Hi, most people reading this will know me in some way, shape or form. You'll know that I can be rude, arrogant, spiteful and self righteous BUT I'd like to think that's less often nowadays than it used to be.
So now I'm going to jump on my high horse and have a proper rant, and I don't know if you'll believe this but it all began in my favourite place on earth (besides Domino's pizza) that place being Tesco. Being the nice guy I am I took my dear old mum shopping this afternoon, I needed some bits and pieces too so off we went. It doesn't take long for that place to get my back up, and today was record time as at the roundabout in front of the store some bald fat mug in a renault decided to pull out in front of me.
He reminded me of a shaved Donkey Kong in a ridiculously small Go-Kart, His bingo wings preventing him from getting his elbows below Moobs height as his pudgy bastard hands sweatily gripped the steering wheel. I hope to god he isn't reading this though because he really did look like he'd stab his own gran for a Steak and Kidney pie.
We spent a good 10 minutes looking for a parking space, 90% of the spaces in Ely Tesco car park appear to be for blue badge holders, who for some reason all seem to be fucking billionaires..... They all drive fancy cars that look like they cost a fortune, I guess the no win no fee lawyers really do work!
Once we'd found a space that didn't have an abandoned trolley in it we pulled up and slowly trudged towards the entrance of that god forsaken store, I can only imagine that at this point the feeling of utter dread in my heart is akin to a death row inmate being led through the doors into the electric chair chamber. I walked with my head bowed thinking if I couldn't see the mass scrum of local web toed weirdo's that they wouldn't really exist, this theory was exposed as bullshit within seconds as a local woman with more teeth in her pocket than her mouth rammed her trolley into my hip using the force of all three of her freakishly muscly arms. My heart rate was rocketing, I was getting that rage already..... Thank goodness I'm not the Hulk or there would have been some mean green retribution laid down all over the bitch and her trolley.
Next problem came in the shape of our 'new, improved and redesigned store' YOU LYING BASTARDS! New and improved should be investigated by trading bloody standards! Nothing is new, they have moved everything to stupid places that no one can find and added more aisles to the store to ensure we are all trapped in the shop for as long as possible while Mavis and the rest of her blue rinse bingo buddies stand discussing their husbands most recent bowel movement.
These old folk should be fitted with a shock collar, if they stop for longer than 30 seconds, mention the words Bread, price, lemonade, piles or bus passes in any combination or run over my toes we can push a button on our trolley handle that sends a high voltage shock to their wrinkly necks.
As if this isn't bad enough I now come to the main reason I am writing tonight. I walked around the corner contemplating Frank's piles and I walked past these 2 lads, they are talking to each other (by means of a series of grunting noises) and scratching their arses. I couldn't help overhear their diatribe..... This is how it went:
Mong 1: My mum is such a fucking whore.
Mong2: Why, what's she fucking done now?
Mong 1: She won't buy me a fucking PS3 for fucking Christmas, I fucking hate her.
Mong 2: That's fucking well ahhhht of order maaaaaaaate.
Mong 1: I can't wait to fucking move out and get a place of my own!!!!..................
Now I'd imagine that at this point you'd be thinking what rude kids, only they weren't actually technically kids anymore, I imagine that they were around 19 or 20 years old and the sort of people that will struggle to even gain employment as a lab rat. The language coming out of their mouths was unacceptable, and I was in 2 minds as to whether to pull them on it when I stopped, took a deep breath..... and carried on walking.
I was so proud of myself, I mean don't get me wrong I was still picturing gutting one of them with a little corn on the cob holder I had seen in aisle 9 and beating the other to death with a large potted Poinsettia,but I think I have finally realised that my poor, timid little mum and her religious beliefs would have had a seizure as she came back from picking up her box of corn flakes (Tim, I know she shouldn't eat that shit, but she's old and it's her one remaining comfort!) to see her beloved son drenched in mong blood.
I really wanted to grab these plebs and shake the sense into them but I think Tesco is my kryptonite
I never used to spare much thought for people in foreign countries because they were out of sight, out of mind but as I have grown up I have become a lot less ignorant to the wider world, the truth is we have no idea how good we've got it in general. We have houses, we have Ipods, ipads, mobile phones, laptops, blu-ray players, games consoles and more food than we ever seem to be able to eat. Yet still we can so easily become wrapped up in what we can't have we forget what we do have and what other people can never even consider having in their lives. They say charity begins at home, but do any of us truly need charity?
It is not the man who has little, it is the man who craves more who is poor.
I imagine we could learn so much from poor families who face a daily battle to survive, who watch their children literally starve to death in their arms. I used to think that if I had one wish I would wish to be a rich man, but recently I think my priorities have changed. If I could improve other peoples quality of life ahead of my own then I'd do it. My children will never go without anything they need and will be made to wait for what they want. To have that power makes me a truly lucky man.
If I don't blog again before the 25th I'd like to wish everyone a truly fantastic Christmas, full of love, peace and fulfilment. I hope all your wishes come true and if you have a spare 30 seconds just make a wish for those less fortunate than ourselves in this world.
Much love,
Dave.
Saturday, 10 December 2011
Monday, 28 November 2011
Please delete from gene pool.
Euthanasia, I think this woman is a prime candidate!
I'm not sure if you'll have seen this video yet but honestly people like this should not be allowed to breed. Human rights activists have even been rumoured to have said 'Fuck her off, she's an idiot'.
What am I talking about? Let me enlighten you!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i47HoiM0Au8&feature=share
Where do I start...... Ok let's try this.
1) Black people CAN be British you narrow minded fucking halfwit.
2) Polish people come here because the political party your skanky crack addled mong brain couldn't work out how to vote against let them in to 'YOUR BRITAIN'
3) By the sounds of your simple, brain injured drooling monotonous voice you're from a different fucking planet let alone country.
4) They would sort out their own countries, but to be fair our country needs to sort out utter twunts like you too..... SO let's start on our own doorstep you fucking silly tramp.
5) Britain is nothing now eh? You know why that is bitch? It's because we no longer have the ability to enslave the ancestors of the very people you are berating.... the people who probably pay more into this country than you do. After all I don't believe there's a recognised tax band for professional skag head.
6) It's not 'your' Britain you arrogant no good bell end.
7) Your British is fuck all? Just like your comprehension of the English language you pissing buffoon.
8) "I've got a little kid here" Yes you have and what did he do to deserve having a dopey wet fart like you for a parent? I really hope your son brings a 'foreign' man home and introduces him to you as his boyfriend you narrow minded whore.
9) "I dare you, I fucking dare you!" At this point I would have walked over and beaten her to death with her own fist. I would have made sure that kid went to a loving family in a pet free, smoke free home.
10) "Go back to where you come from, go back to sib----fucking nickercraglurar! I have an idea darling, they'll go back when you crawl back under your rock.
At this point (around 1:10 into the video) I really really hoped that Audley Harrison jr behind her had sucker punched the stupid slut right in the back of the head.
11) "It's my British country!" Errrrrr, sorry..... what?
12) "You're not British, you're black!" 10 points for colour recognition, nil point for your assumption of the lady's birth country! A slap in the face with a wet mackerel for being retarded.
13) "No coz sumwun's gorra talk up for these lot....." And there was me thunkin' yore tawkin' aaahhht against dem!
At this point I'd like to mention that she looks a little bit like a homeless version of Davina McCall. I am actually ashamed to admit that she is from the same country as I am. Therefore I'd like to announce that I have spoken to Kirsty and Phil and they are currently looking out for a 4 bedroom detatched with a pool in sib----fucking nickercraglurar. The weather is better, the public transport is more reliable and last but not least I know I won't be bumping into you there you filthy scab.
The other upside is that according to you there won't be any sib----fucking nickercragluraran's in there own country so I will have a country all to myself!
Much love,
Dave.
I'm not sure if you'll have seen this video yet but honestly people like this should not be allowed to breed. Human rights activists have even been rumoured to have said 'Fuck her off, she's an idiot'.
What am I talking about? Let me enlighten you!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i47HoiM0Au8&feature=share
Where do I start...... Ok let's try this.
1) Black people CAN be British you narrow minded fucking halfwit.
2) Polish people come here because the political party your skanky crack addled mong brain couldn't work out how to vote against let them in to 'YOUR BRITAIN'
3) By the sounds of your simple, brain injured drooling monotonous voice you're from a different fucking planet let alone country.
4) They would sort out their own countries, but to be fair our country needs to sort out utter twunts like you too..... SO let's start on our own doorstep you fucking silly tramp.
5) Britain is nothing now eh? You know why that is bitch? It's because we no longer have the ability to enslave the ancestors of the very people you are berating.... the people who probably pay more into this country than you do. After all I don't believe there's a recognised tax band for professional skag head.
6) It's not 'your' Britain you arrogant no good bell end.
7) Your British is fuck all? Just like your comprehension of the English language you pissing buffoon.
8) "I've got a little kid here" Yes you have and what did he do to deserve having a dopey wet fart like you for a parent? I really hope your son brings a 'foreign' man home and introduces him to you as his boyfriend you narrow minded whore.
9) "I dare you, I fucking dare you!" At this point I would have walked over and beaten her to death with her own fist. I would have made sure that kid went to a loving family in a pet free, smoke free home.
10) "Go back to where you come from, go back to sib----fucking nickercraglurar! I have an idea darling, they'll go back when you crawl back under your rock.
At this point (around 1:10 into the video) I really really hoped that Audley Harrison jr behind her had sucker punched the stupid slut right in the back of the head.
11) "It's my British country!" Errrrrr, sorry..... what?
12) "You're not British, you're black!" 10 points for colour recognition, nil point for your assumption of the lady's birth country! A slap in the face with a wet mackerel for being retarded.
13) "No coz sumwun's gorra talk up for these lot....." And there was me thunkin' yore tawkin' aaahhht against dem!
At this point I'd like to mention that she looks a little bit like a homeless version of Davina McCall. I am actually ashamed to admit that she is from the same country as I am. Therefore I'd like to announce that I have spoken to Kirsty and Phil and they are currently looking out for a 4 bedroom detatched with a pool in sib----fucking nickercraglurar. The weather is better, the public transport is more reliable and last but not least I know I won't be bumping into you there you filthy scab.
The other upside is that according to you there won't be any sib----fucking nickercragluraran's in there own country so I will have a country all to myself!
Much love,
Dave.
Sunday, 30 October 2011
Trolley rage
I should have known better than to go to Tesco on a weekend, but I needed to pick some bits up for Katie's return to school on Monday morning.
It's never a good sign when the first thing you see is some stupid bitch going backwards and forwards in a space big enough to park the bastard Titanic. She had no understanding of even the basics of driving, by the end of her comedy routine I literally wanted to drag her out of the car, throw her into a bush and park for her. And what car was this inept tool driving? A large people carrier? Maybe a Range Rover or some other monstrosity....... No, a bloody Peugeot 107, that's right a motorised roller skate, a car I could have picked up and stuffed in my pocket and she's unable to get it into a fair sized space.
By now I was already fed up, there were more cars in the car park than I have seen for a long time, and as I went in search of a trolley I couldn't find a single bloody one. I had to wander around the various trolley parks looking for something to push my shopping around in. Success, only moments later I am in possession of a truly beautiful basket on wheels, it looked brand new and barely had a mile on the clock.
Then I discovered why the poxy thing had been left discarded in a dark corner like a leper. The wheels were knackered, and when I say knackered I mean they were totally cocked to fuck. All 4 wheels wanted to go in different directions and to be honest it didn't really do anything to improve my mood. It was like trying to push a 50 stone kid around on a pair of skis, it was sheer agony and to top it off it made an ethereal sound like a ghost wailing, a dog yelping and a child screaming from the bottom of a well.
People were looking at me constantly like I had an arm growing out of my arse, (I wasn't born in the Fens I moved here when I was very young) I think one woman actually tutted at me as I slowly shunted this wiry sack of crap past her because she couldn't hear her hillbilly daughter on the other end of the phone telling her she was pregnant with her 12th child from her 11th partner.
Ely Tesco is in the middle of a revamp, they have moved every single item to a new location and it really shows in the blank expression of the yokels dragging themselves around like a pissed slug. I mean really, it's not that difficult to open your freaking eyes and look for the strawberry fucking jam is it? I can see it from here and you should have an advantage seeing as you have 3 extra eyes.
At this point if you are a pensioner I'd just close this tab, hahahaha like you know what a tab is you blue rinse git. Why is it that the old folk decide to stop for a conversation about their best friends horrific case of piles? Why is it that they can't pull off to one side of an aisle to talk about how bread is far too expensive? Why is it that they decide to form a blockade by turning their trolleys inwards to face each other completely blocking you off from where you want to go? And finally why is it that they insist on telling us 'young'uns' that we have no manners when you happily let them through a gap and they look at you as if you've just fallen out of their massive, wrinkled noses?
I know we owe you for all of your sacrifices in the war, I proudly wear a poppy every year and support charities collecting for ex servicemen and women. But is it too much to ask that you show a little common courtesy from time to time? I really do have a lot of respect for my peers but when they show me nothing but attitude in return it's sometimes hard to bite my lip and walk on by instead of administering a swift kick to auntie Mabel's dodgy hip.
Looking for a till is always interesting, there are a few people I try to get to as they know what they are doing and get the stuff scanned fairly swiftly. However today I got some blubbering wreck of a lad that reminded me of a recovering alcoholic with confidence issues. It took him about 15 minutes to put my shopping through which is a joke, I could have done it myself faster if it wasn't for the fact that the self service tills don't accept American Express Centurion cards (oh yeah ladies, be impressed!)
Putting the shopping into the boot of the car one of the wafer thin bags split and my shopping rolled under my car, I know we're supposed to be looking after the environment BUT do we have to make bags thinner than a 95 year olds liver spotted skin?
Next time I'm going to drive to London and shop at Harrods, I think the parking would be less stressful, the staff wouldn't be slightly dimmer than a 10 Watt energy saving light bulb and their carrier bags are made of reinforced plastic. All in all I truly hate shopping.
It's never a good sign when the first thing you see is some stupid bitch going backwards and forwards in a space big enough to park the bastard Titanic. She had no understanding of even the basics of driving, by the end of her comedy routine I literally wanted to drag her out of the car, throw her into a bush and park for her. And what car was this inept tool driving? A large people carrier? Maybe a Range Rover or some other monstrosity....... No, a bloody Peugeot 107, that's right a motorised roller skate, a car I could have picked up and stuffed in my pocket and she's unable to get it into a fair sized space.
By now I was already fed up, there were more cars in the car park than I have seen for a long time, and as I went in search of a trolley I couldn't find a single bloody one. I had to wander around the various trolley parks looking for something to push my shopping around in. Success, only moments later I am in possession of a truly beautiful basket on wheels, it looked brand new and barely had a mile on the clock.
Then I discovered why the poxy thing had been left discarded in a dark corner like a leper. The wheels were knackered, and when I say knackered I mean they were totally cocked to fuck. All 4 wheels wanted to go in different directions and to be honest it didn't really do anything to improve my mood. It was like trying to push a 50 stone kid around on a pair of skis, it was sheer agony and to top it off it made an ethereal sound like a ghost wailing, a dog yelping and a child screaming from the bottom of a well.
People were looking at me constantly like I had an arm growing out of my arse, (I wasn't born in the Fens I moved here when I was very young) I think one woman actually tutted at me as I slowly shunted this wiry sack of crap past her because she couldn't hear her hillbilly daughter on the other end of the phone telling her she was pregnant with her 12th child from her 11th partner.
Ely Tesco is in the middle of a revamp, they have moved every single item to a new location and it really shows in the blank expression of the yokels dragging themselves around like a pissed slug. I mean really, it's not that difficult to open your freaking eyes and look for the strawberry fucking jam is it? I can see it from here and you should have an advantage seeing as you have 3 extra eyes.
At this point if you are a pensioner I'd just close this tab, hahahaha like you know what a tab is you blue rinse git. Why is it that the old folk decide to stop for a conversation about their best friends horrific case of piles? Why is it that they can't pull off to one side of an aisle to talk about how bread is far too expensive? Why is it that they decide to form a blockade by turning their trolleys inwards to face each other completely blocking you off from where you want to go? And finally why is it that they insist on telling us 'young'uns' that we have no manners when you happily let them through a gap and they look at you as if you've just fallen out of their massive, wrinkled noses?
I know we owe you for all of your sacrifices in the war, I proudly wear a poppy every year and support charities collecting for ex servicemen and women. But is it too much to ask that you show a little common courtesy from time to time? I really do have a lot of respect for my peers but when they show me nothing but attitude in return it's sometimes hard to bite my lip and walk on by instead of administering a swift kick to auntie Mabel's dodgy hip.
Looking for a till is always interesting, there are a few people I try to get to as they know what they are doing and get the stuff scanned fairly swiftly. However today I got some blubbering wreck of a lad that reminded me of a recovering alcoholic with confidence issues. It took him about 15 minutes to put my shopping through which is a joke, I could have done it myself faster if it wasn't for the fact that the self service tills don't accept American Express Centurion cards (oh yeah ladies, be impressed!)
Putting the shopping into the boot of the car one of the wafer thin bags split and my shopping rolled under my car, I know we're supposed to be looking after the environment BUT do we have to make bags thinner than a 95 year olds liver spotted skin?
Next time I'm going to drive to London and shop at Harrods, I think the parking would be less stressful, the staff wouldn't be slightly dimmer than a 10 Watt energy saving light bulb and their carrier bags are made of reinforced plastic. All in all I truly hate shopping.
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Alice, you're a dick.
Hi,
As some of you may know I am currently on a major lifestyle changing journey, and for once I'm not talking the drive to the fortune garden for a deep fried shredded beef in chili sauce.
I have been taken into a fitness program and under the guidance of a certain Tim Megginson (www.timmegginson.co.uk) am rapidly losing weight. 16 pounds down so far if my scales have stopped lying to me! Also my man boobs are in retreat and to be honest I feel more energetic and generally better about myself. Going from a 'J' cup to a 'D' is a remarkable achievement!
Well the reason I am blogging today is down to this very man. I'm not sure he'll appreciate me telling the story of the Alice origins, but let's just say she crushed him, and now he crushes us out of utter spite.
I'm not one to dislike people without having ever met them, so far I am mostly limited to Cher Lloyd, Katie Price, Elise (off of Hells kitchen USA) Martine McCutcheon (listen to her singing 'perfect moment', if that doesn't explain it all then you're a lost cause and should probably drown yourself in your toilet) Katie Waissel, Pete Doherty and Gareth Southgate.
Today I am going to add someone new to my list, A person so horrible that by her actions alone have brought pain, suffering and misery to far more people than I would imagine she would have ever expected. Her name will be etched into the minds of Ely fitness camps members minds and aching muscles for the rest of their lives. Her name is Alice.
I woke up this morning in remarkably high spirits, I drew back the curtains and was bathed in a warm, golden autumnal sunlight and I said to the wife "What a beautiful day", to which she replied "You'd better get a crack on you've got training soon". "Nah babe" I replied, "you know I don't train on Tuesdays". "It's Wednesday dipshit!" she said.
MY good mood darkened, her mood seemed to improve almost instantly, I knew today was going to be tough as we're nearing the end of the monthly exercise circle, and to be honest I considered throwing myself down the stairs. Still as we all know physical torture in the middle of a freezing cold park is most definitely the path to enlightenment (in the spiritual and dieting sense!).
It's time we talked a little about 'ALICE', she's a mean nasty bitch, she'll break your body, mind and spirit in a heartbeat and doesn't forgive the weak. The Alice I am talking of is however NOT a person. Alice is a fitness routine that has been devised to kill off people that aren't required any longer.
The routine consists of the following:
30 secs of Push ups
30 Seconds of rest
30 secs of push ups, 30 secs of Squat jumps
30 seconds rest
30 secs of Push ups, 30 of Squat jumps, 30 of Inch worms
30 seconds rest
30 secs of Push ups, 30 of Squat jumps, 30 of inch worms, 30 seconds plank
30 seconds rest
30 secs Push ups, 30 of Squat jumps, 30 of Inch worm, 30 of plank and 30 seconds of high knees
30 seconds rest
Finally you do:
30 secs of Push ups, 30 of Squat jumps, 30 of Inch worm, 30 of plank, 30 of high knees and then 30 secs reverse lunges.
YESSSSS ! ! ! I only bloody finished without dying! Admittedly my lungs felt like they'd been sandblasted and then had acid poured in them, they were also making a strange combination of noises including but not limited to wheezing, crackling and gurgling.
Tim: "Ok rockstars now we're doing it all in reverse! I'm going to give you 2 minutes rest and then we're going again"
2 minutes........ 2 fricking minutes? That's not even enough time for me to drag myself to my phone using my tongue (my arms had stopped working after set 3) and dial for an ambulance.
It was also at this point I discovered that I'd been kneeling or standing on a worm for the entire first set of exercise, not so bad for me but I think I royally fucked up his plans for the weekend. I named him wiggly and said a short prayer for him, I considered a short funeral service but some crazy American fella was already counting us down for the second set of Alice.
At the end of the session I finally understood what it felt like to fall out of a plane with no parachute, I lay on my towel, my body broken into small pieces, This is by far the hardest work I have EVER done!
So yeah, Alice you're a bitch... a spiteful, vindictive bitch and I hate you. On the plus side I am really starting to see results now and having 2 sunflower seeds and a glass of water for breakfast doesn't seem to feel quite so horrific anymore.
I am clucking for a full English breakfast, I miss crap food so much, but I know that if I stay strong until Christmas I'll be in such a good place it'll make the suffering well worth it!
Onwards and upwards, one more session this week!
Much love,
Dave.
As some of you may know I am currently on a major lifestyle changing journey, and for once I'm not talking the drive to the fortune garden for a deep fried shredded beef in chili sauce.
I have been taken into a fitness program and under the guidance of a certain Tim Megginson (www.timmegginson.co.uk) am rapidly losing weight. 16 pounds down so far if my scales have stopped lying to me! Also my man boobs are in retreat and to be honest I feel more energetic and generally better about myself. Going from a 'J' cup to a 'D' is a remarkable achievement!
Well the reason I am blogging today is down to this very man. I'm not sure he'll appreciate me telling the story of the Alice origins, but let's just say she crushed him, and now he crushes us out of utter spite.
I'm not one to dislike people without having ever met them, so far I am mostly limited to Cher Lloyd, Katie Price, Elise (off of Hells kitchen USA) Martine McCutcheon (listen to her singing 'perfect moment', if that doesn't explain it all then you're a lost cause and should probably drown yourself in your toilet) Katie Waissel, Pete Doherty and Gareth Southgate.
Today I am going to add someone new to my list, A person so horrible that by her actions alone have brought pain, suffering and misery to far more people than I would imagine she would have ever expected. Her name will be etched into the minds of Ely fitness camps members minds and aching muscles for the rest of their lives. Her name is Alice.
I woke up this morning in remarkably high spirits, I drew back the curtains and was bathed in a warm, golden autumnal sunlight and I said to the wife "What a beautiful day", to which she replied "You'd better get a crack on you've got training soon". "Nah babe" I replied, "you know I don't train on Tuesdays". "It's Wednesday dipshit!" she said.
MY good mood darkened, her mood seemed to improve almost instantly, I knew today was going to be tough as we're nearing the end of the monthly exercise circle, and to be honest I considered throwing myself down the stairs. Still as we all know physical torture in the middle of a freezing cold park is most definitely the path to enlightenment (in the spiritual and dieting sense!).
It's time we talked a little about 'ALICE', she's a mean nasty bitch, she'll break your body, mind and spirit in a heartbeat and doesn't forgive the weak. The Alice I am talking of is however NOT a person. Alice is a fitness routine that has been devised to kill off people that aren't required any longer.
The routine consists of the following:
30 secs of Push ups
30 Seconds of rest
30 secs of push ups, 30 secs of Squat jumps
30 seconds rest
30 secs of Push ups, 30 of Squat jumps, 30 of Inch worms
30 seconds rest
30 secs of Push ups, 30 of Squat jumps, 30 of inch worms, 30 seconds plank
30 seconds rest
30 secs Push ups, 30 of Squat jumps, 30 of Inch worm, 30 of plank and 30 seconds of high knees
30 seconds rest
Finally you do:
30 secs of Push ups, 30 of Squat jumps, 30 of Inch worm, 30 of plank, 30 of high knees and then 30 secs reverse lunges.
YESSSSS ! ! ! I only bloody finished without dying! Admittedly my lungs felt like they'd been sandblasted and then had acid poured in them, they were also making a strange combination of noises including but not limited to wheezing, crackling and gurgling.
Tim: "Ok rockstars now we're doing it all in reverse! I'm going to give you 2 minutes rest and then we're going again"
2 minutes........ 2 fricking minutes? That's not even enough time for me to drag myself to my phone using my tongue (my arms had stopped working after set 3) and dial for an ambulance.
It was also at this point I discovered that I'd been kneeling or standing on a worm for the entire first set of exercise, not so bad for me but I think I royally fucked up his plans for the weekend. I named him wiggly and said a short prayer for him, I considered a short funeral service but some crazy American fella was already counting us down for the second set of Alice.
At the end of the session I finally understood what it felt like to fall out of a plane with no parachute, I lay on my towel, my body broken into small pieces, This is by far the hardest work I have EVER done!
So yeah, Alice you're a bitch... a spiteful, vindictive bitch and I hate you. On the plus side I am really starting to see results now and having 2 sunflower seeds and a glass of water for breakfast doesn't seem to feel quite so horrific anymore.
I am clucking for a full English breakfast, I miss crap food so much, but I know that if I stay strong until Christmas I'll be in such a good place it'll make the suffering well worth it!
Onwards and upwards, one more session this week!
Much love,
Dave.
Saturday, 15 October 2011
Freak factor.
I promise not to blog constantly about X Factor, so don't get all grumpy at the fact I've done it again this week.
However between fitness training and dying on the sofa afterwards I am leading a fairly boring existence.
Now I know I bang on a fair bit about X Factor, but anyone with a Wife/Husband/Partner that is addicted to it like Kelly is, will sympathise with me.
Tonight I was sat there with a bag of sunflower seeds and a glass of water (my life is just that rock 'n' roll) being spoon fed this mass produced shite that has become a national institution. For me the saddest thing is that so many people continue to phone in and vote further lining the pockets of some of the richest people in entertainment for a product that could be bettered by most holiday camp singers.
Last week we saw the end of Jonjo Kerr (Really? Jon joker???) and a duet called 2 shoes..... 2 fucking shoes? I know all the good band names are gone now but even calling yourself pig cock would have more 'cred' than the shite they named themselves. How Jonjo got voted off instead of this guy I am about to beast the shit out of is totally beyond me.
Right, the first thing to piss me off was Craig Colton..... I know I'm hardly a multi platinum selling artist or a famous record producer BUT I know a good singer when I hear someone. He was uninspiring, irritating and for some reason I just had the urge to punch him on all 7 of his chins. I've belted out better performances whilst crawling through the gutters of Cambridge with a traffic cone on my head after drinking 9 pints of lager and a dozen vodka's!
Next up we have Frankie Cocozza.... He's so cool, he has tattoo's on his arse cheeks of various girls names! Wow mate you're fucking amazing, you inspire me..... to scoop my own fucking eyeballs out of my skull with a mouldy fucking teaspoon. Oh and get a fucking haircut, it looks like a family of Lurchers took up residence on your noggin and were promptly beaten to death with a bat.
OK now to Johnny Robinson, Or as I like to call him the bulimic skaghead. He honestly looks like he's been dug up from a grave and given fucking CPR. I don't really know how people like this are allowed on television, he's not edgy, he's not talented...... just fuck off will you. There's something almost creepy about him, I don't know if it's his mannerisms, his personality or just the fact he is fucking creepy, but there's something about him that makes me throw up in my own mouth a little.
As I am typing this some fucking troll faced tramp called Kitty is berating people who booed her last week, well darling, before you get on your high horse, oh too late you already have... you think they are out of order for booing you?
You're arrogant and you're going to fail, I just hope to god it's sooner rather than later so you can crawl back under the rock you crawled out from.
I have decided to actually apply for next years X factor, I am going to be arrogant, rude and miserable. It works for the arse rags on this years show so why not for me?
However between fitness training and dying on the sofa afterwards I am leading a fairly boring existence.
Now I know I bang on a fair bit about X Factor, but anyone with a Wife/Husband/Partner that is addicted to it like Kelly is, will sympathise with me.
Tonight I was sat there with a bag of sunflower seeds and a glass of water (my life is just that rock 'n' roll) being spoon fed this mass produced shite that has become a national institution. For me the saddest thing is that so many people continue to phone in and vote further lining the pockets of some of the richest people in entertainment for a product that could be bettered by most holiday camp singers.
Last week we saw the end of Jonjo Kerr (Really? Jon joker???) and a duet called 2 shoes..... 2 fucking shoes? I know all the good band names are gone now but even calling yourself pig cock would have more 'cred' than the shite they named themselves. How Jonjo got voted off instead of this guy I am about to beast the shit out of is totally beyond me.
Right, the first thing to piss me off was Craig Colton..... I know I'm hardly a multi platinum selling artist or a famous record producer BUT I know a good singer when I hear someone. He was uninspiring, irritating and for some reason I just had the urge to punch him on all 7 of his chins. I've belted out better performances whilst crawling through the gutters of Cambridge with a traffic cone on my head after drinking 9 pints of lager and a dozen vodka's!
Next up we have Frankie Cocozza.... He's so cool, he has tattoo's on his arse cheeks of various girls names! Wow mate you're fucking amazing, you inspire me..... to scoop my own fucking eyeballs out of my skull with a mouldy fucking teaspoon. Oh and get a fucking haircut, it looks like a family of Lurchers took up residence on your noggin and were promptly beaten to death with a bat.
OK now to Johnny Robinson, Or as I like to call him the bulimic skaghead. He honestly looks like he's been dug up from a grave and given fucking CPR. I don't really know how people like this are allowed on television, he's not edgy, he's not talented...... just fuck off will you. There's something almost creepy about him, I don't know if it's his mannerisms, his personality or just the fact he is fucking creepy, but there's something about him that makes me throw up in my own mouth a little.
As I am typing this some fucking troll faced tramp called Kitty is berating people who booed her last week, well darling, before you get on your high horse, oh too late you already have... you think they are out of order for booing you?
You're arrogant and you're going to fail, I just hope to god it's sooner rather than later so you can crawl back under the rock you crawled out from.
I have decided to actually apply for next years X factor, I am going to be arrogant, rude and miserable. It works for the arse rags on this years show so why not for me?
Monday, 10 October 2011
Virgin media sales people.
Now before I start I actually do use Virgin media's services. We have a telephone line and their 30 meg broadband, which on the whole are pretty damned good services.
Now lets get down to business, why in the name of god do companies insist on using sales teams based in Islamabad? The phone rang this afternoon and I answered it (as you do) and here's how the conversation went.
If you have seen Fonejacker picture the internet sales guy from India.
Me: Hello..... Hello?....... HELLO???
Salesman: Good afternoon am I speaking to Mr Pavel?
Me: Errr you mean Mr Powell?
Salesman: That is what I am sayings, Good afternoon Mr Pavel my name is (Insert indistinct phlegmy sounding name here) and I am calling you with some fantastic news!
Me: errrrrrr, OK.... What's the fantastic news?
Salesman: Well Mr Pavel, I am pleased to be tellings you that you are to be rewarded for your loyalty to Wirgin media, We are so happy with your custom that we are willing to offer you a fantastic gift!
Me: Awesome! What do I get?
Salesman: Well Mr Pavel, we are happy to be offerings to you a virgin medias tivo box for just £6.50 per month!
Me: OK cool, Can you help buy me out of my Sky TV contract then please?
Salesman: Oh you are having Sky TV? OK that is fine, we can still install our Wirgin medias tivo box for you so you can enjoy cheaper television! Isn't this great news?
Me: No mate you're not hearing me, we have Sky TV and are in a contract we can't get out of.
Salesman: OK well we can install it in another room for you Mr Pavel, this is to allow you to watch many more channels on another television.
Me: MATE! I have multiroom Sky, I have a sky box attached to both TVs, I don't need Wirgin, I mean VIRGIN TV!,
Salesman: well are you planning on buying another television in the coming days?
Me: No, I have all the televisions I need.
Salesman: Are you certain sir?
Me: Yes I am certain, now I've got to go out so thanks for your call but I don't need any services.
Salesman: But what we could do is................
Me: I AM NOT INTERESTED, DO YOU HEAR ME? I DON'T WANT VIRGIN TV.... I...AM...NOT...INTERESTED!
At this point I slammed the phone down only to pick it up 5 seconds later knowing the prick would still be there waiting for me to agree to an install date.
Me: OH you are still there, I AM NOT FUCKING INTERESTED, NOW PLEASE FUCK OFF!
I know he probably works for 1 rupee a year and has 47 starving children to feed but Jesus bloody wept why won't they just leave you alone when you tell them that you're not interested? There's pressure sales and then there's just this overwhelming, irritating bullshit that pushes you over the edge and gives you a muscle twitch in your finger or eyebrow.
SO please Wirgin media, I am not interested in your free internet broadbandings, your free ringdings or your cheap television that would actually cost me £6.50 a month for absolutely no benefit. Please just leave me the fuck alone.
Much love,
Dave.
Now lets get down to business, why in the name of god do companies insist on using sales teams based in Islamabad? The phone rang this afternoon and I answered it (as you do) and here's how the conversation went.
If you have seen Fonejacker picture the internet sales guy from India.
Me: Hello..... Hello?....... HELLO???
Salesman: Good afternoon am I speaking to Mr Pavel?
Me: Errr you mean Mr Powell?
Salesman: That is what I am sayings, Good afternoon Mr Pavel my name is (Insert indistinct phlegmy sounding name here) and I am calling you with some fantastic news!
Me: errrrrrr, OK.... What's the fantastic news?
Salesman: Well Mr Pavel, I am pleased to be tellings you that you are to be rewarded for your loyalty to Wirgin media, We are so happy with your custom that we are willing to offer you a fantastic gift!
Me: Awesome! What do I get?
Salesman: Well Mr Pavel, we are happy to be offerings to you a virgin medias tivo box for just £6.50 per month!
Me: OK cool, Can you help buy me out of my Sky TV contract then please?
Salesman: Oh you are having Sky TV? OK that is fine, we can still install our Wirgin medias tivo box for you so you can enjoy cheaper television! Isn't this great news?
Me: No mate you're not hearing me, we have Sky TV and are in a contract we can't get out of.
Salesman: OK well we can install it in another room for you Mr Pavel, this is to allow you to watch many more channels on another television.
Me: MATE! I have multiroom Sky, I have a sky box attached to both TVs, I don't need Wirgin, I mean VIRGIN TV!,
Salesman: well are you planning on buying another television in the coming days?
Me: No, I have all the televisions I need.
Salesman: Are you certain sir?
Me: Yes I am certain, now I've got to go out so thanks for your call but I don't need any services.
Salesman: But what we could do is................
Me: I AM NOT INTERESTED, DO YOU HEAR ME? I DON'T WANT VIRGIN TV.... I...AM...NOT...INTERESTED!
At this point I slammed the phone down only to pick it up 5 seconds later knowing the prick would still be there waiting for me to agree to an install date.
Me: OH you are still there, I AM NOT FUCKING INTERESTED, NOW PLEASE FUCK OFF!
I know he probably works for 1 rupee a year and has 47 starving children to feed but Jesus bloody wept why won't they just leave you alone when you tell them that you're not interested? There's pressure sales and then there's just this overwhelming, irritating bullshit that pushes you over the edge and gives you a muscle twitch in your finger or eyebrow.
SO please Wirgin media, I am not interested in your free internet broadbandings, your free ringdings or your cheap television that would actually cost me £6.50 a month for absolutely no benefit. Please just leave me the fuck alone.
Much love,
Dave.
Sunday, 2 October 2011
Louis Walsh - Fuck off.
From time to time I come across a 'celebrity' that makes me so angry it verges on making me mentally unhinged.
I'm talking about that feeling when there's someone on television that makes you feel so hate filled and psychotic that you get a muscle start to twitch in your eyebrow region. The twitch sits there, laughing at you while you're poking it to try and stop it from irritating you further but it just carries on regardless.
Well muscle, I've got news for you, next time I will simply punch you in the bloody face.
Tonight I came across a true nemesis of mine on X Fucktor. Louis Walsh, without a doubt this vile, prejudiced, poisonous, scumbag leprechaun fuck somehow manages to tick all the boxes in my 'how to become a serial killer' eye spy book. Never before have I met someone that infuriates me as much as this potato farming shit. (Apart maybe from Katie Price, Katie Waissel, Cher Lloyd, The Pope and god)
The man is supposed to be very clever at spotting talent, He's been in the music industry for years and is solely responsible for those pointy haired inbred fucks Jedward. Speaking of Jedward, does anyone else think they may be just a little bit more than simply 'brothers'?
Tonight I watched the poisonous leprechaun making his decision as to which 4 acts he wanted to put through.
First up we had some weird looking fella, He looked like a cross between an anorexic Alan Carr and Lurch from the Addam's family. The tool couldn't even speak with a good tone to his voice, he sounded like he constantly was on the verge of pissing his pants and it really made me hope that he'd get hit by a falling satellite (1 in 14 trillion chance apparently). I have more chance of winning sympathetic caring superstar of the year award than he has winning X fucktor.
Oh deary me, next up with have Kitty Brucknell, If you've been a long term reader of my hate filled bile you'll know of my dislike of Katie Waissel and Cher Lloyd from the last series of this car crash television. Kitty looks set to become even more despised than the pair of them glued together.
She seems to think she's edgy, well if edgy is fake, rehearsed, calculated poorly timed publicity stunts then edgy she is. The other day when she auditioned to get into the final 4 Louis asked her "How do you feel it went?" She carefully took off her shoes and jumped into the swimming pool next to her without even answering the question she had been asked.
I prayed so hard that the cleaners had filled the pool with sulphuric acid or maybe some hungry great white sharks (not the one that ate that guys legs in South Africa, that'd just be ridiculous) or maybe that she had bricks in her pockets. Sadly it was not meant to be and she made it safely out of the other side and had a chat with Kermit O'Dreary. She is going to be in the live finals, she'll be protected by rule changes just like Katie Waissel and Cher 'Swagger Jagger wanker tanker' Lloyd so don't waste money voting to try and get her out. I just hope that her flashing leotard type affair malfunctions and electrocutes her.
Goldie - What the actual FUCK! She can't even speak let alone fucking sing! She is everything that an escaped mental patient should be. She's deluded to the point she could share a cell with some other crackerjack loon such as Martin Sheen. Goldie, you're batshit loopy and I worry about the state of world entertainment if people such as you are picked ahead of people that don't look like Zelda from the terrahawks.
I'm sure my anger levels will rise week in week out, but it's hard at this moment in time to imagine how. I hate this junk television with all of my heart, but for some reason can't help but watch bits of it, I think I just like punishing myself, but that's a whole different blog entry.
Have a nice night,
Dave.
I'm talking about that feeling when there's someone on television that makes you feel so hate filled and psychotic that you get a muscle start to twitch in your eyebrow region. The twitch sits there, laughing at you while you're poking it to try and stop it from irritating you further but it just carries on regardless.
Well muscle, I've got news for you, next time I will simply punch you in the bloody face.
Tonight I came across a true nemesis of mine on X Fucktor. Louis Walsh, without a doubt this vile, prejudiced, poisonous, scumbag leprechaun fuck somehow manages to tick all the boxes in my 'how to become a serial killer' eye spy book. Never before have I met someone that infuriates me as much as this potato farming shit. (Apart maybe from Katie Price, Katie Waissel, Cher Lloyd, The Pope and god)
The man is supposed to be very clever at spotting talent, He's been in the music industry for years and is solely responsible for those pointy haired inbred fucks Jedward. Speaking of Jedward, does anyone else think they may be just a little bit more than simply 'brothers'?
Tonight I watched the poisonous leprechaun making his decision as to which 4 acts he wanted to put through.
First up we had some weird looking fella, He looked like a cross between an anorexic Alan Carr and Lurch from the Addam's family. The tool couldn't even speak with a good tone to his voice, he sounded like he constantly was on the verge of pissing his pants and it really made me hope that he'd get hit by a falling satellite (1 in 14 trillion chance apparently). I have more chance of winning sympathetic caring superstar of the year award than he has winning X fucktor.
Oh deary me, next up with have Kitty Brucknell, If you've been a long term reader of my hate filled bile you'll know of my dislike of Katie Waissel and Cher Lloyd from the last series of this car crash television. Kitty looks set to become even more despised than the pair of them glued together.
She seems to think she's edgy, well if edgy is fake, rehearsed, calculated poorly timed publicity stunts then edgy she is. The other day when she auditioned to get into the final 4 Louis asked her "How do you feel it went?" She carefully took off her shoes and jumped into the swimming pool next to her without even answering the question she had been asked.
I prayed so hard that the cleaners had filled the pool with sulphuric acid or maybe some hungry great white sharks (not the one that ate that guys legs in South Africa, that'd just be ridiculous) or maybe that she had bricks in her pockets. Sadly it was not meant to be and she made it safely out of the other side and had a chat with Kermit O'Dreary. She is going to be in the live finals, she'll be protected by rule changes just like Katie Waissel and Cher 'Swagger Jagger wanker tanker' Lloyd so don't waste money voting to try and get her out. I just hope that her flashing leotard type affair malfunctions and electrocutes her.
Goldie - What the actual FUCK! She can't even speak let alone fucking sing! She is everything that an escaped mental patient should be. She's deluded to the point she could share a cell with some other crackerjack loon such as Martin Sheen. Goldie, you're batshit loopy and I worry about the state of world entertainment if people such as you are picked ahead of people that don't look like Zelda from the terrahawks.
I'm sure my anger levels will rise week in week out, but it's hard at this moment in time to imagine how. I hate this junk television with all of my heart, but for some reason can't help but watch bits of it, I think I just like punishing myself, but that's a whole different blog entry.
Have a nice night,
Dave.
Monday, 26 September 2011
British justice (do not read if you think I'm pleasant)
I've held off on passing my own judgement on the British justice system for long enough,well it's about time that I at least let people know what is going wrong and how it can be fixed!
Why is it that judges are so hesitant to deliver hefty sentences that will genuinely deter people from re-offending? The answer is that they are total pussies, pussies that wear stupid black robes like an extra from fucking Harry Potter and wigs that make them look like a 90 year olds nut sack with a grey pube combover.
How is it that somebody nicking 6 bottles of water is sentenced to 6 months in prison and a paedophile with 6000 images of kids gets 4 months suspended for 2 years. The answer is glaringly obvious, no one gives a fuck about this country anymore. The judges earn so much money they can holiday in Barbados for 6 months of the year to escape the shit hole that is England.
If I was a judge you'd see proper sentences, I'm not talking slaps on the wrist here, I'm talking 2 broken arms and the rectal insertion of a pineapple sharp end up. Allow me to give you a couple of examples.
EXAMPLE 1: "A 60-year-old man from North Norfolk has been placed on the Sex Offenders register after admitting possessing hundreds of indecent images of children. Philip Hilstrop, of The Warren, Cromer, appeared at Norwich Crown Court today, Friday 24 June 2011, where he was sentenced to four months in jail suspended for two years. Hilstrop had previously pleaded guilty on Monday 6 June 2011 to possession of more than 1000 indecent images".
Incredibly this is the quote from the lead investigator:
JUDGE DAVE SAYS: "Nail the filthy old bastard to a tree, cover him in glue and them a layer of bird seed. Leave for a while and let the crows peck the filthy bastard to death. Shoot or poison the crows, grind them up, make a pie out of them and feed the pies to other filthy paedo's with a sprinkle of fucking cyanide. Sack the fucking moron bitch that thinks 4 months suspended for 2 years is a suitable sentence for a child abuser.
EXAMPLE 2: A double rapist - who used his victim's phone to taunt her mother - has been warned if he continues to breaches his Sexual Offences Prevention Order he will be back before the court. Michael Quinn, 22, appeared at Crown Court on Tuesday to plead guilty to violating his SOPO on 30 January 2011. The breach occurred when Quinn broke the rules of his probation-approved hostel accommodation by drinking alcohol in the premises. In suspending his two month jail term for two years, Judge Patrick Lynch QC told Quinn if he committed any further offences, "I can assure you that as far as I'm concerned, these two months will be consecutive to any other sentence."
JUDGE DAVE SAYS: 2 months suspended for 2 fucking years? Yeah that's shown him, I mean he's obviously learned his fucking lesson by committing these crimes whilst on probation for other crimes. Cut this filthy bastards tongue out and strangle him to within an inch of his life with it. Peel the filthy slag's skin off and dump him in a skip full of salt. Beat him every single fucking day until his brain leaks out of his fucking shoe.
Here's my take on the minimum sentences to be handed down for various crimes.
Murderers: Forced into being bubba from cell C6's sex slave, beaten every night for three hours. shot in head the day before their anticipated release.
Rapists: Face tattooed bright blue, released into general public with an amnesty for anyone that kicks the living shit out of them. If you kill them you receive a one off cash payment of 500k.
Paedophiles: Scoop their eyes out with a rusty teaspoon, Tazer them every 20 minutes 24 hours a day 7 days a week. Feed their eyes to them for dinner.
Their are countless other crimes that deserve stoning, Failing to parallel park correctly for example, littering and swearing fall into this category too.
I could really get into this justice malarkey, I'm off to dream of beating down scumbags,
Don't have nightmares,
Much love from Dave !
Why is it that judges are so hesitant to deliver hefty sentences that will genuinely deter people from re-offending? The answer is that they are total pussies, pussies that wear stupid black robes like an extra from fucking Harry Potter and wigs that make them look like a 90 year olds nut sack with a grey pube combover.
How is it that somebody nicking 6 bottles of water is sentenced to 6 months in prison and a paedophile with 6000 images of kids gets 4 months suspended for 2 years. The answer is glaringly obvious, no one gives a fuck about this country anymore. The judges earn so much money they can holiday in Barbados for 6 months of the year to escape the shit hole that is England.
If I was a judge you'd see proper sentences, I'm not talking slaps on the wrist here, I'm talking 2 broken arms and the rectal insertion of a pineapple sharp end up. Allow me to give you a couple of examples.
EXAMPLE 1: "A 60-year-old man from North Norfolk has been placed on the Sex Offenders register after admitting possessing hundreds of indecent images of children. Philip Hilstrop, of The Warren, Cromer, appeared at Norwich Crown Court today, Friday 24 June 2011, where he was sentenced to four months in jail suspended for two years. Hilstrop had previously pleaded guilty on Monday 6 June 2011 to possession of more than 1000 indecent images".
Incredibly this is the quote from the lead investigator:
"We hope this sentence sends out a strong message to those intent on possessing such images. We should remember that behind every image there is a victim of abuse."
Det Con Michaela Cunningham, Vulnerable Persons Unit
JUDGE DAVE SAYS: "Nail the filthy old bastard to a tree, cover him in glue and them a layer of bird seed. Leave for a while and let the crows peck the filthy bastard to death. Shoot or poison the crows, grind them up, make a pie out of them and feed the pies to other filthy paedo's with a sprinkle of fucking cyanide. Sack the fucking moron bitch that thinks 4 months suspended for 2 years is a suitable sentence for a child abuser.
EXAMPLE 2: A double rapist - who used his victim's phone to taunt her mother - has been warned if he continues to breaches his Sexual Offences Prevention Order he will be back before the court. Michael Quinn, 22, appeared at Crown Court on Tuesday to plead guilty to violating his SOPO on 30 January 2011. The breach occurred when Quinn broke the rules of his probation-approved hostel accommodation by drinking alcohol in the premises. In suspending his two month jail term for two years, Judge Patrick Lynch QC told Quinn if he committed any further offences, "I can assure you that as far as I'm concerned, these two months will be consecutive to any other sentence."
JUDGE DAVE SAYS: 2 months suspended for 2 fucking years? Yeah that's shown him, I mean he's obviously learned his fucking lesson by committing these crimes whilst on probation for other crimes. Cut this filthy bastards tongue out and strangle him to within an inch of his life with it. Peel the filthy slag's skin off and dump him in a skip full of salt. Beat him every single fucking day until his brain leaks out of his fucking shoe.
Here's my take on the minimum sentences to be handed down for various crimes.
Murderers: Forced into being bubba from cell C6's sex slave, beaten every night for three hours. shot in head the day before their anticipated release.
Rapists: Face tattooed bright blue, released into general public with an amnesty for anyone that kicks the living shit out of them. If you kill them you receive a one off cash payment of 500k.
Paedophiles: Scoop their eyes out with a rusty teaspoon, Tazer them every 20 minutes 24 hours a day 7 days a week. Feed their eyes to them for dinner.
Their are countless other crimes that deserve stoning, Failing to parallel park correctly for example, littering and swearing fall into this category too.
I could really get into this justice malarkey, I'm off to dream of beating down scumbags,
Don't have nightmares,
Much love from Dave !
Saturday, 20 August 2011
X Factor is back!
Some things in life just make you feel good about yourself, a basket full of kittens, a cute little golden Labrador puppy maybe even a midget amputee Eskimo hooker!
X Factor is one of those things that has me in two minds. On one hand I love it, basket case after basket case wandering onto the stage comparing themselves to Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey or Lionel Ritchie.... Only to barely sound like a small Filipino fisher boy that has been kicked in the throat by a donkey wearing roller skates. Wheezing, mumbling and moaning their way through 3 minutes of my life that I am unable to claim back.
For a TV show that has spawned such dross as Jedward, G-G-Gareth G-G-G-G-Gates (spit it out you giant blubbering vagina!) and Chico the tool. At this point I know people that are fortunate and privileged enough to know me will be asking themselves the all important question, "Why hasn't he mentioned Cher Lloyd?" Well the reason for this is simple, I think I may have misjudged her. She's young, hot headed and full of ambition, and I simply mistook it for being a trampy slut with a chip on her shoulder who has less talent than an Afghan brothel.Oh wait I was right first time.
Let's start at the top, the host of X Factor is a Mr Kermit O'Dreary. He's a boring, monotonous imbecile that wears polo necks from the 70's and has the charisma of a stale pringle.
Then you have the 4 judges......
Louis Walsh: What can I say, the man doesn't vote in favour of any acts unless they are either simple or Irish. If they are both he gets so excited I think he may on occasion accidentally set off the trouser sprinkler system. The poisonous, handbag carrying leprechaun rides around the venue on his unicorn protecting his pot of gold and generally making people despise him.
Kelly Rowland: Next.
Gary Barlow: What can you say about the man? He's an incredibly talented, not bad looking (according to my wife) guy. He's pretty much a northern version of me. He can play over 26,312 musical instruments at once and is a part of one of the most successful bands of all time.
Tulisa: Real name Tula Paulinea Contostavlos, meh.... I don't know if I like her or not. I think I probably would if I happened to be single, drunk and hard up on my luck. But what the ACTUAL FUCK is she doing on a talent show? I've scraped dog shit off of my shoe that's had more musical ability than this pleb. Did you know Tulisa turned down a quarter of a million pounds to pose naked in playboy...... What a selfish BITCH! I think she owes it to the general public to whip it all off and let us be the judge of whether she's up to nude modelling or not!
Then you have the masses of mongs that queue for 3 weeks just to make a fool of themselves on national television. If you can't sing DON'T FUCKING SING! I can't sing, I am so tone deaf I even type flat, so I leave it to the professionals like Mr Blobby and the Cheeky girls.
First up was some lad that got his bum out on stage, he revealed that he had a bunch of girls names tattooed on his arse cheeks, I didn't exactly catch why but I am sure they are thrilled to be so close to his shit chute.
But the guy that really pissed me off was George. Last year he auditioned as a part of a trio called 'triple trouble'. To say they were gutter shite would be too kind on them. As they got booed off the stage our George threw an epic paddy and threw his mic to the floor. What did it ever do to you ya knuckle dragging pond scum?
Well this year George was back, new look but the same poor attitude and simple vacant look in his eyes. He's got that look that makes you think he's had a terribly hard life, a life of being smacked in the face with a shovel, a tough love upbringing on the mean streets of Stratford-upon-avon. He's now sporting a whole bunch of tattoo's that appear to have been drawn onto him by a quadriplegic with a marker pen gaffer taped to their tongue. He was awful, tone deaf, out of time, irritatingly stupid. The judges called his performance to an abrupt end and the newly 'reformed' George didn't like it one bit. He called Tulisa something like a skanky bitch or something which is preposterous. Does he not know she's got a house?
Why do I watch this shit? Well mainly boredom, but also a morbid curiosity, it's like when you see a 50 stone woman in a nice bikini, you know you shouldn't look but there's just something in your mind that you can't stop.
Well that's about it for tonight, It's 11pm, I have a bit of photo editing to do before I go to bed.
Sleep well, thanks for reading and have a good night.
Dangerous Dave x x x <-----these are for the women, I'm not a freak!-------<<<<<
X Factor is one of those things that has me in two minds. On one hand I love it, basket case after basket case wandering onto the stage comparing themselves to Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey or Lionel Ritchie.... Only to barely sound like a small Filipino fisher boy that has been kicked in the throat by a donkey wearing roller skates. Wheezing, mumbling and moaning their way through 3 minutes of my life that I am unable to claim back.
For a TV show that has spawned such dross as Jedward, G-G-Gareth G-G-G-G-Gates (spit it out you giant blubbering vagina!) and Chico the tool. At this point I know people that are fortunate and privileged enough to know me will be asking themselves the all important question, "Why hasn't he mentioned Cher Lloyd?" Well the reason for this is simple, I think I may have misjudged her. She's young, hot headed and full of ambition, and I simply mistook it for being a trampy slut with a chip on her shoulder who has less talent than an Afghan brothel.Oh wait I was right first time.
Let's start at the top, the host of X Factor is a Mr Kermit O'Dreary. He's a boring, monotonous imbecile that wears polo necks from the 70's and has the charisma of a stale pringle.
Then you have the 4 judges......
Louis Walsh: What can I say, the man doesn't vote in favour of any acts unless they are either simple or Irish. If they are both he gets so excited I think he may on occasion accidentally set off the trouser sprinkler system. The poisonous, handbag carrying leprechaun rides around the venue on his unicorn protecting his pot of gold and generally making people despise him.
Kelly Rowland: Next.
Gary Barlow: What can you say about the man? He's an incredibly talented, not bad looking (according to my wife) guy. He's pretty much a northern version of me. He can play over 26,312 musical instruments at once and is a part of one of the most successful bands of all time.
Tulisa: Real name Tula Paulinea Contostavlos, meh.... I don't know if I like her or not. I think I probably would if I happened to be single, drunk and hard up on my luck. But what the ACTUAL FUCK is she doing on a talent show? I've scraped dog shit off of my shoe that's had more musical ability than this pleb. Did you know Tulisa turned down a quarter of a million pounds to pose naked in playboy...... What a selfish BITCH! I think she owes it to the general public to whip it all off and let us be the judge of whether she's up to nude modelling or not!
Then you have the masses of mongs that queue for 3 weeks just to make a fool of themselves on national television. If you can't sing DON'T FUCKING SING! I can't sing, I am so tone deaf I even type flat, so I leave it to the professionals like Mr Blobby and the Cheeky girls.
First up was some lad that got his bum out on stage, he revealed that he had a bunch of girls names tattooed on his arse cheeks, I didn't exactly catch why but I am sure they are thrilled to be so close to his shit chute.
But the guy that really pissed me off was George. Last year he auditioned as a part of a trio called 'triple trouble'. To say they were gutter shite would be too kind on them. As they got booed off the stage our George threw an epic paddy and threw his mic to the floor. What did it ever do to you ya knuckle dragging pond scum?
Well this year George was back, new look but the same poor attitude and simple vacant look in his eyes. He's got that look that makes you think he's had a terribly hard life, a life of being smacked in the face with a shovel, a tough love upbringing on the mean streets of Stratford-upon-avon. He's now sporting a whole bunch of tattoo's that appear to have been drawn onto him by a quadriplegic with a marker pen gaffer taped to their tongue. He was awful, tone deaf, out of time, irritatingly stupid. The judges called his performance to an abrupt end and the newly 'reformed' George didn't like it one bit. He called Tulisa something like a skanky bitch or something which is preposterous. Does he not know she's got a house?
Why do I watch this shit? Well mainly boredom, but also a morbid curiosity, it's like when you see a 50 stone woman in a nice bikini, you know you shouldn't look but there's just something in your mind that you can't stop.
Well that's about it for tonight, It's 11pm, I have a bit of photo editing to do before I go to bed.
Sleep well, thanks for reading and have a good night.
Dangerous Dave x x x <-----these are for the women, I'm not a freak!-------<<<<<
Thursday, 18 August 2011
Cow or pickle? you decide!
Good evening,
Let's start off with a little game, It's called Cow or Pickle......
Now it may seem obvious to you, you might have an IQ higher than a lobotomised snail. But for some people it's a whole lot more tricky than you might imagine! Well this is where the story begins.....
It was a dark and stormy night, the rain came down in sheets, Only joking it was grey and overcast. My beautiful, intelligent, witty and classy wife (I had to say this as she might read my blog this time) decided she fancied a gourmet meal at McDonalds. City road in Islington hardly conjures up an image of rooftop garden Bistro's and quality glasses of wine but then neither does any branch of this pox ridden, gutter scraping serving pit of a 'restaurant'. The food is shit, the service is shitter and the staff at this branch couldn't muster the intelligence of a 3 year old if their brains were all glued together.
You know it's going to be hard work when you ask the young lady at the window for a coke and she pronounces it 'cock'.... Love I don't want a cock, I may look like a fat George Michael but that's not how I roll. The rest of the order went remarkably smoothly, that should have served as warning number 1, however in our famished state and with riot police driving up and down the road we were looking forward to escaping.
"And finally can I have a cheeseburger with NO PICKLE please".
"£12.25, window 2"...... You could at least say please or thank you ya miserable illegal immigrant tramp! We roll around the corner to window 2 hitting 3 Somalians, a Nigerian and a token white fella (although I think he was Romanian!)
At window 2 we were greeted by a kid that looked like he'd worn a face mask made of actual killer bee's and been stung by each and every one of them. Nothing makes me look forward to the mustard in my burger than a spot filled with enough bright yellow puss to drown a tiger.
He passed us the bag of food and off we toddled, Kelly unwrapped her burger about 5 minutes down the road and bit into it. The next thing I hear is an angry grunt followed by "What the fucking fuck?".
"What's wrong babe?" I asked, (I call her this as she has an uncanny resemblance to the Holly wood animal star of the same name)
"Check that burger for me". Well asking a fat guy to test a burger is like asking a priest to fancy a choir boy. Now I always fancied myself as a bit of a CSI style investigator so I peered into the bun, not a piece of meat to be seen! Now at this point I know a lot of people will be thinking"But Dave, there's less meat in a Maccy D's Burger than in your average Carrot". My reply would be that eyelid scrapings, ground scrotum and a little bit of rectum is still meat of sorts.
Somehow the silly twunt on window 1 (going by it's number the premier window to work at) had mistaken the word pickle for meat, no pickle.... no meat.... it's an easy mistake to make I guess. Surely it must have been a mistake at the burger construction phase.
Now forgive me if I'm wrong, but how can a cheeseburger still be named so with no fucking burger? It was a cheese (if you can call that fluorescent yellowy orange shit cheese) pickle and onion roll!
I feel a letter to Ronald is in order, Here it is.
Dear Ronald,
Please can you help me? I am writing in the hope that you can explain to me the selection process for McDonalds staff. Do you pick them according to which one can lick an electric fence for the longest? Or maybe by which staff member is stupid enough to actually order the fillet-o-fish.
After being given a cheeseburger I ordered with no pickle I would like to say I was amazed but actually I really wasn't, to find that my burger not only had2, yes 2! pieces of pickle in it, but the useless bitch on the serving window actually put through my burger order as no meat. I know that accidents happen as I am sure the parents of the girl that served will agree. I mean come on, no meat? Are you actually bloody serious? How can someone be so stupid? Wait don't answer that, she could barely speak English, it's obvious that the words for meat and pickle are similar in Asia. Normally I'd eat my own infected big toe nail rather than frequent one of your poor excuses for a restaurant but sadly some antibiotics I recently took for a chest infection cleared it up so I was stuck with your dross.
Might I suggest the following training courses to help your staff recognise the difference between Animal, Vegetable and mineral.
Course 1: Animal recognition. I feel this might help save a few staff members lives when they go to sweep up what they presume to be a piece of dried out lettuce and actually turns out to be an escaped Lion from London Zoo.
Course 2: Fruit recognition. Whenever I order a strawberry milkshake it seems to always taste of banana. I can suggest a short film I stumbled across while looking for top quality free Hollywood blockbusters. It's called Sally the midget, amputee, Eskimo rides a banana. (I thought the file title said Tron or Superman, HONEST!) They will forever remember that a banana is yellow.
This should help save lives and increase customer satisfaction in your restaurants.
Yours sincerely,
Hamburglar.
I wonder if I'll get a reply, I doubt it.
Much love,
Dave
Let's start off with a little game, It's called Cow or Pickle......
Now it may seem obvious to you, you might have an IQ higher than a lobotomised snail. But for some people it's a whole lot more tricky than you might imagine! Well this is where the story begins.....
It was a dark and stormy night, the rain came down in sheets, Only joking it was grey and overcast. My beautiful, intelligent, witty and classy wife (I had to say this as she might read my blog this time) decided she fancied a gourmet meal at McDonalds. City road in Islington hardly conjures up an image of rooftop garden Bistro's and quality glasses of wine but then neither does any branch of this pox ridden, gutter scraping serving pit of a 'restaurant'. The food is shit, the service is shitter and the staff at this branch couldn't muster the intelligence of a 3 year old if their brains were all glued together.
You know it's going to be hard work when you ask the young lady at the window for a coke and she pronounces it 'cock'.... Love I don't want a cock, I may look like a fat George Michael but that's not how I roll. The rest of the order went remarkably smoothly, that should have served as warning number 1, however in our famished state and with riot police driving up and down the road we were looking forward to escaping.
"And finally can I have a cheeseburger with NO PICKLE please".
"£12.25, window 2"...... You could at least say please or thank you ya miserable illegal immigrant tramp! We roll around the corner to window 2 hitting 3 Somalians, a Nigerian and a token white fella (although I think he was Romanian!)
At window 2 we were greeted by a kid that looked like he'd worn a face mask made of actual killer bee's and been stung by each and every one of them. Nothing makes me look forward to the mustard in my burger than a spot filled with enough bright yellow puss to drown a tiger.
He passed us the bag of food and off we toddled, Kelly unwrapped her burger about 5 minutes down the road and bit into it. The next thing I hear is an angry grunt followed by "What the fucking fuck?".
"What's wrong babe?" I asked, (I call her this as she has an uncanny resemblance to the Holly wood animal star of the same name)
"Check that burger for me". Well asking a fat guy to test a burger is like asking a priest to fancy a choir boy. Now I always fancied myself as a bit of a CSI style investigator so I peered into the bun, not a piece of meat to be seen! Now at this point I know a lot of people will be thinking"But Dave, there's less meat in a Maccy D's Burger than in your average Carrot". My reply would be that eyelid scrapings, ground scrotum and a little bit of rectum is still meat of sorts.
Somehow the silly twunt on window 1 (going by it's number the premier window to work at) had mistaken the word pickle for meat, no pickle.... no meat.... it's an easy mistake to make I guess. Surely it must have been a mistake at the burger construction phase.
Now forgive me if I'm wrong, but how can a cheeseburger still be named so with no fucking burger? It was a cheese (if you can call that fluorescent yellowy orange shit cheese) pickle and onion roll!
I feel a letter to Ronald is in order, Here it is.
Dear Ronald,
Please can you help me? I am writing in the hope that you can explain to me the selection process for McDonalds staff. Do you pick them according to which one can lick an electric fence for the longest? Or maybe by which staff member is stupid enough to actually order the fillet-o-fish.
After being given a cheeseburger I ordered with no pickle I would like to say I was amazed but actually I really wasn't, to find that my burger not only had2, yes 2! pieces of pickle in it, but the useless bitch on the serving window actually put through my burger order as no meat. I know that accidents happen as I am sure the parents of the girl that served will agree. I mean come on, no meat? Are you actually bloody serious? How can someone be so stupid? Wait don't answer that, she could barely speak English, it's obvious that the words for meat and pickle are similar in Asia. Normally I'd eat my own infected big toe nail rather than frequent one of your poor excuses for a restaurant but sadly some antibiotics I recently took for a chest infection cleared it up so I was stuck with your dross.
Might I suggest the following training courses to help your staff recognise the difference between Animal, Vegetable and mineral.
Course 1: Animal recognition. I feel this might help save a few staff members lives when they go to sweep up what they presume to be a piece of dried out lettuce and actually turns out to be an escaped Lion from London Zoo.
Course 2: Fruit recognition. Whenever I order a strawberry milkshake it seems to always taste of banana. I can suggest a short film I stumbled across while looking for top quality free Hollywood blockbusters. It's called Sally the midget, amputee, Eskimo rides a banana. (I thought the file title said Tron or Superman, HONEST!) They will forever remember that a banana is yellow.
This should help save lives and increase customer satisfaction in your restaurants.
Yours sincerely,
Hamburglar.
I wonder if I'll get a reply, I doubt it.
Much love,
Dave
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