miércoles, febrero 28, 2007

The Birthday of Goth and the Birth of Man ?

So having got bored with creating animals, as anyone who has ever seen a duck-billed-platypus can see (aw fuck it, stick a beak on it !) , god created the garden of Eden. Essentially, it was like a little windowbox of perfection with trees and bushes and caterpillars and snakes and talking trees of knowledge and trees of good and evil - basically there were a lot of clever trees.

Next god decided that he needed a sprinkler system so he created clouds. But before that, he got dead clever and made water come up from the ground in streams cos he thought, then the water would have somewhere to go when it fell from the clouds. While he was still pissing about with water he thought he might as well show off so he created condensation and evaporation and precipitation and lot of other ..tions. And satan heard about this new marvellous place and snook in for a quick preview. He decided to disguise himself as a snake as he had overheard god talk about them but he slightly misheard and turned himself into a snake with a fork for a tongue, which was really handy for picking things up like peas as he had no arms or legs or fingers, but was really crap for talking. "Thith fucking thucks" hissed satan - which pissed him off cos he sounded like a twat now he had a lisp.

Meanwhile, god became bored of his water period and so he created man and woman (depends if you think god is male or female as to who came first but usually the man comes first) so god named him Adam so that he came first in the dictionary before Eve. And god gave Eve big tits because he wanted to and they were naked and god said "look at all the lovely things here i have created for you, everything can you play with, except that apple because i need to bonk Newton on the head with that later else you will never understand this gravity thing i created". And Adam and Eve grinned and said "what's gravity?" and god thought 'you won't ask that when your tits sag Eve' but didn't say anything cos he was omni-forgetful.

Adam and Eve wandered round and smiled and held hands and boring stuff like that, but Eve's bouncing baps were creating a problem with Adam's willy. And thus, Adam got an erection and they both marvelled at it and Eve said "wow, can i touch it?" and Adam said "stand back love, i don't know how big this gets". Satan was watching and so he decided to have some fun. When Adam wasn't watching - he was still stroking his willy cos it felt good but he didn't know why - satan said to Eve "eat thith apple it'th thimply thuper" so Eve did and then she knew what Adams willy was for. She decided to make the most of it before Adam could take a bite of the apple and know what blow jobs were.

After that she let Adam have some apple and then they bonked each silly for the rest of the day. Satan laughed as he could do that as there are no S's in laughing but god knew something was wrong and he came back to see Adam and Eve.

"Did you eat the fruit I said was forbidden?" asked god - Adam replied "uh huh" "and you knew I had told you not to?" said god - Adam replied "uh huh" "so what have you got to say for yourself?" asked god. "she started it" said Adam "did not" said Eve "did too" "did not" "bitch" "wanker" and thus god created arguments. god shook his head and banished them from the garden and sent them off to procreate - well, sort of....he told them to fuck off but they knew what fucking was now and it was fun so they did. And lo and behold, they were keen and able (to fuck) so they had children and called them Cain and Abel as god hadn't created spelling or dictionaries yet.

end of lesson 4

(the next shit is really boring as there's a lot of 'begatting' before the next interesting bit)

ps and god said "happy birthday Goth - you sarcastic bastard" and Goth grinned, flipped the bird to the bearded one and buggered off to get pissed.....

martes, febrero 27, 2007

It's an Unbirthday Party

As it's officially my un-birthday again I've decided to have an un-birthday party. I shall not be receiving any cards with stupid jokes about how old, blind, farty or generally not good anymore I am perceived to be. Said cards usually have jokes written by 3 blind monkeys with a typewriter somewhere on planet hallmark. References to my inability to perform like a chimpanzee between the sheets will also not be required. Money in lieu of non-presents will be accepted because I'd have to be stupid not to take money from someone giving it away for no particular reason.

I will not be dancing and in particular I will definitely not be morris dancing. For those of you unaware, basically you dress up like a clown, cover yourself in hadkerchiefs and bells and proceed to prance around like a fairy twatting each other with a stick. All the time that this is occuring some weirdo geek with the personality of a sloppy dog turd is warbling on about #didn't we have a lovely time, the time we hugged a tree, a lovely time with cider, o fiddly diddly dee#. Grrrr even the thought of it makes me want to nuke Cornwall - bastards.

Other non-occurring activities will be the bring your own booze bullshit. What sort of cheapskate twat invites you to a party and then asks you to bring your own alcohol?

Wankers - that's not a party, thats a fucking meeting. What next - come to church but please bring your own god. Yeah I'll just defrost one of those ones I keep in the freezer then.

Un-birthday shags are always welcome of course. You never know when a seabird could come in handy. You could have a sudden fetish for chicken curry and realise - oh bollocks the shops are closed. Never mind, there's always that shag in the cupboard you'd forgotten about. Hooray. The day is saved by a shag and thus a curry - perfect.

Un-official birthday cakes are another non-requirement. All that bollocks with candles and 'jokes' about calling the firebrigade because there are so many candles on the cake. Ha bloody ha. Keep that up and you'll be calling the fire brigade for real when I set fire to your house.

Tuneless renditions of songs mentioning a birthday are also not required, or references to squashed tomatoes and stew either.

Stupid twatty little paper hats are banned. Well, you can wear them if you want but don't be surprised to find your head on fire. Paper hats are for granny parties (the sort where 20 old biddies are sat at a table to celebrate some old girl reaching 90 years old and smelling, well, piss factor 60). I suppose they're ok for chimps as well, but just make sure all the typewriters are locked away.

So, just another day then really.......

lunes, febrero 26, 2007

Judas and His Chariot

So jesus decided, being the son of god, he was lucky because god was feared cos he sets fire to bushes he doesn't like, for no reason, and jesus being the son of god was held in awe, and thus he could pick all the best players for his team - the disciples. And so, as a sandal-wearing hippy type dude he said "Dude - you can totally be in my gang" to a number of followers, hitherto known as disciples but previously known as fishermen because they liked to fish. And everyone in the gang was totally happy and followed jesus around like little puppies, cos jesus had lots of bonio dog biscuits in his pockets.

The disciples were most impressed with jesus cos he came up with great ideas like when they had to run away from the romans, or the rozzers as they were known. And when the rozzeres came to persecute them for not being roman, peter or simon or dave or kevin would shout "leg it lads it's the rozzers" and they would run, but they couldn't run very fast cos they were wearing flip-flops as that was the fashion then. And because the flip-flops kept coming off, they would get caught by the rozzers because the romans had straps on their sandals and thus they could run faster.

So jesus said to his disciples "curlest thy toes and then thy sandals will not fall off" and the disciples tried this and then they praised the lord and said "forsooth, jesus has made a miracle as now we can run away without losing our sandals".

Eventually though it came to the crunch, which is very crunchy, and judas was skint as he had lost his job for not turning up as he was busy following jesus and mrs iscariot got really pissed off as she couldn't shop at primark cos she had no money and so judas was not going to get laid. And a roman came up with a great idea to bribe judas with gold and so judas decided to betray jesus, but jesus was totally cool about this as he had already read the script and knew it was going to happen. Jesus said to his disciples, whilst they were having their picture painted for the press at a big table with lots of food, "one of you will betray me" and winked knowingly at judas, who blushed, partly cos the gold was cold against his nuts, and all the disciples said they wouldn't betray jesus cos he was king of the juice, which they liked.

Thus they all made promises and jesus didn't believe any of them, even peter who was his favourite cos he caught the most fish, which jesus liked as he was rather partial to a tuna sandwich after a hard days preaching. Resigned to his fate, jesus went into the garden for a spliff and judas pointed to the romans and said "he's over there" and thus jesus was arrested and nailed to a tree but not before peter had denied that he knew jesus, cos he didn't want to get nailed to a tree as well as it looked bloody painful.

Judas received his 30 gold pieces and splashed out on a new chariot but god was angry with him for being a conniving little git and so, very soon god made judas crash into a tree and judas died and people wandered past on tours and were told the sorry tale of judas and his chariot.

When jesus was nailed to the tree , peter felt really bad and went to ask forgiveness from jesus, who looked very sad but jesus couldn't put his hand on peters head because he had a nail through it. Peter asked for forgiveness and said lots of times that he would never betray jesus or deny him again, ever and he cried and jesus looked down and whispered "peter........peter" and peter crept forward to hear what jesus had to say, and in a very wise and knowing manner, because jesus knew as he had read the script, he said "save us an egg, i'll be back on sunday'.

here endeth the third lesson.

viernes, febrero 23, 2007

Star Trekking Around the Universe

I don't know if you've seen Star Trek, if not, you've probably been on a different planet, like Betelgeuse, forever, but anyway I need some of their stuff. In brief; the programme, it is/was about a starship that went boldly where no man has been before - kind of like going into Glasgow on a Saturday night wearing an England shirt. In a similar fashion to being pissed, the walls were wobbly, strange creatures appeared and talked complete bollocks and women threw themselves upon the cast. I think it's the same as being pissed because when they woke up, the gorgeous woman had turrned into a salivating octupus that wanted to suck their brains out - eerily familiar. Thus, a sort list for you to peruse.....

Being Captain - it's a dirty job but someone has to do it. As Captain, as I was (admittedly of the school basketball team not a starship) you have to tell everyone what to do and, worse, people keep asking you what to do. Ball, into that basket...that's about it really. In the meantime, wave your hands in the air like you don't care - word up. Oh and as Captain, you get to shag anything that you want - hee hee - triple breasted whore of Erogenous 5, no problemo.

Transporter - funky shit. You're in one place, they get your co-ordinates, particle-ise your arse and whoosh, reassemble you somewhere else (preferably not as a caterpillar or something equally stupid). No more trains, planes or automobiles for me then. Basically, you open your flip-top mobile phone, say "beam me up Scotty" and 'schwing' - you are back home. How cool is that? Taxi? My fucking arse - watch this *slowly fades away*

Phaser - a gun you can set to stun. Oh I'd love one of these. "So as I was saying, crop rotation in the 14th century was mainly..." ZAP - enough of that boring shit thankyou. "You're gonna get your fu.." ZAP - ha-ha, think not. "So obviously you did the washi..." ZAP - now, where's the Jack Daniels. You can have a 'kill the fuck" setting also. Useful if you're meeting Bush or other such Klingons (piece of shit that sticks to the furry arse of society) that need to be OFF the planet.

A Vulcan (aka a Logical Friend with Pointy Ears, who is not an Elf) - when you are about to do something stupid, your very own conscience with pointy ears says "that is illogical captain". The cool thing is you are not duty bound to take any notice whatsoever but at least you can argue afterwards that you did have a logical point of view. In the TV show, the engineer, Scotty would say "Captain, we're no gonna make it" to which Spock (he of the pointy ears) would reply "If you take the phasers and shoot them at the dilithium crystals it should create enough power for us to escape" - Scotty -> "That just might work Captain" -> Spock, getting irritated now "The shit worked last week didn't it !!". Logic, can't beat it and you can't cook it.

A Doctor (Bones) who could fix anything with a funky pen - none of this "put your scrotum in my hand and cough" type of diagnosis needed here. Bones just needs a funky pen and 30 seconds later, everything is fixed. Now that's a magic marker. Cellulite? bollocks to that, the pen becomes like human tippex. Death? Ha - I laugh in your face cos I know McCoy can fix me. Piss off and reap somewhere else you sallow faced arse bandit - oh and tell satan the deal is off when you're clocking off.

Landing Party - going somewhere strange on your own? No way Jose. You get three or four pals, with phasers to accompany you. Beware of the one with a different coloured shirt though. He ain't gonna make it - in fact, chances are he/she will be dead within 3 minutes of arriving. Thus, if you are the one with the different coloured shirt on, do a "Beam me up" pronto!!

Buen fin de semana a todos
BEAM ME UP SCOTTY *disappears*

jueves, febrero 22, 2007

The Animals Came Two By Two - Oo er, Oo er

So, accordingly to the bible, god created the world and the sea and mountains and fjords and people and aardvarks and things that go "woooooeeeoo". And, being of infinite wisdom, or so he thought at the time, gave them the ability to reproduce, which some of them did quickly like rabbits and rodents and chinese people, whereas some did it slowly like panda bears who practice tantric sex because it was taught to them by monks who could walk on rice paper without tearing it.

Anyway, by chapter 6, god had got bored with what he had created and so, in an 'etch-a sketch' fashion, he decided to shake it all up and start again. So he decided to pick the first hippy he could find and save him. Thus god did that 'appearing out of nowhere with a whoosh' thing, to explain his mission to the hippy, who's name was actually Tarquin C Otter. And god appeared before Tarquin and he boomed "What is your name hippy type dude? for I am your god'. Tarquin, suitably stoned just stared amazed and uttered the words "No way dude". Unfortunately, god's hearing isn't too good when it comes to listening to individuals and he misheard.

"Noah, I shall save thee and thine wife but you must construct an Ark and collect 2 of every living creature".

"But dude, what do I want an Ark for?" asked Tarquin, hitherto known as Noah, "Because" god boomed "I shall make it rain for 40 days and 40 nights and flood the earth and then you will start the kingdom of the lord again" and with a 'whoosh' he was gone. When Noah came down he thought what a totally cool trip that had been. But he decided to build an Ark as it seemed like a fun thing to do and god watched him and was pleased becasue god hadn't made TV's or videos yet and heaven was boring.

Then Noah and his wife and sons set about collecting examples of every animal and bird in the world - a flawed principle already I fear. For example, when Noah approached 2 ducks and asked them to come aboard the Ark, the ducks said no. "But god is going to cover the earth in water" - "So" quacked the ducks. Noah realised that they were right so he crossed off his list anything that could float. Then Noah went to the dolphins but they just fell about laughing "ack, ack, ack, ack - we can swim hippy-dude" so Noah had to cross off things that could swim and lived in the water all the time. "Aha!" said Noah pointing to the Skuas in the air "You must come on the Ark". "Don't think so dude, we never leave the air, even sleep flying". Noah got his pencil, which god had invented for this very purpose and crossed them off the list too.

Next Noah approached some otters - "you have to go on the land at times" said Noah, "because you eat eggs and eggs of birds don't live in the sea". The otters giggled and ran around in circles. "Now what" screeched Noah throwing his arms in the air. "We eat fish too" laughed the otters and dived into the water. Noah ate his list and shook his fist at god, and thus piles were created, which god found very amusing but Noah didn't.

Noah returned back home to his wife and wanted to complain but Joan of Ark, as this was her new name, wasn't taking any shit from a hippy even if he was best-mates with god. So once, she had kicked his hippy-arse, again, she returned to practising sword fighting with the rhinos, who hadn't been able to come up with a valid excuse not to get on the Ark.

Eventually, the Ark was constructed and all the animals without notes from their mothers, trooped onto the Ark. Then it rained for 40 days and 40 nights (thus, god created belgium) and all this time, Noah was shovelling shit because god hadn't mentioned how much poo an elephant can make, and thus there was no toilet in the design of the Ark. After 150 days, enough crap had been dumped that a mountain was created - Mount Ara-fart. The Ark ran aground but only the tip of the shite-burg was showing.

Noah sent forth a dove and it came back with an olive leaf and Noah knew that olives are from greece and grease repels water and they were all safe.

Thus ended the first book of Genesis - Peter Gabriel the Arch Angel left, Phil Collins moved from bongos to switzerland and they all lived happily ever after. Apart from god because he started to get confused in his old age and deciding he was bored of Genesis, tried Exodus and thus Moses became lead singer and parted seas and stuff and thus, god invented the video, so he didn't have to put up with Moses constant complaints about Ten Commandments - "Yeah, but what if it went up to eleven, because that would be one more than ten right?".

Fuck this, thought god and fast forwarded through Leviticus to Numbers - and thus god invented Sesame Street and "The Count who loves, to count".

Here endeth the second lesson ;-)

miércoles, febrero 21, 2007

Silent Night, Holy......Shite

So the long awaited Champions League game for Man Utd against Lille came and went, just. It seemed organised but maybe the omens were there to start with. Firstly, I got the afternoon off work to travel to the game in France, Lens to be precise. A quite incorrect name for a town because they were obviously blind to what was about to transpire. Arriving at the train station to get to my rendezvous with the lads, plenty of time to spare, the Belgian train company decided to cancel all trains. Triffic - thanks for that you bastards.

So, one 70 Euro taxi ride later and I get to the rendezvous with time to spare. Or so we thought. In attempting to drive out of Bruxelleswe were hampered by a derailed tram. How the fuck do you derail a tram? Try and power-slide it round a corner? Anyway, once on the highway we arrived in Lens with a few hours to spare - phew *wipes brow*.

Now whether the guys had heard me or just chose to ignore my statement of "bet we're in the French supporters part of the crowd" they certainly understood when we took our seats in amongst 20,000 fervent Lille supporters!!!

The game itself contained 2 flashpoints on the pitch and rather more off it. The Man Utd fans were tear-gassed for complaining about being crushed. The fact that twice as many people were in that section than were supposed to be seemingly irrelevant. When Lille scored the crowd erupted around us. The fact that they were so fervent obviously obscuring the fact that the goal had been disallowed for at least 3 minutes. Oh dear, how sad, never mind eh?! *chuckles*

Then the real fun started. United scored with a quickly taken free kick, Tippler jumped up and shouted "Yes - get in there!" whilst I just thought 'that's probably not the wisest of moves based on our current location'. He hurredly sat down as chaos erupted around us. The Lille players were told to leave the pitch so as to effectively nullify the game (completely against the rules). Our position in the front row facillitated us watching the missiles being flung at the pitch sail over our heads. Fortunately, their aim was as good as their team's strikers.

Thankfully, nothing else transpired and we were able to leave the ground unharmed at the final whistle. A 1-0 victory just dandy. Then the second part of our adventure began. Lens was gridlocked and no-one knew why. So for 1 & 1/2 hours we sat, not moving whilst what seemed like a hundred Gendarme stood there, moving even less. I could maybe understand if we were the Utd fans but we were in the pack with their fellow countrymen. Go figure!!

Eventually, we arrived back in Bruxelles around 3am instead of the hoped for 12:30. Six-thirty am get up for work? Yeah right - this time I can legitimately blame it on the French. And to top it all, the winning goal was scored by a Welshman - ha ha, justice is served *laughs heartily*.

*curls up in a ball to go to sleep with a broad grin*

a luego,

martes, febrero 20, 2007

Stuff That For a Game of Soldiers

Taxidermy - what's that about then? Gadzooks, I should rephrase the question - it is why, not what is taxidermy. I understand the principle of taxidermy well enough. Living thing dies, strip out it's guts - stuff sand or something up it's arse and VOILA - a stuffed dead thing. Why the hell would you want to do that? "Ooo, look at granny - doesn't she look so peaceful sat in her rocking chair". Yeah. That'll be on account of the fact she's dead with half a ton of sawdust where her insides used to be.

People do it with pets all the time. "Ooo look, this is my favourite cat, Boris" - "doesn't move as much as he used to but he likes his daily stroke". WTF?!

I think the Egyptians started it - little rascals. Dead king, lets shove a load of shite up his arse and build a pyramid on his head. Of course, they slightly fucked up with the 'lets put lots of valuable things in too'. Like a neon sign blaring in the night 'Robbers - this way - lots of free groovy stuff!!'. King Tut had his Karma well and truly rodgered when that secret got out. He had to show his arse just to get sympathy from the devil - hence the name Tut-in Karma-Mooned.

What I have never figured out, and quite frankly, can't be arsed to contemplate, is why someone would want a dead 'something' hanging around anyway. It's dead - get over it, and, if it's too big to get over, get around it. When I die, which I eventually will - although I'm having fun evading the Duke of Death at the moment - I do not want some weirdo shoving sawdust up my butt. What if it impacts your afterlife? Slowly wake up to a chorus of blissful naked angels with their baps out singing #take me to the moon, let me play amongst your stars# and....shit, you can't move because your previous incarnation is sitting in a museum somewhere in a jesus christ pose.

Nope, for me, taxidermy is a leap off the cliff of sanity. Feel free to try it if you want but don't come crying to me covered in bandages going "ooooooweeeoooo the parachute didn't work".

"Stuffing sir?" - fuck off and take your 'waiters from hell' with you.

a luego,

lunes, febrero 19, 2007

Jesus Was a Pothead

This is not me saying this by the way, this was someone else - honest Guv. As I was skating around T'internet my puter decided to introduce me to this site - Was there a whiff of cannabis about Jesus?. Probably a fluke that I found it but perhaps I was cookied. Either way, I read the article and started to think (not the wisest move when pissed as a fart - thought should be limited to "where do I live" and "how do I get there from here").

However, knowing nothing about drugs or religion at all, in the world, ever *winks knowingly* - forgive me if I make incorrect assumptions but I kind of agree with the statement and this is why....

Jesus spent a lot of time trying to convince everyone to be nice to each other. Sounds familiar - "yo, chill dude, the world is just a great big onion" *snorts and starts giggling*.

He got the 'munchies' a lot - "Whoah disciples, who fancies some food? - fish and chips for 5,000 please dude"

He could walk on water, in the desert, where there is no water (that's why it's called a desert) - but maybe it just looked like water, if you squinted and held your head at a peculiar angle - "Dude, look at the Ark thing - it's like totally floating".

He was ok with the crucifixation thing "Nail me to a tree? No way dude, but then I'd be tall like Darth Vader, that kinda sounds fun - I'll carry that big log if you want"

When he did get nailed to a tree he was still saying "Dude, you can totally see my house from here"

He had a gang of fellow potheads who spent a lot of time going *inhaling smoke* "Dude, that is so deep - it's like - er, beautiful".

He spent 40 days and nights in the desert, presumably trying to remember where he lived.

Wise men brought him drugs when he was born "Little dude totally has to try this Myrhh stuff, it rocks".

He spent a lot of time saying "So my dad is god right, and he made stuff, like the world, and it only took him 6 days dude" *pauses* "and, he totally took the time to make sure that spiders had groovy little furry legs that could.......yo, Peter, have a bang on this number, man".

He never got laid on account of being so laid back.

He came out with bullshit jokes like "Forsooth, a roman, a jew and a phillistine walked into a bar and, er, peace ensued"

He brought people back from the dead - "Yo Lazurus dude, move your arse before I thunder you" *Lazarus jumps up and legs it*

He came up with weird ideas for no reason.

When he couldn't find a taxi, he improvised "Dude, look! a totally small horse *points at ass/donkey* - man, people are going to be so tripped when I gallop into town on this mother-fucker!!".

So there you have it, definitive proof. If you don't like my reasoning feel free to send a complaint to the complaint department at 'Whingers are us' - opening times vary but have faith. Faith in the fact that I don't give a fuck and will pay no notice whatsoever to what you say. Same as a normal corporate helpdesk really.

a luego,
son of S

domingo, febrero 18, 2007

Past Tense or Future Tense

Another day of watching football, another day of shouting at the TV hoping that it would make a difference somehow. I'm not sure why we feel that shouting "Ref - you fucking wanker!" at a TV 500 miles away from where the 'twat in black' has nullified a perfectly good goal is going to make any difference but, every Saturday or Sunday we do. The 'we' I refer to is younger looking buddy Tippler and I. We were treated to the gut wrenching 90 minutes of shite that purported to be Manchester United versus Reading (pronounced Redding) in th FA Cup.

Therefore, we have decided on a different tactic for this Tuesday nights Champions League fixture against Lilles - we're going to the game in France and see whether "Ref - you fucking wanker!" works any better if our proximity makes a difference.

The pronunciation of Reading (Redding) got me thinking about the English language, again. As I attempt to master French, Spanish, Italian and German my progress is hindered by people wanting advice on the correct use of English. I certainly have no problem in helping out and, if I choose, my English can be as pure as driven snow. Except when I'm drunk and everything drifts. I get especially annoyed when people try to 'correct' my English and I have to point out that I am using a play on words and know perfectly well the 'correct' way to say something but if you analyse the phrase correctly, you will see what I have done.

Suitably put out was I at the use of the English language that I threw up, my arms in protest (amazing the difference a 'comma' can make). Not entirely true as that would infer that I actually care, which I don't but.....I have a responsibility to share my knowledge or lack of, with the world. This all started because I made 2 rather foolhardy promises - first, that I would speak French by the end of January (not really a problem) and second, that I would speak Italian by the end of February (problem).

So, landing with a 'splat' in the pile of steaming crap that I call my language skills, I attempted to extricate myself. Like a phoenix from the ashes, I attempted to soar only to hit the lid of the biscuit tin of Quality Street. Just when I thought I was being really big and clever, I was asked a question about English that I couldn't answer. Buggery bollocks. How am I to master other languages if I can't speak my own?

Master G, first language French but speaking in excellent english, asked me to help him with his English. "No problemo space cadet, fire away" I rashly said. "When do you use 'have' rather than 'did'?" he asked. He mistook my expression of surprise for one of bewilderment. "I'm sorry" he said "did I not phrase that correctly?". No; you phrased it correctly, I'm just not sure I know the answer.

I'm sure some legal boffin could answer the question but, as I only get to hang around with them in court, I don't really want to ask. I tried researching the answer on T'internet but that proved to be a somewhat fruitless adventure. I resorted to trying to define the solution with a number of questions:-

Have you have had sex with a baboon?
Did you have sex with a baboon?
Both are gramatically correct but the first question implies an 'ever' state whereas the second is more interrogative.

Have you seen a tree, before you crashed into it?
Did you see a tree before you crashed into it?
Again, both gramatically correct but the first question implies the 'it' can be anything, whereas the second implies THE tree that you crashed into.

Have you cheated on your tax returns?
Did you cheat on your tax returns?
Yes, but I made up for it by smoking more cigarettes and thus, by definition adding to the huge pile of cash that you will waste on pointless projects whilst ignoring the important things.

Bored now. I will just maintain that this is the way English is spoken in Goth World and concentrate on my Italian instead. Pizza, Ferrarri, Spaghetti, Mussolini, Lambrusco.

sábado, febrero 17, 2007

The Brusselly Hillbillys

*sing along to The Beverly Hillbillies

theme tune - or just read it at the correct metre.

Come and listen to my story about a girl named Zed,
Her boyfriend is a twat or so this is what she said,
And then one day Q was borrowing M's car,
Crash, smash - window broken and repair shops where they are.

Yes folks, it's the Brusselly Hillbillys

Tippler comes alone and he's smiling like a cat,
"I've got sweetcorn on my nob", he announces to the twat,
All the girls are horrified with his vulgar little tale,
All the blokes start to snigger as Lauras face turns pale.

Tears, fears and would be movie stars

Aunty M has returned from places oh so far,
But Arthur has been doofered and now she has no car,
"Never mind" she says so sweetly, "at least I have my stick",
"I'll bonk him on the head, the stupid little prick".

*banjo solo* #ding ding ding dum de de dum dum ding de ding de do....."#

Queen Daphne came along, that's Daphne-Wayne Bough,
She said "come along dear, the name rhymes with muff,"
If you don't know what a muff is you need to go to school,
Otherwise you know love, spend your future as a fool.

Texas tea - bigger than English tea y'all

Spanish Goth was busy, busy like a little bee,
Mariposa had allowed him for one night to drink JD,
"No flirting with the Drama Queen please" this is what she said,
"Otherwise you won't be sleeping in MY warm and cosy bed."

So this is the story, exactly as it's told,
Of the Brussels Bloggers, sorry if it's old,
Apologies for those that I might have missed out,
Stand higher on the rooftop and give a mighty shout.

*fade out*#ding ding ding dum de de dum dum ding de ding de do....."#

viernes, febrero 16, 2007

Roll Up, Roll Up For The Mystery Tour

So, fresh (well, as fresh as anyone can be after a night drinking beer and Jack Daniels) from the Anal Gathering (Annual = yearly, Anal = when we can be arsed) of the Bruxelles Bloggers I have a further insight into the faces behind the voices in my head. There were a couple of notable exceptions, one of whom I particularly missed (yes, you my love) but attendance was high as were the alcohol consumption levels.

Mariposa and I, yes she's real, descended upon the allocated venue aboard the Gothic Magic Carpet. "Yes my love, I promise not to take the piss", "Just be nice, please" "I'll try" I lied. I knew what two of the bloggers looked like but the others were just words and attitude on a web page. I was like Stevie Wonder in a fruit shop - I knew what shape I wanted but until I touched, could be sorely mistaken or even, plain slapped.

Aunty Marianne was the first to introduce herself and so obviously I had to enquire about her beloved Arthur. To understand this fully, you need to understand the impact *sniggers* that Zoe's twat had upon poor Arthur( January 24th entry). Arthur was quite bereft having been well and truly shafted. Aunty M however, took this stoically on the chin and even managed to make the twat squirm like a small worm on a big fucking hook. Bwahahahaha. The girl can drink too although I suspect that the hip replacement was just a means of adding an additional alcohol tank. But anyone who can find a 'knit a tit' competition gets a free pass into Goth World.

Next up was The Tippler replete with new hairdo - 20 years younger he looks. "Look as good when you are 600 years old, you will not I think". As per usual, he was in particularly lecherous form. "I'd forgotten what great tits your girlfriend has" - yeah, fuck off and get your own. "Wow, I swear Aunty M's tits have grown" etc. However, he did find a female in the mood for his schoolboy chat-up lines so I dare say there's an entry coming - on his blog I mean. When we departed Tippler was still desperately trying to persuade said female to join him in his bachelor pad, presumably, not to clean the fridge.

Sir Gawain of Strasbourg was preceded by his wife, Lady J, who for some reason was obsessed with who should play the part of Andy Warhol in a movie. I suggested Gary Oldman as I consider him one of the finest actors of his generation. Then she started obsessing about food - women!! Meanwhile, Sir Gawain was busy sulking as no-one was paying attention to him. However, when he realised that it was a bit of a rolling group, i.e. people were drifting from group to group for no reason whatsoever and he joined in, then the smile came back to his cherubic and faintly fluffy little face.

All of this time, Minky was cunningly disguised as a shrub, hiding behind the behemoth known as Mount Jimbob. "I'm sooooo tired" she almost whispered at 8:30. Yeah right and guess who was still there at the end after the bar had stopped serving alcohol? But, she did get a rose out of it from yours truly, so that's one better than VD day isn't it (and yes, mi Mariposa received one too). I must confess I didn't speak to Minky for long as I was firstly absorbed by tales of hoighty toightyness (whatever the fuck that is) from Queen Daphne of the Muff . Her dealings with the royal family, musings upon marriage and a brief discourse on etiquette.

Thus, this morning, Mariposa having quaffed one too many G & T's lay snoring like a hamster, curled up in a ball of fuzziness, whilst I breakfasted alone.

And just to put it in writing, Mount Jimbob, what I said still holds. It's been a few years since I was an amateur rally driver but I can still teach you the finer points of 'handbrake turns', 'power slides' and 'heel and toeing'. All of which are very useful on the streets of Bruxelles, naturally.

Now I'm off to check on the other versions of events.

a luego y buen fin de semana a todos.

*wanders off leaving a vapour cloud of Jack Daniels fumes behind*

jueves, febrero 15, 2007

Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting

No they bloody weren't. This is why you only had one hit Mr Carl Douglas. Your powers of observation are basically shit. That must be a right kick in the bollocks when you consider Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles etc - no observation, lots of hits.

Anyway, Goths don't fight. Far too busy walking backwards in a dark room reciting poetry. I did actually do martial arts and no, not bloody origame. Should have represented Wales at Judo but halfway through my training I discovered women and life was never quite the same. Did Karate too - years later - but got bored of all that bowing when you enter the Dojo, doing press-ups on your knuckles and getting told off for kicking my opponent in the knackers (balls to you who don't understand English) because he had the temerity to punch me in the chest...."ha, who's crying AAARRGGHH now mother-fucker".

Realistically, who wants to break a log in half with their bare hands. Use a chainsaw you moron, it's quicker, cooler and noisier. Also, you have a perfectly good reason for carrying a chainsaw down the High Street on a busy Saturday morning. That's ok officer, just on my way to a sawing competition.

So, simple quiz (you have to use your imagination here...)

Vote A - if you want to sweat doing silly dancing whilst your partner attempts to knock you out
Vote B - if you want to sweat, jogging horizontally with a partner of your choice who kisses it (better)

I know which queue I'm going to be in ;-) The long one!!!!

I know martial arts look really fab and groovy on screen but, in reality, use your brain. Don't get into stupid situations in the first place. If you do get cornered, use your brain and get the fuck out - fast. I have been 'jammed' up a few times but my brain always came to the rescue. Of course, it helps with the knowledge that you can kick the crap out of any attacker - in my case, if they are less than three feet tall, old and disabled or three years old, young and still talking nonsense. Bet you think you're all 'hard as nails' now. Oh dear, have you learned nothing?! Yoda was all of those things and could do all that fighting shite and he was just a puppet.......

When in doubt RUN - and teach your partner to run so you don't have to go back to 'save' them. You can laugh at the shit when you're back home in Gothingham Palace. "Shit babe", *panting* "I beat you home by 5 minutes". Of course, in reality, I would never abandon a maiden in distress - very un-Goth like behaviour. You just avoid trouble by observing your surroundings. If you see a lot of people running in one direction and they don't have numbers on their vests, it's a fair chance that whatever they are running from/toward involves nothing but trouble. When in doubt, get the fuck out.

Of course, you could get a gun, but what if they - 'pure nastiness and his gang of officers' have bigger guns? "I'm sorry, could you just wait while I get an upgrade?" - highly unlikely to work. Ergo, do not get into the male-orientated bullshit of "my dick is bigger than yours". Don't care, not interested. I won't be using yours, have no intention of cock fighting with you, so go and take your egocentric nonsense somewhere else. Even better, go and ask that crocodile for a blow-job and we can laugh at the consequences. I know you're stupid enough to do it as you've already proven your mental capacity in the usual pattern. Or prove you can pull the weight of a car using your todger alone. Then it will be REALLY big (actually, very long and you'll have to wind it up on a phallus reel or something but at least you'll stop hassleing me).

rant over,

*saunters off to work on his Black Magic Potions*

Buckle up - It's Showtime

As there has been some discussion recently in the blogging community about songs from musicals (and yes, it probably was me that started it, and yes, it was me who actively encouraged it) I decided to tackle this issue head-on. Granted it will be more like a head-on car crash but hopefully we can all use jesus as an airbag.

What is a Musical?

This is actually quite complex to answer. A musical is a film or play where they use music or songs instead of talking - that would be the simplistic explanation. However, it becomes more complex depending on how the music appears and why. I don't have a huge issue with musicals if it's Opera, a damn fine art form, or musicals based on musical themes - a fairly legitimate aim. No, I am talking about the attempt to turn some bullshit 'non-film' into a film using music where the music doesn't fit - e.g. I don't know that many street gangs who would dance at each other as in West Side Story - in real life, expect guns, knives and lots of dead people. And while I'm on topic, phrases like "I'm gonna smoke you dude" uttered by big black hard bastards in New York, will not produce the expected reaction if you say it in the red-light part of Amsterdam.

What is a Decent Musical?

One in which the music is part of and intrinsic to the plot. For example, The Blues Brothers (featuring a number of famous artistes parodying public perceptions of themselves), The Rocky Horror Picture Show (one of the finest musicals ever made) with a quite ludicrous plot but a brilliant pastiche on horror movies, science fiction etc. If you've never attempted "The Time Warp" - you haven't lived and songs like "T-t-t-t-touch me, I want to be dirty" - class!

What is a Shite Musical?

Any where the script is shite or the actors are shite or the plot is thinner than a gnat's penis and more often than not, they are all mixed together in a turd-soup. The theory I suppose is that, in a vain attempt to make some money some idiot decides that the cast will sing their dialogue. Yes, you read it right, sing the bloody dialogue. I don't now which moron came up with the concept but trust me, when I knock the bearded one off his throne and I become Goth, that moron is first to be shot, or turned into a pot plant. So, effectively we have a shite script, a shite cast - all thats needed now are some puke inducing songs and hooray, one huge globule of faeces to dump on an unsuspecting world.


I think probably the first musical I saw was Mary Poppins. So let's confirm - Dick Van Dyke (who couldn't do a cockney accent if you shoved Big Ben - the clock, not the porn actor, up his arse), Julie Andrews (who can't do any accent other than 'plum in the mouth' English) - yep, that's the cast then. So some bright spark decided that a nanny who could fly using her umbrella, could jump into grafitti and make it real etc was cool. Man, that dude must have been tripping when he agreed to that. So now we need some shite songs - covered. "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down" - yeah right. "Truly Scrumptious" - fuck me, they're making words up now.

The Sound of Music - yep, Andrews at it again being a nanny and talking/singing in a silly voice again. This time, no flying though, now she can escape from the Nazis by dancing across a mountain. Bitch! Steve Mc Queen couldn't escape and he was on a motorbike and a damn sight fucking cooler (when he wasn't in the cooler, for being cool). "I am 16 going on 17" - okily dokily but 16 what - tons? feet? shags? - give us a fucking clue. "Doh, ray, me, fart" - what a crock of shit.

Conclusion Musicals suck. Don't take my word for it though, watch the 'King of Rock and Roll' Elvis (not to me btw) in GI Blues and tell me you believe. Watch Judy Garland say "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore" - fucking hell, I've never been to Kansas but I know it's not full of witches with houses on their head, munchkins who sing songs for no reason and a yellow brick road! "We're off to see the wizard...." is just another way of saying "We're off to do a line of coke now".

a luego,

miércoles, febrero 14, 2007

Woo Woo - The Gothic Train of Nonsense

***Warning do not read this under the influence of drugs, except maybe tranquilizers***

So there I was peacefully commenting about France, when the question came back - "Spanish Goth: If France vanished under the sea, would Britain still be a European country?". I kind of answered but thought some more and as I was sat on the train and no one was hassling me, I figured I would give it a train of thought answer.

Why would france vanish under the sea unless someone drilled a really big hole and then maybe all the water would come up and then it would be under the sea, except it's attached to belgium and that's flatter but the question was only about france, so it can't be a big hole then, something else would have to happen, like perhaps they made lots of really heavy cheese and that pushed France down but they must have had the milk there to make the cheese and milk doesn't become heavier just because it's now cheese, in fact they take stuff off the top and throw that away, except that it's france and they eat everything, including cows heads, which must be really tricky because it's mainly skull and would be crunchy and probably inedible, but that's ok cos the french like inedible food, just like the germans do except germans eat more and so they're bigger and heavier and they like to go to france cos they can eat everything too and maybe if enough germans came on holiday to france at the same time and jumped up together at the same time, then france would sink and then it would be underwater with lots of french people who couldn't swim and lots of german people who probably would get eaten by sharks, cos they'd thrash around more and sharks like that, and sharks like surfboards cos that's like people pizza to a shark and so then france would be sunk to the bottom.....of the sea.

*pauses for a cigarette*

Would britain still be a european country, i think it would because there's so many politicians that come to bruxelles because they get paid to and they can do shopping, but they'd all have to fly here because the eurostar goes through france which is now underwater, unless they converted it into a submarine which would be really easy cos the A team could change anything into something else like a watering can into a tank with one spanner, otherwise they could't bring BA because he doesn't like to fly which is funny cos i don't like to fly with BA either, so all the politicians would have to fly, apart from the ones who do drugs cos they're already flying and then they could vote to make britain stay in europe and they'd win because there wouldn't be any french left to vote against it, apart the french who could swim really fast, well faster than the sharks who had probably slowed down cos they were full of fat germans, who couldn't vote against britain either cos they're all dead or just inside the sharks, both of which make it really difficult to get into the voting booth, unless they were really mermaids and so they could make the shark behave like a puppet, except puppets don't have teeth and there wouldn't be anyone with their hand up the sharks bum, which is how puppets work except for the ones that are on strings but they have a different name, which is ok, to have a different name cos if your name was sally and you had a beard you'd feel pretty stupid, unless all your friends were called sally in which case you'd fit right in, and that would be cool cos it would be all snuggly and warm, except when it was cold like it is in britain, but that would still be part of europe, unless the french could swim and sharks hated garlic, and sharks have no noses but they can still smell blood from a long way away, which france wouldn't be from britain, just slightly downhill and it would be blue on the map, cos that's the colour of water on maps, and in the sea, and in the toilet but only if you get one of those blue blocks that smells and makes the water blue, and probably kills sharks except sharks don't lurk in toilets, well i've never seen one, but it would have to be really small, or i suppose you could have a really big toilet and call it britain, except that would be like sally but there aren't a lot of britains, which coincidentally looks just like brains if you dropped an it in the middle and so that is why britain would still be in europe cos it's the brains with an it in the middle, and france is submerged like seaweed and all the remaining germans are putting their beach towels on the really big sharks cos they look more comfortable, and the dutch are just laughing cos they're all stoned anyway and have their fingers in dykes or something, which is ok if that's what the dyke wants but she may not, she might prefer a tongue which would be complex because then the spliff wouldn't light cos it would be wet, in the same way that a dry martini is wet, which is a contradiction really, like james bond because he doesn't really bond, well not like superglue does, which would help for bonding people to surfboards, except you dont't really have waves in britain, apart from the queens wave, which you couldn't surf on cos she's in a car, which would probably sink if you put it in the water, which would maybe be ok as you might land on france, but they drive on the wrong side of the seabed, and so yes, britain would still be a country in europe, totally in charge of it's own destiny, looking down on france through goggles and taking no notice of america.

*collapses in a heap and waits to be revived*

martes, febrero 13, 2007

I'm a Lumberjack and I'm Ok

I'm not really a lumberjack. Seems like far too much hard work to me - "I cut down trees - I skip and jump - I like to press wild flowers - I put on women's clothing and hang around in bars.". Nope. That's some shit you can keep right there! Bizarrely enough, I actually like my job. I get paid to do what I would do as a hobby. Granted I would have preferred to be a rock star but, you can't always get what you want.

There are a lot of jobs I would NOT like to do. Catering - working in McDuffers or Bugger King. No thanks - days wearing a silly outfit repeating the same inane drivel "do you want fries with that?" - "Well DUH, it's a fucking milkshake. Did you, at any point hear me request fries? No? That's because I don't want any!!". If (and it would have to be a pretty big fucking IF) I had to work in catering, I'd work in one of those really posh restaurants where you get to take the piss out of people for using the wrong fork or something. Not only that but the tips are bigger than a monthly salary at McBollocks. Also, I bet you get free shags from posh women. They've been told that a 'bit of rough' is very exciting. You have a slight blob of moutarde on your outfit, that's it - you're from the wrong side of the tracks - WEY-HEY.

I also would not want to be a journalist (no offence intended to certain journos who might stagger past here) but, I don't think my liver could take it. Staff meetings - in the pub. Interviews - in the pub. Lunch - 3 hours of drinking in the ...wait for it... yup, the pub. When you read 'a well informed source' replace that with 'a well lubricated sauce' - that's how they got the quote. Loose lips sink ships apparently. I can't think how this would happen really *scratches his head* I mean you'd have to be pretty careless to let your lips loose without noticing that they'd turned into a submarine or something.

Gravedigger - boring. Dig a hole and then, dig another hole and then....oh quelle surprise, dig another hole. Basically, you are being paid to be a mole. And, I would presume you are not allowed to listen to Black Sabbath on a ghetto-blaster whilst working. Might upset those people in black....go figure ?!

Carpet cleaner in a peep show - yeah right. I know it's a dirty job and someone's got to do it, but that person is not me. I'll let your imagination figure out what it entails.

Men's Outfitter - don't think so. All the 'oooh, suits you Sir' whilst weirdo chutneys keep coming to get their inside leg measured purring "Higher darling". Bollocks to that. Must be like having your leg 'dry-humped' by a dog.

Gynaecologist - strange you might think eh? The opportunity to be in contact with pussy all day and get paid for it and I'm turning it down. I'm sure it's some blokes wet-dream job but not me. For me, no way, for one simple reason, choice. If Mrs Yeti turns up sweating and covered in rolls of fat and hair, it's your duty to dive right in. Don't think so - count me right fucking out on that one.

Boxer - weirdos. Spend months skipping and running up and down stairs, punching frozen meat and hanging out in pet shops for what. A weirdo girlfriend and someone trying to kick your arse. Not to mention the brain damage. They actually had it before they got in the ring, just confirmed it after they got knocked on their sorry arse. I'm with Richard Pryor on this one "So I'm lying on the floor and the referees counting 1-2-3.... I don't know what the fuck you're counting for - I ain't getting up. Someone in the crowd shouts - GET UP - Fuck you! that's how I got down here in the first place!".

Artificial Inseminator - I know what it involves but this takes all the fun out of procreation. Semen -> test tube -> syringe etc. Maybe the results are there but what happened to the fun bit? And you have to wear a dodgy outfit to do it - and no, I am not talking about a Batman costume.

Parking Attendant - damned if you do and damned if you don't (give a ticket I mean). Peeps complain about not being able to park but get arsey when their vehicle gets a ticket. Just follow the patent-pending UK method and get a 'Disabled Ticket'. Effectively, this allows you to park anywhere, as fat slug Prescott proved many times. Meanwhile, the meter maid is hiding in case 'lard-arse' sits on her instead of paying the ticket.

Espero que su trabajo no es aburrido e un buen dia para todos XXX

lunes, febrero 12, 2007

Frosty the Snowman

Not entirely a fair title but very indicitive. This isn't about frost, snow, christmas or anything like that, no, it's about stupid crappy tunes that get stuck in my head. This morning I woke up and BOOM - Frosty the bloody snowman is ricocheting around my head like a pinball on speed. Why is it never a decent tune that gets imprinted - the tune I have to put up with all day? I could live with 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' or 'Harvester of Sorrow'. Anything except the fooking snowman song.

My muppet-3 is doing it's best to help out. Blasting - Limp Bizkit, Korn, Audioslave and Megadeth into my ears so far this morning but no chance of shifting freaky Frosty from my head. I really hate it when this happens - except when it's funny. I know my brain isn't wired like the majority of the population and most people would not find it amusing to be humming along to my mental jukeboxex selections. For example being at a funeral and hearing S-Club 7 singing "Don't stop moving now, gotta keep grooving now". Or at a wedding and hearing The Doors "This is the end, beautiful friend the end" *chuckles to himself*

Invariably though, it is the pits of humanity type drivel that gets stuck within my head. Avril Lavigne "He's just a skater boy, see you later boy" - piss off and get a man not a boy you whingeing bint, then you'd have something better to sing about. Elton John "La la la la la la la la la la la" or something, from Crocodile Rock. SHUT UP - leave me alone GRRRRRRRR. But, even recalling these shite-buster songs doesn't help because there, lurking in the background is Frosty the frigging snowman.

I need some sort of mental heatwave to melt the bastard. Perhaps if I start humming Bob Marley tunes and pretending I'm in Jamaica on de beach with a nice reefer. Nope - "No snowman no cry".......god damnit Janet. "I shot the snowman" GRrr *drops to his knees pounding his head*.

I suppose the only way to displace this oversized snowball from my head is to think of something even more twatty. Your suggestions would be most welcome. PLEASE

*wanders off humming the snowman song*

domingo, febrero 11, 2007

Suicide is Painless

(not this week again, merely me coming to terms with what happened previously)

Suicide - what a crock of shit. Whichever moron came up with the phrase 'Suicide is Painless' needs to be removed from this planet immediately. Suicide is Pointless = FACT. I have never committed suicide, kind of obvious by the fact that I am not DEAD. Suicide + success = DEAD. Not alive anymore = DEAD. Death = Not Good on the Life-ter scale.

Kind of a pattern here don't you think?!!!!!!!

Why bring this subject up now? Because another person I cared for and respected, lost that respect when they followed the Yellow Prick Road. For fucks sake, if life sucks so bad, bugger off to another country or continent and become someone else. Don't call me, don't speak to me, whatever - just don't have the police coming round to inform me that you have taken your own life. It's not fucking clever. Send me chocolates from Brazil with an anonymous note saying "Fuck you - having a great time on the beach".

I used to enjoy, whilst at University and arriving back at the Halls of Residence to meet up with fellow inmates for late night pizza, kebabs or whatever, throwing in the question "Is suicide brave or stupid?". At the end of a night it was fun to provoke such discussions and then I'd step back to watch the arguments. That was before I had encountered the other side of suicide - i.e. what is left behind. The devastation wrought on friends, family and communities. Then all one is left with are the memories of fun together, the misgivings of missing what was too late to fix and the inability to change things. I am Goth, not god.

Meanwhile, after death, the remaining families and friends have to bear the anguish for the rest of their lives.

The first time this suicide shite touched my life, I had to deal with the girlfriend who found the body. Her boyfriend, my friend, had hung himself using a door (not going to explain the logistics to be on the safe side). She had arrived at his place as he couldn't be reached on the phone and after eventually pushing the door open, found her boyfriend dead. The fact that she had to force the door in order to access the room, only to find that what had been pushing against her was her boyfriends dead body left somewhat of a mental impression on her. Sufficient to stop her from opening any door in the future without mentally recreating her horrid discovery.

Now, this shite is becoming slightly tedious. Enough already. Phone the Samaritans, talk to someone. Fuck me, these people are volunteers who are just manning the phones to listen, for no charge, without being condescending to listen to your issues. If it's that bad, call them. Don't become a statistic, don't think you are alone - you're not. Of course, if you're reading this you aren't suicidal (well, you might be afterwards). In the words of Sir Steven of Tyler - "Don't get mad - get even".

Don't take your own life as a message to god, stamp on some pretty flowers or something. But, and this is a BIG BUT, if you are determined to kill yourself, at least have the decency to a) do it successfully b) don't know me or vice versa before you do and c) just take yourself out of the human equation please. Killing other people, who didn't actually want to die at the time, but do because of your fucked up views will not enamour yourself with any of the gods I hang out with. Trust me, the 'secretaries of the gods' have instructions "if it's a suicide, just send them down under".

I have lost friends, family and others to this disease. I wish I knew the anti-dote, I really wish I did. I guess the beginning from the non-suicidal side is JUST LISTEN. From the suicidal side - JUST TALK It might be too late if you don't.

a luego,

viernes, febrero 09, 2007

In Your Soul

Sorry not to have been around, busy being ill *coughs*. Anyway, after Drama Queens kind invitation to be guest on her blog earlier this week, I realised I have never posted any of my own poetry/lyrics on mine *slaps hand*. So, be warned....

In Your Soul

I'll drink of the blood and taste of the bread
and cherish the thought of you in my head
I'll drink to you love and cry you a tear
I'll think of your image while you're not here

Dream of the moon and call to the stars
Dream of me now no matter how far
Away I might be in body and soul
I lie in your arms, your heart and your soul

Alone you may be but imagine me there
Lying beside you to memories share
Times now opaque, gone for awhile
Picture me there my radiant child

At night you will feel my presence within
In the dark I will hold you, gather you in
Protect you from voices and images white
Protect and caress you throughout the night

Before dawn can break and shadows appear
Can you see my image within your tears
Cry for me not, waste not your tears
It will not be long before I appear
I'll show you a light where once there was none
And fight all your battles until they're won

Pray for the hour before dawn can break,
I pray for the dark, my entrance to make

Copyright ©ST 2007

a luego,
*coughs again and crawls back under the duvet*

miércoles, febrero 07, 2007

Beers, Steers and Queers

I'm sorry *he lied, laughing into his silk handkerchief* but Beers, Steers and Queers is funny. It's a song, a very good song, it's funny, and any band with a name like 'The Revolting Cocks' gets a listening to from El Goth just out of plain curiosity. Bugger me backwards with a pitchfork (phrase, not a suggestion) if it didn't turn out to be damn good. I listened, reminisced, thought about when I first heard the track and what I was doing at the time - ROFL.

El Goth is a huge fan of music, not in a huge, I'm a fat bastard sort of way, but in a huge, it's my main hobby, past-time, love sort of way. So I got introduced to this 'side project' of The Ministry. (Note to Benny: this did NOT happen yesterday, but about 15 years ago). It samples phrases from Deliverance, has a kick-ass beat, and generally rocks. Anyone who can also have a side project called '1000 Homo DJ's' in this cotton woolled, politically incorrect, fucked up society deserves respect.

So why bring it up now? Because it wriggled it's way into my ears via my muppet-3, which is set to "random", yesterday. Wonderful thing technology. You can revisit music you'd forgotten about without squatting on the floor, pissed/stoned as a fart, at someone elses house at 3am going through their record collection. "oooo, you actually listen to Genesis dude - aren't they all dead or something?". Then, 5 minutes later say something along the lines of "NO FUCKING WAY" as you discover some gem lodged in between the Wishbone Ash or Rush shite.

Oh the good old days *sighs in a nostalgic but slightly wistful way*.

Retrospectingly (big word which roughly translates to arse about face) I started to worry about the state of music - the manufactured corporate bullshit that was being forced upon me, when suddenly I realised I was just looking where "they" told me to. Quick 'about turn', off to the record store and shifty delve into the section "they" didn't want me to hear. HOORAY. The "suits" were not winning the war after all - music still rocked. To quote My Chemical Romance - "No, you're never gonna get me". I was reborn - a born again rock-head.

Music is my elixir, my eternal spring of youth. It's an endless source of inspiration in times of desperation. I could cite so many examples of where it has helped me - e.g. from being hugely depressed and listening to The Cure's 'Prayers for Rain' and thinking "Fucking hell, he's even sadder than I am" and immediately feeling better about myself. Getting busted by the Gestapo...sorry, Gendarme in France whilst listening to Rage Against the Machine shout 'Fuck you I won't do what you tell me' thinking "ha, listen to that if you can motherfucker". Being curled up in a foetal position in the dark listening to REM's 'Perfect Circle' after being scarred in a relationship to hearing the opening riff of AC/DC's 'Back in Black' before departing on another Fridays - Highway to Hell.

I don't give a badger's scrotum as to what you listen to, but DO NOT take in the crap that is forced upon you. To paraphrase another favourite band of mine, Public Enemy - 'Don't Believe The Shite'. If you seek, you shall find - or some other pontificating bollocks. The point being, the music is there. It lives, it breathes, it fucking rocks. If you don't believe me....I don't care. "A pox upon you Sir".

I will leave you with a quote from the Revolting Cocks - "Come on city-slicker, squeal like a pig" *shudders at the very thought*

a luego,

martes, febrero 06, 2007

A Gothic Dilemma

"Whitney Houston, we have a problem" - not entirely true but I have to use bullshit to address this issue. As you may or may not be aware (but will be now) I have multiplied. Existing in this world are two Mini-Goths who I am not allowed to see for a variety of nonsensical reasons. This causes me great pain and anguish which, unfortunately, also imposes it's sorry arse on mi Mariposa.

So, wherein lies the dilemma? Because I have started receiving e-mails supposedly from the eldest Mini-Goth. "Hooray" I don't hear you cry. That's a good thing right? In theory, yes. It could mean that the opression ban has been lifted - which would be nice, in a cute, fluffy and heart-warming way. However, it could also be complete bollocks - another ruse by Evil X to once again thrust the dagger of contempt into my slowly mending heart.

Thus, stuck between a rock and a hard place I lie. Prone, vulnerable and, to be honest, scared shitless. If I make the wrong decision, I'm FUBARred. Do I reach out and try, maybe to be brought down in flames or ignore and, well, die in the fire of complancy? Either way, I lose.

I wish I had the opportunity to confront MG face to face, then I could see if the Mistress of Puppets was dictating what was being said.

Common sense tells me to walk away, love tells me to stay. Realistically, I have little choice. Like a new inmate in prison, I have to stand there naked and hope, that just once, I don't get truly butt-fucked. I can't afford, emotionally, to not take the chance to converse with MY MG's.

Oh well, pants down, arse in the air and fingers crossed.

a luego,

ps whatever happens my children, I love you unconditionally and forever.

sábado, febrero 03, 2007

Avoiding Death

Death, in itself, is usually a bad thing. Every day and every night Mr Death is loping around, scythe in hand waiting to claim some more recruits. Quick farewell to Mrs Death, who barely looks up from the washing up but merely replies "Have a nice day/night reaping dear - and don't forget to snuff out the cat" and he's out of the door.

Unfortunately, death is rather inevitable but there's a time and a place. However, before the time arrives for you to shuffle off this mortal coil, there are a few things that you can do to prevent it. Below is a list of DO NOT's to ignore at your peril, each one given a Probability of Death Rating - PoDR based on their individual likelihood.


Go flying - by this I am not talking about the 'flying in a plane' thing as that is relatively safe, unless you're silly enough to fly a plane across a NATO airbase without permission. Granted, anyone doing this 'flying in dodgy space' shite without permission, is as 'mad as a pineapple' and deserves to be taken out of the human equation. I'm talking about the, drop some acid, think I can fly, so jump off a tenth floor window ledge to prove it. Word to the wise, dickhead, why not try a takeoff from the ground first? Even planes do it that way. PoDR - 98%

Stick your head in a crocodile/sharks mouth - One occurence of this could be considered an accident, but when it keeps happening, jesus where do they get these morons from? "What's that?" "The teeth look a bit sharp" - that's because they fucking are, fuckwit. Don't do it - it's not big and it's not clever!! PoDR - 80%

Touch things that have signs saying - Don't. For example, a sign that says "Don't Touch - 40,000 Volts", is not an invitation to touch it to prove to your friends how big and hard you are. 240 Volts hurts and if you don't believe me, try taking a lightbulb out and touch the connection - go on I dare you! So, now your hair is standing on end, try and do the logic....... 240 -> 40,000 is quite a big leap and that's what will happen to you. End result, one very charred idiot. PoDR = 92%

Play with guns. Guns were invented for one reason, killing. For this very reason alone you shouldn't mess with them, quite aside from the fact that even being associated with them screws with your head. Look at Charlton Heston for example, one day prancing around the desert in a dress, parting seas and doing wise things, next day goes to play with the NRA (National Rifle Assosciation) and immediately becomes exactly the sort of wanker that the guns should be used on. "But it's in the Constitution, our right to bear arms" he bleats. Yeah, right to kill kids also is it? Fuck off and take your loser playmates with you. PoDR=70% (I know logically it should be 50% depending which end of the gun you're at, but we're talking real 'Darwin missing links' here)

Living in a small country that Bush can't pronounce. Dangerous one this because Bushfuck is in charge of some really big guns. If he can't pronounce the name, fuck it - let's blow them up. That'll teach them won't it Darth Cheney? Woe betide you if you're living in Iran (you're next on the list). I think the plan was something like, invade China - can't, they're too big and I like Chinese food, STOP, turn around and bomb every country we pass on our way home. Ok, if you live in Belgium; nothing to offer except chips and well, that's about it really (and the country is already flat so not much point then). PoDR=80%

Over indulge (Food, Drink, Drugs). 'Everything in moderation', it is said, is the way to go. Not a very well thought out phrase methinks - 'death in moderation?'. However, overindulging with F,D,D can be so tempting for Mr Death to come rap, rap, rapping on your door. Overeat and you explode or just squash small people - take your seat on the bus without seeing you sat on a small person - dead. Overdrink and your liver fucks off to Picklesville - dead. Drugs - already mentioned. PoDR=70% proof.

Come and go at the same time. Death by sex sounds wonderful, if you are the dead one. However, have some empathy for the surviving one. The guy, comes and goes at the same time. Do you think there's any way that the woman can get layed for a few years? No fucking chance is the answer - "er, no thanks, that's a killer pussy". Not really any better the other way round either as the guy would be doing the usual and assuming his partner was not moving as she was enjoying it so much. Word to the wise pal - if the back isn't arching you are not in the scoring zone. Later, he will have to explain to the police why he was Necromancing. PoDR = 69%

Get Old. It's relatively easy, when you are young, to avoid death coming. If you're really cool you may even be able to 'blind-side' the Duke of Death and 'thunder' the motherfucker (get behind him and yank his skids up sharply before running off laughing). When you get old though, trouble at mill. Death comes floating along, in a Star Wars Sand Speeder way, you know you want to run, but, in a dream kind of way, you're running your arse off in one spot. Zap. Dead. Son-of-a-bitch!!!!! PoDR = 100%

Have a good weekend and, be excellent to each other,

ps Mariposa -> besos y te quiero mi media naranja :-x
pps sorry it's late, I apparently aggravated the motherfucker even before I posted this yesterday so he decided to take out another person I love - TWAT!!!!

jueves, febrero 01, 2007

Ten Incredibly Useless Facts to Mull Over

1) It is possible to drown a fish. Dragging it backwards in water drowns it. It must be rather disheartening to arrive at the Pearly Gates and having to cough to why you're there. "Well, I was just doing that swimmy thing and breathing underwater when suddenly, WHOOSH, I shot backwards, drowned and here I am. Yeah, I know I'm supposed to be able to breath underwater but I didn't know I was going to get whooshed."

2) Pigeons can explode. Amazing but true. It's got something to do with a bird's inability to fart - bit like the Queen really (not you DQ). So anyway, the methodology is something like this. Feed them popcorn, when it reacts to their stomach acid POOF - one shower of feathers that used to be a pigeon.

3) To free a rottweiler's jaws, grab it by the testicles. My overwhelming sense of curiosity leads me to ask the question - who the fook found that one out? And whatever possessed them to think of grabbing it by the chuds? Personally, I would have used a gun (always handy to carry one in your superhero utility belt).

4) Dolphins sleep with one eye open. So, next time you're planning to sneak up on a dolphin before shouting BOO - you have a 50% chance of making it jump out of the water. Of course, you could just throw a fish in the air but that's not half as much fun is it?

5) The longest recorded flight of a chicken is 13 seconds. Now I beg to differ on this one. First, there's no mention of it being 'unaided' flight. Secondly, if it wasn't verified my Norris McWhirter, it doesn't count. Who decided to time it anyway? Must have been american - nobody else would wander round with a stop-watch looking for things to time. I mean, that's a pretty sad life to be having. I'm fairly positive that they didn't need to count the times between shags. If that's your social life I don't think theres much chance you'll be shagging anyone.

6) An estimated 6,000 American teenagers lose their virginity every day. Cool - I know where I'm going on holiday then. Be like a child in a sweet shop. Come along ladies, orderely queue on the left please although I'm not sure about the logistics of getting through 6,000 a day though. I'm fit but, 4 a minute - strewth I'd have to resort to the Chinese way of bonking - Chook Hai -> next. I think that's why theres so many Chinese people. I suppose I could share some of the workload (eek - make it sound like a chore rather than a pleasure). Does make sense to be selective though. Fat chicks, other line please, braces other line - yeah, I''m getting the hang of this now.

7) Thomas Edison was afraid of the dark. Good enough reason to be inventing light builbs then.

8) A Saudi Arabian woman can get a divorce if her husband doesn't give her coffee. Go girl go. But, this begs the question of when a bloke can ask for a divorce. Could have a field day on this one. Suffice to say I'm fairly positive I know what will top the poll for most blokes. Makes perfect sense to me anyway ;-)

9) Approx. 4000 people are injured by teapots each year. Now how did they find this statistic out? Spend an evening in the Accident & Emergency quizzing people on how they got their injury. Well, I'm sorry but if I turned up with a bump on my head there's no way that I'm coughing to having whacked myself with a teapot. I used to have a girlfriend who was a nurse at the local A & E and I used to love the true stories she used to tell. The guy with the deoderant lid stuck up his arse "My girlfriend must have done it whilst I was asleep" (yeah, right) to the guy who refused to sit down for 3 hours. When a nurse finally had the time to ask him why he was there he motioned her to one side and removing his overcoat displayed the reason - one plastic coat hanger extremely stuck and going nowhere. And before you think it's only men who are the morons - let's have a round of applause for the women with a coke bottle well and truly jammed up her tunnel of love. The excuse, "I fell off a ladder in the cellar and landed on a crate. As I wasn't wearing any underwear it must have shot up there" - happens all the time love!!!

And finally, my favourite........

10) All porcupines float in water. Cool, now all I need is to find a prickle of porcupines (and yes it is the correct term before you go off skating round the net to check this) and then casually start lobbing them into the nearest lake or river. This is exactly the sort of behaviour that my brain classifies as 'a really good idea' when I have one or more Jack Daniels. I know in retrospect that these 'really good ideas' are in fact nothing of the sort but they do seem to propogate themselves whenever alcohol is thrown into the equation. So put on your glad rags, grab some take out and join me on the river bank. Extra points for clocking a passing canoeist with the spiky flying mammals.

hasta luego,