Sunday, 15 December 2013

Get a Load of this Shit

Okay so on Friday at uni everyone on the course and I learnt a bunch of shit about the course we weren't told about because the guy who directs the course, a well disguised Welshman called Paul, wasn't allowed to by his superiors but totally told us anyway because fuck them. Myself and the one other guy who turned up on time that morning were happy to have this new information, but a bit annoyed that we weren't told this earlier but whatever. The other people, however, were "outraged" by this three month long misinformation. These people are so easy to "outrage" it's scarcely believable. Everything outrages them. Most of the time, they don't even know what the fuck they're outraged by. The printer runs out of toner; OUTRAGE, they can't listen to their shitty music out loud when other people are trying to meet a deadline; OUTRAGE, they're not allowed to eat fucking chips in the fucking classroom during a fucking lesson; fucking OUTRAGE! Jesus H Christ, get a grip you entitled, hair-brained fuck-ups.

This is what happens when you start a course occupied almost entirely by BTEC students (no offense to BTEC students who aren't cunts), because BTEC students are about as easy to engage as reverse gear with a gearbox that's missing reverse gear. I should have worked harder at college. Kids: work hard in college; save yourself the trouble.

I'm going for a shower now because I smell like warm stilton and corpses.

Wednesday, 6 November 2013

This Fucking Course I Swear to God

I have no idea who to interview. I can do the voiceovers soon, and I can also do the voiceovers for the radio assignment in one sitting. I have no clue what I’m doing. I’m not even sure about this idea anymore. I only did it because I’m sleep-deprived and it seemed like a good idea. It’s not a good idea; it’s a fucking terrible idea. Why did I think this was a good idea? Yeah, I’ll do a TV interview about TV interviews, oh how witty and original, good job, Sam. Why are these cunts so loud? Whose attention are they trying to get? There are, including myself, four other people in this room, and none of us give a fuck. You don’t need to talk so loudly and incessantly for such a long time, you had break time to do that shit. I can’t work with these loud cunts. I used to be able to work with over 20 loud cunts all being loud, because I could block out their noise, but that was the better part of a decade ago, and I’ve lost that ability. Could you not at least lower your voices, you’re all less than a metre from each other. You all think you’re the shit because you’re at uni; get real, shitlords. Okay one of them started singing then another one accidentally harmonised and all three of them made a loud fucking “woo” noise in surprise. You people are going to cost us all a fucking degree, do you know that you arseholes? Do you even care? I doubt it. You’re only here because you get a student loan and a grant which you’ve no doubt already spent on various pointless things you don’t need and going to Gatecrasher on a fucking Tuesday. I bet you’re all on overdraft. You’re supposed to be spending that shit on shit you actually need, and no, booze is not something you need, and if it is you have a problem and you need help. Oh God, one’s just figured out how gold-diggers work. There are two girls and a guy and the guy keeps making feeble, vaguely creepy attempts at flirting with them. One of the girls just referred to Kanye West as a “black care bear” and they all started laughing really fucking loudly oh god please get dysentery. Earlier, the loudest girl (who happens to be from Manchester so she has an accent as well) said it was an “outrage” that the printer was running out of toner. “What are they spending the money we’re giving them on?” Okay first of all: you’re not giving them any money, Student Finance England is; second of all: Birmingham Metropolitan College isn’t getting said money, Birmingham City University is. Now they’re fighting over biscuits. Seriously. Deep fucking joy.

Monday, 17 June 2013

The Badass Burial

When I die, I want to be thrown into an active volcano. Fuck cremation and scattering my ashes in a silty pond in the Lake District, fuck being buried under a tree with my name on a plaque on a nearby bench in a botanical garden which is itself being gradually buried under bird shit. I want to be thrown, without a casket, in my best suit, into an active volcano; preferably one that's about to erupt, in which case I'll have to be dropped from a helicopter, which will be extra badass. It will be called a lava burial, and it will be boss as all shit. It'll go down in history as one of the most awesome ways of disposing of a corpse of all time. Except maybe placing a corpse over an atom bomb and detonating it wherever they used to test atom bombs. That is if they've stopped testing A-bombs.

The ways people are disposed of once they're no longer alive are so boring, except for an expensive few. Like a space burial, whereby for an enormous sum of currency, you can be massively overcooked, then have your ashes launched into space. You can have little bits of dust that were once your genitals orbiting Earth, and I just think that's really cool. There is of course the Viking burial, whereby your corpse is set ashore on a vessel then set alight, cremating you and the vessel to save having to go and get the boat. There's alkaline hydrolysis, whereby your body is basically broken down into its chemical components. There are, of course, more clandestine ways of getting rid of your smelly corpse once you've kicked the dust; you can be dumped in a freezer or in a body of water; you can be effectively liquified with strong acids; you can be buried in concrete or cement; and finally, you can be crushed within a scrapped car. So you can forever be with "Pug", your beloved 2001 Peugeot 106 with a 1.2 litre engine, fart can exhaust, and silly aftermarket wheels.

Just make sure you aren't disposed of by incompetent knuckle-draggers, by being chucked in the woods to be discovered a week later by a jogger or a dog-walker, or lobbed in the river Severn to have your partially decomposed cadaver found some years later. That's not dignified or badass.

I might also consider being fed into a wood chipper which is aimed at an open window of a mental health clinic. That sounds like messy fun which I won't have to help clear up, because I'll be the mess.

Tuesday, 28 May 2013

101 Things More Productive than General Studies: Part 2

51.  Different accent for every lesson.
52.  The commission, production, promotion, and release of Windows 8. It's exactly the same as Windows7        but with some kind of mental deficiency.
53.  Acting like such a God damn fruit that you hurt your ankle.
54.  Developing your own versions of YOLO:
       YTAB: Your Tits Are Brilliant
       SUYS: Shut Up, You Slag
       SLAMGET: Stop Looking At My Girlfriend's Excellent Tits
       YODO: You Only Die Once
55.  Legally changing your name to H. FUCKING, and insisting that it's always written in capitals so my         name would become Samuel H. FUCKING Philpott. Also you shout it when you say your name.
56.  Opening a bottle of beer with your wah pedal because you don't have a bottle opener handy.
57.  Building a multi-level, very intricate, house of cards-like tower out of the shit plastic chairs at my                  college.
58.  New (now fairly old) copypasta:
       >attend Cadbury College
       >some cleaner bitches at us because the Hub is too messy
       >agree to clean up the Hub
       >everybody agrees we should slap our cocks on the Hub
       >the fucking new guy accidentally cums on Hub
       >its to late now, the dude is bitching that the Hub's not clean
       >we mix the jizz with some hot chocolate
       >we all go away for holidays
       >they replace the chairs
59.  Running around a heavily crowded public area in the nude because IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD!
60.  Changing the date of the Mayan apocalypse to September 15th 2015, because in a shock turn of events        nothing happened yesterday (22/12/12).    
61.  Walking into a sexual health clinic with a load of girls all arm-in-arm, and going up to the counter to tell         the rather incredulous employee that you're "going to need some fucking condoms!" Only to have one            of the girls shout "...and some lube!"
62.  Doing mediocre Darth Vader impressions with the cardboard tubes wrapping paper comes with.
63.  Blaming everything bad that happens to you on Barack Obama.
64.  That thing where you put "in my arse" as a suffix to a random song or film title.
65.  Counting down to 2013 half a minute early. Silly Big Ben.
66.  Running an ad-campaign for a deodorant brand that's literally just "Clean your balls!"
67.  Go to RedTube; search "fast-forward blowjobs."
68.  Anti-deodorisors:
       Coffee-flavoured mouthwash
       Cigarette scented incense
       Dog shit soap
69.  Writing a poem about farting
70.  Going to your local video game retailer and asking for such titles as:
       Ku Klux Kars: Master Racing
       Virtual Manlove in the Middle East
       Anne Frank's Hide-and-Seek Championship
       London Bus Simulator 2005
       Adolf Hitler's Holocaust Tycoon
71.  A dirty snow-related pun:
       The snow's not the only thing six inches deep tonight.
72.  Wearing hench as fuck hiking boots because of their superior grip when Britain turned into fucking Hoth        for three months, and then slipping around like a dog on an ice rink because the compacted snow had            turned into ice. Unmodified hiking boots don't work on ice, as I found out the hard way.
73.  Posting links to shock videos on Facebook all the fucking time.
74.  Australian rules of life:
       > Live a little
       > Watch out for the fucking wildlife
       > Help yourself to a fucking beer
       > Try not to be a cunt
75.  Being so dedicated to shouting full-volume at your, apparently sentient, computer that you angrily clear        your throat in order to do it more clearly.
76.  Singing We're Not going to Take it by Twisted Sister, but replacing all the lyrics with Hitler.
77.  Taking high-resolution photographs of brick walls and passing it off as "abstract."
78.  One of my friend Vickie's knock-knock jokes:
       Knock knock.
       Who's there?
       Vickie who?
       ME YOU TWAT!
79.  Holding a cup of coffee up to my face so it warms my chin. Ingenuity.
80.  The last time I was home-alone, I stripped to the nude and sung boisterously to myself as I had a nude        poo. (In the toilet, of course.)
81.  Using "your dad wears long johns" as a legitimate insult.
82.  Trying to kill oneself with antibiotics.
83.  Pointing out that Adolf Hitler and Charlie Chaplin did not have the same style of facial adornment, as              Hitler's was rectangular, whereas Chaplin's was a trapezoid.
84.  Calling someone and acting as though they called you.
85.  Spending a lot of time and putting a lot of hard work into writing an essay and making it exactly 1000            words to boot, only to have written about the wrong fucking thing. Again.
86.  Being my 15 year old brother, Ben. He is a crazy motherfucker.
87.  Founding my very own Secret Society of Samuels, an elite group dedicated so something, for some              reason. There are 18 Sams in this society.
88.  Stripping to the nude, smearing myself with my own faeces, wearing a Superman cape, and running                around screaming Christmas carols to scare pigeons.
89.  Pretend a banana is a mobile phone for an entire day, pretending to answer it in the middle of serious          conversations with teachers, co-workers, or superiors.
90.  Eat a herculean amount of beetroots just to see what colour your piss goes.
91.  Fraping me while I'm logged on to my own profile.
92.  Using the Navy Seal copypasta as the main body for your CV.
93.  Spending hundreds of pounds on large purple dildos, and then planting them anonymously around                  college in order to become The Dildo Bandit of 2013, the much anticipated successor of The Phantom          Shitter of 2011.
94.  Go to a library and shout "Cunt!" at all of Shakespeare's publications.
95.  Go to your local music retailer (if it hasn't gone into administration), go to the metal section, take a paint        pen. Wherever you see the word "metal", whether referring to the musical genre or not, place quotation          marks around the word with the paint pen. For the best effect, wear a Linkin Park t-shirt.
96.  Go on Google maps and find all the roads with your surname. If there's one local, go there and conquer        the street in your family's honour.
97.  Transcribing the lyrics to Metallica's Orion.
98.  Calling in sick to work/school/college with the most ridiculously obvious fake ailment, like polio of the          lungs, or an ingrown foreskin, but playing it off seriously.
99.  Singing along to Eye of the Tiger whilst shitting loudly in a public toilet.
100.  My friends Adam and Damon's attempts at winning the Nobel prize for literature. 
101.  "Game of Tones" A game in which participants must download the most offensive song they can find,            and make it their ringtone. Participants must present video evidence of the public use of their offensive            ringtone. The more offensive the better. Obviously.

That's it. That's all of them. 101 actual things that are a better use of time than General Studies. I hope you enjoyed them.
Now read my poems, damn you.


Monday, 20 May 2013

101 Things More Productive than General Studies (Part 1)

General Studies is a pointless subject. So pointless, in fact, that I've spent the last two years compiling a list on Facebook of 101 things more productive than it. Which, in itself, is more productive than General Studies.

  1. Sitting in an empty room making popping noises with one's mouth. 
  2. Bread slippers.
  3. Spending an entire afternoon pretending to be telepathic.
  4. Getting up really early in the morning in order to pretend you are the only survivor of some great apocalypse. 
  5. Spending an entire morning making up creative euphemisms for poo. 
  6. Missing the sixth one out by accident, but pretending it was deliberate. 
  7. Toast sandwiches.
  8. Designing and constructing a submarine using only cardboard.
  9. Going around the local park putting straws in all the dog turds. 
  10. Going into a lift full of people and after a few seconds of silence saying "You're probably all wondering why I've gathered you here."
  11. Spending twelve years of full-time compulsory education learning to read and write only to create a Facebook account and write as if you started learning ten minutes ago. 
  12. Wearing a suit all day for no reason. 
  13. Getting up from your seat during a general studies lesson, and running into one of the floor-to-ceiling windows in your general studies room in response to seeing some people you know walk past in the corridor.
  14. Translating nursery rhymes into German using Google Translate.
    "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" in German:
    Funkeln funkeln Wenigheit Stern,
    Wie ich frage mich, wo du bist,
    Bis uber die Welt so hoch,
    Wie en Diamant am Himmel,
    Funkeln funkeln Wenigheit Stern,
    Wie ich frage mich, wo du bist.
  15. Writing a song/poem about salad cream:
  16. Yu-Gi-Oh!
  17. Making up words that incorporate other words to make puns.
    Fuhrerious: Herr Hitler found out about the escaped prisoners, he's absolutely Fuhrerious.
    Tyrantial: Joseph Stalin is soaked because he got caught in the tyrantial rain.
    Hitlerious: The Nazi's tactics during the war were so bad, it was Hitlerious. 
  18. Finding out how much of myself I can fit into a large-ish cardboard box without tearing the side.
  19. Lying in hospital watching programs about hospitals and then being all disappointed when the hospital you're in is nothing like the hospital on the TV.
  20. Combining two flavours of crisp to invent a whole new incredible flavour.
    Salted Cheese and Pickled Onion (Cheese and Onion and Salt and Vinegar)
    BBQ Bacon (BBQ Beef and Smokey Bacon
    Marmite (Prawn Cocktail and Worcestershire Sauce)
    Salt and Salt and Vinegar (Ready Salted and Salt and Vinegar)
  21. Running through a supermarket in your underwear shouting "Dinosaurs!"
  22. Killing small animals for sport by stomping on them with large work boots.
  23. Learning Wonder Mike's part of Rapper's Delight by the Sugar Hill Gang by heart.
  24. Irritating the religious.
  25. Failing general studies.
  26. Designing and manufacturing a car with its steering wheel on its roof.
  27. Attempting to snort Calpol.
  28. Going to a notoriously haunted tourist attraction dressed as a cartoon ghost. 
  29. Playing a game of Twat with oneself and losing. 
  30. Going to the local library pretending to have Tourette's.
  31. Stripping to your underwear whilst repeatedly shouting "Porn!"
  32. Attempting to pass off the ingredients from a can of energy drink as a poem. 
  33. Opposite bands:
    ZZ Top - AA Bottom
    Led Zeppelin - Hydrogen Unicycle
    Deep Purple - Shallow Yellow
    Fleetwood Mac - Fleetsteel PC
    Metallica - Plastica
    Lamb of God - Tofu of Satan
    Job for a Cowboy - Unemployment for an Indian
    Rush - Mosey
    Dimmu Borgir - Fuck knows.
  34. Drawing on your friend's face after he's passed out and doing that creative, original, and above all inventive thing thing where you draw an arrow pointing to the nearest facial orifice and writing "Insert cock here."
  35. Amusing oneself by making a noise resembling an idling tractor. 
  36. Trying to see how long you can watch The Only Way is Essex before your eyes start bleeding. 
  37. Being amused to no end whenever someone says "[thing] smells funny" by replacing "funny" with "like semen."
  38. Making shoes out of Parmesan cheese.
  39. Trying to frape someone while they're still on their fucking laptop. niggers hitler hitler
  40. Chair-shuffling Olympics. 
  41. Going on Dragons' Den in an attempt to persuade one of the Dragons to invest in your groundbreaking new invention; the circle.
  42. Going to a really important job interview wearing a full Medieval suit of armour. 
  43. Doing anything at all in a banana suit. Literally anything. 
  44. My friend Adam said this when he was playing Pokémon at college: "Fuck off, you deodorant-using cuntflap-fucking prick!"
  45. Vaginal euphemisms:
    The Gates to Hell
    The Magic Pink Scabbard of Destiny
    "Area 51"
    The "other" mouth.
  46. Assembling a group, dressing them as Vikings, and then conquering the German Christmas market in Birmingham.
  47. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) This thing, I mean seriously, what the fuck is this thing?
  48. Talking like a Medieval prince for an entire day.
  49. Take three men with Tourette's and send them on holiday for a week. Hilarity ensues.
  50. Killing small, furry animals with a mechanical vice to pass the time.

    I'm not even going to attempt to fit all 101 in one post. The next 51 will be in part 2 next week.

Tuesday, 19 March 2013

The College Computer Conundrum

I am writing this on my own personal desktop computer. It has a 3.60GHz AMD A8-5600K APU processor with an integrated ATi Radeon HD graphics card; it has 7.47 GB of useable RAM, it runs on Windows 8, the latest operating system from Microsoft. It’s not exactly HAL-9000 or Deep Thought, but it’s relatively powerful and does everything I ask it to.

 The potatoes they provide the students at the college I attend, however, are complete piles of arse. All of the computers at college are at least five years old, use processors less powerful than those small electric motors primary school children play with during those science lessons wherein they teach you about basic circuitry, and whoever is in charge of setting them up should be shot.

 Does this individual know what ‘screen resolution’ is? Has this person ever heard or read those words together in the same clause? The monitors these vegetables are given are old 15’’ LCD jobs, which require a screen resolution of 1024x768, or else the screen is impossible to use without acquiring a headache within the first half-hour of usage. The resolution they’ve been given is closer to 640x480, which makes the graphics look huge on the screen, which is really bloody uncomfortable to use.

That’s not the worst part, either, the worst aspect of these personal catastrophes is the sheer speed of them, or lack thereof.

 Some of them have Google’s very fast web browser, Chrome, installed on them, which is fine, until you discover that the computer is making Google Chrome run slowly. Just how bad does a computer have to be for Google Chrome, the fastest web browser there is, to be slow to load?

 I clicked on a link that was on an email I’d subscribed online for, and the page took a full three minutes to load. God forbid you try loading two tabs at the same time. You’ll be there for hours, I know I was.
The main problem is that these computers were made on the cheap, in bulk, in 2006, for educational establishments by an unknown company called ‘Stone’, who are somehow associated with Microsoft.
 These PCs were designed to run on either Windows XP or Windows Vista, which was the latest OS at the time, XP being a few years older, but the college computer people have them running on Windows 7, which they just aren’t designed to do so they can barely handle the job, and by “the job” I mean “any job”, take Microsoft Publisher, for example; if you try opening a file that’s over a couple of thousand kilobytes (which really isn’t a lot), it will take, as they say, the piss.

The actual maintenance of the tower units (main computer bits) leaves a lot to be desired. Most of them look as though they haven’t been cleaned since they were purchased however many years ago that was, and I don’t just mean the cases are a bit dusty, a computer with clean components runs much better than a computer full of dust and spiders, dead or otherwise.

 Quite a large number of keyboards have keys missing, in one case I found some of the keys had been rearranged to spell out a message I can’t repeat without disciplinary action. If a key isn’t missing, it doesn’t work, and all the keyboards are inexplicably required to have a safety warning on them, which warns you of the perils of the, apparently terrifying, office keyboard. Just how much of a slack-jawed invalid do you have to be to injure yourself using a QWERTY keyboard?

 They’re probably there so Americans can’t go on a suing spree when they deliberately break a finger while using it claiming that they weren’t expecting it to be so robust, as if they were expecting it to be made of nougat. 

Despite all of this, at least whoever set them up using the college-wide network made good use of the start menu.

 Oh hang on, no they didn’t, nine times out of ten you can’t get anything from the start menu and if you can, it’s the wrong thing, because for some reason unbeknownst to people with common sense, someone’s made it so everything has to be accessed by the desktop. Now, that seems fine when you don’t yet have anything running because you’ve just logged in, but once you’ve opened Word or Internet Explorer, you have to minimise everything before you can open any other program you might need. This is silly and time consuming if you have a lot of windows open. Which I do. All the time. As does everyone. I’ve never seen any person work on a computer in college with less than three windows open at any one time.

Imagine trying to run a game on one of those atrocities. My pride and joy does a pretty good job of running the latest releases, provided I don’t set all the graphics to ‘very high’. To run the latest releases on ‘very high’ settings and still have a playable fps rate I’d need a nuclear reactor, which I can’t afford just now.

 If I tried running Tomb Raider III, released in 1998, on a college computer, I imagine it would take several weeks to load, and have a frame rate of about 4 fph (that’s frames per hour), in spite of the game being at least seven years older than the computers themselves. 

My solution to this problem would be to ultimately employ someone to look after the computers who actually knew what they were doing. Maybe they should promote the technician in the media department for my film studies course. He works with Macs all day, which are downright impossible to work with so he’d make light work of some broken down old computers.

Maybe he’d even get them to work to the point where people could actually use them for things. You know, important college things. Stuff that matters.

Friday, 22 February 2013

Laziness and Xenophobia

If you can afford to visit one of your neighbouring countries at least once, but you don't, that's downright lazy. For instance, if you've been living in the south of England with more than enough financial means to hop on a ferry to France, you're just lazy. If you live in Seattle, in the northern United States, and it's never even crossed your mind that it might be a good idea to make the short two hour drive to Vancouver, which is barely even in Canada, you're lazy. Don't even try saying "France/Canada's shit, though." because you don't know shit because you've never fucking been there. Seriously, though, how could someone rant about how shit a particular nation is if they haven't made the effort to visit it themselves? I know people who've said "America's such a shit-hole." Really? Have you ever been? No? Then how the hell could you possibly know that? Your knowledge of America consists of what Manhattan looks like, and the orange morons on Jersey Shore.

Xenophobia still seems to run wild amongst otherwise perfectly normal people, who aren't racist or sexist, but are xenophobic because as far as society's concerned, as long as it's nothing negative about black or Asian people, calling the entire nation of France "pussies" because they pulled out of the Second World War, because all you know about the Second World War is that a German man called Hitler tried to invade England or something, so all the countries started fighting and America was late because they're fat. What you don't know is that France have won more military battles than we have, and surrendered to the Nazis because they wanted to preserve French sovereignty, so they unleashed the Free French who played a pretty big part in kicking the arses of the oppressive Nazis. As for the Americans, they were formally neutral until the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, and (with Britain) invaded north Africa and Italy in 1942-43. Saying they were "late to the war" would be implying they should have been fighting a war which, to begin with, wasn't theirs to fight. What irks me about America, though, is that they seem to take personal responsibility for the allied victory, and they keep reminding us of this: "We saved your ass in WWII." "You know, if it wasn't for us, you'd be speaking German." To which I have to reply, "Well that's not strictly true, because actually, shut the fuck up." And then a Frenchman comes and says "If it wasn't for us, you'd still be under British rule."

Sunday, 17 February 2013

The 'Incredible' Story of a Girl Named Gerald

On being informed of her yeast infection, Gerald couldn't stop thinking about her vagina. She would prod it and poke it and stare at it in the full-length mirror, which is for some reason in the kitchen of her Coventry bedsit, for hours on end until she got bored and eventually went and made tea. She liked her tea cold and savoury, with a good pinch of salt, a crack or two of black pepper, and a nice little dollop of Hellmann's mayonnaise.
          Gerald, you see, is a bit odd. A bit of a maverick. Somewhat strange. I mean, for a start, she's a girl and her name is Gerald, so you immediately know she's going to be a tad different. Poor Gerry was eaten alive at school; and at college; and indeed at university, where she's studying something. She never tells people quite exactly what she's studying, but she it's definitely a subject, and almost certainly an art subject. Not least because she spends most of her spare time rolling around on an empty canvas, completely nude, covered in various condiments and spreads. Last week it was wholegrain mustard. Her parents, as you've probably gathered, are evil. Not least because they (not accidentally) named their only daughter 'Gerald', but because they're also extremely racist, anti-Semitic, and they delight in killing newborn kittens. I may have made that last one up, but that doesn't take anything away from my point, which is that they're evil. Gerald hasn't spoken to her parents since she gained the ability to talk, aged eight; her parents also only speak German, which, curiously, she does not.
          Recently, Gerry met a strapping young gentleman, over the internet, called Susan. Gerald was overjoyed to meet somebody who seemed to be in the same predicament as her, and relished the prospect of possibly meeting Susan in the near future. The only thing in their way was Wales, the Atlantic ocean, Virginia, North Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and her crippling yeast infection, but ever determined Gerald wasn't going to let her itchy willy-warmer get in the way of meeting her one true love face-to-face, then presumably, after a few drinks and a Barry White record, face-to-penis.  
          Eventually, Gerald raised enough money to pay for economy class tickets to New Orleans, and enough Vagisil to see her through the flight. When she touched down on the warm, southern tarmac, she was overcome with joy, and an insufferable itching sensation in her Cameron. Her yeast problem was now so bad, she swore blind that the discharge flowing freely from her opening was dry stout. When she saw Susan in all his glory, she ran to his embrace. He held her for what seemed like hours, until Susan let out the most awe-inspiring bottom cough which would astonish even the most seasoned care-home worker. They locked eyes and gazed at each others' souls. Well, three of their eyes locked, as Gerald has a lazy eye which seems to dart from object to object as though it has ADHD. The moment was somewhat ruined by Gerald scratching her vagina, so the two went back to Susan's condo in New Orleans' Uptown.
          Kittens were just about everywhere in Susan's condo. They occupied more of his life than anything else; they were his only friends until now. Mind you, he did have upwards of twenty kittens, so he could have said he had plenty of friends, but he'd have had nobody to say it to. The felines seemed less attracted to the beery aroma emanating from Gerald's ham wallet than almost all people were to her almost legendary social awkwardness. Gerald wasn't interested in the cats, she just wanted to get right to it, and (incredibly giving not a single fuck about Gerald's yeast issue) get right to it they did.
          I'm going to skip over the naughty bits, because I'm not E. L. James, so I wouldn't know how best to describe the repugnant scenes in detail so as not to make you, the humble reader, lose the entire contents of your digestive system.
          Later that week, Gerald was due to return to Coventry leaving Susan behind. Both Gerry and Sue were sad to part ways, but at least they'd had a week of... of... of that. When Gerald returned to the UK, she though of Susan daily. She thought of his name, his horde of kittens, his extensive collections of dragon dildos and Fedoras. She liked his Fedoras so much she took to wearing one of her own, thus being further shunned by society. Gerald missed Susan, but was at least safe in the knowledge that someone, somewhere, had finally penetrated her peachy pocket.
          Like it or not, you're now imagining a girl with a yeast infection and a lazy eye being skullfucked by man called Sue wearing a Fedora, and if you're reading this and your name is Damon, please be so kind as to read the first letter of each paragraph. Thank you.  

Friday, 25 January 2013

"Totally Unacceptable"

So it's been snowing here in England, and many millions of balls of the stuff have been hurled around in frivolous joy as a result. Harmless fun, right? Wrong. According to my college, it is 'totally unacceptable' to throw snowballs (or "snowballing" as they like to call it, as if it were some kind of violent sport).

Now, my college has always been a bit confused as to what is and what isn't as they say 'totally unacceptable'; just recently they banned people trying to give up smoking from smoking e-lites inside the building, so they have to go outside to give up smoking around a bunch of people with real cigarettes, blowing real smoke into their real faces. The reason for which still hasn't been specified, and probably never will be. Cadbury College, let me be the first to indirectly tell you that throwing snowballs is not something that people consider 'totally unacceptable'. Kicking someone in the balls is totally unacceptable; stabbing someone in the face is totally unacceptable; eating a live child for attention is totally unacceptable and a bit illegal, but throwing balled snow, unpleasant though it may sometimes be, is not totally unacceptable.

It's not that I don't like my college, and I do enjoy going and everything, it's just that some of the emails we (the students) receive are a bit silly, case and point: "Beyond a certain "late" time students will not be allowed to enter a classroom."
Why the hell did our vice principal decide to put late in quotation marks? As if the word 'late' is slang, or something.

On that note, I'd like to propose the world's first international Snowballing league. Any takers?
Poo willy bum tits.