iSwear

Try typing swear words into itunes. Juvenile aren't I? Its funny. So far nobody in my pitiful 26.79GB of music has been fool hardy / man enough to use "cunt" as even part of a band/album/track/anything. (Sorry Pikey if you read this). Although I should bring to your attention the band Wank that have an album called "get a grip on yourself". Nuff said.

The same joys can be had from google earth.

I'll be back in a minute to explain. Unfortunately my mouse has decided to malfunction simultaniously with my intestine. So I'm going to have a poo and then subsequently use the arrows on the keyboard..........................






RIGHT. (Amount of space scrolled down does not reflect the amount of time i spent sitting).

If I've ever had a more invoragting shite I can't remember it. Yep. I'm going to describe the poo I just did. Not its shape and form but the emotional impact upon my good self.

What set it apart from the others (excluding time and distance travelled along pipes towards the Thames) was the accompanying feeling of freedom. My flat mates are away so I had the door open and my music up loud. And I took my sweet, sweet time. Run out of bog roll? I'll fetch some from my room with no trousers and no worries. So lets hear it for a really good pound of mashed up Dundee cake. Its a rare thing in my day, age and house to be able to have a poo like that.

And now my mouse works again. Best poo ever.

.................................There are four pages of places on my planet with "Fuck" in. Wank Nesselwang is in Germany. Dick is in Chippewa, Michigan, United States.... Fanny; Wyoming, West Virgina. Toss; Ton, Trento, Italy.

There is nowhere called Cunt.

Lager cheese.

Due to in-operable levels of self improvement i have lately been too up my own ass to blog. I now make the almost impossible stoop down to your level.

Ouch.

That smarts.

Seriously though I haven't read anyone's blog for about 3 months and having just read Han's I've remembered just how awesome blogs can be. So really don't expect too much from this as I'm drunk and it just took me 5 goes to write "anyones". ayneons?

What have I been doing?

Like you really care.

I got my uni results resluts which were excellent. (Stroke of the beard, sip of port). I got accepted onto a PhD course (glug of port, slippery nipple). And I decided i wouldn't get a "proper" job for the time being.

This situation was fine as I had nuts, berries and cash stock piled for the summer months. (Bad analogy I know because nuts and berries are a winter crop). Anyhoooooooooooow I went on holiday twice. Boat trip and Prague. Boat trip was so epoch makingly monumental that you will probably read about it in GCSE history books next year so there is no point documenting it here.

Prague. I went with my good friend Sarah who has family over there - we didn't visit whore houses and weren't on a stag do. We ate stew and dumplings and drank good lager. Obviously the architecture was great and it was steeped in history but I'm sure you'll be more comforted to know that the local speciality is fried cheese. Lager and fried cheese. I left there a stone heavier.

Oh yeah and my nuts, berries and spending money were all nicked out of my bag before I even arrived in Prague by some airport baggage handler who better hope there isn't an afterlife because if there is and I'm there I'll make 'em wish they'd never found it.

So now I'm trying to cycle off >1 stone of fried lager cheese, read articles so I'm suffieciently book learned for October and grift enough cash so I can eat at Cropready festival next weekend..... Richard Thompson with the Richard Thompson Band electric and also Fairport Convention perform Leige and Leaf.

Currently I'm looking forward to fishing with Darren and Mat Lewis and maybe babbing a few evil American Cray fish outta the river Cherwell. So you will probably gather I'm on cloud nine right now. Mmmmmmm summer.

Smell you later.

Pub Crawl Massacre: Part Eight

Joss was driving quickly. She was angry at Michael, lying to her like that. She also knew that Michael could be dangerous when he stopped taking his pills. Impatiently she sounded her horn, the car in front failed to notice the green light.

"Fucks sake" she yelled at the dashboard and rubber squealed when she accelerated.

Meanwhile....

Drunk girl was undergoing an experience she hadn't had since being a toddler. Without warning, as she was preparing to dismount from the pool stool, she felt something warm flow down her leg. She noticed the expressions of the people in the pool room change. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. She ran to the toilet, thankfully it was empty. She couldn't believe it. She felt slightly ashamed but also confused. Was she ill? She didn't know what was going on.

Drunkboy scratched his head. Surely rohypnol wasn't meant to do that. He wondered what state Drunk Girl was in and pondered going home.

The table erupted with conversation but nobody knew exactly what had happened. From their perspective the grinning Drunk Girl leapt from her stool and made a beeline for the toilet. Through the commotion Bunny rose from the table, some instinct made her realise that Drunk Girl's actions were probably connected with her recent experience. Bunny headed towards the toilet after Drunk Girl, determined to work out what was happening.

Drunk Girl was pulling herself together. Flat denial would be the only way to approach this. She pondered going comando style. There was a knock on the cubicle door.

"Its Bunny, er you OK?"

Peppers burgers.

I heard a disturbing rumour t'other day. Grab hold of something sturdy and try to maintain control of primitive bodily functions. This is a biggy. Ready? You'll have to scroll down. (I've done this to a create an element of surprise).





























Peppers burgers is going to close.

Rub your eyes. You can read that again. Yes. It still said the same thing.

If you eat meat and live in Oxford I shall give you another minute to let full impact of this monumental information sink in. Steadied? Smelling salts help? Try them, they might. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Oxford then I had better explain that Peppers Burgers is an institution. Look at the number reviews on the daily information website. The majority of local eateries nobody has bothered to review, with the exception of maybe the owner's brother or business partner. Peppers have got tonnes of fanatical fans. One guy says that he makes a special trip to Oxford when he comes to the UK just to go to there, another that its the best burger in Europe. I believe them. I've eaten there.


So you'll understand that I really hope the closure of Peppers is just malicious propaganda distributed by Islamic extremists to bring down the moral of our nation in an attempt to thwart the war on terror. That is the magnitude of the situation. Peppers is the only decent burger in town. They have a proper choice of sauces. (Blue cheese and white shark chili being my personal favourite combo). Fuck BK or Maccy D's and although delicious as Tootsies is, you need to remortgage your house to eat there. Peppers have got it right.

If anyone could provide evidence to substantiate or deny this ghastly rumour it would definitely settle my nerves. Which is good for moral. If it is proven then I suggest forming some sort of action group like "Save Our Burgers" (S.O.B.s) to fight the cause.

Stay classy Oxford and thanks for stopping by.

Spider warning

I'll start with some disappointment. Due to the secret government work I've been assigned I will not be able to deliver the next installment of Pub Crawl Massacre until mid May. But its OK cos i writ this down for your arousment. And its sunny.

A tale of spiders.....

Some people are scarred of them. This is generally thought to be irrational in Britain because all our spiders are harmless. Yet some of our native spiders are wearing disguises. The ancestors of these special spiders were born in the misty waters of Lake Genesis a few days after the dawn of time. At about the time Neighbours would be on today. No! The evening episode not the lunch time one. Yes, I know this is irrelevant but it's these little details that suck you in. Sucker.

Anyhow they masquerade in frail little bodies day after day keeping up a pretence of living off flies by spinning webs and sometimes even eating the flies. They grow empty, bitter and weak off such a putrid diet. They lust for red meat and blood. They are perfectly capable of devouring a full grown man in as little as three minutes. These special spiders have learned amazing feats of stealth and subtlety that have been past from generation to generation. Therefore few people ever realise that the 'irrational' fear of spiders has some justification.

Very rarely does anyone ever escape from a murderous British house spider when it feels the lust for man-flesh. Victims generally die and therefore never get to tell anyone that they saw this innocuous looking arachnid swell up, spit venom then chow down on a lovely, juicy shoulder of man.

When spiders choose to show their true form they never do it if two or more people are present in the same place. If they did that their secret would be out. No. They attack only when one is alone. Only when the spider is sure they are alone with the victim does the transformation take place. First the legs begin to elongate, normally a few inches or so in a matter of seconds. If you ever see a spider with disproportionately long legs run. Run like the wind and don't look behind you.

Then the body starts to swell too, bigger and bigger until at last it reaches the size of a clenched fist. Fangs form. Quickly. More quickly than scientists think bone can be formed. Razor sharp fangs like sharks teeth appear within a couple of minutes of the body swelling. These teeth are amazingly efficient in design. They posses the ability to tear flesh from bone with almost no effort. Behind these rows of incisors the venom glands materialise. Finally hairs sprout forth from the body and the legs. The hairs turn from black to yellow once the spider is fully developed into the ravenous, murderous predator.

The enlarged British house spider in it's special carnivorous phase is still not all that big. Full grown their bodies can be as small as a tennis ball but legend has it that the very biggest ones have bodies the size of a football. Either way a well timed stamp with a good walking boot produces spider soup.

There are several good reasons why nearly all people who are unfortunate enough to witness the transformation still manage to get themselves eaten. Speed and surprise are the main two. Spiders are fast. Enlarged hungry spiders are faster. Try running from one and you will almost certainly fail. They have eight legs, you have just two. Do the math.

Surprise certainly helps the special spiders. Having walked the Earth for a considerable number of years amongst lots of harmless spiders an average adult victim will not be expecting a spider to swell up right under their nose. They will also not expect them to then proceed to eat them. This definitely is most unexpected behaviour and "I'm surprised" is often the last thought of a person who sees the spurt of venom issuing from the deadly spider.

Disbelief, the denial of the fact that this could possibly be happening, delays your reactions and hampers any chance of escape. Initial surprise is often coupled with a sheer blind panic (this normally happens to people who are afraid of the everyday harmless spiders) and the victim becomes routed to the spot, too afraid to shout or cry. They get covered in venom with ease. Alternatively surprise can be accompanied with a curious fascination. This normally happens with those who do not suffer arachnophobia. These people get involuntarily drawn towards their own doom. Afterall, watching a spider transformation is a fascinating, if deadly process. A prospective zoologist type will actually put their face right next to the abnormally large, ney incredibly large spider, just to get a better look at the legs turning yellow. Yellow hair is always their final observation.

The main reason people are no match for these unusual creatures is the nature of the venom itself. It produces instant paralysis coupled with a powerful amnesia. Once the green sticky liquid touches your skin, no matter how small the amount, you will not remember a thing. You will be unable to warn your brother, your lover or your mother that peril is at hand. They could be spinning a web in the cupboard under the stairs of someone near and dear to you.

One thing at least we can be grateful for is that in the enlarged state spiders do not have (or at least ever seem to have used) a functioning web. I can only imagine how many more victims there would be if they could spin webs. However a quick reflection on this point and I realise that enormous spiders webs everywhere would certainly alert people that something was amiss. After all with sensible precautions (protective clothing and heavy boots for example) man is quite capable of exterminating them all. Lack of web is probably another factor that has contributed to their secret survival.

Also I believe the fact they hunt alone, not in packs* enables their continued secrecy and therefore survival. You see to complete their life cycle they must change back to their original form. Only once they've fed on the flesh of man and then changed back to appear small and harmless can they breed and reproduce.

The morph back into their smaller size usually takes place within an hour or so of feeding on a human, sometimes slightly quicker or sometimes times slightly slower. However spiders must remain hidden from people at all times once they have enlarged. This is why pack hunting is not a viable option. A simple premise; it is harder to remain hidden when there are more things to hide. A group of enlarged spiders covered with bright yellow hairs, blood dripping from their collective jaws would surely get a glance or two. One spider on the other hand, the lone warrior in the dead of night, one spider can get away with it. Spiders can climb walls and fit through gaps by folding their legs. Almost any hiding place imaginable is accessible to a clever spider in the prime of their youth.

Remember. You will always be alone with a spider when suddenly it turns on you. But there will only be one to contend with. Consider this an educational public service bulletin to give you due warning. Be on a state of heightened alert. Don't run. Be prepared to dodge venom, then be prepared to stamp.

*I think 'pack' would be the correct term to use for a bunch of deranged, salivating, man eating spiders on the rampage.

Washing up

Is there a cool, relaxed way of asking someone to do their fair share?

I am bitter person, trapped within a resentful, hate filled tyrant, trapped within someone who smiles, shrugs and then cleans the only sharp knife and chopping board. Everyday.

What do you do?

I have an entire beehive within my proverbial bonnet but right now washing up is the notably vicious bee. And it just stung me with a swollen sack of poison.

Bob Dylan should have sung;

"How many times must a man clean a pint glass
Before he can drink some water"

The thing is if you complain you're a twat. But if you do the dishes it's not 'cool'.

Flies in the kitchen isn't cool. Eating nice food is.

Convenience is what I lust for. The ability to be able to explore my gastro potential without prior community service.

Why don't you get nice pot noodles?

Dreams

This morning i found that last night I had been sick on the Guardian that was conveniently positioned next to my bed. If you don't believe that I live this sort of bohemian, white knuckle, pants down, socks up existence then think about it. Why would I make this up? In fact why should I write it hear? I'll tell you why. You don't have to clean the things I am going to have to clean after writing this. So this is postponing the inevitable. This is a fatalistic hangover.

Anyhow I had some interesting dreams recently. And not just the sex ones.

I dreamt about mythical creatures that were enslaved in the Burberry factory. Only this factory was different. It farmed and processed a tarten fruit - the burberry - and turned it into jam and pies and tarts. Inside machines were operated by strange things. Pheasants that had only one wing and flew in circles turning handles and wheels via wires attached to their feet.

Working alongside the mutilated poultry workers were spurting gherkins, falic small creatures. They looked like gherkins but could swim and had purple stripes down their sides. They fussed around in vinegar tanks, their whole lives spent driving turbines.

The evil owner, yes this dream even had an evil owner not just lots of random words that sound nice, was Lord Burberry Jam. He had a monicle and a sinister laugh. He was the one behind the battery farming to produce all those phesants. I don't know how he made the spurting gherkins.

Thats it. I probably need a world class psychologist/therapist/live in cleaner and janitor that cooks breakfast and makes a mean bloody mary. The sick is still there and I still don't want to clean it up so I'll tell you about last night.

I was in a pub (you choose, its irrelevant). I was obviously being very witty, coming at you like Oscar Wilde only faster and slimmer. I was talking to my friend (you choose, its fairly irrelevant) and hit apon the idea of opening a shop. Only I'm going to call mine a boutique so it can be more expensive. I'm going to call my boutique Wired deaf sex purves. It is going to sell coffee. Ground and in bean form. Not ready made into drinks 'cos that will mean more effort. And I hate the stupid names I'd have to give to coffee in order for the masses to part with lots of money; frothy-chav-in-chinos etc. It is also going to sell drum kits. And pornographic magazines.

All I need now is some financial backing. Any offers?.... You'll be in safe hands as I'm some what of an expert in the fields of coffee, drums and sssssssssh 'porn' - read it quietly. Its got a catchy, snappy name too. It will be more interesting than a Subway and my ideal replacement for the recently closed Comic Book Shop on St Clements. Show me the money.

Anyhow this sick won't clean itself.