The Fudgeblog

A to Z of Mostly Everything. A.

2012-01-11T10:34:00.001Z

A is the first letter of my, and I'm sure your alphabet. It was discovered in 1886 by Herbert Prevert, of Leamington Spa when he was looking for a sausage he dropped. Before it was discovered, everyone referred to it as 'the first letter' or 'Postelmarton'. In fact, in many Eastern European countries, Postelmarton, B, C is still taught to many poor children, considered too common to use the such a fancy character.

SOME INTERESTING 'A' WORDS...

ARMPIT... the bit underneath where your arm meets your torso. Once, on holiday to Scotland with my parents, Doctor Ruth, bonkers sounding sex doctor, was explaining on the radio how armpit sex makes a pleasant alternative to regular sex. I was 13. And locked in a car with my parents. I am still trying to dig myself out of the well of despair I dug inside my mind.

ANATOMIC... referring to the anatomy. Or a girl called Ann who has become irradiated.

ARSE... a bottom. Or an idiot. Americans spell this like Ass, which everyone knows is a donkey.

ABRACADABRA... the only magic word recognised by wizards and magicians as the summoning word for the Mistress Spectre Lady Pestalino, the patron spirit of trickery and hats. If these words are not recited during a magic show, or similar magical event, then a virgin must be sacrificed. By sacrificed, I mean she has to do the washing up. Because not all magic folk are monsters. You racist.

ALUMNI... is a fancy word to describe someone who has managed to escape university but didn't tick the box marked 'never send me shit through the post again you bastards' on the graduation form.

ANTEATER... an anteater eats ants. If an anteater doesn't eat ants then it has to be renamed accordingly. I use this knowledge to fuck up their lives by putting fake ants made of carrots, raisins, dog poo and glitter in the anteaters' dinner bowl. Serves them right for having silly long tongues.

ANACONDA... is another name for a bloody big snake, also a pisspoor movie in which Jennifer Lopez wears a vest that gets really wet but doesn't go see through. Very disappointing.

ARTICHOKE... is one of those foods that exists but has never been eaten my anyone. Also in this category are Yams, Fennel and Bombay Bad Boy flavour Pot Noodle.

ACHTUNG... is something that Germans shout in war films. No-one has told them that it translates into English as 'herpes'.

AARDVARK... is the name that the aforementioned anteaters have now adopted in an attempt to escape my name/food game. I have foiled them however, by only supplying them with two 'A' magnets so they can't write their name on the fridge.

ALRIGHT... is a term used when someone asks how you are and you are in good health. However, be aware that it is a bad response when received from someone who has had a stroke. Because they would be happier being equally left and right, rather than all on one side.

ACCIDENTALLY... a term used to describe something you did, but not on purpose. Like eating the last of the kids' yoghurts out of the fridge. Or getting caught surrounded by yoghurt pots.

ARSEHOLE... the bit of an arse (see above) that the poo comes out of. Also a bloody idiot. Again, Americans spell this wrong, and Donkeyhole makes very little sense.

ALGORITHM... some kind of maths thing. Can't think of anything funny about that. Sorry.

ARACHNID... a group of creepy crawly things that includes spiders, scorpions and fish.

ARMADILLO... an inside out Dime (now Daim. fuck you Ikea) bar.

ARISTOCRATIC... a term used to describe someone posh with blue blood and a silver spoon in their mouth. Not literally. That'd be stupid.

AVALANCHE... this is what happens when a mountain gets bored and shakes all the snow off itself, killing skiers and knocking over trees. Mountains are dickheads.

ARMAGEDDON... basically, when everything goes tits up.

ALTRUISTIC... doing stuff for unselfish reasons. Don't ever do this, you'll be denying your natural human instincts and you will never evolve or be able to hover.

ANTHROPROGENIC... oh I don't know. Something to do with salt.

ARISTOTELES... to do with Aristotle, the Justin Bieber of ancient Greece.

ABOMINATION... some sort of big nasty mess. The baddy in the Incredible Hulk movie. What I look like first tying on a morning.

ALTERNATIVE... A secondary option. For example, as an alternative to a sandwich, I will eat three bags of Skips and dream of corned beef. Also, Alternative Comedy is like comedy but you have to think about it for an hour before it is funny.

And that is A. Woo.

Literature and that.

2012-01-11T09:11:00.001Z

Suppose I should have mentioned this sooner, but I have written a book. Well, I say 'written', I mean I've been through this blog, copying and pasting the juicy good stuff, neglecting the self-indulgent shit, shoving it all together into a fancy bit of ebook.
It's been up on amazon (search 'fudgecrumpet' and it's the only result, which is cool) for just about two weeks, and after a brief spell in the bestselling kindle book chart (#96 for just over an hour, making it briefly more successful than Comedy Dave from Radio One) it now dwells around #11,000. But I suppose that ain't half bad considering I've self published and that.
Oh, regarding that, a fair few folk asked how to go down the self publishing on amazon route, you can find all the info, free apps for conversion and that at http://kdp.amazon.com .
So, yeah, I'm currently indulging in some nagging of twitter celebrities, which no doubt will have no effect. Which is annoying, as I need to sell at least another 240ish books before Amazon will send me a royalty cheque. y'know what, you've read this, maybe you could nag your friends to buy it. I'm not going to ask you to buy it though, you've already put enough effort in reading this bumph. Just tell your mates that it is awesome, promise them blowjobs and that if they buy the thing. Obviously don't promise to perform the act yourself though, perhaps help them to find a slag in a nightclub. Or, if they're a girl, promise them shoes. Shoes are like blowjobs for women.

And so, yeah, right, that was a bloody rubbish advert for my book, wasn't it. Sorry. I can assure you it is good. Really.

Here's a link if you find the "search amazon for 'fudgecrumpet' too bloody complicated. Or you're just skimming this post and not really paying attention...

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B006R0EF8K?ie=UTF8&force-full-site=1

PS. Reading my old blog posts instead of buying the book counts as cheating. Fortunately, nobody has worked this out yet. Don't tell them or I'll never sell another pissing thing.

Fudge's Firework Code

2011-11-05T16:32:00.001Z

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

2011-11-03T07:43:00.001Z

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.

2011-10-18T08:26:00.001+01:00

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...
Er...
Oh I dunno...
I tell you what, ill go and do a bit of googling and ill get back to you...

OH. MY. GOD. MY. POOR. INNOCENT. EYES.

WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT WITH A CAN OF DIET COKE? YOU SICK CRAZY WOMAN! IT CAN'T BE PLEASANT! GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! OH GOD YOU'VE OPENED THE RING PULL! NOW IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE WEEING FIZZY POP! OH GOD, WHO'S HE? NO! DON'T DRINK IT! DON'T YOU KNOW WHERE IT'S BEEN! NOOOOO!

And relax.

Oh look, a link to dog food...

AAAAAAAARGH! NOOOOOOO!
GAHHHHHHHHH!

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!

2011-10-17T10:27:00.001+01:00

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.

2011-10-17T10:13:00.001+01:00

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.........

Er...

Back in a minute.

How to do Google+ Properly

2011-09-20T23:05:00.002+01:00

Just a bit of pimping

2011-08-23T19:35:00.005+01:00

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.

2011-07-26T09:21:00.001+01:00

R is for RAGE!
BECAUSE FOR SOMETIMES PEOPLE ON TWITTER GET UNREASONABLY ANGRY!!! USUALLY OVER THE SMALLEST, MOST INSIGNIFICANT THINGS! USUALLY TARGETING ONE PERSON AND THEIR VIEWS, MAYBE FROM ONE TWEET OR IN A WORST CASE, A REPLY OR RETWEET!
AND IT'S CONTAGIOUS TOO! BUT IT DOESN'T COUNT AS BULLYING BECAUSE THESE ANGRY PEOPLE ARE JUST SO ANGRY THAT THEY THINK THEY ARE JUSTIFIED IN GETTING A MOB OF FURIOUS PEOPLE TO SHOUT AND ABUSE ONE PERSON! JUST RARRRRRRRGH! AND SUCH NONSENSE!

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.

2011-07-20T09:34:00.002+01:00

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.

2011-06-17T15:25:00.003+01:00

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.

2011-05-10T10:22:00.001+01:00

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

2011-04-28T11:35:00.001+01:00

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.

2011-04-26T10:49:00.001+01:00

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

2011-04-23T21:51:00.002+01:00

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

2011-04-20T08:42:00.001+01:00

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.

2011-04-19T08:19:00.003+01:00

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.

2011-04-18T16:03:00.001+01:00

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...
THERE IS NO SPOON.
...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.

2011-04-13T12:25:00.001+01:00

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.

Annoyed.

2011-04-05T14:06:00.001+01:00

I has headache.

Rarrr.

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

2011-03-01T20:45:00.002Z

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

2011-02-21T22:28:00.002Z

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

LIVING ROOM
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.

KITCHEN

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.

UPSTAIRS

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.

The True History Of Fudgecrumpet

2011-02-11T12:45:00.002Z

One-Word-Topic Bloggage #3 BOREDOM

2011-02-10T08:09:00.002Z

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.

PENGUIN.

A Very Sexy Treat

2011-02-09T21:05:00.005Z

Here you go, enjoy.

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

One-Word-Topic Bloggage #2 INTELLIGENCE

2011-02-09T20:44:00.004Z

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

2011-02-07T12:25:00.004Z

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

2011-01-28T16:04:00.009Z

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... ALVIN AND THE CHIPMUNKS!

It's... THE WEATHER IN OLDHAM!!!

It's... PORN!

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

It's... SOME SHEA BODY BUTTER!

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

It's... CHARLIE BROOKER'S FACE!

There. Just thought I'd share.
http://www.google.co.uk/images?hl=en&source=imghp&biw=1596&bih=723&q=fudgecrumpet&gbv=2&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&oq=

Test Tickles

2011-01-28T15:52:00.003Z

Just testing this twitter button thing out

Is there a twitter button at the bottom?

Let me know.
Ta

more random pics

2011-01-21T15:40:00.005Z

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...

2011-01-20T16:34:00.002Z

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

2011-01-18T17:27:00.004Z

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.

2011-01-05T11:41:00.004Z

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
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.

HATS
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.

FACE
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.
FACIAL HAIR
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.
FACE GUBBINS
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.
PIERCINGS
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.
NECK
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.

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

T-SHIRTS
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
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.
JUMPERS & CARDIGANS
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.

PANTS
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.

TROUSERS
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.

SOCKS
...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.

SHOES
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.

COATS
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.

SPACESUITS
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.

Waffles, pancakes, beards. Etc.

2010-11-03T13:05:00.000Z

Hello you. Long time no see. Have you lost weight? No of course you haven't, i was just being polite, you fat pig.

Sorry, thought i'd start with a joke. But then couldn't think of one. But calling people fat pigs is good for a shocked chuckle. I do hope no actual fat people read that and end up crying themselves to sleep or anything. Although there has to be some weight in teardrops. Maybe crying is a good way of losing a few pounds. In that case, i bet Holland & Barratts will start stocking onions and nosehair pluckers as diet aids.

Forgive any uncapitalied is or random slepping errors in this post, i'm typing it on my phone's moderately shonky email app, in between doing funky locksmithing jobs. It's not the easiest thing to do, typing on a touch screen phone with a nintendo ds stylus, but hey, it could be worse, i might be typing on an iphone with my fat fingers and farming ridiculous predictive autocorrect. By farming i meant fucking, just thought I needed to explain that. I was making a hilarious autocorrect joke. Which on rereading i felt needed explaining. To be honest I should just delete this whole paragraph. Although that's actually difficult to do on my phone's email app. So it's like a viscous circle. Which is like a vicious circle, but stickier.

As you can tell from this post's title, i may have asked for topic suggestions off of the folk of twitter. Food and facial hair obsessed are that lot. No-one suggested boobies today, but someone did mention i blog about the US Mid-term elections, and there's enough tit there to satisfy that criteria.
To be fair, the only knowledge I have of US politics is from the movie Dave and the occasional uninterrupted five minutes of The Daily Show when gem isn't telling me to turn over to Come Dine With Me. But what I gather is that there is some sort of tea based movement that a lot of people don't like. Run by Earl Grey, the most royal person in America, the tea party movement is obsessed with getting americans to raise their pinky finger when they drink a cup of tea.
I have suspicions that this is somehow related to Gaffer and Sidney making a comeback at Tetleys. But I really shouldn't say much because the PG Tips monkey knows where I live.

Aaaand that's enough blogging for now, because I need a wee. And I wouldn't want to write a soggy blog.

Bye.

A bit of random twitter-suggested blogging nonsense.

2010-08-31T14:49:00.004+01:00

Well, I say 'random'. I don't think it'll be anything unexpected. Probably knickers, food, boobs. The usual stuff that people think about on twitter. I really shouldn't have used the word random, because when someone describes themselves as 'random' in their profile it kind of insinuates someone being wacky or hilarious, when really it just implies that they could be talking about anything, boring or otherwise. Envelopes. See, that's random, but you didn't find it very funny did you. Well, you did, but only because it was in the context of a being in a hilarious blog post. Anyway, you see my point? Do you? DO YOU???

Aaaaanyway... let's see what the twitter people have been suggesting I blog about...

@friesnshake - #fudgeblog knickers

Ah, there you go, first of the block is knickers. I was really expecting 'boobs' first but knickers is a perfectly good and predictable choice.

I don't really like thongs, because I don't like seeing ladies' bottoms eating their knickers. Besides, a decent pair of knickers is easier to pull off with your teeth without having to bite down and taste anything that's done flossing.

So. Knickers. Next...

@Narcotic_Thrust - #fudgeblog Sausages

A food one. Ok, I like Sausages, they are my favourite tube based food, better than frubes and an empty toilet roll full of haribo. Although the latter is a good place to hide haribo, it's best to make sure the toilet roll tube hasn't been taken from a really stinky toilet. My favourite type of sausages are those ones that taste a bit tomatoey, but they don't seem to do those as much nowadays. I'm not really keen on the sausages that have lumps of apple in them, because that seems like a bit of an evil plot to sneak fruit into my food. And apples are bad. Read the bible. Maybe.

@Banner29 - #fudgeblog Grapes

Another food one. Maybe I should have asked for suggestions just after lunch and then folks' subconscious wouldn't be obsessing over food. Anyway, I do like grapes, they are like sweets. but on a twig. Is the twig that has grapes on it wood? I can never quite get where the wood ends and the fruit begins. The same with apples, (which are bad, see above) is the stalk of an apple wood or is it apple? Are there any scientists investigating this? Why not? Oh, they're busy curing cancer. Alright then.

Ah, the suggestions have died down... Just sent a tweet to wake them all up and hopefully they'll suggest something good. They're quite good that twitter lot, when they're not obsessing about followers, celebrities or x-factor. They do like to have their say about x-factor, be it taking the piss out of the acts (I admit to have watched x-factor purely for this purpose) to getting very cross because people are talking about x-factor and ignoring them or something.

Ah, look they've woken up...

@MissSorbet - #fudgeblog Cattle :)

Ah, well I think I just covered cattle in that x-factor rant I'm sure. Or is that sheep. Are sheep cattle or are just cows cattle? I'm not a farmer I'm not supposed to know such things...

Anyway, I think all cows should be renamed Beefs, and then there'll be none of that 'where does meat come from' ignorance that leads to kids going all vegetarian and crap. Not that there's anything wrong with being a vegetarian, it's just bloody daft. Meat is lovely. Especially in a sandwich or with supernoodles.

Ooh a well thought out one next...

@chaosgerbil - #fudgeblog where you love of Transformers came from and where you would like to see the next film go :D

Nice to see a laughing smiley at the end of that. Although really this habit of not giving your smileys noses is really annoying. How would you like it if I took your nose off? Exactly. You'd be the butt of everyone's pisspoor 'how does he smell' humour. Anyway, if I stole your nose I'd give it back soon enough, probably by revealing that it was hidden behind your ear all along.

Anyway, I likes Transformers because 1. they are cars and jets and such. 2. they are robots. 3. i was born at exactly the right time to be brainwashed by all the advertising and hype surrounding the first tv series and comics and 4. they look better stood next to my telly than a vase or some sort of doily.

As for the next film, well it can't be worse than the last one, can it? I'd really like to see less of the ridiculous human nonsense (which was fine in the first film, as it added tension to the previously unseen robots but was unneccessary and clumsy in the sequel) and a lot more robot on robot action (which was the only time the first and second movie shone), however I'd also like to see a bit more effort made on the filmmakers' part in reducing nameless robots/cannon fodder to a minimum and actually giving us robots with identifiable characters. And I use 'characters' broadly, basically I want to see more than unnamed drones popping up to get shot.

Otherwise, I'd just like to see it in the bin. Or on my DVD shelf gathering dust, because I'm a completist with a penchant for a fancy transforming box.

Well, that wasn't a very funny bit of blog, was it. Shame on you, gerbil.

Right, the suggestions have dried up. Bugger, the blog post has ended on a downer...

Ok, let's end it on a high...

here's a poem I am just going to write...

This is my funky funky blog,

It smells a bit like a spunky dog.

Not spunky in the sense of being covered in spunk,

just a dog that seems to be one with the funk.

If you like my blog, please tell your friends,

and if you go scuba diving, please don't get the bends.

There, happy now? Blog complete. end of line.

Oh, and noone suggested boobs. I'm disappointed, as I was going to use that as an excuse to look on google. Ah well. Next time maybe.

Fin. (French for finished. I wonder what the french is for the word 'fin', like on a fish. Probably 'le finish' or something. Probably not. Oh look I'm going on and on, and I've already said I'm finished twice. Right I'm off. Really should end these brackets too.)

There. Done. Piss off, I'm busy.

Bit of a rant. Sorry.

2010-08-07T18:34:00.004+01:00

The next door bloody neighbours (left hand side, shitty gonks; the right hand side ones are mostly nice) have been having a BBQ/Party/Squealy Piss-up since lunchtime and it's doing my nut in, so I thought I'd get rid of my frustrations by typing this. I am pressing the keys on the keyboard very hard so if I accidentally DRIFT INTO CAPITAL LETTERS, see this as me getting exceptionally mad.
Of course, we have absolutely no chance of being able to complain about the shit music, BBQ smoke, fag ash and stray children that seem to be invading our personal space because they did that irritatingly British thing of popping round yesterday to warn us in advance and to 'invite us' if we fancied going. Notice the quote marks around 'invite us', meaning that their invitiation was one of those - "you're perfectly welcome to come round and chat to a bunch of random strangers about bin-man things, as long as you don't complain about the shitty parking, or anything else that annoys you. Oh, and you're not really welcome, because we've not said more than two words to you since you moved in three years ago." - type of agreements.
So, anyway, I'm trapped in my house because if I step out the back I get a face full of smoke, and if I step out the front one of their little stray children things will kick a football into my head. And even if I do get outside I can't drive the bloody car anywhere because their binman friends have filled the cul-de-sac up with their many Vauxhall Vectras. Why do they all have Vauxhall Vectras? God knows. Maybe they had a dumb looking wide person discount that week.
Oh good god the music's making me feel old too, they're playing what seems to be the same Euro-dance tune on a loop (you know the one that has very badly translated lyrics, a looped violin track and a bassline that makes your eyebrows bleed) with the occasional 'song-from-last-year-that-was-overplayed', for example that bloody stupid Kid Rock cut and paste song that as a kid brought up by Lynrd Skynrd obsessed parents I must resort to stabbing people every time I hear it. Rarrrr I've gone a bit stir crazy.

Ahhh... good. It's just started raining. My mood is improving now.

DAmn, I've run out of rant now.

Ooh look they're all running to their cars now trying to protect their hair from getting wet using paper plates. Hehehehe.

Anyway, I think that's enough therapy for today, cheaper than a stress ball and less messy that a good sex session. That was my blog.

See you later.
Don't invite me to your BBQ.
Al
x

PS. I got sent 13 packets of supernoodles this week by @annieredheadx off of that twitter. Go and follow her. Now. I do like supernoodles.

PPS. Australian Come Dine With Me is shite. Don't watch it.

some words and such in some kind of order

2010-08-04T09:47:00.000+01:00

Hello and that.

Just thought i'd type some things.

Not sure what those things are yet, bear with me...

...er...

I do like that new Starbucks Via instant coffee. Tastes all posh. Now all i need to do is buy some posh biscuits.
Ooh, actually, Gem has banned biscuits from our house, because i'm turning into Mr Tubby Lumpguts. I suppose i really should do some exercise, but it's raining and wii fit is £90. That's 120 pies. Exactly,

So, as you can see i'm not really focused on the ol' bloggage today, think i've not had enough sleep. I blame the kids. Only 50 years until i'm old enough to get my revenge and wake them up in the middle of the night so i can have a wee. I can bide my time til then. Yes.

It's bloody raining, i should have worn sleeves. I hate having wet elbows.

My quick review of Inception - not enough anthropomorphic pineapples. Or sex dreams. Otherwise good. That's it.

I really want to eat a cloned steak. Apparently cloned beef is available to buy now. I bet it's lovely. And guarantees all your steaks will be the same. Like futuristic steak canadiennes.

If my nipples had a job, i bet you wouldn't be so quick to call them useless, would ya?

The Girl in the Dragon Tattoo is a good film. A lady put a dildo up a man's bottom. Lovely.

Ok, that's it. Blog done. Might be more coherent next time. Although to be honest it couldn't be less.

The Toast-Sandwich is my invention. Don't steal it.

How to make your website look fancypants...

2010-06-21T22:06:00.004+01:00

Below is a super-funky way to make your website look all high-tech and funky techy cool...

...whaddya mean it's taking too long to load?

That's it.

Just shove this little picture on your webshite and people will think your site is sooooo cool because it obviously is taking ages to load.

Just a little helpful tip there.

You're welcome.

Fudge's Guide to the World's Cup of Footsoccer

2010-05-17T09:57:00.005+01:00

On June 11th this year, people from around the world and maybe universe will be gathering round their tellys, radios and internets ready to watch (tv)/listen (radio) /masturbate (internet) to twenty-ish men running around in overpriced trainers trying to kick a logo-covered ball into various nets. Yes, this is the World's Cup of Footsoccer. And this here guide contains everything you need to know about 'The Beautiful Football Game'.

Probably best to start from square one, or 'kick the ball off' as the players say...

What is Footsoccer?
As everyone knows, footsoccer is a game of two halves, with added bits of half added at the end of each half, and possible additional 'extra halves' being added in the case of neither original half coming to a valid conclusion. Playing this game are two teams of millionaires, pants models and people too dumb to be PE teachers. Whenthe referee (dressed in black, like sports casual funeral director) blows his whistle, the two teams kick a footsoccerball ball up and down a field in an attempt to kick the footsoccerball ball into the opposing team's net. Guarding the net is a goalkeeper, who is allowed to cheat because not only is he wearing the wrong PE kit, but he also has a funny hair cut.
When a player kicks the ball into the net, a 'score' or 'goal' is added to their total, and a novelty dance ensues, with possible shirt removal and cheering from the crowd of people who are at the stadium watching.
After 45minutes or so, the referee blows his whistle and the players go for a wee, maybe some Robinson's squash and a nice sit down, then they have to go back outside and play for another bit of time, but this time they play in the opposite direction. This is so football fans' necks don't get sore from looking in one direction, or so the side that was previously being 'the baddies' now gets to be 'the goodies'.
Kicking other players in the face and such can result in a 'Fowl', and means the other team gets to have a turn kicking the ball without being pestered. If you get kicked in the face in the penalty area (the goalie's special zone of power, where he can pick up the ball with his hands like a cheating girl) then you get to do a penalty. A penalty means you are allowed to kick the footsoccerball ball at the net without getting pestered, and is the best thing you can get.
If a player does get kicked in the face or falls over and grazes his knee or feels like having a snooze then he can be swapped for a different player, who, while not good enough tobe allowed to play a full game, is unfacially kicked, upright, and fully rested. This is called Subbuteotution.
The most confusing thing people ask an expert such as myself is "what is the offside rule?", to which my answer is "if you're not on the side you're supposed to be on then you're off it and that is bad."
Right then, that's the rules of footsoccer...

The World's Cup.
Normally football goes on and on forever in it's little team based leagues, like some kind of plotless soap opera, but the World's cup is different. For the World's Cup, players give up on their teams and bugger off back to where they came from, to play for their national side. This allows the media to overindulge in casual racism, disencourages fights in Manchester and teaches idiots geography.
England last won the World Cup in 1966, and England has done nothing else worthwhile in sport since, or so they'd have you believe. In actual fact, England have 'nearly won' so many times that by not telling everyone else to 'bugger off we invented the game' they are the moral victors and deserve a medal. Or something.
The World's Cup this year is being held in South Africa, where the players are allowed 'diblomaddic immunidy'.
There are various groups of teams, each team consisting of someone good, a mediocre team and various rubbish teams that don't stand a chance and are really only there for the aforementioned geography lesson.
After winning the most matches, the winners (and sometimes a runner up, if there's like, an odd number or something) move into the Quarter-Finals (moderate excitement) then Semi-Finals (Bladder-loss, intense hatred of rivals, boycotting of that country's produce etc) and then the World's Cup Final (Sitting in the corner, dribbling). The winner of the final is declared World's cup champion and then they go on a topless double decker bus and get OBEs or their country's equivalent.
And that is the end of footsoccerball. Or rather it is for most normal people, for the fans it means going to watch the continued soap opera, with their reduced-to-clear England lunchbox that they got when we lost against Yemen.

And that's my guide to footsoccer and the world's cup. And nothing to do with penguins.

my general election 2010 blog

2010-05-05T10:22:00.005+01:00

Penguins are flightless birds that muck about in the arctic and such. Or the antarctic.
The one without the bears.
Anyway, they can swim, quite fast, but look like drunken idiots when they try and dive in.
Once every year or maybe fortnight, they march off to some place or other to find a mate. Apparently this involves singing bad pop songs. Like in Glee.
Anyway, then there's some egg making, and then the boy penguin looks after the egg while the girl penguin goes off shopping at mothercare or to get some fish for tea.
Penguins like fish, by the way. I'm not sure which fish is their favourite, probably tuna. Or trout. Or pilchard. Or shark. Actually, probably not shark. They'd never catch one.
Anyway, apparently tap dancing is not good for penguins.
Penguin's greatest enemy is obviously the most dangerous creature in all of nature - man. Or Godzilla. Actually, yeah. Godzilla would probably do more damage. Ooh and a tiger. A tiger could kill a penguin. Easily. It'd just slap it's face off.
Penguins are waterproof, but not fireproof, bulletproof or immune to lasers. Or tigers.
And that's everything i know about penguins, i hope it filled the penguin shaped gap of knowledge in your brain.

What? You wanted a witty political commentary on the upcoming general election? Nah, penguins are more fun.

Eggmas Bloggage

2010-04-04T15:52:00.005+01:00

Yay It's Eggmas!

I do hope you're all so full of chocolate eggs that you're about to give birth to a chocolate chicken. I've been trying to keep my chocolate intake to a minimum, but I've only been able to cope by substituting more fried meat into my diet. And that's a lot of fried meat.

What has I been doing this freakishly long weeeeekend?
Good (open for debate) Friday...
Went to the MOSI at Manchester, somewhat disappointing given that the museum had a bloody great building site down the middle, resulting in excessive lift use and walking to get from one building to the other (and making a post museum McDonalds trip more of a necessity than a treat). Also the kid's play section has been completely removed (new stuff coming soon, apparently, fat lot of good that is) so instead of an interactive museum adventure a la Eureka, Jess was left to follow us around relatively dull, mostly static exhibits.
On the plus side, they did have a Dyson Airblade hand dryer in the toilets and that's just fucking cool.

Saturday...
We went to Ponderosa, which is like a zoo, but with rubbish animals. On a plus note, my parents paid for everything, Jess got to hold a snake (provoking crazy squealing from her wiggly-phobic mother) and I had a nice sandwich.
After that we went shooping (which is like shopping, but typed very quickly with fat fingers) and I got meself Day of the Dead on blu-ray (with free Bub comic! Result!) and some Transformers Animated DVDs on the cheap. Oh, also I made the greatest parental mistake ever by starting Jess' Zhu Zhu Hamster collection.
Assuming you're not a child, or you don't have kids, I'll explain what a Zhu Zhu Hamster is. Basically, you know those shoddy little battery powered hamsters that you used to be able to buy from the market for £1 to entertain the cat, well they're basically the same, but with sound chips so they make a squeak, a greatly inflated price tag and ACCESSORIES. No, that's not a caps lock mistake, there's a bloody lot of ACCESSORIES. Including Baby Hamsters, Vehicles, Clothes, Play tracks, a Garage and Little bags and blankets for carrying the overpriced little bastards about with. So far, we've got Jilly the pink hamster, a 'sports car' and a little bag. And somehow Gem has agreed with Jess that we need to buy more stuff. Including babies for the thing. Ugh.

Eggmas Day...
Much confusion as to what we're actually supposed to do on the Easter Sunday, seeing as we're not church goers and The Goonies isn't on TV. Instead, we're at the in-laws, I'm typing this blog and uploading the ridiculously massive England map onto my Nokia's new free sat nav (2 hours and waiting).
Tonight we'll be either watching The Mummy 3, How to Lose Friends and Alienate People, The Strangers or whatever Come Dine With My Country House Rescue In The Sun crap Gem has recorded on the sly. Actually, she did mention The Vampire Diaries, but I doubt we'll watch that, because she knows I'll just hum annoyingly all the way through, and complain about how Buffy was better.
Oh, and also we'll be watching Doctor Who, because the PlayTV thing decided to only tape 20 minutes of the new show last night. Of that 20 minutes, Matt Smith managed to impress both me and Gem, especially Gem, who was ready for a post-Tennant boycott until Matt said 'fish custard'. She's easily pleased. Well, televisually she is.

Eggmas Monday...
Not sure what we're doing tomorrow, probably gonna be visiting my Auntie Irene whotalksveryfastandsaysalotwithoutactuallysayingmuch. And then maybe we'll be swimming, although that depends if we can get Meg a swimming cozzy (which I've just remembered, and Gem seems to have forgotten). Also it depends if the swimming pool place is open, and not too crowded with smelly pool-pissers.

Oh, and this weekend I've had a break off of twitter, because both me n gem decided it was getting a bit dull, folk not talking, random unfollowing for stupid reasons, and general childish bitchiness. As such, I've missed out on doing #letscelebr8by tweets for Peanut Butter and Jelly Day, Alec Guinness' birthday, International Pillow Fight Day and much more. Hopefully someone out there remembered to celebrate them, without me telling them to...

Oh, and it's the missus' 1st year twitterversary today, her general twitter experience ranging from meh to ooh to crazy addicted to annoyance and then back to her present state of meh. Perhaps it's some sort of repeating cycle.

And that's your lot, can't think of anything else to type now. Oooh I mended the trackerball on the missus' blackberry. I didn't even use a hammer. Yay me.

Ok that's it, you can go back to eating your eggs. But if you get the squits, don't expect me to wipe your ass.

;-p

creme eggs, chocolate robots & toe-jam

2010-03-09T19:54:00.003Z

Fed up of apologising for not blogging in a while, so i won't. Apologise. Unless you consider that non-apology as an acknowledgement of the need for an apology, and thus an apology in all but the word.
Anyway, where was i? Oh,yeah... Over there...

*walks to other side of the room, where i was*

...much better. Now that i'm back where i was when i was there, i can write something interesting for you to read with your bodily reading utensils (eyes, mind etc.) Today's funky topics, suggested by folk from that bird-based, social-networking site are Creme eggs, Clockwork Robots and Toe-Jam.

So in no particular order (easiest to splurge first) i'll start with Toe-Jam.

Toe-Jam and Earl was a video game from the olden days, and was delightfully mental. I liked it at the time, but recently i played it and it was shit. There, that was one of them there video game nostalgic reviews that you can find anywhere on t'internet. I give it a nostalgic shit rating of 3.72/14

Clockwork Robots will never rule the world without people, because eventually they'll need someone to wind them up. And even if they did invent a clockwork winder-upper robot, there would need to be someone who could wind up the winder upper robot. This is an example of a flawed perpetual motion device, and thus i give this a flawed perpetual motion rating of 2.2/2.3 - the highest rating anything written in the last ten minutes has recieved.

Creme eggs are bloody lovely, aren't they? How do i eat mine, well i nibble off the top then slide my tongue inside to get out all the mysterious fondant filling. Apparently, the way you eat a creme egg is directly related to your oral sex performance. Which probably explains why the missus always gags when eating them then bites inappropriately hard. Hmmm...

There, blog done. Phew.

Fudge Goes to the Movies

2010-01-27T14:52:00.007Z

I've been to the pictures, and thought I'd just like to say, that main actor in those fillums looks bloody wonderful.

random three-word topic blog

2010-01-20T10:10:00.007Z

right then, it's three-word topic time. As suggested by the lovely folk on twitter. Who i'm not crediting individually because i'm a lazy monkey.

FACEBOOK IS CRAP
What annoys me about facebook is how it's started to encourage you to get all touchy-feely with your friends. 'why not tell Andrew Crompton about your day?' because he's a fat git who made my school life hell, that's why. And relax...

CRUSTY BURNT TOAST
Because we can't always have floppy tesco value toast.

BIG BANG THEORY
Good theory, pisspoor sitcom.

WINNING SANDWICH FILLINGS
Super-noodles, fried meat, beans, ketchup.

SHOULD I KNIT?
I tried learning to knit when i was younger, but after i stabbed myself i figured, best to leave it to the cauliflower heads.

EGG-SAUSAGE-BACON
You fuckers. You know i missed breakfast.

WHY DOES IT?
Because if it didn't, you'd be sad.

SHOULD I LEAVE?
I find cleaving to be much more fun.

WHO WAS HE?
He was the king of antwadar,
he never washed his pants.
On a trip to zanzibar
His cock got bit by ants.

I AM HERE
As i write this, the sat nav tells me 'I am on M62, Between M62 J32 (3450 yd) and M62 J31 (450 yd). And no i'm not driving.

HELP ME PLEASE
I'm going to leeds now, if you'd like to buy me a sandwich, meet me there, spam and beans please.

WIN THIS BLOG
I will dedicate this blog entry to whoever sends me the best drawing of someone fighting a nun on a bookcase. So there. EDIT - @Gavlp (http://twitter.com/gavlp)won, since his pisspoor effort was the only entry. So this is now dedicated to him. Ooh

SHOOT THE MESSENGER
Or, ideally add me on msn, because sometimes i like to talk to folk in more than 140 characters, but not like on the phone or in person. Because you might be ugly or mad or something. My twittername at hotmail dot com if you wanna come n say hello.

SEND HELP NOW
I really wasn't kidding about that sandwich idea in leeds...

WHY MUST I?
Why must i finish? Well, i've run out of topic suggestions. Twitter's gone a bit rubbish in that respect. Last time i did a three word topic suggestion request there were f'ing hundreds of responses. Maybe people are bored of me. Actually, no, i'm just wonderful.

Fin. Which is arsey for The End.

Goldilocks and the three bears

2010-01-19T10:13:00.011Z

Once upon a time (ie. Ages ago, before stories were supported by facts),there lived three bears.
There was a mummy bear, a daddy bear and a baby bear. For some reason they lived in a well-maintained two-floored cottage rather than a cave or hole in a hill or something. We can only assume that the bears had recently attacked and killed the previous owners and, enjoying the benefits of central heating and windows and such, they probably decided to stay.
One day, the mummy bear decided to abandon her natural salmon hunting instincts and using some sort of freaky überknowledge, never before seen in bears, she made some porridge.
Now, obviously, her genius knowledge was flawed as the porridge was much too hot, and rather than adding some cold milk the bears decided they would go for a walk in the woods until it reached the desired temperature. For some reason, the bears dished up the porridge before leaving the house, which is a bit confusing.
Aaaanyway, while the bears were off walking in the woods, not hunting salmon, a cheeky little blonde girl called Goldilocks approached the house. Now obviously, like all girls given novelty names, she was a bit of a chavvy rogue, and thought nothing of entering the bear's house without permission. The insurance company would no doubt say it was the bear's fault for leaving the door unlocked, but obviously since they had killed the previous tenants and were technically squatting, they probably didn't have any keys.
There was no bodily remains of the last tenants, nor had the bears left any evidence of their existance as bears, as goldilocks' suspicions as to the possible threat from giant furry beasts were not raised. However, she did see the porridge, and being a cheeky chav with no knowledge of hygiene or an awareness of the morality of theft, she decided to eat the porridge.
Now at this point we need to clarify the fact that three bowls containing the porridge were all made of difference materials, each with different thermal properties. This explains why when tasting Daddy bear's big bowl ofporridge discovered it was much too hot; mummy bear's medium sized bowl was freezing cold, and baby bear's small bowl was at an acceptable temperature. One can only assume that mummy bear's taste in cold porridge is not completely bonkers.
Anyway, chavpig that she was, goldilocks ate up all of baby bear's porridge. This is described as a somewhat gluttenous act, even though we are initially told that baby bear's bowl is incredibly small. He's probably still being weaned off salmon.
Like any good greedyguts, Goldilocks decided that she might as well sit down, and spotting the bear's three chairs decided to try them one by one. Now, Goldilocks is obviously a right fussy bitch, and daddy bear's chair was considered to be too hard, and mummy bear's chair was too soft and lumpy, like a bean bag or something. Can you imagine taking her to DFS for a new three piece suite? She'd be a bloody nightmare.
Then she sat on baby bear's little chair. Now obviously goldilocks was quite a hefty girl, as any bear, even a baby one weighs quite a considerable amount. Quite why goldilocks' fat ass is able to break a chair capable of supporting a bear is one for dieticians and weighbridge owners to discuss ad finitum.
So the chair broke, and foregoing any 'where there's a blame there's a claim' shenanigans (again, legally dubious given the bear's squatter status) Golilocks decided she'd go upstairs and have a lie down.
Again, there were three beds, again the parent bears' beds were unsuitable for some incredibly fussy reason. Why the parent bears had separate beds is another story, probably involving that dirty slut bear who took advantage of daddy bear's drunken advances at the christmas party, purely for the purposes of taking revenge on her arch-rival mummy bear, who spelled her name wrong in the parish newsletter in 1998. Like i said, it's a whole different story.
Anyway, goldilocks was obviously very tired from all her porridge and chair testing activities and she fell asleep.
And then the bears came home. And well, then they killed goldilocks. Because they were bears. Killer bears. As established early on in the story. Oh, they probably wondered about why some of the porridge was eaten, or why a chair was broken, but they were probably more likely to obey their baser animal instincts and eat the chav. Who probably tasted a bit like salmon.

The End

Generic 'i cant think of something to type' blogtweet

2010-01-18T13:09:00.002Z

This may be a meandering ramble of a blog, because i don't know what to type today.
Hope you all had a nice late december stressful family hell season, and that you got at least one present worth putting on ebay.
Just been looking thru my comment moderation options, apparently people seem to think that because i write a blog, i should write something significant and useful. Well, knickers. My blog is extremely useful to someone who may perhaps need to read these words or die. Or if they need a website window open to maximize, covering the porn you were looking at when the missus walked in. So there.
Of course, the significance of this comment seems to have been ruined by the anonymous (obviously the same person) fuck you comments posted later.
So, yeah, that's why i've got comment moderation.
This really is gonna be a ramble blog...
Hmmm... Oh, we had another baby and you probably already know that. She is megan and her favourite ps3 game is Stuntman Ignition, which entertains her more than a box full of vtech tat.
SNOW! There was snow and it was fun. Then it was shit. Then it was ice and all the idiot drivers crashed their cars, then it was good again and we could leave the house. And that's the weather.
I am eating mini cornish pasties. They don't appear to have any meat in them. They do have what seems to be plasterboard inside. And carrot. So that's one of my five a day.

Anyway, that's my meandering ramble blog to make up for not blogging for ages. Stop looking so disappointed. Miserable git. Go on, post a grumpy 'that was rubbish' comment, i'll moderate it's arse off.

Rarrrr

Fudge's Guide to Lady Things #2... 'Special Grumpy Lady Time'

2009-09-30T20:20:00.000+01:00

Here is some more of my wisdom about those bizarre things about women that us blokes don't know, are never told and yet are expected to have explicit knowledge of when tested.

This time...

'Special Grumpy Lady Time'

SGLT is some sort of made-up disease that girls catch on a monthly basis, and despite this similarity to man-flu, the similarities end there.

The disease itself seems to occur on a regular basis, usually following about a week of pleasant, civilised behaviour. The various behaviour patterns usually follow this pattern.
Week 1. Pleasant, civilised behaviour. The lady will possibly do the washing up, be naughty in bed, and let you watch an episode of Thundercats without complaining.
Week 2. Grumpy bitch
Week 3. Grumpy, uncomfortable bitch
Week 4. Grumpy, fragile bitch.
This 'cycle' then repeats.

During week 3, so the adverts tell me, some kind of blue liquid is emitted, and this must be absorbed in a number of ways.
1. A little sponge on a string. From what i gather these appear to be bullet shaped, and come with some sort of insertion device, called an 'applicator'. This may or may not be spring-loaded.
2. Things with wings. These are sponges that sellotape onto a girl's pants. They do not allow girls to be able to fly. This is more due to poor piloting skills, and lack of knowledge of aerodynamics and such.
Modern advancements in Things with Wings include the ability to play pinball with your ladybits, something to do with pearls and 1GB mp3 player.

There are several cures for this disease
1. Avoid ladies during weeks 2-4. This is usually impossible, as ladies deliberately catch SGLT at different times, so men can never be happy.
2. Old age. After about 50 years, the lady's body decides we've suffered enough, and gives us men a 'pause' from grumpyness. By this time though we've usually had enough and retired to our shed.
3. Pregnancy. This is actually only a cure for blue liquid, with the drawback of completely removing week 1 from the cycle. Also, babies are a result of this.

Anyway, there's the sum total of all my SGLT knowledge. Enjoy.

Video Blog #3 - Meat Sandwich

2009-09-24T22:16:00.002+01:00

I has made a yummy meat sandwich. nom nom nom.

Here be the video of the creation of a culinary masterpiece...

Hope that's got you all drooling. Twas yummy yummy in my tummy.

Video Blog #2 - Trampo-Loonies

2009-09-19T14:44:00.004+01:00

We've been at the in-laws today, and thought I'd be fun to film our elastic-related bouncing activities.

Here is the resulting footage...

...and yes, I am wearing a hoody. How street am I? Wickedy whack muddyfunker. Innit.

Fudge's Guide To Lady-Things... Make Up

2009-09-06T20:30:00.003+01:00

Hello there, just thought i'd say hi and share my wisdom and research with you.
Today i has been researching the lady-thing known as make up.

HISTORY
Make-up was invented (or 'made up' chortle) by probably a frenchman, in an effort to make some ugly girl look humpable, in about the year 1532ish. For the sake of argument, let's call him French Bob.
Using various ingredients gathered from his 16th century inventor's desk (tipp-ex, red wine, weetabix) he no doubt made a concoction so wonderful that life without painted-up lady-faces would never be heard of again.

TYPES OF MAKE-UP
1. Eye make-up
2. Face make-up
That is all the types of make-up, but for the sake of you men who sit wobbling in the corner every time you stray away from the novelty gift section of Boots, i shall go into greater detail...

1. EYE MAKE-UP
There are three sub-categories of eye make-up...
a. Mascara
This is some kind of eyelash paint, held on some kind of inverted brush pen thing. This allows girls to have longer eyelashes, useful for fighting wasps.
There are two fun things about mascara, firstly that if (and possibly when) you make a girl cry, it draws on magical manga cry-lines down their face. Secondly, if they forget to clean it off before bed, it can lead to a girl's eyelashes sticking together, thus giving them a unique jail-like experience.
b. Eye-liner
Eye-liner is like a pencil to make girl's eyes look similar to a cartoon character, or perhaps a panda. The pencil itself is useless as an actual writing implement, going all squishy at the first sign of pressure, causing arguments, even though it's her fault that she tidied up all the pens and left her eye-liner on the top of the fridge.
There is a male equivalent of eye-liner, hilariously called 'guy-liner'. This is only used by 'emo' boys (emo meaning 'pale fan of vampire-themed television') or droogs from a clockwork orange.
c. Eye-Shadow
This is a mysterious powder (more on them below) that girls apply to their upper eyelids. Because blue eyelids are a sign of healthiness.

2. FACE MAKE-UP
There's no real need to sub-categorise face make-up, as it only really consists of powders that stick to a lady's face, covering up their lumpy face skin, and in the case of blusher, making them look out of breath, like they've been on a run or something. Apparently there is some sort of difference between concealer and foundation but I think this is just some sort of marketing scam to make ladies fork out £40 a go for the smallest bottle of brownish liquid in the world.

3. MOUTH MAKE-UP
Lip-liner, Lip-gloss, Lip-stick. These three substances exist to do one thing, and one thing only - to stain men. Apparently by making their lips look more red and pronounced, this makes girls appear more eager to have sex. I find taking your top off works just as well. And is also a lot cheaper...

Anyway, that is my useful guide to all things womanly and make-uppish. I hope you have found it more useful than anything else ever. Which quite clearly it is.

Fudge on Wikipedia

2009-08-31T15:48:00.003+01:00

In my continued efforts to #getfudgefamous, I decided to feed my rather hungry ego and shove myself on wikipedia. Yes, I am that bored today.
Anyway, effort number one got deleted by the wiki mods, because it failed to explain the reason for my existance. Crap. Effort two got deleted because it was 'patent nonsense', which I suppose is quite complimentary.
Anyway, effort number three is now online, in a slightly less mod-tempting place here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/user:fudgecrumpet
feel free to contribute as much as you'd like to it, as long as you're honest, and not too mean.

My Day Off

2009-08-31T13:52:00.003+01:00

I took a 24 hour (forced, by the missus) break from Twitter. Here is what I did...

Saturday 9pm...
Said bye bye to the twitterfolk, checked replies to see if anyone said I had a fat arse.

Saturday 9.30pm- Sunday 1am...
Played Batman Arkham Asylum for much too long. Had a little wee in my pants as the Scarecrow scared me.

Sunday 1am - 8.15am...
Sleep (sofa, because pregnant ladies sleep like diagonal starfish)

Sunday 8.15am...

Woken up by Jess, managed to get an hour extra snooze by distracting her with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on UMD.

Sunday 9.15am...

Gem gets out of bed and opens the back door, thereby freezing me off the sofa.

Sunday 10.30am...

Made breakfast. For Gem, Toast and Fruit Salad; For Jess, Sausage Sandwich with coleslaw, For me Sausage Sandwich. Mmmm sozijj.

Sunday 11am-7pm...

Mostly boredom, interrupted by packets of quavers, downloading pointless free apps from the ovi store for my phone, and sneakily checking facebook to see if anyone replied to my status. Facebook is so bloody terrible for people who crave instant attention.

Sunday 7pm...

Did some drawings, nothing special. Got shouted at by the missus for ignoring her and jess. Even though they were in the other room and busy.

Sunday 8pm...

Missus goes for her bath, I am extremely tempted to go back on twitter, but manage to resist. Play Arkham Asylum again, impressed by Poison Ivy's naked bottom.

Sunday 8.45pm...

Missus suggests we burn old receipts. I like fire. MMMmmmm Burn.

Sunday 9.08pm...

Back on twitter, eight minutes late. Everyone says hello, and no I haven't missed anything.

Yay

introducing fdgtxt!

2009-08-24T20:48:00.002+01:00

you're all probably familiar with txtspk, irritatingly unpronouncable acronyms that mean something like Laugh Out Loud and such. Well, let me just tell you... All the definitions you know are wrong.
Here is the semi-definitive guide to fdgtxt. Enjoy and learn...

ASL - Anal Saliva Leakage (always an issue...)
ATM - Anthony Trent Mencolo (inventor of the carpet 1422-74)
BRB - Big Ruddy Boobies
BBL - Big Boobed Lady
BBS - Big Boobs? Splendid!
BBF - Big Boobed Friend
BBFL - Big Boobed Foreign Lady
BMBL - Big Man-Boobed Lad
BTW - Boobs To Wobble (used in a similar manner, and to similar effect as 'phasers to stun')
CBA - Cuddle Baby Arnold
DW - Drown William
FOCL - Find Out Colin's Length
FYI - French Yawn (Inward) (as opposed to a spanish outward yawn)
GTFO - Get The First Orange
GTG - Get The Gun
HRU - His Royal Ugliness
IDK - Inside Donald's Kidney
IRC - Intelligent Robot Condom
JJ - Jolly Jelly
JK - Jolly Kelly
LOL - Lazy Old Lesbian
LMAO - Look! My Arse 'Ole!
LMFAO - Look! My Festering Arse 'Ole!
NM - Nutty Moron
NP - Nutty Pillock
OMG - Oooh Marmite! Good!
PPL - Percy Plays Ludo
ROFL - Revenge Of Francis Leonard
ROFLMAO - Revenge Of Francis Leonard Means Armageddon. Oh.
STFU - Shhh, Tits, Fanny, Understand? (used when your missus tries starting a conversation instead of performing her kinky woman duties)
SOB - Silly Orange Balloon (used to describe overweight people who use too much fake tan)
TTFN - Toot Toot! Funky Nipples!
TBH - Trendy Bum Hug
WTF - Where's The Fridge?

...So now you know. And knowing is half the battle.

more shoddy blog

2009-08-24T11:19:00.002+01:00

back again, hello. *waves*
Right then, more random brain leakage...
Saturday night telly, how bloody rubbish. Frigging x-factor is back on, doing exactly the same thing but with a different background, like chuckie egg 2, only with less eggs and slightly better graphics. The singing, if it can be called that, is obviously some kind of sonic paralysis inducer like off of Iron Man, a fact that works to itv's advantage by forcing people to sit there and endure The Cube. A mixture of nintendo ds game, who wants to be a millionaire and the crystal maze, with a female cobra commander/stig hybrid that doesn't seem to do anything. The program basically consists of phillip schofield feeling sorry for people who do nothing to challenge idiotic stereotypes.
And then, you're forced to watch Big Brother on channel 4, because the missus won't go to bed and let you play ps3 games. As far as i can tell, a man comprised completely of sideburn looks like he'll win. They should burn that house down and see who's willing to piss on the burning remains. That'd get ratings...

a rambling bit of crusty bloggage

2009-08-24T09:53:00.002+01:00

No fancy videos or anything today, just me wasting a few minutes typing aimlessly with the hope that something interesting emerged. My blogging brain is the equivalent of the 100 monkeys with a typewriter analogy, except with less shit-flinging.
Getting me world domination via getting me on telly has hit a slight hiccup, whereby gem won't let me audition for mtv's new dancing/stripping show. Just because I can't dance, and that showing off my moobs on tv would be immensley embarrassing. Sheesh, if jesus gave up because his missus told him he'd look a bit of a twat in a beard, we'd never have had Life of Brian.
Am going to write to Whiskas in a bit to ask why they don't do mouse flavour cat food. Only reason i can think they wouldn't is that the cat might feel it has to share it with it's owner. Mitzy thought we wanted to share her mouse on saturday then spent the rest of the day sulking when i threw the remains in the bin.
Ooh bugger i gotta do some work... Back in a bit for more rambleness...

my first video blog. Er...

2009-08-16T22:07:00.003+01:00

well, i said i'd give video blogging a go... And this is my first attempt. I think i did quite well...

...yes, i definitely did dead good with that.

Or maybe first-blog-nerves got to me... maybe.

Will do better next time. Possibly.

Get Fudge On TV Phase One

2009-08-16T20:15:00.002+01:00

As part of my world domination plans, I have decided to infiltrate the media...

Step one. Get myself mentioned on telly...
Actually quite easy, as there are an incredible amount of celebrities on Twitter, eager to point out on their TV shows that they are cool and use Twitter.
So, here is my mention by the lovely Mark Ryes on Bid.tv...

(don't know if that'll work, it's my first time embedding a video)

Anyway, first bid.tv, next... the World! or maybe channel 5.

Random Three-Word Blogging

2009-07-14T20:11:00.004+01:00

Had a bit of Blogger's Block tonight (yes I do need to eat more fibre ho ho ho) so asked the lovely folk on that there Twitter to give three-word bloggy topic suggestions. They're a bunch of funny fuckers...

Wet Soapy Nipples.
Are always nice. In fact, I'm tempted to say bollocks to the blog and so some google image searching...

hmmm...

...back now. Right then, where was I?

Peaches and Cream.
I follow Peaches Geldof on that there Twitter. She's quite interesting, in a mental teeny-bopper kind of way. She probably likes cream. I don't like cream though. Except Wuzzy-aerosol Cream. I like wuzzing it into my mouth and making cream come out of my nose. How sexy am I?

Fish and Chips.
Not as nice as it used to be. Newspaper print improves the flavour.

In The News.
I don't tend to watch the news any more. Mainly because 90% isn't actually proper news. Politicians arguing the same point at each other, resolving nothing; celebrities either being fatter, being thinner or dying; or someone complaining about a war that it's too late to do anything about.

On The Run.
I used to think Nuns on the Run was a great film. That's why I refuse to watch it when it's repeated on TV, because I know my memories of the film will be destroyed by it's actual crapness. Much like watching The Real Ghostbusters on DVD.

What Is Next.
The future always makes me think HOVERCARS. Wake me up when we get Hovercars.

Who Has Died.
No-one worth blogging about has died recently, despite the media trying to force me to grieve.

Who Am I.
I am Al. How do you do?

Do I Care?
I think I'm pretty caring. I'll help an old lady who has fallen over and everything. Might not stop if I run over a cat though.

Shakey Step Ladders.
Shaking Stephens, five feet off the ground. This is why the Frontier in Batley is making a comeback.

Jolly Green Giant.
I preferred him when he sold toys in Leeds. He kind of lost his edge when he moved into selling sweetcorn and other forced-to-eat-by-evil-parents food. Also, why did he insist on wearing leaves? One gale-force wind and everyone would get a glimpse of his Jolly Green Jiggler.

Soapy Tit Wank.
One day. One day I will persuade the missus to give me one. And then I will tell you all about it.

Sun Rain Crap.
The weather is being all over the place recently, and being British, I feel the need to complain about it. I'm not a fan of heatwaves and all Summery weather, and am always grateful when it turns into a storm. Give me snow and days-off-work ice and I'm much happier.

Monsters Vs Aliens.
Bloody great movie. Get the DVD and force it's goodness into your eyes. Jess insists on calling B.O.B. 'Blob', this annoys me no end. Why can't she understand character name copyright? WHY?

Aliens Have Landed.
If Aliens did land, they'd probably avoid Huddersfield. It's too hilly and there are too many speed bumps. They'd probably go to Manchester or London. All the cool stuff goes there.

Little Cornets Please.
I had the most massive-est ice cream the other day. It was lovely. Felt a bit gurple afterwards though...

Terrorists Who Smile.
And why not? They're bastards who get to play with guns. Must be a lot of fun. They're probably weeping their eyes out when they're at home, and there'll be plenty of time for them to be sad when inevitable revenge attacks bugger up their life, so let them have a big grin while they do their naughty deeds.

Sesame Seed Bun. Victoria Sponge Cake. Etc.
I think the Twitter folk are hungry, they're obsessed with food.

Stephen Mulhern Why?
Because who else would present Britain's Got More Talent without trying to stab Piers Morgan in the face with a pin. He's employed because his violent urges have been calmed by his extremely close exposure to Holly Willoughby during his CITV days. She can calm a raging bull, she can. Oooh have you seen that photo of her with that drippy ice cream cornet? Oooh.

Ice Dancing Hippos.
This would be the only thing that would make me watch a dancing program on telly. And that would only depend on if they went mad and killed everyone after they'd finished dancing. The missus is scared of hippos since she discovered that they are evil monsters that kill people. Of course, she also thinks that Meerkats are deadly creatures, because a sign at Longleats stated...
Meerkats can withstand poisons
strong enough to kill a man.
My missus is a blonde under all that brunette hair.

Rail, Cake, Shoes.
Chuggington is a bloody addictive program. It's not as good as Thomas (although that suffers from too-many-series, too-many-characters syndrome), and it's CGI isn't as impressive as Underground Ernie (which goes for realism over toy-realism) but it's much more lovable and colourful. Jess made a cake out of play-doh the other night. She put candles in it for Gem and everything. I took a photo, but I can't be arsed uploading it off my phone. It basically looked a bit like a giant turd, you wouldn't be impressed anyway. And Shoes. I need some new trainers, who wants to send me some for free?

Terrible Times Past.
Why haven't we seen any retro-90s stuff yet? I know the whole decade was a mish-mash of retro-60s-70s-80s on it's own, but I was relatively cool back then, and I still own some of the clothes. Come on people, let the 90s revival begin!

Er, that's it now. Hope that was ok. Bifernow.

Fudge's Genius Inventions

2009-06-29T23:32:00.004+01:00

I was a bit bored today so I did some inventing... Here is the decidedly mixed bag of concepts...

fully air conditioned sauna. Keeps you nice and cool as you sweat.

moving walkways next to bus stops so people don't have to run as fast if They're late.

hover-dogs. Never need taking for a walk, you just tie them to your guttering.

square dvds, therefore eliminating wasted space in the box. (the alternative, round boxes would be silly, as they would just roll off the shelf)

a Twattering Ram. Which is a big log for knocking over idiots.

hi-vis camoflague. Because even if you're hiding from baddies, you need to obey proper H&S procedure.

cat spanners. For tightening up your cat.

boxboxes. Boxes specifically designed for holding multiple boxes.

Ford Court-ina. A car that also hands out justice.

a bee-bee gun. Enabling you to shoot your enemies then watch them get stung. by bees.

a Fiddler's Forcefield - a piece of clear plastic to shield your favourite jazz mag from accidental stainage.

a fence fence. A wooden garden barrier that can help you dispose of stolen goods.

Simon The Pocket Tramp. A tramp that you carry around to fight Big Issue sellers.

Fat-nav. Avoids narrow streets and always knows the way to Wimpy.

motor-horse. A horse that has an engine. With 1 horsepower. Saves on carrots.

a Hyper Susan. The same as a lazy susan, but faster.

a mobile landline. a backpack with a wire sticking out of the top like dodgems, connected to the phone network.

Monoproperly. A device that electrocutes anyone who tries to cheat at the Property Trading Game.

Underground Helicopters. For miners who like to hover.

Bumblegum. fruit flavoured chewing gum that makes you clumsy.

Leg-o. Build anything you like. Out of legs

Tattooths. Get your lover's name permanently engraved on your tooth enamel.

slag-cabbage. A portable vegetable launcher for soiling Sharons.

hamdock. A hammock. Made of haddock

Wheeee Bins. Wheelie Bins designed for racing down hills.

Underwater Corn-on-Cob Scuba Gear. A special mouthpiece that allows divers to eat corn and breathe underwater.

Predictive Talking. A device that saves you from saying whole words, finishing them automagically for you.

Lostbianism. The love between two girls who know the difference between a Charlie and a Sawyer.

tar-macs. A raincoat covered in asphalt. Hard wearing and completely waterproof. And black. (also, would build up your muscles and give you a hard shoulder.)

ink pencils. When you want to use a pencil, but don't want someone rubbing it out.

Tea-gulls. Tiny birds that fly over your cup of tea, removing any fish or scraps of food.

tampogons, for women on their period who really want to bounce.

Head and Shoulders and Crotch. Because downstairs dandruff can be a problem too...

hot air trampolloon. Lets you jump and bounce at an altitude of 6000 ft.

Poopascoopascoopas. To pick up discarded poopascoopas and prevent litter.

Cold Pants. Basically, hot pants. But with ice down the front.

Biker Protractor. For measuring Hell's Angles.

Shoe Police. A special department of the police that deals with all aspects of shoe-related crime.

high definition glasses. For people who can't tell the difference between normal telly and hi-def.

glo-bras. "oh no power cut! missus, get your top off!"

Asdar. A device that can locate a supermarket from up to 200 miles away.

Megan Fog. The ability to obscure your vision when watching Transformers so your missus can't call you a dirty perve.

haircuds. Getting your hair shortened by cows chewing at your head.

Manchester Untied. Making football more entertaining by banning the players from fastening their shoes.

So, that's it. All these ideas are copyright me, so if you do want to build them and sell them, then I want money. or toys. or sweets. or a hug.

How to make life fun - The twitter way

2009-05-31T21:11:00.002+01:00

Got a few new followers recently so I thought I'd fob off other people's work and make it look like I actually make an effort with my blog. This exciting episode - #makelifefun! Basically just a bunch of cut and pasted tweets from the hashtag trend thing I started, but enough material to fill the 'May' section of my blog up enough to make me look like a serious blogger... anyway here goes...

(suggestions that aren't named are mine, otherwise you should definitely think about following the links to each person's twitter profile and following them, because they are obviously geniuses)

See anyone in a Superman t-shirt, shout 'LOOK IT'S SUPERMAN!'

Stand behind people at cash machines, look over their shoulder, and really loudly read out their pin. Then run (http://twitter.com/AlexHammond1)

Sit in every chair in dfs, see how many make fart noises when u get up.

glue a pound coin to the street and watch people try to pick it up (http://twitter.com/alisonhendo)

Go to blockbuster and turn every dvd box upside down.

When going into a restaurant, only ask for the sweet menu! (http://twitter.com/ANDYRROO)

Use the word 'nodule'.

When walking out of a lift, press all the button levels! (http://twitter.com/ANDYRROO)

Shout OI at someone. Then run away.

Renew your car tax using the Welsh language form at a post office in Warrington (http://twitter.com/simonwxm)

Get overexcited about something really boring... OOH THE KETTLE'S BOILING!

When ordering puddings, ask the waiter if its going to make you fat! (http://twitter.com/ANDYRROO)

Say 'simon says' and then describe what You're doing. All day.

When drinking Guinness or cappucino allow froth to get on your nose and refuse to wipe it off. (http://twitter.com/simonwxm)

Pretend you have a spring-loaded waist, like a 1980s he-man figure.

Go to the toy store and set off all of the Tickle Me Elmos. (http://twitter.com/DottyTeakettle)

Send a message to kutcher asking him if there will ever be a dude, Where's my car 2.

Swig water from a vodka bottle when driving and look at the faces of other motorists, pedestrians, your bus passengers. (http://twitter.com/simonwxm)

Pick up one of those big protein tablet bottles in holland n barratt and shout 'get yer shrinkin medicine ere!'

See if you can do this http://yoga.about.com/od/yogaposes/a/crow.htm (http://twitter.com/DottyTeakettle)

Drive your car about, shouting 'HELLO BOB' at EVERYONE.

When on a bus, stare at someone in the street until they turn around. Then smile big and wave before turning back to your book. (http://twitter.com/DottyTeakettle)

Take your shoes off and try and lick your big toe.

Shout twat at someone then pretend you don't speak English! (http://twitter.com/Glamroxx)

Drink ribena, but convince yourself it's posh red wine. See if you get drunk.

Try and spend a whole day with a pencil casually balanced between your upper lip and nose. Get annoyed at people staring. (http://twitter.com/DaisyBentley)

Fall over in a supermarket, and count how many people help you.

Go to a phone shop and get one of the phone numbers and send it a text later tellin people there is an explosive in the shop (http://twitter.com/talk2_me)

Go to a crowded place and 'accidentally' bump into as many girl's bottoms as possible.

When in a busy street with high buildings, stop and point high up and make sounds of amazement, guaranteed to pull a crowd. (http://twitter.com/scottiD)

Pull a funny face whilst on a long train ride. For the whole trip.

Take all the keys off your keyboard and put them back at random. Then try to use it. (http://twitter.com/AlexHammond1)

Go into phone shop, pick up the phones and yell "£200 for that? I could knock that together in a couple of hours!" (http://twitter.com/DaisyBentley)

Now if you do all of these, your life will be so fun you will be walking around in a permanent state of excitement, like you've eaten too many viagras or something. Unless you do that bomb threat one, that's probably illegal. Anyway, enjoy.

How To Be A Celebrity Twitterer

2009-05-28T11:02:00.001+01:00

To be a celebrity twitterer type you need to obey the following rules...
1. Keep your friend count below 30. - You're a celebrity, you don't need to know what the common people are up to. They won't stop following you, you've been on celebrity masterchef.
2. Don't block anyone - even if They're just posting links to inflatable dog's crotches, they add to your follower count, and thus make you more famous.
3. Only tweet when you've got something to plug. - people will be annoyed if they discover that you have a life away from BBC4, so only ever tweet if you've got a tv show on tonight, or if your new column is being published in the daily felch. This can also apply to reruns, out of date appearances on panel shows and cameos on The Royal.
4. Reply only when necessary. - because you are famous, the common plebs will think they are your closest friend and will send you messages in reply to every tweet you post. Only reply to a maximum of three a day, this not only will keep you clean of the commoner's filth, but will make those three lucky individuals idolise you and they will give you free publicity next time you need to plug your appearance on Never Mind The Buzzcocks.
5. Everyone loves charity. - occasionally, the common plebs will ask you to plug a charity or sponsor them to run a mile in a giant penis suit. Even if you don't support that charity, even if It's the national society for the rape of baby badgers, you must ReTweet their charity tweet. Charity support is the best way to appear more famous, without getting pleb smell on your posh shoes.
If you follow these simple tips, you will be stalked by millions and people will think you are better and nicer than jesus, even if You're a right shit.

Fudge's Twitter Drinking Game - Part One

2009-05-04T19:35:00.001+01:00

It's the first part of the wonderfully fudgetastic Twitter Drinking Game! Feel free to get in touch with your own suggestions for the second part...
Right, here goes...
Drink one shot whenever...
Someone makes coffee.
Someone twitpics their dinner.
Someone confuses everyone by getting out of or going to bed in a different time zone.
#Someonepostsanoverlonghashtag.
Someone can make you free money by clicking here! Http://tinyurl.com/w4nk
Someone retweets a completely irrelevant but seemingly deep piece of philosophy.
Someone can get you 427 friends without any effort! Click here now! Http://tinyurl.com/w4nk
Someone complains about aston kutcher.
Someone drinks a glass of wine.
Someone posts a 140-character-long scream, making twitter unreadable by anyone trying to use it on a mobile.
Someone posts a twitpic of a cat and makes a pussy pun.
Someone is naked and feels the need to tweet this fact.
Someone retweets a swineflu joke.
Someone gets close to a milestone number of followers and needs more followers, now!
Someone replies to something three hours ago, when you've forgotten what you originally said.
Someone plugs a charity, petition or other 'meaningful cause'
Someone posts a blip.fm link to an 80s kitch classic or novelty toss tune.

Fun with Pregnancy(?!)

2009-03-31T19:53:00.004+01:00

Here's a good old venting blog I've been building up for a month or so in my brain, about the wonders of being the male half of a pregnant couple.
Now, don't go shouting 'oh you poor man not having to carry a child or push it out of your bumbum', because I'm in full agreement with the female side of the argument, how it's all painful and all effort and pushing and uncontrollable urination and such, I just feel that us blokes either get no sympathy at all (why we should get some is below) or get turned into insensitive, heartless idiots when we offer the slightest word of complaint.
Why we deserve a modicum of sympathy? Well, for starters, there's the morning sick creature that carries your future child. This is no longer the woman you wanted to spend all night with, watching episodes of American Idol with, because she is just so lovely that you'll put up with any old crap. No, this is a creature of endless vomiting and complaining (both come out of the mouth, both of which now render her completely inable of doing anything else. Thus the man is left doing every single household chore (not easy when there's a 4 year old undoing the chores shortly after you've done them) whilst still being all sensitive and loving and sympathetic and not falling asleep when she needs you. For all the gratitude you recieve...
And then when it comes to morning sickness, and whatever other ailments that she ends up getting during the pregnancy. Turns out the only things that pregnant girls can do if they get poorly is bugger all towards getting better. The only 'cure' offered by NHS Direct for Morning Sickness (which is a lie. It should really be called Any Time You're Awake Sickness) were those ridiculous sea-sickness wristbands that have no effect, eating little and often (i.e. eating something in between throwing up bouts and hoping it stays down) and for some bizarre reason getting her to lie on her left hand side (improves circulation or some such nonsense), this last one is obviously impossible as the telly is on the wrong side of the room.
For some reason it's impossible to buy these sea-sickness wristbands over the counter at Tescos, even though they are on the shelf next to the Rennies, and since they are a Pharmacy item, they cost twice as much as anything else in the store. For an elastic band with a plastic lump stuck in the middle, and no apparent effect I can heartily unrecommend wasting your money on such crap.
Cravings next, and the reason my house smells like a dodgy burger van. She's gone mad for fried onions, and general unhealthy deep fried stuff and stodge. So, anything like Yorkshire Puddings is good. Anything that requires little effort to cook, tastes nice or helps with my efforts to reduce my gut size is out. And yes, I know that there's the option of cooking separate meals, but then that means eating in separate rooms as the nice looking, nice tasting food that I would want to eat also happens to be the food that triggers off her gipping fits. And by now I've emptied enough buckets to know that everything I can do to prevent a gipping fit is worth doing. (no carrots in pregancy vomit though, unusually - even when she eats carrots).
As for the length of the morning sickness, I think if her last pregnancy is anything to go by, we've got about a week or so left until she stops chucking and enters the so tired she can't do anything stage. I swear none of the above ranting will be found in Myleene's book. Grrr.
Anyway, that's enough ranting for now. Will try and get some more splurging done sometime later in the week.
Happy Humping!

Peanuts, Biggles & Faggots

2009-03-21T14:56:00.006Z

Why do they always put the option for 'title' at the start of the blog entry form? Do some people actually know what they're gonna splurge before they do it? Wow.
Anyway, stuff what has happened since I last splurged... Had a dating scan on the baby in Gem's tummy, turns out it's only 9 and a half weeks gone, so it's actual due date is about five days before Jess' birthday. Which will probably be easier in some respects (one big party instead of two, less chance of me forgetting) but will probably throw up all sorts of annoying complications (especially when they hit their teens, i'd expect).
Anyway, the scan pic is here -> http://www.twitpic.com/2a3jp <-if anyone wants to have a look. On that pic it looks a bit like a peanut, but when the lady wiggled about the ultrasound thing we did get to see fingers and toes and such (no willy or lack of at this point, too early for such things apparantly, before you ask).
Also sold a lotta lotta stuff on ebay, finally got round to being persuaded to shift my Marvel Essential books, mainly because they take up so much room, also because I'm fed up of visitors going ooh look at all them in a sarcastic 'youre a geek and we think you need to be mocked' voice. Also got rid of a few unwanted Transformers, and pretty much all of my most mediocre DVDs (obviously kept the really good ones, but also have the pisspoor terrible ones left as well just because I know Gem can't stand the sight of Biggles on my shelf). Don't seem to have any spare cash still though, thanks to the ridiculously huge lecky/gas bills and everything else extra that needs paying out this time of year. Which is just irritating. Ah well.
And when I'm not taking the missus to be ultrasounded (full bladder required - fun car journey over speed bumps hehehe), ebaying or eating three packets of skips at a time, I'm on twitter. Twitter is lovely, completely random lines of text from completely random people about completely random topics.
I was going to be all gimmicky and do this blog post in 140 character chunks in tribute to the wonders of the tweet, but then I realised that firstly, noone would notice and would just think I was writing very short paragraphs, and secondly it's impossible to have a good rant in under 140 characters. Which means that most of my tweets are either me complaining about something and writing 'urg', celebrating something and writing 'yay' or eating something and writing 'yum'.
Anyway, that's it for now, I am going to be eating some of Mr Brain's pork faggots now. Which, as well as being incredibly tasty are also good for confusing site swear filters and Americans, who by this point would be thinking I am munching down on an offensively piggish homosexual. Which I would never do. Because Dr Brain's faggots come in a lovely gravy and piggish offensive american homosexuals don't. At least not round these parts.
Right then, See ya soon, add me on yonder twitter if you'd like http://twitter.com/fudgecrumpet and go and look at my lovely ebay stuff here http://search.ebay.co.uk/_W0QQsassZfudgecrumpet

Beating the V-Point

2009-03-09T19:26:00.001Z

Right, before i get started properly, my Watchmen review (everyone else seems to be doing one)... Bloody good adaptation with too much extra violence, an annoyingly channel 5ish slo mo porn scene and the distraction that is a glowing blue penis just waggling about on screen. Not much point reviewing it to be honest, anyone that's going to see it has already seen it, and everyone else will wait for the dvd or if They're smart read the original graphic novel.
Now then, thought i'd blog a bit tonight, seeing as tomorrow is going to be stress day, what with us going to get the official yes on gem being up the duff. It's one hell of a morning-sickness-style bug gem's got otherwise. Good god i hate it when she's all morning sicknessy, which for starters isn't just in the bloody morning, It's all day, and occasionally all night. Most of the time she's just dry hukking, chucking up without actually bringing up anything, which is fine for me, noisy as hell and triggers my guilt nerves, but at least she's not filling her bucket up with the most foul smelling stuff ever. I'm no good around vomit, and for some reason she thinks that It's my duty to empty the full, well i say full... It smells full, even if there's only a splatter... Bucket. Now for any other person this is probably an easy task. For me this is an almost impossible chore, as the stench of sick automatically triggers my gag reflex and sends my tummy into Eject mode quicker than a dodgy bhuna from the local takeaway. But still, i have designed a rudimentary device for stopping the gipping, basically i tie a t-shirt around my face, so i look like a crap ninja, and then i am able to perform my husbandly vomit disposal duties without any risk of myself throwing up. Of course, this only works if i don't see the sick in the bucket, as for some reason seeing the sick triggers the same results as me smelling it.
Now it seems The only way to keep gem from reaching V-point, the point at which her innocent hurrrking turns to carrot soup city, is too keep her full of toast. So my toaster is on constant standby, and i bought an extra loaf to get us through the night...
Anyway, that's my morning sickness rantblog done. Back to twitter, which i'll rant about next time probably. Well, actually It's a kind of definite, as it seems to be taking control of everything in my life like some crazy 140 worded brain lurgy. Or maybe i'll realise what a waste of time it is and start bitching about it. Either way, see ya soon!

Crap Blog plus Excuses

2009-02-24T14:25:00.001Z

Tis another mediocre rant type blog today, but I've prepared a list of excuses/reasons as to why i am not supersplurging like i occasionally do...
1. I'm bloody knackered from work, had to do 139 locks on sunday and It's thrown my work-play balance in my head off.
2 & 3. Making babies, just not in the fun way. You know when you've made a cake and you've mixed all the ingredients together and then you put the mixture in the oven and then you're just worrying how it'll turn out, if the oven will overheat and switch off or if you'll get distracted and everything will come out burnt. Damn, i got lost in my own metaphor then, anyway now i'm stuck with 2nd baby stress, gem is a gurgle morning sickness creature that makes me do all the chores, and basically my brain is too full of moses baskets and the dread of going back to nights of 2 hours of sleep that i can't think of anything as random as a hedgehog wondering how on earth he is going to wear his new backpack. Which i know is the sort of random stuff you like.
3. I've spread myself too thinly over the whole internet and I've run out of stuff to type. Basically, I've added myself to too many forums and random stuff recently, and i don't like letting anyone feel left out, so I've been shuffling from site to site like an alcoholic uncle searching for parties with a free bar, letting everyone know whatever my brain feels like releasing then shuffling elsewhere. I might have to cull a few sites so my creative juices keep flowing.
4. TWITTER! It's bloody wonderful bollocks and I've gone and got myself addicted to finding out what random famous people (most notably phillip scofield, tara from buffy the vampire player, aston kutcher and jonathan ross, only by the fact that they seem to post more than anyone else) are doing with their time. It's quite interesting learning that they actually have normal lives and don't just sit in the corner and cry when You're not watchin them on tv. Here's my twitter link if anyone wants to find me and join in with my campaign of legalised stalking... [url]http://twitter.com/fudgecrumpet[/url]
Anyway, those are the reasons why this blog is rubbish. Although that was a good couple of thousand words, so i suppose it'll have to do. Yay for rambles and excuses.

6 minutes

2009-02-20T19:53:00.000Z

Right then, I'm sat in the car (in the rain, weather fans!) with snoozy jess on the back seat, waiting for Gem to finish work and grump at me for not finishing the washing up. She doesn't finish for about 6 more minutes though, so i figured i'd just splurge as much as possible in that time, hopefully someone will read it, although from the way most of my recent interweb output has gone, it'll stay ignored completely unless i nag at folk to look.
Not that nagging has helped attract people to join me on crazy attention deficit disorder post site [url]http://www.Twitter.com[/url] which i am as yet undecided upon as to whether it is genius or arse. I've done what most folk seem to have done and added Aston Kutcher and Stephen Fry to their follow list, and I've got a couple of random folks as my own followers, but as yet i still can't see the point. Maybe I've caught it too early, i had the same problems when i first joined facebook before that went all popular and mainstream. I'm feeling like one of those annoying guys at parties who go on about new bands, boring folk to death about The Flan Mangles, two years before they become famous and they saturate the media and then you stop feeling relatively cool and start feeling mildly bitter and grumpy. Which I've been told i am a lot. Grumpy, that is.
Sorry about the lack of a structure to this post, i'm just typing as much as i can to waste the minute or so until gem leaves work. In fact, i should probably start signing off now because she's on her way and looks tired. Bye

Scrounge - Completed

2009-02-14T21:48:00.004Z

Yayyyyyy!

I've finished off Scrounge. Here's some pics...

I've painted him with antique gold acrylic paint, with bronze for his upper arms and various details.

His eyes are bits of a TF notebook I got free, and are lenticular, which not only gives the toy's eyes a bit of texture, also 'glow' red from a certain angle.

The Autobot symbol on his chest is another TF mag freebie, and matches the proportions on the comics version, although slightly overlaps the bottom of the chest section.

I'll try and get my vid showing him off uploaded somewhere so you can have a looksie at him.

Anyway, that's it for my kitbash. My next project will be to try and make a Tranformers Animated Style Prowl costume for Jess, using spare bits of mini-moto I've got lying around by the shed. Although I'll probably have to get permission off of Jess to let me use her as a guinea pig first...

Anyway, I'm off to wear the missus' shoes now, because they need stretching. not because I'm kinky.

Byfernoo.

Chins, Boobs, Bums and Purple Juice

2009-02-10T21:41:00.005Z

I've been banished downstairs, for the crime of not wanting to watch Gladiator for the umpteenth time (the extended version, mind you). I don't mind the film, but it's like having a box of after eight mints all to yourself - once every six months is fine, but any more and you start feeling a bit queasy and you gain a few extra chins. Well, that's almost a good metaphor, except for the chins bit.
So, after I've typed this I'll be settling down on the sofa with a drink of purple juice to watch the latest (cheekily downloaded, damn you slow ass e4 schedulers) episode of Smallville, which has picked up a bit following a two-season slump when it all got a bit stinky and crap. I'm really looking forward to the end of season battle between Clark and Doomsday, as the show's clever plotting has firmly ousted any fanboy 'You cant have Doomsday this early in Supes' career' thoughts out of my head. Although to be honest Doomsday was never the sort of bad guy I've been impressed guy - sure he was unstoppable, but he never really had a plan, he just hit stuff. Also he didn't really kill Superman, did he? That was just some marketing nonsense.
Reluctantly been putting more stuff on ebay tonight as well, including some films that I'd much rather keep but 1) can't afford other new nice stuff (a lot of cool stuff comes out on Monday) and 2) Gem doesn't like and I'm trying to stay in her good books for the time being.
So, I'm selling Ella Enchanted, a film about a girl with big boobs who does whatever anyone tells her to do (and no men take advantage of this?!? Crazy), Disney's Dinosaur (which is better than 90% of their recent output, yet avoids being labelled as a Disney Classic for reasons which are beyond me), Sex and the City The Movie (which I liked keeping on the shelf, as it stops Gem from nagging about my Bloke-ing up of the living room - Marvel Essentials books need more shelf space than flowers in vases, when will she realise this?) and Prince Caspian (on blu-ray, which distracts from the fact that the film's shite by being all hi-def and lovely).
Anyway, I can't do a blatant plug like that without offering you a link ---> http://search.ebay.co.uk/_W0QQsassZfudgecrumpet <---, so there you go.

Anyway, I think that's enough random splurging for tonight. I'd write a bit more but this kitchen chair is bloody uncomfortable on my bum and I fear if I sit here any longer I will end up with a very flat bottom. And my fan club prefers me to have a nice peachy curve. Well, if I did have a fan club they would. Why don't I have a fan club yet? Grrrrrrr

Bye Bye

Just random stuff, movie rants and such.

2009-02-08T18:59:00.003Z

No particular theme to my blog today, just a bit of a splurge so the blog doesn't get forgotten about in my head. I figure if I leave it much longer it'll make it harder to start over again. Kind of like if you stop drinking coffee for a couple of weeks, which I did once, just before Jess was born (Gem wasn't allowed caffiene or something, and I never just make myself a coffee). Anyway, once you've gone off coffee for a few weeks, you lose the need for a caffiene buzz and suddenly it just tastes, smells and just looks a bit brown when someone offers you one. I'm back on coffee now though, mainly because all the ribena i was drinking was making me far too regular.
Anyway, what have I done recently... well, I've watched a few films on Blu-Ray (or blue ray, as their ebay auctions stated, hence they were ignored by regular searches and therefore were bargains) - Run Fat Boy Run, Vantage Point and the 2006 remake of The Omen.
Run Fat Boy Run is by far the best film out of this bunch, starting off a bit rubbish but getting gradually better towards the end, with a genuinely satisfying ending.
Vantage Point starts off excellent, but goes and forgets about it's multi-character-viewpoint gimmick about halfway through and just goes off on a standard action thriller schtick. Oh, and it also reveals who the bad guys are way too early. Just to save you the effort the real bad guy is the man from Lost, and the president who gets shot is just a double. I've whited out the spoiler I typed, because I didn't want people swearing at me. More than normal.
The remake of The Omen is bloody awful, but I'm only saying that in comparison to the original, which in my mind is a bloody wonderful movie. This one basically takes the original, removes the great scary music, makes the death scenes overblown effects extravaganzas and reduces the acting to pulling 'dull surprise' faces and getting occasionally sweaty.
Anyway, I've shoved Vantage Point and The Omen back on ebay, hopefully they'll make a bit of cash so I don't feel completely cheated. RFBR is staying for the time being though, it's a nice bit of fluff I'll probably stick on next time I want Jess to go to sleep.

Today we went to the cinema to see Bolt. Gem forced us to see the 2D version, because she was worried it'd give her a headache or somethingnagnagnag, but all in all I don't think the film needs a 3D gimmick to work. The CGI is as cartoony as ever, but the characters seem to work great, and the hamster is a genius creation. I did however feel that the film would have been so much better if they'd forgotten about the 'TV dog forced into the real world' plot and just stuck with the TV show within a film's plot of a superpowered dog. Sure, it's derivative 80s toy selling nonsense, but it'd be a cracking movie. This is the second dog themed movie I've seen this month, the other being Beverly Hills Chihuahua, which is surprisingly funny. Shame I hate dogs. Well, I don't hate dogs, they just all want to kill me and eat my face off.
I really need to see a decent bloke film though. Not sure how I'll convince Gem to see TF2 yet, never mind Terminator or Star Trek (that'll be a challenge, seeing as she was in labour when Star Trek 9 was on TV, and it'll probably bring on sympathy pains or something).

Anyway, my laptop's being a bitch recently so I'm gonna sign off for now before it crashes and I lose all these lovely words I've just typed (no great loss to the world, I hear you cry).

See ya later if I feel the need for further splurging.
Al

I've done me some painting! Scrounge Update

2009-01-31T14:51:00.003Z

Got myself some of that fancyarsed Games Workshop spraypaint for Scrounge the other day, and spent the morning spraying his scrawny ass white.

It needs a few more coats I think, especially around the head, which didn't seem to take the paint at first (bloody stupid epoxy nonsense grrr). Anyway, just wanted to post these phottys and ask - Is his head too big? Too late to anything about it, I know, but opinions other than Jess' would be nice.

One-Pic Review of Speed Racer

2009-01-30T23:17:00.003Z

Here's a one-pic movie review for ya... SPEED RACER

...and yes, this does make more sense than the film.

Gumpy and Stumpy

2009-01-27T20:52:00.000Z

What do you reckon to the two new presenters on the cbeebies bedtime hour? I thought they were moderately interesting new types if i bit too new and dumb until the missus pointed out that the new girl ONLY HAS ONE ARM. My viewing pleasure was then ruined by my eyes being forced to look at the stump that i hadn't noticed before, and the fact that the gump-like male presenter then proceeded to draw a picture of the pair of them and drew her with an intact pair of arms infuriated me even more. Argh.
Sorry, i just felt like having a rant. Feel free to call me an insensitive swine or hit me with a hammer.

More Scroungey Goodness...

2009-01-24T14:01:00.006Z

Ok, a couple more Scroungey things for ya in case you haven't killed yourself due to boredom,
Matrix over at http://www.thetf.net/ did a fancy colouring job on my Scrounge sketch, and now it looks all lovely and professional and such...

and here's a work in progress of my Scrounge kitbash, which just looks like a Blackarachnia with no Spidery bits, but a bit of paint should sort that out. Also I'm going to grunge this up a bit, make him look a little more battle worn (then at least my home-made head won't look as out of place)

Speaking of the head, I've made it out of some of the 'liquid metal' epoxy resin stuff we use to block up drilled holes on safes, but that still needs some work doing to it, filing down to give it sharper edges etc. Anyway, it just looks like a lump of grey lumpyness at the moment, so I'm not bothering with a photo of that yet....

Today, Al was sent a bunch of random old funny stuff he's posted everywhere else and decided to include some of them in this blog...
CLASSIC FUDGE #1
Two people stood on a bridge, one says to the other 'whats the current situation in taiwan?', the other replies 'well the economy is going strong and i love you,' then they both jumped off the bridge and died, happy in the knowledge of their mutual love and the economic situation of a foreign country.

Fun with knives and PVA Glue

2009-01-22T10:55:00.001Z

Just a quick mobile update today, firstly to test if this works on Opera Mini on my phone, and secondly to give you an update on scrounge.
I decided for the time being, finances and spare time and such, that i'd forego doing a transforming scrounge and make a non-transforming toy out of stuff i already own. Fortunately, i had a tf-a blackarachnia spare following my birthday, and her body is scrawny enough to match scrounge (i beefed him up a bit for my drawing) and she's got the whole bell-bottom legs and skinny six-pack.
First, i pulled off all the spidery bits and unscrewed her face, then in the process of chopping down her chest to a more reasonable and less feminine size i sliced a chunk off my left thumb. I'm fine now, thanks to TCP spray plaster, which is a genius invention obviously invented by Neil Buchanan, the only man in the world to use PVA glue in every aspect of his life.
I also glued up BA's split-legs and broke off her various spikes and such.
So now i'm left with a faceless basic action figure, i'm going to do some experiments with epoxy resin later, and i'll post some photos of my work in progress. Cheers.

More Scrounge Stuff... and possible plans!

2009-01-20T21:24:00.013Z

Hullo again. Thunked I'd just keep folks updated on my general plans and such, mainly because I can't think of anything funny to say today.

You know that there Scrounge pic I posted the other day, right? Well, it got me thinking about how to actually get him to work as an actual toy.

The robot mode's pretty simple, He's a basic humanoid robot type shape, and the only problem I can forsee is getting the head right.

The problems begin if I want to go the whole hog and make him actually transform...

Yes, he transforms into a wheel. A chuffing wheel. That has no resemblance to his robot mode.
I've been searching around, and I've seen a couple of toys that could work, one being a ridiculously shite thing from Power Rangers.

He's called Tackleman, as far as I can guess (there were a lot of random jap-translated-to-english-by-fans type words hanging around the site, so I'm probably wrong). Yes, he's a wheel, but he's also incredibly rubbish.

His wheel mode is pretty much perfect, but his robot leaves a lot to be desired. Scrounge's tummy wouldn't be that round, he's supposed to be a scrawny little get, not a tubby american footballer.

Another idea that was suggested by one of the lovely folk over at http://www.thetf.net/ was to use the Star Wars Transformers General Grevious Wheel Bike. Now, this guy's wheel mode is almost right, I'd need to find a way to hide those legs, and those spikes would need to come off, but this one is definitely do-able. His robot mode to quite messy looking, but again I can see it working. I think I'd probably give Scrounge a bit more of a neck, which I think Grevious is lacking. The main problem with this one, is that I can't find the bloody thing anywhere (actually, that's a lie, there's one on eBay for £40, which is silly money). If anyone sees one for cheapish, please let me know. Cheers.

My other option is to start from scratch, get the most basic TF I can find and do my best with a hammer and sellotape. This is not a good idea.

Anyway, that's just my brain thinking out loud, any help or advice you've got to offer on this subject would be great. Cheers

Fudge does art - Blitzwing

2009-01-17T13:52:00.004Z

This is Blitzwing, he's a Triple Changer from Transformers G1. I did this pic because I was going to do a Transformers Mosaic, which is like a fan-created short comic strip. But I got distracted and never got around to it. Anyway, here ya go...

Again, sorry for it looking a bit rough, I just haven't bothered tidying up the muck left by my rubbish scanner.

Fudge does art - Scrounge

2009-01-17T13:40:00.004Z

This here's Scrounge, he's an obscure Transformer from the 80's Marvel comics.

He is basically a cannon-fodder character who gets his arm ripped off, and then gets melted. Poor guy. He transforms into a wheel. Ooh.

As far as I know, noone has ever made a toy of this guy.

(Forgive the roughness of the pic, it's only a pencil sketch, I rarely get round to inking my stuff, and tend to destroy them when I get round to colouring)

A Letter to Lionel Ritchie/Parsley The Lion

2009-01-16T22:30:00.000Z

Because they are both the same person/animal (have you ever seen them in the same place?)... Do a google image search if you don't believe me.

Dear Mister Ritchie,

Hello, how are you? I am fine.
Are you related to Mrs Ritchie, who was my teacher in 1988? She was nice but bossy.
Anyway, i digest, what i actually am writting to you about is that we know you are a herbal lion off of the 70s and you can stop lying and we will destroy you if you lie you liar. Lies!
Are you related to shane ritchie? He was good in the 90s and as a fat mouse in flushed away. Are you really made of parsley and does it hurt when people put you in cauliflower cheese?
Is guy ritchie your dad? I'm sorry he broke up with madonald, as i'm sure she would have been a good mum for you. Please don't cry.
Are you rich, ritchie? I'm sure you have a few bobs and pounds and dollars and other money. Do people call you ritchie rich, like the film called richy rich with kevin off of that home alone horror film with that do you think i'm funny like a clown man. Is his dad really ted danson? That'd be cool because then kirstie alley would be your mum and she was nice before she was fat.
So, stop lion-ing (lying) about being a lie-on (lion) and we'll stop sending you packets of salt (the cure for lying) as soon as we are sure You're telling the truth.
Yours sincerely much,
fudge and the other people.
X
ps. I lost my cayenne pepper, do you have any friends you could shave some off? I will pay you 24p an ounce.

First posted on www.thetf.net
On a side-note, it was decided that this letter was to be written in the medium of Bloomen, which is a mixture of blood and semen used in all the best stalker-ish letters.

Argh! Blogger's Block!

2009-01-16T19:18:00.000Z

Hmmm... Blogger's blog sounds like a plumbing term...

Anyway, I'm having issues with my brain not being able to spout sufficient stuff to fill a blog I thought I'd take the quick and easy route for the time being and just cut n paste stuff I've previously ranted about on other sites. I'll get round to this after I've cooked tea though, we're having Chicken with pasta in tommytarter sauce. Which should be nice.

Today, Al is chuffed with himself for picking up the last copy of ASM #538 in Leeds, and plans to get it listed on eBay as quickly as possible to collect silly money off of crazy Barack OBama fans.

The Fudgeblog Is Online!

2009-01-16T13:11:00.000Z

Yay! It's a place where I can splurge the rubbish that rushes around in the hollow space behind my eyes (some people would call this a brain, but I'm a bloke, and my brain is located somewhere else)
So, this is the Fudgeblog, I am Al, and if you've not heard of me before, then you've obviously just stumbled over this site in an effort to find confectionary and bread product combinations. This is not that sort of place. Well, actually it might be, as I do tend to rant about my culinary creations occassionally, but it's not the main reason I'm spilling words out here.
Anyway, I've got other stuff to do at this exact moment (my daughter, Jess, has just finished painting and thus the kitchen is pink and needs a wipe.) but I'll be back a bit later with a bit of a rant or something equally pointless.
May the Fudge be with you.