks

Dear Chrissy-Chrissy Nice Face,

I have a problem.
Well, six problems to be exact. A gaggle of noisy teenagers have been gathering outside my house for about a week now. They spent most of their time spitting, snarling and swearing. I can't see their faces because they wear hoods.
They are like six sports-wearing Grim Reapers, frightening the old folk that live in my street and helping to distract me from my various projects. I have decided that action must be taken, if not for me then for the poor old dears too scared to leave their dwellings. Once again, it's down to Crunch Boy to right the wrongs and protect the innocent.My first plan of action was to dig out my old 'Oik Harpoon'.
It's a long thin rod that is good for poking and spearing foes. I put it all together and fed it through my letter box. I gave one of the trolls a good, hard prod. He didn't know what to do. I managed to pierce his tracksuit top much to his chagrin. He didn't know what hit him! Once again, Crunch Boy was way too quick to be caught. I was tempted to do it again. Perhaps I could draw blood. I decided not too....how do you stop from there?
They moved away from the corner. The wounded and confused oik limped off with his pack and I chuckled the sweet chuckle of victory.
It was almost too easy. I didn't have to go to Plan B! You can rest a little easier now, old gimmers, Crunch Boy has saved the day.

CRUNCH BOY 1 LOUTS 0

If they come back tommorow I will use the 'Spanner Cannon' or perhaps utilise the 'Shock-a-dile' I'm seeing my good friend Soft Dennis tommorow. A chance to wag chin with an old and amusing friend.

I'm sure he will love my story as much as you have.

With highest regards,

Crunch Boy

CRUNCH BOY #2: Films

Hello, Christopher.

I was in the video shop today.
I was looking for a movie I hadn't seen. It was very difficult as I have seen a lot of films and I have a lot of time on my hands.
I came across two potential rents, Samuel Bannister's mild-mannered drama 'Unpeeled Onions' and Billy Wiener's zombie musical 'The Chuckling Dead'. It took me a long time to decide on a winner. I weighed up each films pros and cons. 'Unpeeled Onions' had a promise of 'soft focus photography' and 'powerful emotional speeches' whilst 'The Chuckling Dead' promised 'massive terror' and 'creaky furniture'.
It was a tough decision, one I'm not fully equipped to handle. Both films had me on the rails, but I could only rent one. I stared at the boxes and re-read the blurbs countless times. I realised I'd been standing there a while when a young man approached me and asked if I needed any help. I shook my head. He walked away.
He returned about an hour later. He seemed a bit agitated. He suggested that I make my choice before the store closed. He also suggested that I put my trousers back on. He wasn't aware that it was part of the decision making process. He was a bit annoyed by this point so I did as he asked. I closed both of my eyes and threw both cases into the air as I thought that might help. 'The Chuckling Dead' hit the man right on the forehead. I had a winner.
I asked Lawrence to come round and watch it with me. He brought popcorn and panda pop. We had a great time. I'm glad I called him.
The film itself was interesting and was everything that it said it would be. I praised myself on such a wise decision as I walked Lawrence to his tree.

Hope the rash has cleared up.

Your friend ,

Crunch Boy

CRUNCH BOY #1: Love and Owls

For those of you that don't know/care (Delete as applicable) I used to have a stalker. He went by the name 'Crunch Boy'. He used to leave random notes in the comments sections and send me strange emails. I present to you, un-edited, the first of many of his letters for your amusement/bemusement.


Hello Friend!

Today Crunch Boy attempted to better understand the opposite gender in greater detail. Long have I avoided full contact with women in an effort to concentrate on my inner being.
I have found that women can be very distracting and such hard work, rather like an arduous job you can't clock off from.
It is with grave disinclination that I enter the proverbial fray again. I have been moved to do this by the unexpected arrival of a not-man of supreme and unbelievable splendor. She is near perfection in her appearance.
She is truly a work of living art. Crunch Boy does not usually go ga-ga over ladies but I cannot help it. I have the strongest urge to lick her and feed her weetabix. I want to dance with her under the light of a full moon.
My intentions and desires are part romantic and part disgusting. Truly, she has charmed me.
Her name is Lauren and she works in the office building opposite to the building in which I dwell. I see her almost everyday. She too's and fro's a lot, driven by an agenda that I couldn't possibly understand.
She was kind enough to offer me a smile a few days ago and I was happy to recieve such a gift. I wanted to speak but I couldn't find the words. The only word that came to my cowardly mind was 'Cabinet'. This served no real purpose and would only have served to hinder my chances of courtship. I dream of one day bleating out vast and beautiful poetry to her and making her giddy with a sweet soliloquy. I wonder if she would understand me, the inner Crunch Boy. I pray she would but if she is like all the others, I fear she will grow to look at me with confusion and fear before running away.
No one really understands me or my hatred of birds, stew and dogs that dress in victorian attire. I think that I have little or no chance with a woman like Lauren. Perhaps unrequited love is better. I have had many relationships like this in the past. After all, she may not be the angel I imagine her to be. She maybe the exact opposite. She may own a bird house and have an addiction to stew. She could be a monster under that milky soft skin.
Love certainly is a gamble.
A gamble I am not willing to take.
She probably has a boyfriend anyway. A handsome man who drives a handsome car. A man who can make her produce the noises woman make when they are happy. It's probably best not to dwell on this too much. I don't want my eyes to start sweating again.In other, more exciting news, I saw an owl today. I like owls. Owls are like better version of birds. I have decided to call him Lawrence although he looks more like a Stanley. I'm going to talk to him about Lauren. I'm sure he will know what to do.
Owls are supposed to be wise.
They are also said be fantastic at cooking pasta and solving tricky crosswords. Lawrence may prove to be soul mate I've been seeking for some time. In retrospect, perhaps I am not ready to indulge in a romantic relationship.
Not yet, anyway. I shall bide my time and do my research so that I am truly prepared.
I will let you know how it goes in my next electronic letter.

Love

Crunch Boy

The Weather Man

There is an old man who sits alone in a cold, empty temple in an unknown location. His age is a mystery but he's been knocking on for some years.

Some say he's been alive since time began.
Some say he is immortal.
Some people say some pretty silly shit.

This old man's job is simple. He can predict the weather. Everyday, he is approached by a group of men in suits and asked for his weather forecasts so that they may inform the world via the media.

"For Wednesday I predict........cold, very cold and cloudy with the hint of frost"

"What about Thursday?"

"Thursday will be gripped with sheets of water that cascade down onto the land..."

"Rain, then"

"Aye, rain"

"Will it clear up?"

"Yes, at the hour of 5pm"


He then sleeps a blissful slumber, safe in the knowledge that the world is prepared for the day. They know wether or not to pack a brolly or wear a coat.
He predicts the weather for the entire world.

He recieves no money for his service.

All he asks for is a kiss on his wrinkled forehead from a girl of 'virtue true'.
Not a lot of people know about the old man and to him it matters not.

Most people are lead to believe that the weather is predicted using satellites and computers. This upsets the old man but he ploughs on with his just cause, forever and always.

P.S It's going to fucking piss it down tomorrow by all accounts.

The Story of My Love

I remember it well. It was the long, cold winter of 1921. I was a young man then, full of verve and vigour. I had a top hat. I was working for my Father Jed Bate as a trainee accountant and I was earning a whopping £500 a year (Which would be about 1.5 Billion in today’s money). I was on top of the world and I thought my life was complete. That was until she waltzed into it. The woman that would set my meagre heart on fire (Not literally) and turn my world upset down (Metaphorically)
I met her at a social function. It was Terrance Spearmint's retirement. His decision to step down shocked the business world into wild spasms of astonishment. He was a sprightly 41 and he still had a lot of accounting left in him. A lot of people felt that he had lost his skills and was slowing down but I knew different. A man like Terrance was incapable of slowing down. If you cut him he would bleed business knowledge. Personally, I respected his choice. He had made his money and now he wanted to gorge on the fruits of his labour. I hoped I might have a similar future. To be honest, accounting is fucking boring.
So there I was mingling with the social elite, exchanging witty banter with various strangers. I was having a relatively good time. It wasn't as fun as Timothy Shallows' birthday. That had a naked chorus line and amusingly shaped fruit. Still, it was better than being stuck in the house on my lonesome. I was chatting to Paul Settle of Settle and Settler’s Paperwork’s when I saw her by the piano.
She was the epitome of beauty. I'd never seen anything like her. I was so taken aback that I almost dropped my glass of port down my new shirt which has only happened once before and that was at Daniel Lowenparp's wedding. (The best man made an amusing speech which contained the unforgettable sentence "...Then he rimmed me in front of the entire congregation and we had a bit of cake.".) I couldn't stop looking at her. Even the appearance of the stripper could not steer me away from her. I knew I had to go over but my legs would not move. I was frozen on the spot. A mixture of fear, excitement and mild indigestion seized me. I shook it off and walked over to her. I was determined that this glorious angel would be my love receptacle.
She smiled at me. My words had become lodged in my throat. I almost gagged on 'Hello'. Eventually, it surfaced but, after such a terrible introduction, I feared that I wouldn't be able to conduct myself in a gentlemanly manner. She spoke in a voice that was soft and delicate. I spoke too fast, too loud and my sentences kept cutting off. My words seemed to dribble from my mouth and collect on the plush, expensive carpet. I was a wreck. She was kind enough to be an audience to my confusing and disturbing behaviour. She smiled sweetly as I rambled on about 'different types of wasps'. I couldn't seem to hold it together and I didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. She stayed with me for a good ten minutes before she said that it was "nice to meet me" and that she "really had to be standing elsewhere". I felt something die inside me as she walked away. I bowed my head and walked back to the bar. In the corner of my eye I saw Gregory Spank from Wordsworth and Wordsworth dancing with her. I coughed up a word and it landed in my freshly poured glass of whiskey.
I picked it out with my fingers and held it up to the light.
"Bollocks"

"And the award for best actor goes to....."

I had my appraisal at work today. I managed to spin a thick web of bullshit so fine that even I began to believe it.
It was either that or be completely honest with my boss:

"I spend most of my time doodling, writing down story ideas and blogging to save both my soul and my sanity from being taken by this infernal company"

This probably have resulted in my objectives for the rest of the year to be 'Fuck. Off'. As much as I hate my job. I need the money and I can fake it as long as they willing to pay me.
Now they think I'm a premier worker and a rising talent...but we all know different, don't we? Plus, they have given me a raise. Bonus!

Hello/OK?

Celebrity Gossip magazines really grieve me. I know a girl who buys them by the truck load and reads out what she thinks is an interesting article ("Madonna's had a new tree in her back garden. It's a designer one that blossoms expensive ear-rings").
I had a gander at Hello/OK/Scoop or whatever it was and scanned article after article of pointless, inane garbage.
Why do we have a fascination with the day to day lives of those richer than us?
I can understand rock biographies and those interested in people that create but these mags are just baffling.

"Brad Pitt spotted whistling"
"Justin Timberlake has a meal just like a normal person"
"Britney walks past butchers"
"50 Cent buys a pair of shoes"


WHO CARES?!

The one that got to me the most was a story on Jade Goody's new boyfriend. Jade, for those of you who have the joy of having never heard/seen her, is an ex-Big Brother contestant from a few years ago. Somehow she has managed to stay 'famous' by doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! Who care's if she has a new boyfriend? What possible use is that information to anyone?
What next?

FRONT COVER:

"(INSERT 'CELEBRITY') completes Streetfighter 2 on the HARDEST setting: See inside for 56 pages of pictures"

"I've got a new shed- Tom Cruise shows us where he hangs his shears and keeps his hammers."

"I fucked someone this weekend and I have no intention of calling them - Robbie Williams"


Rubbish.

7 Gays a Week, 365 Gays a Year.

I'm going to invent a new sexual orientation. I don't know how I'm going to go about this as it would appear that most of the bases have been covered.
I've have thought of one possible sub-division.

What about 'Tuesgay'.
"Mom, Dad. I'm Tuesgay. I have interactions with men every Tuesday" Curious, liberated people could pick a day they could have a bit of homo on with no guilt attached.
I'd opt for Frigay. I'm sure a lot of people would. More choice all round. Plus, I have too much on in the week.
Sungay would be a day of rest and reflection. Perhaps this day could be reserved for Priests.

Bank Holiday Mongay is a free-for-all. A bonus day.

Your thoughts?

MI-A-HEEEE!

My good friend Tom just sent me this rather amusing piece of footage.

Enjoy

http://www.orapois.com/mostrar_video.php?idpiada=14635&cat=Vídeos&t=1&tit=op

Chuck (Is Dead)

A little sketch/script I cooked up during a long and tedious day at work. My friend Blair said something like "If you died in this office no one would notice" so I scribbled this little short in just under ten minutes. It's not fantastic but I thought I'd share it none the less.

V.O CHUCK
My name is Chuck Evans and I’m not feeling myself.



OPEN:



INT-OFFICE-DAY


We move through a busy British office. Where people of all ages, races and sizes are joined together in a unison of clerical harmony.
We weave through the rows of busy workers until we arrive at the desk of our unusual narrator and protagonist, Chuck Evans.
Chuck Evans truly isn’t himself in fact, Chuck is dead.
His limp, lifeless body is sat almost upright in his seat. His computer is on. No one seems to have noticed the pale corpse at the computer.
A cheerful young man (DARREN) wheels his chair over to Chuck.


DARREN
Hey, Chuck mate! Did you catch the football? It was a total washout, man. I don’t know what they were playing at! It was an absolute shambles. There was no team play. They all need shooting out of a cannon. What did you get up to? Did you head to Boom-Boom’s? I was going to go up but I was too pissed off about the game plus, I was very drunk. I drowned my sorrows in ‘The Slag’s Head’. Not the best weekend. Oh, that reminds me, it’s Steve House’s birthday next Saturday. He told me to ask you if you wanted to come. Be great if you could come and mix things up a bit. Let us know, man. It should be pretty wild.

Darren wheels back over to his desk.

There is a long beat. People type, phones ring and people chat amongst themselves.
Chuck sits lifelessly in the middle of it.
A young woman (Cheryl) walks over to Chuck’s desk.



CHERYL
Hey, Chuck. Good weekend? Did you get my text? What did you think? Rebecca would not stop talking about you! It was non stop. I said I’d text you her number. It would really make her day if you gave her a call. I think you’d make a great couple. Anyway, I’d better get back to work. Mr Taylor is in a really bad mood today and he wants everything done yesterday. See you later, babe!



Cheryl touches Chuck on the shoulder and waltzes away.
Another beat. More office hustle and bustle.

An older man (BARRY) comes over to Chuck’s desk and drops a pile of paperwork in front of the corpse.


BARRY
Do this when you can, mate. There’s no real rush but I need someone knowledgeable to do it. Bloody Bob Taylor is on the warpath today. I know you’ve got a lot on but if you can do just a few of these reports today then that would be fantastic. (Sighs) Stress, eh? I need a new job I think. Perhaps I should just give this up and work in a sex shop. (Chuckles) Cheers for this, mate. I’ll buy you a couple of pints next time we go down the boozer.


He exits.

CLOSE ON:


CLOCK

The time reads ‘9:35’


SWIPE CUT:


CLOCK


The time now reads ‘11:31’



INT-OFFICE-DAY



Chuck is still slumped in his chair. His pale dead eyes staring into nothing.
Darren returns.



DARREN
Hey, mate. Blair from Accounts told me this wicked joke. Did you hear about the leper and the prostitute? (Waits)
He left her a tip.
(Laughs)
‘Left her the tip!’ Do you get it? He’s a leper. He left her the tip of his penis, not a tip as in a couple of quid. He told me another one but I can’t remember the punch line. Have you heard any good jokes?



CUT TO:


CLOSE ON:


Chuck’s computer:

‘You’ve got mail’



INT-OFFICE-DAY



Another young office worker walks up to Chuck’s desk.
This is Chris.



CHRIS
Hey, Chuck. Good weekend? I saw a great film on Friday-


Chris grabs a vacant seat and sits down next to Chuck.


CHRIS
-’The Chuckling Dead’. Have you seen it? It’s by the writer/director of ‘Small Fries’, that midget comedy. It was really good. Well, good for a zombie musical anyway. You have to turn your brain off to really appreciate it. I was going to see ‘Two Many Cooks‘, the comedy about an out of work actor who pretends to be a gay chef and becomes an international celebrity but it was sold out. Oh man! You’ll never believe it! Bloody Celina rang me on Saturday night, right out of the blue. She sounded absolutely wasted. She started on about how much she missed me and how much she wanted me back. I didn’t cave in. I was unusually tough. It was quite hard but after the chat we had the other day I felt rather empowered. Onwards and upwards, like you said. Hey, I hear Rebecca has a thing for you. That’s sweet, man! You should definitely give her a call. Talk about a jackpot! I’m so jealous. I’ve sent you an email to your hotmail address. It’s that script I was telling you about. Let me know what you think. I’ve chopped and changed some bits for pacing purposes. Give me your honest opinion. Any-who, bud I’d better get a shift back on. I’m sure you’ve heard about Mr Taylor. I heard that his wife went off with another man over the weekend and he’s taking his frustrations on all and sundry. Whatever happened to keeping you personal business and your work life separate? That’s what they’re always telling us to do. I suppose it’s one rule for them and another rule for us slaves, huh?
Give me a call if you want to meet up at dinner. Later, Chuck.



Chris gets up and exits.


CLOSE ON:


CLOCK

Time is ‘13:16’



INT-BREAK ROOM-DAY


Chuck is sat on his own in the spacious break room/cafeteria. He is as lifeless as ever.
People come and go, eat their lunch and chat nosily. They are all seem totally oblivious to the rotting carcass amongst them.


CUT TO:
INT-OFFICE-DAY


Chuck is sat back at his desk. His head is slumped forward and he is almost coming off his chair.
A young man places a mug of coffee on Chuck’s desk.


PETER
Two sugars, right?


Peter walks off.


CUT TO:


CLOSE ON:


CLOCKING OUT MACHINE


We see a queue of people punching out and leaving the office for the day.


CUT TO:


INT-BUS-DAY


Chuck is sat on the bus. His decomposing body jolts at every bump and turn. He eventually flops over awkwardly in his seat.


CUT TO:


CLOSE UP:


PHONE

It rings out. The answering machine kicks in.
We hear the voice of a cheerful young man.


STEVE (V.O)
Hello, Chuckles! It’s Steve. I’m just calling to see if you want to come to my birthday bash at the little civic. It would be good to see the Chuck man and his party pieces. Let me know, mate. I won’t take no for an answer so you’d best clear your busy schedule.


BEEP!


INT-LIVING ROOM-DAY


Chuck is sat on his sofa now. A few flies buzz curiously around his pale blue skin.
We hold onto him for a long beat. The only sounds that can be heard is the ticking of an old clock which sits on the mantel.


CUT TO:


EXT-PARK-DAY


Chuck is sat on the park bench. He has an opened loaf of bread by his side. There are a few pieces of broken bread on the ground in front of him. Hungry pigeons have gathered for a frantic feast.
An old man (We’ll call him DENNIS) moves towards the bench.


DENNIS
Is there anyone sitting here, Son?


The old man slowly takes a seat. He looks at the chap sitting next to him.


DENNIS
Lovely day, isn’t it? Best weather we’ve had in ages. I don’t trust the weather reports anymore. I think they make them up. Yesterday they said it would be clear so I went out in my jacket. I got halfway to the shop and it started raining. I’m sure they make it up. It’s nice to have a bit of sun. We hardly get to see Mr Sunshine anymore. They reckon it’s because of that A-Zone layer. People are wearing it out by using aerosols and too much petrol. I don’t drive. I’ve got bad knees. If I did drive I’d use that unleaded stuff. You’ve got to do you bit to help the world, haven’t you? This world is a beautiful place and we’ve got to make an effort to keep it that way. (Sighs) My Elsie, she were all for keeping Britain tidy. She was like that. She was always trying to save the endangered animals; the panda, the whale, the ginger donkey-all that lot. She loved all that. She wouldn’t even kill a spider. She had a great respect for life. She’s gone now. She’ll be gone two years this Sunday. Two years. It seems much longer. She’s probably looking down on me now. She‘s probably thinking “Stop boring that young lad to death!”. She was a lovely lass.


Dennis turns his attention to Chucks attire.



DENNIS
So you work in an office then? I couldn’t do that. Too many hours in front of those computers. I don’t like those things. I was a grafter. We didn’t have much call for computers in my day. It was real work back then. Look at my hands. They are as tough as buggery. I was a roofer by trade for over thirty years. I couldn’t do what you do. I like to keep busy and active. Well, I did before my knees went bad. I used to be known as ‘The Rooftop Wizard’.


Chuck slumps forwards onto the grass.


DENNIS
Are you all right there, Lad?


CUT TO:


INT-LIVING ROOM-DAY


Chuck is back on his couch.


CUT TO:


MONTAGE:


A montage of images of dead young Chuck in a variety of places. We seem him at the office, at the cinema, alone at a restaurant, at his home and we see him at Steve’s party. He is the exact opposite of the life and soul of it.
We hear a soft electronic track (Boards Of Canada) which plays as we view the montage and then FADE TO:


INT-OFFICE-DAY


Chuck is sat at his desk while the living get on with their lives oblivious to the fact that he is not.


CHUCK (V.O)
My name is Chuck and I am--


FADE TO BLACK


CHUCK (V.O)
--Deceased.


THE END

Hicks Fans Rejoice!

Good news for people who dig the work of William Melvin Hicks.

http://www.chortle.co.uk/news/feb05/hicks140202.php

Valentines Day 2: HATE Day

A day to tell people what you really think of them. You could sent cards with spiteful poems or perhaps a bunch of dying flowers shaped like middle fingers. You could take someone for a cold, empty meal and then kick their head in. I'm not sure what it could be called. I've just come up with HATE day. I'm sure you can think of something better.

As you can probably tell I'm not a fan of Valentines Day. Single or not, I think it's a load of rubbish.

My friend is well into it. Well, his girlfriend is. He's made the heinous crime of forgetting and she's not impressed. He needs to come up with something by the end of the day or he's going to spend the next few days in the spare room AKA The Sin Bin.
He's cobbling together a card as we speak. He asked for my help with a poem and here are some of the verses I came up with:

You love me,
I love you,
Can I put it where you poo?

He didn't like that one. 'Unsuitable' he called it. He wanted something more romantic. If I'd had Blog Ho's number to hand I would have called to ask for his help but since that wasn't possible I strived to come up with something to help my friend out of his romantic funk.

After many years of looking,
I have finally met my match,
Perhaps after you've read this verse,
You can let me see your--

He stopped me before I could finish that one. I don't know why all my ideas were on the vulgar side. I'm usually more romantic than this. Perhaps there is something in my coffee.

Another chap wanted to send a card to a girl he likes. I can understand this part of V Day as it's useful to break the ice with a quirky card and if it fails you can blame it on the spirit of the day. No harm, no foul.
He wanted to inform the girl of his affection in a light hearted and humorous way. I offered him a post-it with a few ideas on. This is one of them:

You are so sexy,
You give me a hard-on,
I like to watch you..
...From your garden.

I'm probably not the best person to ask. At least I tried.
Good luck, guys. I hope everything works out for the best.

~Cupid Chris

rYaN AdAmS

http://www.ryan-adams.com/default.asp

Here It Is

It's 04:30 and I'm wide awake. I've just had an amusing night at The Planet and I'm still pretty wired on whatever it is I have been drinking. I'm all out of sorts but feeling pretty good. I'm in a truthful mood and I want to spout. This is my blog so this is my stage. I want to get some heaviness off my chest and fling it in the direction of whoever reads this rather poor excuse for a web site. Web shite more like.

Firstly, Matt! Fuck your ex. No, don't. Ever. Move away. She is evil. You're better than that. You're a good man and I think very highly of you (whatever that is worth). Don't let some devil woman manipulate you into becoming something less than you are. Life is too short to be unsettled like that. I did try to restrain from telling the hapless nut-box what I really thought. At the end of the day I'll react in a way that suits you. I know you have to get on with the bastard but if there is ever a day you want me to fire her out of a cannon, let me know. I'd be happy doing that.


Finally. This hollow prick is giving up on history that doesn't really concern me. Its never been my problem. Even I am above such silliness.

Fuck, all serious and no comedy. I'm not going to have comments from the usual readers for this. You wouldn't get the good Blog Ho baring his soul like this. He's against such self indulgent blogs. Sorry, ladies and gentlemen. The booze has made me too truthful to ignore.

Goodnight each and all.

Top Five (Uninspired) Tribute Band Names

1. The Really Hot Chilli Peppers
2. Highon Maiden
3. Nearvana
4. Frank Ferdinand
5. The Lightness

Least

My least favourite Monty Python member has to be Eric Idle.

He can't stop milking the Python for all it's worth, can he? He's like the Brian May of comedy. Let it go, Eric, just let it go.
http://www.chortle.co.uk/news/feb05/spam090202.php

Dennis DeYoung

FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!
In my office NO ONE can hear you scream, shout or swear your tits off.

Possible Name Changes #1

1. Sigmond Von Awesome
2. Randolf Wednesday
3. Carlos Cranberry

Baby I'm Bored...

..Does anyone fancy an orgy? Or perhaps a quick game of Kerplunk.
Day is going slooooooooooooooow.
To fight against the soul-sapping tedium I've spent most of the day giving surreal answers and opinions just for my own personal jolly.
For example when asked what I thought of the woman (I forget her name) that sailed around the world for some unknown reason, I responded (to much confusion) that perhaps it would have been more interesting if she'd sailed upon an onion.
I think I'm allergic to office banter. I find it something of a chore. Boredom makes me do really random and odd things. Blogging is one of them.
Oh, and I had a response to my on-line dating profile. I wish I could say that it was from some wonderful, intriguing girl who was into the same things as me and who would be a perfect for a long term relationship. I really wish I could say that. As 'She' was a monster that was into DEATH and HAPPY FUCKING HARDCORE! Jeepers! Fuck my luck!
How are you today?

Wise Words #1

My wise old Uncle Ely once said to me:

"Christopher, live a long and prosperous life
Fill it with happy memories of happy times
but never eat fruit from the cancer tree"

Wancake Day

Am I the only one who doesn't like pancakes? I think they're pointless. They look like treasure maps and don't taste of anything.

R.I.P

I've been thinking about what I want my gravestone to say when I die. I think it should read:

"Here lies Christopher David Bate 1979-????
He tried, bless him"

If I'm cremated I want to be thrown into the eyes of someone I don't like.

Urrrrrrgh.

• I feel as rough as hell today. I wish I could say it was from some kind of mad party but I suspect I've got some bug that's going around. My head feels like there is a carnival going through it.
• Why am I at work? The boss is away so that's a big bonus. Plus, I try to save my sick days for when I just don't feel like coming in. If the boss is away then everyone stops working and twats about for the day.
• I'm giving up beer, blast off and women for a while. All three have been morbidly disheartening over the past couple of weeks.
• I joined an online dating thing for a bet with my friend Harry. I'm not desperate to meet someone but it would be interesting to see what (if any) responses I get. My profile was rather honest and a bit strange. Harry's was even better. Bored minds, eh?
• Normal service resumed shortly.

Random Filmy Titbits

• I will be flying over to Utah on April 30 to witness the final production and edit of the film and do some bits and bobs.
• The film will be at the Utah Film Festival and a couple other state festivals. Apparently, it has 'touring' potential. This may be thanks to the backing of Sony.
• The editor of this film has offered to do the next flick for free.
• I've got to send the treatment in the next couple of days. This is no problem as I've already wrote the whole first draft. Fingers crossed that they dig it.
• Most thrillingly (For me at least) the film will be on The Internet Movie Database (www.imdb.com)! How cool is that? I've been told that it will be on after the film has done the festival thing.

'Comedy' resumed next post.

Arty or Farty?

There is something of a craze for 'art' like this. Personally, I don't understand what's so great about a car with big wheels. I went to the store that produces these works and I asked if they could draw me something else, something other than cars with fat wheels. They looked confused. More so when I asked if they could draw me a horse with 'big legs'.

Lusty Lists

People I wouldn't mind having a bit of sex with:

1. Brittany Murphy
2. The blonde girl from Scrubs
3. Natalie Portman
4. (Name removed to protect identity)
5. (Name removed to protect identity)
6. Mark's girlfriend (I don't have to remove her because it's common knowledge. Even he knows it)
7. The girl from 24 (I know her name I just like referring to actresses by their shows/films)
8. Alex Zane (Probably best not to dwell on this one)
9. (Name removed at lawyers request)
10. The girl ftom The Zutons.

If I Were a Rich Man #1: TERRY

I would purchase a large area of land next to my huge mansion. I would build a huge pool big enough to house a great white shark. I would call this shark Terry. Terry and I would be best friends. I would tame him and learn his shark-like ways. We would swim together, laugh together and watch T.V (Wheeled in from the house)

I would feed him with cattle, homeless people and people I don't like. The latter would benefit us both. He would be fed and I would be rid. I would lure my nemesis to my house with promise of cheese and wine. After a few hours of cheese and small-talk I would say "Hey, have you seen my great white shark?". Intrigued, they would join me in the garden to see the beast in all it's deadly glory. They would stare in awe at Terry. I would then 'accidently' push them in and Terry and I would both be happy.

I would also have a large harp in the middle of the hall-sized living room and I would get hire a person to play the harp when I enter a room. This would help relax me after a hard day of being a big rich bastard. If he/she didn't relax me to my desired level of calm, I would ask/demand him/her to go and feed Terry.

"Oh, I've trained him to eat from the hand"

I Feel Funky.

I'm not sure if this is good or bad. Please help.

Thought Waterfall

• Money Making scheme #1: Sailors Seamen. Surely, there's a market for that?
• If there was ever an eighth day what would it be called? Someone in my office suggested 'Restday'. That's just shit, isn't it? I had 'Vervesday' which probably isn't much better but it's better than 'Restday'. Restday is just Sunday with an more obvious moniker.
• Money Making scheme #2: Dial-A-Slap. If someone has grieved you in some way, you could call a number and have a slap delivered to the face of your nemesis by a team of burly men. It could also incorporate 'Shit Kickers Ltd' and 'Throat Punchers Plc'. I think that in this day and age such a service would be ideal.
• What if your fingers had fingers? Threading cotton through the eye of a needle would be much easier if you had five additional tiny fingers. Think of the grip!
• Trying to write a script and the best I've come up with thus far is 'Silent man attempts to eat a hedge, Bruce Willis to cameo'
• Money Making Scheme #3: 'Coxo' a mixture of coffee and oxo. Mmm caffine and gravy!

"Please do come forward---"

Crime Watch. A long running staple of British Television which attempts to get the general public to help with crimes and misdemeanours caused by the dregs of British society. It's a good idea in theory, use the most potent medium to get the attention of those welded to their couches and armchairs. The idea being that some of their audience could be key witnesses who could help to name and shame the wrong-doer.
They do this by 'reconstructing' the crime scene with the WORST ACTORS imaginable. It's common knowledge that their reconstructions have the impact and acting depth of an infants nativity and this only serves to make serious events seem highly comical. The show is highly popular with students and looking for something resembling comedy on the BBC.
Tonight, Crime Watch managed to step into 'Brass Eye' territory. A police constable turned to the presenter and said, in the straightest of faces, that the armed robber they were looking was described as having 'a triangular face'. They then proceeded to show a photo-fit of the accused. He looked like something out of 'Bo Selecta'.
Good luck closing the case on that one, Scotland Yard.

Another Tuesday

My name is Chris and I'm a coffeeholic. I'm hooked totally. It's a vital source of much needed energy that stops me falling asleep at my desk. The witless ape next to me hid my cup of 'wake up warmth' this morning 'for a joke' and I had the compulsion to kill him (more so than usual). I hated coffee before I started working here and now I can't get through the day without it. It says a lot about my mundane occupation.


THINGS TO DO TO MAKE THE WORK DAY MORE AMUSING

1. Throw a paper towel into an occupied cubicle. You could also throw water. Avoid throwing your love. That's a fluid too far.
2. When a colleague brings their baby in to be admired, talk to it as if it was your own age. E.G "Did you see the game last night? Fucking travesty etc""So, what music are you into?"
3. Attach random items of stationary to the annoying bloke who sits next to you. See how many you can put on before he freaks out. Think of it as human buckaroo.
4. Make a bizzare noise and see who notices first. Start quiet and get louder. Be careful not to get caught.
5. Hum an annoying tune. See how many people pick up on it. One point for every colleague. Five points for your boss.
6. Pick up your phone and put the reciever to your eye. Do this until someone asks you what you're doing. Reply with: "I don't recognise the number" or "I can't get the hang of these newfangled contraptions"
7. Start breathing louder and more intense. Stare straight ahead for added menace. Really built it up. Ten points if people begin to move away.
8. Stand up and say "I'm just off to have a wank. Anyone want anything from the drinks machine?"
9. Use ye olde expressions like 'What the Dickens?' and 'Stone the crows'. Also, try and use the classic phrase 'Steady the bus'


Oh, there is now a tagboard on this site for people to write random stuff on. You don't have to be signed up to Blogger either, so non-ego driven peeps who don't have a blog can comment. Lengthy posts are best left in the comments as the tagboard is for short messages. Feel free to leave your mark.

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