Fudge's Firework Code

At this time of year, the following rules are vital to my existence...

Rule 1... Always wear a HAThat.

Rule 2... Try and set as many fireworks off at once as you can, then run away (the sillier the run, the better)

Rule 3... Don't fuck about with those stupid fireworks lighters. Get a blowtorch or similarly furious fire making device. I have a lighter from the army surplus shop, which is nigh on the bottom half of Ripley's gun from aliens.

Rule 4... If a Firework doesn't go off, throw a brick at it. If it still doesn't go off, send someone else to check it. If it STILL doesn't go off, get it, chuck it on the bonfire.

Rule 5... Catherine Wheels are proportionately fun depending on the secureness of the nail holding it. There is nothing more wonderful than seeing a Catherine Wheel escaping to freedom and flying under your car.

Rule 6... Church steeples, annoying neighbours' houses and the Moon are all targets and must be destroyed.

Rule 7... Always wear gloves. Unless you can't find them. Which I can't.

Rule 8... Save the really, really loud fireworks in case the neighbours complain about the noise. In reality they are offering a challenge. Show them how loud you actually can be.

Rule 9... Firework names are usually lies. The one with the shittest name will definitely be the best one. The 'Devils Explosive Urethra' will only disappoint you.

Rule 10... "Don't be fucking stupid!" is really just your missus offering you a dare, prove how silly you can be.

Have fun, and remember, no-one ever died by being burnt to death. Except witches.

*do not follow this advice. I am a fucking idiot. In a HAThat.


Geeky Confusion - Universal Translator

Right, so you know when you think of something and it just stays in your brain for days like some kind of bouncy ball and you need to get it out, no matter how bonkers or stupid it is. Well this is my bouncy brain ball...

The Star Trek The Next Generation Universal Translator

Ok, this is a pretty fancy bit of kit, and I shall attempt to explain how it works based on the years before I had sex when I owned three Star Trek technical manuals.
The Translator is a function of that nifty little communicator badge that everyone seems to wear while on board the Enterprise or on away missions and that. Basically it translates alien languages instantly, and translates anything you say instantly and broadcasts it to make it appear that you are speaking Klingon, or Tribble. Or Welsh.
I have a couple of issues at this early stage. Firstly, lip sync is never an issue on the show, the translator is basically dubbing over one's voice, shouldn't there be the same kind of random lip movement akin to a Swedish porno?
Secondly, where does the original untranslated voice go? Is there some kind of noise reduction thing going on? How can you concentrate on what you're saying if all you can hear is a foreign language seemingly coming out of your lips?
Which brings me to my third point, does the translated voice come out of the communicator or is there some kind of ventriloquism thing going on, making it appear as though the voice is coming out of your mouth?

I think I might be thinking too much into a fictional concept. But this is kinda like therapy for me so I'm gonna carry on...

Ok, how does the translator get the translated words into your ears without everyone else hearing? Or some kind of big feedback squeal? There are no earphones in the star trek universe beyond Uhura's silly phone headset, so is this another trick of the mysterious ventriloquism circuit?
Right, I continue... Jean Luc Picard is French. Does he speak French all the time and let the translator make him sound all shakespearian-actor-from-Mirfield? Which brings into question as to where his French accent has gone? Has it been translated out? Does his voice even sound like that at all? Maybe he speaks like a little French chipmunk.

On the Enterprise, there's not just grown ups, for some bloody stupid reason, other than to make the show more TV friendly, families are brought along for the ride. Including babies. Now, do these babies actually learn how to talk or does the translator just go and translate their baby gobbledegook? If we carry this on, we can only assume that (further) in the future that nobody will be speaking the same language and the translator will be working overtime translating everyone's personal nonsense language and making them sound clever. Actually, that does go some way to explaining some of the techno-babble on Voyager.

Anyway. I think that's my brain vented. I hope that was enjoyable enough for you. Or at least you now have some insight into my troubled mind. And pity me.

Live long and plimpy pob. (the translator will make that make sense, I'm sure)


Random 1-Word Topic Bloggage.

So the problem I reckon is not that I can't write anything good, I just have nothing good to write about... Let's see what those lovely oddbods on twitter can suggest, via the medium of one-word topic suggestions....

@stueymac71 Calculator.

Do kids even use calculators nowadays? Isnt it all iPhones and apps and that?
I remember i had the best calculator at school. It could display up to 15 digits, it had a backspace button and, wonder of wonders, it had an off button. I don't trust things that don't have off buttons. I mean, sure, 'auto power off' after 5 minutes is all well and good, but what if the calculator is getting shifted about in my bag, stuff squashing the buttons and that, it'd never switch off. Ever.
One of the pathetic pastimes I came up with during some of my lessons to pass the time between being an awkward nerd and trying not to get an erection was to add up all the positive whole numbers from 1 to 100. The answer is 5050. I am cool.
I also did up to 1000 (500500) as well as up to every hundred up to that. I was very bored at school. Maybe I should have learned to talk to girls or something. Or eaten less sweets.

Ah well...

@daisythom Spatulas.

I used to have a favourite spatula.
I used it for everything.
She was called Spatty.
Spatty was murdered by being put in the bin because she went a bit manky.
She was replaced by a pisspoor 'turner'.
I was cross for an unreasonable length of time.
I have a new spatula now.
He is called Pongo.
He's not as good as Spatty.
But I'm a grown up now.
And not bothered.
At all.

@rawr_imapanda Vagina.

Oh wow. It took three attempts for someone to suggest something rude. I'm quite surprised no-one's mentioned food yet. Or boobies. Those twitter people do like their boobies.
So, what should I write about vaginas... given that I am an expert and that...
Oh I dunno...
I tell you what, ill go and do a bit of googling and ill get back to you...



And relax.

Oh look, a link to dog food...


Just be grateful this isn't a video blog. Or an audio one. GAHHHHHHHHH.

@tanepiper Juxtaposed

So, if you were to put this blog wide-by-side with another, how would it compare or contrast? See, I don't know because besides the odd tweet, usually positive, occasionally not getting the point of not-joining-in-with-the-self-deprication; you guys never leave comments or anything. Even a lazy LOL would be better than the tumbleweed factory that currently lives below my blog. Feel free to juxtapose this blog with others, tell me what I'm doing wrong, or ideally tell me I'm awesome and offer me money. Genuine offers though. Cash or Paypal. Cheers.

@Tweak81 Mustard.

When you get mustard powder on your fingers, wash your hands before you go for a wee. Just saying...


Ooh Look! A flashing light!

So, yeah, I have a low attention span, and a really tiny boredom threshold. I thought I'd point that out now, as despite that being the intended topic of this blog, it may also be the reason why I'll go off on a tangent and start talking about sausage rolls and how Greggs just don't seem to be able to do them properly.
I'm sure I could do great things if I could just be arsed. I'd have told you all about how to make a great quiche on my food blog http://fudgemunch.blogspot.com , or I'd have got stuck in listing the experiences of the televisual vacuums inhabiting the Big Brother house on http://bigfudgey.blogspot.com ... hell, I'd probably even have got to the bit of http://fudgebook.blogspot.com when the Artefact is revealed to be an alien device capable of making a star appear from nothingness. It would have been very awesome and I would have made up some techno-babble and felt all good n sexy. But I got distracted by a flashing light, got mixed up with the creativity vacuum that is Real Life, and got disheartened by my newly discovered inability to spell.

Maybe this lack of attention span makes me good at doing Twitter, writing short bursts of unrelated nonsense with the emphasis on getting the chuckle and RT response instead of promoting conversation and deep thinking. I guess this is why Stephen Hawking doesn't tweet much. Even when X-Factor is on. That, and typing stuff with your eyelid must be a right ballache. Although I guess his balls wouldn't ache. Despite all that sitting down.

Oh, and yeah, I know that saying I'm 'good at twitter' makes me look a bit arrogant and arsey and that, but I do think I do it pretty well. Ok, maybe I'm not Stephen Fry, but he had a head start with the being awesome, what with being on telly and that. I started from scratch, with but a few posts on a transformers forum to my name. Hmmm... maybe I need to get on telly... and not just looking smug, stood behind that bloke from The Fast Show. I suppose the BBC has moved all its operations to Salford, I could go and nag at them for a job. But what kind of job?
Is there a market for rambling blog writers on tv or radio? I guess I say 'fuck' too much for cbeebies, and I definitely see too much innuendo when watching In The Night Garden... that Upsy Daisy is a right slag though, teasing that poor Iggle Piggle, who clearly has some kind of brain injury, making him highly suggestable to the evil machinations of Derek Jacobi, as well as Upsy Daisy's perverted desires. That blanket is the only piece of his former life, before the crash, it was probably the jacket of his sister Mary, who he watched die as the helicopter blades penetrated the cockpit's plexiglass screen, sending her guts and stomach contents spilling out, with the morning's unchewed lasagne pouring out, along with lumps of garlic baguette and a still-fizzing alka-seltzer.

So, that's why I'm no good for cbeebies.

And after going off on that tangent I've gone and forgotten what I was on about... I had a lovely bacon and chicken panini for lunch. Although there was a bit too much cheese in it.
I do like a panini. It's like an ironed sandwich. Or a sandwich that a fat bloke has sat on. Or a sandwich from a high gravity environment. Like on Jupiter. But without the gas. Although we were sat next to a bunch of students. So there was gas.

See what I mean about going off on a tangent? I'm not doing it on purpose. It's your fault. If you paid me or encouraged me to take about one specific thing I bet I could do it really well. I reckon by just reading this post you owe me £3.20 just for the little smile you did when I was talking about Mary Piggle's guts and dinner.
Anyway, if you work for the BBC in Salford and you need someone to write nonsense over the course of a morning, about nothing in particular, but covering every topic imaginable, gimme a call. I'm sure you can easily find my phone number in the BBC archives. I entered a competition on Radio Leeds once and I won tickets to see 28 Weeks Later. You remember? Good.

Oh wait, I had a different phone number back then. I tell you what, email me or something. That's easily done. I'm only after a couple or three thousand a month, for that ill write anything you want. Even stuff I don't agree with. Forcing veganism on cats or sequins or whatever. I'll even watch Downton Abbey if you pay me enough, and ill tell everyone its rubbish because its on ITV and how your costume drama which is near enough identical is so much better, even though both are depressingly dull, but presented in such a manner that anyone who says they don't like it is clearly some kind of uncultured, rabid fucktard that deserves to die a slow death by mercury poisoning.
Anyway, that's all the writing I'm doing for today. Don't think i could have made my lack of a point more clearly.
So there.

Thunked I'd Blog.

Been a while, so before I get rambling on about whatever a few little post-it notes of continuity...

1. I've given up on the A-Z of Twitter. At least for the time being. I admit I have been struggling to stretch the thing out over 27 blogs, at least without repeating myself, contradicting myself or repeating myself. Might pick it back up once I've got a bit of mojo back.
2. Don't bother going looking for my Big Brother blog expecting anything new. Like the program itself, there's nothing of value there, no-one really cares and I lost interest very early on. Other blogs about reality tv are available. Probably. I've not looked to be honest.

Anyway, now all that nonsense is out of the way I might as well write something... er.........


Back in a minute.


Just a bit of pimping

I promise promise promise I'll finish my A-Z of Twitter shortly, but for the time being, please have a look at my 2011 Celebrity Big Brother Blog and be amazed at how I can be so articulate in writing about something I don't really give a shit about. Then give me a job writing stuff in a newspaper or in some other medium in which you could pay me money for being awesome.
Oh, and I do funny pictures on there too. Like putting Zippy in a duvet.


My A-Z of Twitter. Part Ten.

R is for RAGE!

Twitter Rage sucks. Calm the fuck down. Your bonkers rage just makes me give even less of a shit.


My A-Z of Twitter. Part Nine.

P is for Procrastination.
I was gonna write about how twitter is such a good way of actually not doing anything, but then I got distracted by people tweeting P words, I had to Google various words for their meaning (Prestidigitation, Polyamorous, Pericabobulation) and then I had to check who.unfollowed.me to see who had just unfollowed me (I'm guessing because I retweeting a joke that used the C word. Don't really know why people have such a problem with that word. Maybe if they called folk a flappy dry one then it'd be a valid insult, but otherwise its just naming folk about one of the most useful bits of a lady).
Oh, and that took me a few more minutes so then I had to check my replies, more P words. Then I had to tell them to stop. Then I had a fishermen's friend. Then I got to the end of this sentence and realised that there are more replies waiting for me. Back in a second.

Sorry, where was i? Procrastination? Yeah, twitter's good at that.

Q is for Quality over Quantity.
Or vice versa.

Anyone that uses this argument when you say you need more followers clearly thinks they are better than you, and think that you are following them purely to read their tweets about their new kitchen renovation, rather than just out of politeness because they followed you a about a year ago.
You are awesome, you deserve more followers.
Tell them to shut up.
Oh, and go for the black marble work surface, its so much better for chopping carrots on.


My A-Z Of Twitter. Part Eight.

O is for Obvious Spambot.

See if you can spot the warning signs that shout "block me! I'm an evil tool of the hacker empire..." (might be best if you click it to make it bigger)


My A-Z of Twitter. Part Seven.

M is for Marmite.
...which is the easiest way to explain what Twitter is to most people.
I also like "its pointless, but so are blowjobs" and "at least I'm not getting poked every two bloody minutes"

N is for NoOb!
I'm sure you'll have all seen new Twitter users, unsure what to do, showing the same panic as a man stuck in a cave full of bears, covered in honey. So here's a quick guide that you can share with the Twitter virgins, busting their social networking hymen and making a big sticky mess on the bed of the internet...
1. Twitter allows you to send messages of up to 140 characters, there are tools that let you go over, eg. Twitlonger, but try not to get into bad habits. No-one will think any less of you if you abbreviated 'because' to 'bcoz' if it saves you going one letter over the limit.
2. Reply to people by typing '@username message' if you only want that user and your mutual followers to see it; 'message @username' if you're replying but want everyone to pay attention; don't type a reply without using including the @username, because no-one will know what you're on about.
3. To direct message someone type 'D username message' (note the lack of an @). When and why you use DMs is up to you, and ill probably go into it when I reach an appropriate letter in my A-Z.
4. Retweets - use this for sharing other users' tweets with your followers, use a retweet with comment option if you want to add a comment at the end (dont just put LOL though) or if you want to share both sides of a conversation in the same tweet (for example, a question & answer).
5. Spam. Block and report them the second they pop up in your follower list. Yes, I know you want to get to 30 followers ASAP, but do you really want a follower whose only interest is selling you a penis extension? Maybe you do. I don't though. Because I have a big Willy.
6. Brush your teeth twice a day.
7. Have fun, don't take Twitter too seriously, and remember the ultimate rule of Twitter - "if you don't follow @fudgecrumpet, then you don't do Twitter properly."

So, yeah, point new folk this way so they get off to a good start.
Oh, and easy way to spot a Twitter noob in real life - if they refer to themselves as ATusername, takes a good few months to get out of that habit...


A Message From Phony to all users of the BSN

Following the hacking, psn coma and subsequent useless emails from Sony, here's my take on the whole thing...


My A-Z of Twitter. Part Six.

K is for Krispy Kreme donuts.
These should be the official food of Twitter. Also if I say they're awesome enough eventually someone will send me some.
Also I couldn't think of anything good for K. Besides the KKK and Keith Chegwin. Both of whom seem to have made folk cross in one way or another.

L is for Lists.
Which I don't really bother with. Maybe its the Twitter app I use, or the way I tweet, but I fail to see the need of splitting my followers into categories to make it easier to follow my timeline. Perhaps you do, I dunno, its probably just personal preference.
One positive use of lists is as an alternative to tweeting a bunch of followfriday tweets, instead sending folk to follow people in said list. I seriously doubt this is very effective though, you've got to remember that folk are just a bit lazy and to go to all the effort of searching through a list is probably too much. Yeah, I know that makes folk sound lazy, but... well i'm too lazy to defend myself.
Anyway, what I don't like about the way some folk use lists is as an alternative to following people. That just comes across as rude, like reading a book over someone's shoulder or visiting Curry's to watch Eastenders.

Right, that's the depressing K and L parts out of the way, its all uphill from now on...


My A-Z of Twitter. Part Five

J is for Jolly Holidays, thus there's a short hiatus in my blogging. I'm sure you'll cope.


My A-Z of Twitter. Part Four

G is for Getting Stuck In A Rut.
Because every so often you end up in a bad mood on Twitter, and despite your common sense telling you to log off and go and have an ice cream, you feel compelled to remain on Twitter in a bad mood.
Of course, you'll find no respite here, or sympathy from your fellow tweeters. The worst you'll get is into a petty argument with some irritating person who thinks that its their job to cheer you up, despite their only skills being spouting cod philosophy. Best bet is to tell them to fuck off and then watching as their mood goes foul too. This is the solution to getting out of a foul mood on Twitter, being unreasonably mean to strangers. This is why Justin Bieber exists, like some kind of Richard Bacon faced human stress ball. Just call him a skanky weasel, and you'll feel much better. And if that doesn't work, you'll have an endless line of bieber supporters entering your timeline to defend their hero. Insult them too, you'll feel better in no time at all.

H is for Hello.
When I first began on Twitter, a wise old man (may have been a dumb young lady) summed up Twitter by saying "its like a chat room in which you never have to say hello or goodbye."
Now, i do like tweeting a hello, but this statement does sum up the wonderful nature of Twitter, there's no faux pas about dipping into a conversation uninvited, and in my opinion the more people joining in on a single topic, the better. Good way of finding like-minded followers too.

I is for Inner Monologue.
I tend to tweet mine, sorry. Does mean I've got nearly 4000 jiminy cricket-esque consciences telling me not to do anything stupid though...


My A-Z of Twitter. Part Three.

F is for #ff.

It's Friday. You've got a fair few followers who you think deserve a larger audience. What do you do? You do a #followfriday or #ff tweet for them. But wait! Everyone else on Twitter is doing the same! Crikey! How do you get your tweet noticed and your pals followed?

Do you get all your friends names in a big list and send it as one messy looking tweet? Y'know, like this...

#ff @fudgecrumpet @mrsfudgecrumpet @cagglefrap @splashman @stefano3 @thewillt @stueymac71 @treagie

...no, wait, no-one's going to read that are they? It's just a messy lump of non-words... How about doing this instead...

#ff @cagglefrap, he is dead cool and has a massive willy and is funny and has nice hair.

...yeah, that's better, not only is it personal about that tweeter (my spare account for when I want to swear about Keith Chegwin, since he blocked my main account) but it also gives people a reason to follow. It's much more likely to work and much less likely to look like you're just randomly copying and pasting a list.

The number of #ff tweets one does is important too. Sure, just doing five or six of your favourites is going to annoy some of your casual pals, but isn't that preferrable to doing a hundred and fifty people? No-one's going to follow all of them, and you're just gonna end up looking like a spammer. Also, on a more geeky moment, if you do more than 50 #ff tweets, you don't count as a recommendation on various followfriday ranking sites and that's no good for your mates if they wanna get the extra pimp that comes from that.

Oh, and keep your #ff tweets entertaining, then folk will read them. In my case, I just go balls out and make shit up. It works though, gets folk followed, and gets the conversation flowing as they try desperately to deny having a fourteen inch long penis. Oh, wait... no, i doubt they'd deny that. Well, unless they were a girl.

And one last thing on the subject, unless it's a funny, entertaining or fantastic tweet, don't go retweeting the #ff tweets you receive, even with 'thanks' tagged on the end. Makes you look like a right self-fellating pillock. Just saying.

Oh, and while we're on the letter F (and because we briefly touched on self-fellating)...


My A-Z of Twitter. Part two.

Right, D comes after C in my language so...

D is for Don't Take It Personally.
...because if you do, Twitter will destroy you.
I find myself getting a bit of writer's block trying to explain that, but basically you need to get yourself in the mindset whereby Twitter isn't real life, everyone on there is playing a character and if you let everything that's tweeted, every unfollow and every bad feeling get to you, then you're just gonna end up fucked up in the noggin. And no-one wants that.

Actually, let's all chant this whenever Twitter feels too real...
...and hope the Wachowski brothers don't notice and sue me.
Actually they probably owe me for watching Speed Racer.

E is for Escape, of which there is none.
As far as I know, only one person has escaped Twitter, deleted their account and never come back. Of course, I'm not including disgraced celebrities, the dead or folk who never really started tweeting in the first place.
The usual "im leaving" routine usually comes about when someone gets bored with tweeting, or when someone pisses them off, or when they forget that there isn't a spoon, and someone closes their account. Now nine times out of ten, this isn't done quietly, as the escapee usually wants to have a rant first.
The next stage is the "where is blahblahblah gone?" As everyone realises the escapee is missing, this is usually about the point where the giant white balloon is chasing them, and they fall over.
Then, after a short time, usually a month, sometimes as little as two days, they pop back onto Twitter, usually with a new name, more often than not a protected profile so they can be more picky about their fans.
Then theres a few excuses given, "i deleted it by accident", "i missed your tweets" or "i missed looking at tits on Wednesdays" and all is right with the world again.

Be seeing you...


My A-Z of Twitter Part One.

Figured I'd been at it long enough to share a bit of knowledge/wisdom/mistakes I've made. So, here's the sum total of the subject of Twitter, in a slightly contrived version of alphabetical order...

A is for Annoying people.
1. How to annoy people...
- post every answer you recieve on formspring via Twitter. Unless its a funny, entertaining or somewhat shocking answer, no-one really cares.
- enter lots and lots of 'RT and follow' competitions. Sure, one or two is fine, but no-one wants to follow someone that desperate for a 'I <3 Ronseal woodstain' hat.
- tweet LOL. On its own. Out of context laughter just makes you look like that lady on the bus that's been sniffing tipp-ex. Despite the fact that tipp-ex has been solvent free for about 20 years.
- be desperately needy. Yeah, there's nothing wrong with a bit of attention seeking or asking for more followers, but folk don't want to do it out of sympathy or with the fear you might cover yourself in petrol and sit on the kitchen floor trying to make a spark by hitting two 50p pieces together.
- if you're going to criticise someone, don't offer a reason or an argument. "thats shit" or "thats so sad" are among the few phrases that just get me peeved. If you can't say anything nice, at least say the nasty thing in a way that makes you look like you've thought about it.
2. What to do with annoying people...
Depending on how annoying a character is being. Unfollowing can get them out of your hair, but it can also be like lighting a powder keg. You can get the ultra-needy begging for you to refollow, the self-righteous starting a flaming campaign or, others will just continually mention you so that they're still in your timeline. In these cases, blocking is probably the best solution, but then that does kind of leave them free to bitch about you, unseen. One trick I use is to block then unblock, removing you from their timeline, but without the danger that they can go calling you a stinky poophead behind your back.
Of course, the whole unfollowing, blocking thing is kind of extreme. Most normal, sane folk on Twitter (yes there are one or two) will accept a quiet word and behave themselves. Well, either that or they'll go on a rampage. It's a risk. Makes life fun.

B is for Boobies...
Seeing boobies on Twitter is probably one of the easiest activities available on the internet nowadays, thanks partly due to the wonderful good cause that is #boobiewed that occurs every Wednesday (show your boobs, raise awareness of breast cancer, check for lumps and that) and partly due to dirty exhibitionists who've seen #boobiewed, failed to get the point and decided everyone wants to see their exposed decolletage all week long. This is all well and good, but it does leave us blokes in the unfortunate state of 'unable to think of anything but boobies' and it does somewhat affect the quality of conversation.
Oh, and I best just warn you fellas, a tweet along the lines of "wouldn't mind seeing your face once in a while", despite its honorable intentions does translate in a woman's mind as "your saggy exposed tits are repulsive and I think you are a big fat slag and you will die alone, eaten by your many, many cats". So best bet is to ogle without complaint. Oh, and don't start on about doing the same for testicular cancer. No-one wants to see your scrotum.

C is for Celebrities on Twitter.
To some, the mere mention of a celebrity on Twitter is enough to send them into a blind rage, stamping on babies and the like. The usual reasons for this are along the lines of...
"they don't follow many people back!" - of course they don't. If they followed every one of their followers back they'd be left with an impossibly crowded timeline, and of course, that leads to the inevitable second complaint...
"they never ever reply." - obviously not. If you had 30 thousand people all screaming the same thing at you at once, for starters you're not going to be able to see every reply and you'd get bored of rewriting the same replies. Add to that the fact that if they did reply to every tweet they received, they'd be in and out of Twitter jail all day.
"They're only on here trying to pimp their shit." - well, if you were going to go on telly to shove a kangaroo's testicles in your mouth, i'm sure you'd want to keep it a secret, yeah?

In my opinion, if you like the celeb, can get over the fact that they don't know you exist and don't mind the occasional tweet about some obscure bbc4 documentary about cow diameters, then you should just go ahead and follow them.

And that's pretty much enough of an epic length blog for today, i'll do D and onwards later. Maybe.



I has headache.


Things that have annoyed me today include...
1. Saying on Twitter that you're going to watch a film, and folk automatically assuming you've never seen that film before. Can't a guy watch Star Wars without someone having to tell them "ooh its good that, you'll enjoy the space ships."
2. Autocorrect on my new phone. Has 'bieber', doesn't have 'giraffe'.
3. Pingchat. For a high-tech futuristic communication method, well its a bit shit. At least fucking add a thing telling you when your contacts are online or not. Twatmilk.
4. Stupid people who work in nhs clinics. Why can't the Tories cut these bloody busybody receptionist folk? They know nothing, need everything s.p.e.l.l.i.n.g. o.u.t. and I think are the reason so many people are dying. Next time I get a cold I'm going to go and sneeze on them.
5. Headache.
6. eBay customer support. Never use them. All they do is everything you've already tried, but in a very confusing eastern European accented version of American English.
7. Facebook. Doesn't seem to do anything. Can't be arsed deleting my account though.
8. Words with friends. Doesn't accept QUIM as a word.
9. Petrol prices. It'd be cheaper to move alton towers into my back garden than it would be to drive there. Stupid.
10. Horses. Just fuck off.


I gonna be on the tellybox! WOOOOO

Everyone I know should have been told by now, but since every time I mention it, eight more people spout out 'Whaaaa?' I thought I might clarify things.

I'm gonna be on BBC Three's Frankenstein's Wedding live drama in Kirkstall Abbey in Leeds on the 19th March. I'm going to be there purely in the extra capacity, but I will be wearing my nice suit and I will be doing a dance. Yes, I will be dancing. No, I do like girls. Shush. There'll be about 1999 other people dancing along too, I'm told, so I won't be making a complete tit of myself.

Anyway, The dance is to Adele's Make You Feel My Love (which in my head confuses itself with Texas' In Demand) and involves various arm movements, neck snapping head lollops and holding hands with strangers. I was told by the man at the dance workshop thing I attended that I have good timing, so that can't be a completely bad thing.
The dance workshop was initially one of the most nerve racking events of my life, but after walking around in random directions (NOT IN CIRCLES!) and making eye contact with various other equally embarrassed punters, it was actually very enjoyable. So, that's me recommending you to go and join a dance workshop, first time for everything. Don't wear your workboots though. Because if you do that, they'll make you take them off and then everyone will see your Snoopy socks.

So, I expect you all to watch the thing, and no doubt I will nag at you a lot nearer the time to set your sky+ thing or whatever. I might also end up doing some other extra type work on the thing, if I get an email back from the Assistant Director man, so you might also see me engaging in random chit chat with various background characters or giving ribena-that-looks-like-wine to wedding guests, but I'll keep you posted on that.

Anyway, that be the facts, so now if anyone else asks I am fully within my ability to shout "DID YOU NOT READ MY BLOG? YOU BUFFOOOOOON!!!!" at them, so spittle comes out of my mouth and dribbles down their nose a little bit, stopping just at the tip, because if it touches their lips that'd be too much like kissing.

Right, there you go.


Random One-Word-Topic Bloggage #4 SEATS

Right, couldn't think of anything to write about seats, so instead, here is a list of the seats in my house.

Old Sofa #1 - Brown, has a habit of rejecting cushions and getting messy.

Old Sofa #2 - Was white, now has various stains, is hard as rock and has enough space underneath to form a decent den.

Our new sofas are due at some point next month. They are Chocolate coloured and have those funky baby launcher recliner mechanisms. oooh fancypants.

Baby Chair/Potty - Is pink and purple and has a dinosaur face. It is the coolest thing I've bought for Meg without Gem's permission. Except a sonic screwdriver.


4 x Chair - Had these chairs for ages and they're a bit rubbish. They're about #34 on the list of things we need to get to make the house funky.

1 x High Chair - Which is made of adamantium, and thusly can break toes on the slightest accidental kick. The swine.


No chairs.

We should really get some upstairs chairs. I wonder what the feng shui of upstairs chairs is.

I'll ask a chinese man.

Oh, that's it. need a wee now. Bye

Does the toilet count as a seat? Suppose it does.

We do have an upstairs seat after all.


One-Word-Topic Bloggage #3 BOREDOM

They say only boring people are bored. If that is the case, then i'm more boring than Nigel Melville, chartered accountant and part-time Eddie Stobart Spotter.
Of course, that's nonsense. Boredom stems from an active mind, wanting constant input, like Johnny 5 from Short Circuit, albeit with slightly better stair climbing abilities.
There are a number of things i suggest when someone tells me they're bored.
1. Build a sofa cushion fort. (no-one ever does this when i suggest it, excuses include 'i dont have a sofa' and 'im afraid all that moving of cushions will wake the kids up'. I call these people cushion cowards)
2. Eat & drink everything that you have one of. Because there's always one sausage left in the freezer, or a single packet of crisps, or a single three litre bottle of gin lying about. Actually, you shouldn't really own more than three litres of gin. Unless you really like gin.
3. Write a blog. But be very careful not to write a blog about boredom, because you'll get bored halfway thru writing a list and will just end up finishing abruptly after writing the name of a flightless bird in capital letters because that's the only thing you can think to write because you have become bored of typing.



A Very Sexy Treat

Here you go, enjoy.

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

One-Word-Topic Bloggage #2 INTELLIGENCE

Being a naturally beautiful but dumb person does not really put me forward as the first person to write a blog about intelligence, but I have been handed the gauntlet and am now trying to fit in onto my hand, unaware of the fact that it's actually two sizes two short and i've inadvertantly done a pisspoor impression of OJ Simpson at the start of the Chewbacca defence.

Anyway, to avoid discussing intelligence and sounding all superior, mocking idiots and such, I figured i could write about being a spy, which is another type of intelligence, and if the Bond films are to be believed, doesn't require actual brains or common sense. All you need are a fancy car, some gadgets disguised as common objects; belt buckles, cufflinks, nipples and the like, and enemies who can't aim for toffee and you too could be a super-spy. Oh, you also have to be able to drink vodka martinis without throwing up or pulling a face. Because, shaken or stirred, the stuff still tastes like mouldy cat's piss.

Right, that was a quite bit of splurging, because now I have to go and watch a film with the missus. It's some sort of romantic comedy film, so I shall topically be using none of my intelligence, and will no doubt either fall asleep halfway through or I'll be back here writing about my next one-word-topic, which will no doubt be equally taxing for my poor little brain.

Oh, and I might have a biscuit too. I do like biscuits.


One-Word-Topic Bloggage #1 DINOSAUR

Hello there.

I asked them there twitter folk for blog topic suggestions (one word, no food, no boobies) and my timeline was somewhat flooded with randomness (the good kind of random, not insurance or pelicans) so i've abandoned the usual 'include them all' kind of blog, and i'm gonna cover each topic individually.
It'll probably take a few days to get through them all, so bear with me.

Anyway, first topic suggestion is from @ChrisGN and is DINOSAUR.

And that would be the point where i lose the girly half of my readers, as it is a well known fact that girls don't understand dinosaurs. I don't know if it's because of the teeth, or if they're not cuddly. Or maybe it's because there's just no David Beckham of dino-digging for them to perve at. (1. I can't spell paelientology and 2. Ross from Friends doesn't count)

The best dinosaur is the Tyrannosaurus Rex, because it was big and mean and had ridiculous arms that stopped it playing volleyball. Other people might have a different favourite, but they are wrong and would be the first to get eaten.
There are two types of dinosaur, carnivores and herbivores. There are no dinosaur omnivores, and thus the dinosaur restaurant is forced to have to separate menus and three separate eating areas (the third area being reserved for kids' parties, corporate events and staff training exercises).

Other cool dinosaurs include the diplodocus, which caused so much confusion as to how to produce it's name that the scientists ruined the fun by changing it's name to something rubbish. Triceratops were also cool, especially if you're looking for somewhere to hang your soggy knickers.
Stegosaurus were also cool, as they have solar panels on their backs, which helped lower their carbon footprint. Which is handy because they have fucking huge feet.

My favourite dinosaur as a kid was the ankylosaurus, which was a little stumpy armoured thing with a hammer attached to it's arse. Jurassic Park 3 ruined that for me though, thanks to it's shoddy cgi making it look like a stupid dumb gonk.

Anyway, dinosaur. That's it. Gotta do work now. See u soon.


Odd Self-Googling Results

Here's a selection of the very weird shit I found when I made the egotistical move of doing a google image search for myself.


It's... PORN!

It's... A FILM CENSOR CERTIFICATE FOR 'Alice Doesnt Shit Here Anymore'!


It's... I DON'T KNOW!


There. Just thought I'd share.

Test Tickles

Just testing this twitter button thing out

Is there a twitter button at the bottom?

Let me know.


more random pics

Here's some more random pictures that I've brutally ripped from my twitpic page...

The Story Of Take That.
For people who are in a rush (or don't really care)

How to draw a cow. (see, not just entertainment, this. Educational too)

Who wants to smell of pooh?

This price display was in a petrol station I worked at. Suddenly lost my appetite.

And some Transformers Prime humour. Laugh like you mean it people.


Random Nonsense...

Here's some random picturey goodness to keep you amused...
Firstly a little Xmassy number (yes, I know it's a bit late)

Some free (albeit slimy and slightly freudian) hugs

Transformers humour. No you don't need to get this.

My current twitter avatar. (took me two bloody hours)


A sexy treat for you all

Here's a bit of a sexy treat for you.

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

You're welcome.

(and here's an external link for if it didn't work here... http://sendables.jibjab.com/view/airlhAGSQfIkeLMB )


The Fudgetastic Guide To Style and Fashion and Such Things. For Men and that.

Hello you. My, you're looking like a crap tramp. 
Here, let Uncle Fudge get you up to speed on fashion, style and all that other stuff that you obviously know nothing about.Like all good activities, let's start at the top and work down...

Hair is good, if you have hair you're onto a winner. Brown hair is best. I find that my hairstyle is usually at it's best the week before i'm actually due a haircut. Therefore, to keep your hair is a constant state of awesome, i recommend always having a barber's appointment booked for next week.

If you're bald, or you are still worried about the state of your hair, then i recommend a hat. Hats have been around since the late 1980s and offer an alternative to wearing a lady's knickers on your head. This is apparently no longer considered cool, especially in certain areas of town where an exposed head gusset can provoke many a frown.There are many different types of hat, i shall list my favourites... Now.
Cowboy Hat - good for when you're hiding in your sofa cushion fort.
Wizard's Hat - good for wizarding.
Fez - not, despite the current time lord trends, cool. But useful if you need a cereal bowl at short notice.

There are a number of important areas to consider when discussing the face.
Firstly, SKIN
Having skin is good, and if you believe the adverts you need buckets of overpriced slop rubbed into it to stay pretty. This is a lie. The only thing that you should be rubbing on your face regularly is a lady's boobies. Your skin might go blotchy, peel off or whatever it was going to do anyway, but at least you'll be happy. Or if you're a gay or a single man, try using a bean bag chair.
A bit of stubble never hurt anyone. Unless you count stubble rash. Moustaches are cool, but only in an ironic 'i know i look like a pillock' sense.
Beards vary in coolness, but the general rule is, try not to look like an evil tyrant. So, no Hitler tash, avoid the Ming the Merciless look and so on.
I choose not to accessorise my face, only on rare occasions when I feel the need to see depth do i don a pair of 3d glasses (red & green for retro cool, polarised stereoscopic for joe90 chic). Although doing so does make me wave things in front of my face, so the 3d experience isn't wasted.
I don't have any piercings of any kind, but i did get a little bit of metal in my eye once. That bloody hurt.If you do decide to get your tongue pierced, be extremely careful at weddings not to eat any cakes decorated with those little silver balls, as you may become confused and bite your tongue.
Scarves are cool. 
Funky man-necklaces are cool, but generally overpriced, but then again, someone has to go and get all those shark teeth. It's probably one guy. Called Mitch. He has one eye.
Any sort of chain round the neck is a no-no, unless you happen to be a scary, yet lovable man from the 80s with a dislike of plane travel, a habit of pitying foos and of talking about oneself in the third person.

I don't like wearing vests, but i've never thwarted terrorists at Christmas time, so what do I know.

Tshirts are all good, especially with a witty, yet obscure reference that only you understand (eg. http://www.cafepress.co.uk/fudgecrumpet ) although avoid wearing t-shirts with any characters from 80s tv shows that have recently been remade, as having a near-identical top to a 7-year-old is rarely fun.
Shirts are all good, try not to wear a shirt with poppers instead of buttons, as once people realise that you are wearing such an item, they will regularly, and annoyingly rip your shirt open, usually in public places.
I am a fan of a good jumper, and i prefer them plain in grey or black. Patterned jumpers do give off an air of unwanted Christmas present, but can be good if you need to disguise yourself as a vicar.Cardigans, whilst not very cool, are in fact excellent for keeping your arms, sides and back warm, whilst leaving your chest and belly free to do whatever it is they do.I prefer a nice zippy cardigan, but only because losing buttons is one of the things I do too much of.

Never designate a pair of pants as 'lucky pants' as these will almost always be in the wash or covered in skidders when you actually need to get lucky, and will therefore jinx the rest of your pants into being 'slightly less lucky' pants. Instead, use Lynx Africa deodorant on a normal set of pants. Women can't resist Lynx Africa, and any that say they can resist it either have a cold or some sort of bonkers mental thing that makes them wrong.

Jeans are good
Combats are good (but not in camoflague, as thinking your legs are invisible is not going to make your day more fun)
Fancy posh trousers are only for weddings, funerals, guaranteed nights of sex.
Trakky Bottoms are good for staying in playing playstation, good for exercising, bad for anything that involves interacting with human beings.

...can be worn for up to five days at a time, as long as they are kept dry and are bland in their design (so no-one goes 'hey, you were wearing those dayglo Ulysees 31 socks yesterday'). Anyone who says otherwise either has OCD or a wife.

Anything is good, except flip flops. Because when your flip flops are wet, they fart. Farting shoes are stupid. You're stupid. Dry your feet.

wear a coat, it's bloody cold out.

WATCHES Everyone uses their phone to tell the time, so now is the time to BRING BACK EDIBLE SWEETY WATCHES, now everyone has a free wrist.

Try not to wear a spacesuit, unless you are in space, or in a zero gravity simulator pool. It's warm, you'll smell really bad and you'll have to pee yourself.

And that's it. There's probably more wisdom i could impart but i'm hungry and i want a sandwich. Why don't you have a sandwich too? I recommend the spam and beans with red sauce. Go on, you deserve it.