Cotton Buds

So, I was sitting on the toilet, motioning. Ok, that's funny.

Anyhoo...

...I see the Cotton Buds container on the shelf so I grab it and have a quick read of the labelling, just to pass the time.

And, as we all know it says "Do not insert into the Ear Canal" which is where we all inevitably stick them. So my point is this; if they're not for cleaning out your ears, WHAT ARE THEY FOR?

I can think of no other part of my body that isn't better served by cleaning with a Power Shower, soap and a flannel.

So where? Up your nose, down your jappa, where? They're are so clearly made for cleaning a very small orifice.

They put the warning on the packaging just to get round being sued by newly deaf people. It's like putting "Do not smoke" on the side of a pack of ciggies.

Argh.

It's a Dogs Life

I feel a rant coming on.

Brucie Forsyth's daughter, Lezzie, has been the latest victim of a dog-napping. Her two Scottie Dogs (aka yappy tw*ts) were swiped from her car while she was busy feeding her face in a KFC.

So, Bruce and Lezzie have appeared on Good Morning UK to whinge like b*stards about this.

Now I have nothing against dogs; they make perfectly good food.

However, I hate celebrities. I can't believe that just because her father is a celebrity, this bitch gets national coverage to find her wretched mongrels. If I had my dog/goldfish/child swiped I wouldn't get that much exposure.

But what really prompted this blog was Brucie's total diva attitude.

Despite the fact that the stupid bitch shouldn't have locked the dogs in the car (hot day, cooked dog flesh etc), this is not where Brucie feels the blame lies. Lezzie was unable to set the car alarm because you can't set an alarm if there's something moving in the car (i.e. the dogs). He says that Car Manufacturs should solve this problem.

So, Ford, Chrysler, Renault, General Motors and Toyota should redesign their alarm systems in case you are a celebrity and want to lock your dogs in the car?

Gosh, what naughty Major Global Automotive Manufacturers for not thinking of this.

Shaven Ravers? No thanks

Celeste - one of brightest and most promising of the uni-named Porn Queens on the planet.

But what will she be remembered for? Her early work with the Mickey Mouse club? Unlikely, Britney and Christina have too long overshadowed her exploits there.

Her flings with Charlie Sheen? Unfortunately, his reinvention as TV Evangelist "Mrs Beachams" has relegated her to merely an embarrassing stain on his otherwise squeaky-clean persona.

Or maybe she won't be remembered at all. Porn Queens fade faster than a tattoo done with a cheap biro on a Greek chick in a sauna.

So, in a bizarre new twist, Celeste has signed up with Dr. Edgar Lampgrabber, eminent skin-graft expert to stars. His balding reversal techniques have been used extensively by celebrities such as Elton and Billie Piper and have thrust him, arse first, into the public-eye.

And now his magic is being applied to....the chin of Celeste.

Chin!? Indeed, after discussion with her bisexual agent J.K.Rowling, she's decided to relaunch her career as The First Bearded Lady of Porn.

Nope.

Sorry.

I've run dry. I can't continue with this stupid story. And just in case you weren't sure, it's not true. I made it up.

But it really does make you think, would anyone pay to see a gorgeous, voluptuous porn star with a beard?

No.

Universal Underpant Constant

Although some of you probably think I have too much time on my hands, I have actually been doing serious study. Today I present Part 1 of my latest Nobel winning research.

Fact: We wear Underpants so that we don't soil our 'outerpants', meaning we can wear our (more expensive) outerpants for more than one day.

This is a fundamental economic construct of the 21st Century with billions of dollars being traded daily through companies manufacturing these intimates.

However, are we being misled?

Consider this, the average cost of a pair of Outers is $22. So, at what price point are underpants 'too expensive'?

For example; if, in a average week, Mr Average wears 8 pairs of underpants (the 8th being for a special night out) plus two pairs of outerpants at work, a pair of jeans covering the weekend and his special 'night out' pants his tally will be:

8b + 4a (Where a = Outerpants and b = Underpants)

However, what if he had decided to go commando and soil his Outerpants at work forcing a daily change. He also soils at the weekend but decides that denim is robust enough to take the abuse. We end up with this:

7a (i.e. he wears 7 pairs of outers and NO underpants!)

To solve the cut off point for Underpants, we must solve this equation:

8b + 4a = 7a

Given that the average price of Outers is $22 we can substitute and arrive at:

8b + 88 = 154

Rearrange to give

8b = (154 - 88)
8b = 66

Therefore b = $8.25

Sadly, for those guys wearing "quality" Underpants costing more than $8.25 you're just kidding yourselves.

Women, on the otherhand, should always wear two pairs of knickers. Coz they're are like slugs.

Wikipedia (the dogs knob)

I look at Wikipedia every day and like to look at the Articles of the Day, just to expand the breadth of my huge intelelekt, so to speak.

Anyway, there was an entry on some Ancient Roman Emperor (or something historical). So I clicked on it and the page appeared. Except it was just full of pictures of knobs. Not knobs from dirty movies, just regular mens willies not doing much at all. Dozens of them.

No text, no information, just knobs.

The unfortunate page remained in place for many hours; I wonder how many millions of people saw it and were horrified/aroused/angered/cheered? (delete as appropriate)

Ah, those were the days.

Seems I'm not dead

So, it wasn't my last blog. Of course, this one might be. I might get run over by a bus. That would be strange as I'm currently confined to my couch.

Try saying Settee or Chesterfield in Canuckland. Actually don't. It's not worth it.

My operation seemed to go fine. I was waiting in the Operating Theatre holding area. I was so relaxed. I asked the nurse what was in my drip as it was working a treat. She said nothing, they hadn't given me any drugs yet.

I love hospitals and that whole General Anaesthetic thing. It's soooo mellow. It's a good thing I don't take drugs coz I'd be a total addict, I think they're ace. I love that bit just before you go under, that's what we should all strive for in our lives. Drug induced comas.

Anyway, I'm not dead.

And to prove I'm not totally anti-Canada, I have to say it was the friendliest most pleasant hospital I've ever been in. And two of the nurses were pretty hot. And one other was a total stunner. I kid you not.

My Last Ever Blog?

I can't remember if I'd mentioned this, but I'm having knee surgery today (13th).

Hopefully, it will go well.

However, if I die on the table, this will be my last ever blog.

I'd like to say, once and for all, that I don't like cheap toilet paper or cheap sellotape.

Why can't long haul aeroplanes be done in bunk bed style? If the seats were all horizontal, then you could stack people and everyone would get to lie down.

I don't like tipping. You fret all the way through your meal knowing you have to tip at the end. How about tipping at the start. A big tip means "do your very best preparing my meal" while a small tip means "please feel free to spit in my lasagne".

I think we should do away with cars altogether. Put tarpauling roofing over the roads and give everyone motorized rollerblades. We'd save energy and stop obesity in it's tracks.

Finally, could everyone please keep an eye on my life partner Shirley and her various sprogs? If she's looking hungry, give her some cheese or maybe a nice sponge cake.

Wish me luck

Oh Land of Thy Birth

Last Tuesday I visited the City of my birth. I was born in Scarborough, Ontario, Canada. Scarborough is to Toronto what Onchan is to Douglas. Only Scarborough is the size of Leeds.

Frequently, my mother has commented that she wished our family had never left Canada and gone to the Rock. We actually left there when I was six weeks old and I've never seen it since.

Until (as I may have mentioned) last Tuesday.

What can I say that won't have me branded a fully paid up member of the KKK?

You see...we had to get a bus from the train station to the zoo. The bus was pretty full. There were actually 31 people on it. Five were white* Five. There's four people in my family for Gods sake. If it wasn't for us white trash tourists there would've been only one white guy on board! And he got off before us. And the train, train station and passers-by I could see showed we hadn't accidentally got on the Rasta Bus. We were surrounded.

The thing about going to another country is that you aren't really justified in ranting about it's way of life. If you don't like it, there's a boat in the morning.

So I can't wait to get home to really rip into the DHSS, MHKs, the price of beer in nightclubs, the lack of totty in Strand Street and the general state of the roads. And I'll have the right to do it.

Thankyou and good night.

*Out of interest, my definition of white goes from Finland to Greece. We're not just talking Anglo-Saxons.

Colloquialisms

I was chatting on MSN this morning and found myself using the phrase "he could always kip down" meaning "he could go to sleep".

Now, in my tenure in Canada I have adapted. Being of high intellect, I am able to speak Canadianese. It's like English but with far fewer words and no slang (apart from adding 'eh' to everything).

But Shirley (being a woman) struggles. An example:

Our car was getting fixed, so Shirley rang a friend and asked if she could "bum a lift". There are so many reasons a Canadian wouldn't understand this not least of which is that Shirley has a manx/yorkshire accent.

So, not unexpectedly, her friend didn't understand.

At which point, Shirley's brilliant strategy for dealing with the vocab. limited Canadians kicks in. She just speaks slower and louder.

"CAN - I - BUM - A - LIFT"

It's hysterical.

Before they die, everyone should see the look of total confusion on a Canucks face with Shirley shouting the following:

"WIND - YOUR - NECK - IN" (i.e. calmn down)
"SHE'S - POTS - FOR - RAGS" (i.e. she's mentally deranged)
"CHIPS - AND - MUSHY - PEAS - PLEASE" (no known translation)

Sometimes, she finishes her bizarre phrase as though it will become self explanatory. For example, if someones pant leg didn't meet their shoe (thereby revealing sock):

"Put jam on shoes" says Shirley
"Ugh?" replies the Canadian
"(sigh) Put some jam on your shoes and invite your trousers down for tea" she says, somehow explaining all.
"Ugh?" repeats the Canadian

But I will give her credit. She decided early on to remain true to her heritage and remains uncompromised. Me? I'm a total sell out. That's it for now, I gotta put out the trash, eh!

Stealing is Good

I've always had this vague guilt. When I bought my first ever CD Player from Colebournes (circa 1984) there was a Strauss CD in it for demo purposes. As the salesguy was boxing my new purchase I kept him distracted so that he wouldn't notice. I kept it :)

As a result I was overjoyed that my CD collection was off to such a wonderful start.

But I've paid; this guilt has had such a huge effect on my life, always looking over my shoulder, never able to settle in one town.

However, I just realised something.

The b*stard sold me a demo model for full price!

The Great Height Conspiracy

Have you ever noticed that we are all, in fact, pretty much the same height?

Although we often describe somebody as 'short' or 'tall' there's not really much difference. A short man would be, say, 5'4 whereas a tall man would be 6'1. That's only a 10% difference. Hardly a drop in the ocean, it's not as if tall people are triple the height of short people.

In fact, visitors from outer-space might consider us all to be the same size. They might be gobsmacked (or the equivalent alien jargon) by our entire culture which is centred around height. They'd say "but you're all pretty much the same height, we'd need very high precision measuring devices to tell the difference" or "gak spp'j cwk taaaak".

You get my point.

Of course there are anomalies. Some examples follow:

1. Really tall black people
2. Children
3. People lying down

And, on a side note, although there are extra-large and extra-small sizes, there is no extra-medium. Now that is pure discrimination.

I think you'll all agree, free porn rules!

Thankyou.

Americans are Dumb!

And I can back it up.

I was in Wendy's yesterday. You don't have that in Grand Britain. However, you may have heard the news story where a woman found a severed finger in her chilli and tried to sue them. Turns out it was a hoax.

But Wendy's sales took a huge nose dive due entirely to this incident.

Which got me wondering: did your average North American believe that it was now Wendy's corporate policy to put emancipated digits in their mexican-style minced beef?

Consider the scene:
Randy: "Let's grab us some chow at Wendy's"
Brock: "Hey, no way dude. Dontcha know they is putting fingers in all their food now?"
Randy: "Hell no! Let's go punch a cow instead"
Brock: "Cool!"
etc.

Whereas, back home, someone working at McDonalds reportedly ejaculated into the food. Did that stop us eating at the Golden M?

Of course not. How absurd!

Firstly: how many times can someone jerk off in a day? It's not as if he can even cover 1% of the daily output of said franchise. And secondly, just don't order anything with mayo on it.

Sorted.