Brilliant comment by one Guy Reid-Brown on Daily Mail columnist Peter Hitchens' blog:
I have noticed an actual, real, persistent lowering of the intelligence amongst people now... I recognise that the South-East is considerably further down the line then most other places but it is appalling that so much 'conversation' sounds like Cavemen in an early Hammer film, almost devoid of consonants - 'uh, oh-eh ih' - but recognisably full of hate and deadness.
The Teletubbies summed it all up really - visually interchangeable creatures with screens in their stomachs (a perfect visual metaphor) living on an evil hill with a scary chuckling baby in place of the sun and communicating in incomprehensible vowel sounds.
It WOULD be the BBC that originated this - inevitable somehow.
Anne was given some 'of the most popular games' (ie. a selection of games with significant amounts of adult content, chosen totally at random by some Mail researcher) to play and report on. She gives Resident Evil 4 a particular kicking:
Then again, I'm not sure Anne's really in any position to be making moral judgements. Why? Because she's a witch:
I don't know what kind of sinister arcane powers are work in that photo, making those games semi-disappear. But whatever powers are at work, this kind of witchcraft can only be bad for you.
I was quite amused to find that a picture included in the article of two children playing Mario Kart 64 on an old Nintendo 64 had the filename 'spoiltkid'. Yeah, I bet those little bastards are being spoilt to shit, sat there playing a ten-year-old game.
Also in today's Mail was an advert for this thing:
Only £7.90! It's called a Scare Cat and you use it to scare cats away from your garden. It made me laugh, it looks like the least intimidating thing ever. I can imagine my own cats just wandering up to it and making friends with it - that's what happened when we got a vaguely realistic fake cat to see how they'd react. I'd save the money for something else - maybe you could put it towards your next video game purchase, although make sure it's not something with violence in or Anne Diamond might cry.
The people who write The Mail on Sunday's Live magazine are obviously every bit as nice as the people who write the main publication:
Ugly bands seem to be in vogue these days - have you ever heard of Hot Chip? - and new nerd-rock hopefuls Foals aren't breaking the mould.
What's that? You want to make music but you don't satisfy some journalist's subjective criteria on what makes someone attractive? You've got a fucking nerve, haven't you? People like you make me sick. Ugh... I'm so disgusted by your sheer arrogant audacity I can barely type with the rage - so I'm going to stop, and hope that by the time I log back on to this blog all you ugly musicians will have found some simple human decency and killed yourselves.
I'm back at home for the Easter holiday, which means I'm stuck with the Daily Mail for five weeks. Anyway, today Amanda's sticking up for Delia Smith:
BBC chef Simon Rimmer attacks Delia Smith for using frozen mash potato in her quick shepherd's pie.
"It's the easiest thing in the world," he says, "just boil the spuds, drain them and mash with butter."
Yes, Simon, and who buys the spuds and lugs them home in the first place and who peels them?
[continues...]
I don't know Amanda, but given that he's the professional cook in the household I imagine it might be him. After all, if he let his wife go out to get the potatoes for the mash she'd probably end up buying ones meant for chipping, the daft cow. Women, eh?
Oh, and Amanda? Most people don't 'lug' their potatoes home, they put them in the sodding car and drive them back, you pillock. Have you spent your whole life dragging sacks of potatoes down the street Amanda? Have you? Do you arrive back at the house at 8PM, exhausted, your irate husband waiting for his tea? Does he get angry, Amanda? Does he beat you? Yes? Good. All is well.
So it looks like the BBC are starting to get a bit worried that, y'know, maybe the Daily Mail's been right all along and, like, the BBC really is, like, all left-wing and PC and that. Thus in an apparent attempt to appease all those Daily Mail sorts, they've come up with a new 'White' season, based around the question 'Is white working class Britain becoming invisible?'.
And as if expressing that question through words isn't enough, their website also expresses it with a lovely image:
It's like, OMG, all those evil darkies have, like, drawn on that guy's face. Or something.
But, alas, the BBC haven't managed to please everyone. Daily Mail columnist Amanda Platell isn't happy:
A new TV series aims to give a voice to the "forgotten" working class.
I long for the day a similar treatise is aired on the forgotten middle class - who've been bled dry by Labour, held in contempt by the BBC and mocked by the liberal elite, while providing the backbone of this nation's success. Don't hold your breath.
Imagine if the BBC did do a series of programmes on the white middle class though. If all middle class people are like the twats on the Daily Mail website then they'd probably end up with drama programmes looking like this:
[A MAN is stood in a room]
MAN: Look at me! I'm a white middle man and I'm so hard fucking done by! Boo twatting hoo, everyone hates me and I'm such a victim! Waa! Waa!
[The MAN gracelessly flops to the floor and begins to beat it with his fists, all the while shrieking like a six-month old child]
Yeah, looks shit doesn't it? Perhaps, instead of coming up with shite ideas for TV, Amanda should occupy herself with something more constructive like, I dunno, toppling down a set of stairs while I watch from the top, a cold gleam in my eye, watch her her tumble like a ragdoll until she lies still at the bottom, her neck broken, her eyes glazed and dead. I don't like Amanda Platell. Can you tell?
I just found this gem in the Daily Mail's coverage of the earthquake that happened in the early hours of the morning:
John Jenkin, from Bourne in Lincolnshire, was woken by the tremors and said that objects had fallen from shelves.
He said: "I was woken up. It was hell."
That's it. I haven't taken it out of context, that's all it says about John Jenkin. Since when has objects falling from shelves been a hellish experience? I mean if there was a special circle of hell for OCD sufferers then maybe I could understand, but my copy of Dante's Inferno indicates that no such thing exists. Perhaps John Jenkin needs to get a grip?
I haven't posted over Christmas, although that doesn't seem to have damaged the number of hits I've had. Hope you all had a lovely Christmas. And what comes after Christmas? Why sales of course!
Have you seen Currys' sale adverts? You should have done - there are bloody loads of them. They're all based around Alexa, the 'Head of Sales'. I've decided that Alexa is a filthy depraved bitch, largely due to the advert that you can view thanks to the advert viewing thing below:
I'm not sure I've ever seen such a short advert so packed with innuendo. I mean it doesn't start well with her saying "a good workout" in a slightly suggestive voice, but at least she's talking about something abstract. It all goes downhill from here. We get told about "top-of-the-range Dysons - with extra tools!". Lord knows what extra 'functions' those tools will allow Alexa to perform with her new Dyson. It doesn't bear thinking about.
The advert ends with Alexa repeating her slogan with a shifty look on her face: "If it's not really low, I don't want to know". I hope for the sake of human decency as a whole that Alexa does not apply this mantra to all aspects of her life. Particularly her sex life. "What's that? You want to have ordinary, regular sex? On a bed? You don't know me very well, do you? Remember: if it's not really low, I don't want to know. I want you to smear me in piss and shit and get a Premiership football team to come and roast me whilst a tramp injects me with cheap heroin. That's me. That's the real Alexa." "But... um... I'm not sure I... I... I think I'm going to go now." "No! No, wait! Oh. He's gone. Oh well, I least I have White Lightning. I'll always have White Lightning."
In other news, 70 people have joined a Facebook group. Yeah, that's right. This is news apparently. Or at least it is according to the Daily Mail. Look: link.
Mobile phone users are protesting after their network ditched a well-spoken middle-aged woman as its official voice - and replaced her with the "matey" tones of a much younger woman.
Then, further down:
Already, more than 70 people have signed up to [a] forum, called Bring Back The Original Orange Answerphone Woman, on the internet networking site Facebook.
On it, Ms Gibson's voice has been described as "squeaky", "matey", "annoying" and "patronising" and one customer asked: "Is it unnormal to be this irritated by a voicemail voice?"
I think you'll find it's 'abnormal'. And, to be honest, yes it is. Seriously, is this all it takes to get in a national newspaper these days? Because I'm pretty sure I could conjure up a 70-strong group on Facebook. In fact there are lots of groups on Facebook with more than 70 members. Here are some: 'The Anti-Daily Mail Coalition' (9002 members), 'The Daily Mail really are a bunch of fucking twats' (6692), 'Fuck the Daily Mail!' (607), 'Daily Mail Hating Feminazis From Hell' (241) and 'I'd rather chew my own nipples off than buy the Daily Mail' (111). I wonder if we'll be seeing a story about those sometime soon in the Mail...
You have to wonder about some of the people employed by the Daily Mail. Specifically, the guy who writes its games reviews, James O'Brien. Take his review of Super Mario Galaxy, which begins:
"Anyone with a passing interest in video games must, at some point, have engaged in a relationship with Mario."
Um... 'kay. 'Relationship'? 'Engaged'? I mean... what does this mean? Do we want to know? I'm slightly frightened. Apparently:
"As with any... the relationship with the fat, little Italian plumber will have had its highs and lows"
I kind of worry about the quality of Mr. O'Brien's interpersonal relationships, after all, he's just described someone who, in his own words, he has been "engaged in a relationship with" as 'fat' and 'little'. That's not very nice. No wonder there've been 'lows'.
I can't imagine his wife would be very happy being called those things. There again, he's probably not married, just in a civil partnership with a cardboard cut-out of Mario he stole from a shop. After all, despite being 'fat' and 'little', he does have other qualities. Like being a plumber. I bet he earns shitloads when he's not off saving princesses.
Well I'm at home now, and that means that, once again, I have to tolerate the Daily Mail. So, once again, I'm exposed to the evil of Jonathan Cainer. Here's the start of today's 'scope for us Leos:
When my children were younger, they had a favourite theme park ride. They each got to sit in a little car with a steering wheel to turn and a horn to honk.
Um... OK. An irrelevant but seemingly benign anecdote. But next...
They felt as if they were in control of their vehicle. Only they weren't. The whole thing was being pulled along a track. For them, ignorance was bliss.
The horoscope was starting to seem increasingly suspicious. Why would Jonathan start lecturing us about 'control'? Maybe... just maybe... Jonathan is brainwashing people using mind control...?
None of us minds living in a fantasy when we feel good, but none of us likes to give more energy than we must to an unnecessary worry. This week, something is bugging you. There is no need to let it.
Ah... and now it all comes clear. Jonathan Cainer's evil plan for world domination has entered its implementation phase and he has begun to use mind control against the nation... but his technique has not yet been perfected, and the people can sense that something is wrong. Cainer's horoscope is trying to throw us off the scent! Or... or maybe... just maybe... I'm being slightly... ever so slightly... paranoid...
I wasn't even going to post today, but look: two whole posts!
Anyway, I ended up stumbling onto the Daily Express website and decided to check my horoscope while I was there. Would "Britain's best astrologer", Justin Topper, a crazy-haired bastard be up to the standard of dastardly Daily Mail astrologer Jonathan Cainer?
Let's have a look what my 'scope said:
You don't seem too bothered by your surroundings today. If anything, you should have more space to develop a relationship, and even plan a trip. Make the most of it, because there is no such thing as a free ticket. In fact, you're better off not moving.
This is just insane. I'm constantly bothered by my surroundings, that's bollocks. Everyone cares about their surroundings, it's why we don't live in houses with massive piles of shit piled in every room. And I'm somehow supposed to develop a relationship and plan a trip without even leaving my chair! Madness.
I wonder how many people agreed that they were "better off not moving" today and instead decided to sit around in a massive puddle of their own piss. Well considering Justin's audience is Daily Express readers, probably a surprisingly large number...
If there's one series of adverts that I absolutely, utterly despise then it's this one:
That's right, it's the adverts for fucking Coke Zero. Where do I even begin?
The whole thing seems to bring up memories of 1930s/1940s fascism (not that I was alive then, but, y'know collective memories). What's going on with the main guy, who's like a cross between a blackshirt and an Ayran wet dream? What's going on with the first guy he meets up with, who bears a passing resemblance to Adolf Hilter? The crowds and the big banner at the end look like some kind of Nazi rally. It's fucking weird.
And it's not just the appearance of these sub-normal looking freaks that bothers me, it's what they're saying as well. I swear the marking people who created this went "what demographic are we aiming at?", and came up with "Daily Mail readers". Ugh. Why are all of their problems so irritatingly tedious and trivial? "[What about] workmates - without the work!" cries one. Yes, that'll work in our consumer capitalist society you absolute fucking moron! I mean seriously, does that guy have shit for brains?! Work isn't great, but it's better than the alternative - living in a cold damp cave, smeared in your own shit, finding food and then beating it to death with a big stick, all because society basically doesn't exist. Stupid twat.
And if they aren't bitching about work then they're bitching about women, in a desperately misogynistic fashion. "Girlfriends - without five year plan", "bras - without the fumbling"... I bet the writers were longing to include something like "women - without the ability to say 'no'" or some such bollocks. I mean let's be honest, most of the men on that advert looked and sounded as though their interactions with women exclusively revolved around: 1) looking at a screen, 2) frantic masturbation, and 3) dying inside, bit by bit.
But it doesn't end there, they did follow-up adverts as well (the fucks). Here's one of them: link. It honestly makes me despair to think that a young man would actually give so much of a shit about someone playing 'somewhat loud' music in their 'car'. Twat. I occasionally have nightmares where that guy goes "what if all good things could come without the downsides? Like this country - without the black people!" Well, I don't really, but if I did then that'd be the kind of bollocks he'd be coming up with. The knob.
But, sadly, the ordeal still isn't over. They did more adverts with fucking Wayne Rooney. Witness. Mind you, I'd quite like to see spiky metal balls become a part of football. I'm sure there's a joke about footballers' sexual shenanigans there, but I can't be bothered to make it.
So there you go, pretty much the worst advertising campaign ever. At least unless they start trying to flog Fanta with images of starving African children with AIDS being decapitated by piano wire. The bastards.
I was going to make a horribly offensive joke comparing this incident with Steve Irwin's death. I actually wrote the post but chickened out because it was just a bit horrible and not actually funny. But then I glanced at the website again and noticed something weird.
As you may have noticed, the site I looked at was the Newsround website. But if you look at the column on the right, you can see this:
Seriously, how many stories of shark related violence does a kid need? We've got enough problems with kids without them trying to happy-slap sharks. I wonder how many kids have been unable to sleep after going on the Newsround website, crying that 'the sharks' are going to 'get them'?
Looks the like Daily Mail has been right all along, the BBC are evil fucks.
More news on the Jonathan Cainer front (for those not in the know, I suspect him of having an evil plot to take over the world, see here and here). Anyway, I was in a pub and noticed a copy of the world's great newspaper (if you're a Nazi), the Daily Mail. Flicking over to Cainer's horoscopes section I noticed the following:
Historic heads of state have openly asked astrologers when to start campaigns. In recent times, though, prime ministers and presidents have had to hold clandestine consultations. In the Eighties, for example, the Gorbachev-Reagan summits were timed to tie in with major planetary alignments. These were a great success, but when the truth about the cosmic connection came out, Reagan was embarrassed. Great leaders, though, still like to know what their stars say. On Friday, I advised Gordon Brown against an election. On Saturday, he dropped the idea. Gordon, if you're reading, I'll give you more advice tomorrow.
So Cainer is already giving 'advice' to Gordon Brown. If we assume the worst (life's more interesting that way), Gordon Brown has been brainwashed by some kind of evil mind-machine and Cainer is now calling the shots. Cainer now has the keys to the UK. The world is doomed!
If you cast your minds back to this post, you'll remember that I suspect astrologer Jonathan Cainer of having an evil plan to take over the Earth. Well apparently Cainer is taking his plan to the next level.
A week ago Jonathan stated in his 'Thought for the Day' that "next week, I will have a special announcement to make about a momentous change in the celestial situation". Apparently it was the calm before the storm and "we might consider it the grand finale before the new and gentle dawning of a different era". An era where you reign supreme over the entire world Cainer, you evil star-gazing freak? He continues: "Soon, whether we choose it or not, we will find that change comes into all our lives. That’s something to embrace, not fear". Speak for yourself Jonathan, I'm terrified - because you're going to enslave me!
A few days later I came across this disturbing letter:
Hi Jonathan, My friend, who is very spiritual, constantly refers to the great change which is going to happen later this month when the Earth moves into the fourth dimension. I have not had a coherent explanation of what that really means. Do you have any insights you can share? Freddie
They say we will enter the fifth dimension in 2012. I suppose it makes sense to visit the fourth first. At that rate, we'll be ready for the sixth in about 2017. Whether any of us will notice that these vital changes have occurred, though... is a moot point.
You'll have realised by now that, of course, these 'vital changes' post-2012 are moot points because by this time Cainer will have us all under his evil thrall and we'll be too docile to care. Perhaps the vital changes in 2012 and 2017 will involve some sort of ethnic cleansing - it takes time to build death-camps after all.
At the moment Cainer is in the Middle East, visiting historic sites whilst researching his book on "a powerful ancient prophecy". Does this ancient prophecy mention anything about a well-known astrologer gaining dominion o'er the Earth, perhaps?
I'm worried. I don't know exactly how Jonathan intends to take over our minds. But he's going to do it, and he's going to do it soon. Lock your doors - otherwise... um... he might come into your house at night and rummage around your cutlery draws... perhaps.
I was flicking through some stuff in my room and found two articles from the Daily Mail from the Christmas period that I’d forgotten to tell anyone about.
Anyway, it transpired that a new wave of destruction and chaos was sweeping the nation. People were dying, cities were being razed to the ground. The cause? E-cards, the new Anti-Christ in our Satanic digital world. Or at least that was kind of the idea.
The article looked like this:
Apparently 2006 was “the year of the ‘e-card’, tacky electronic messages which are threatening to replace our traditional Christmas cards.” I couldn’t help but think the word ‘threatening’ made the idea of e-cards seem unduly aggressive, as if angry fundamentalist e-cards might be about to fly planes into high buildings at any moment.
The Mail went on: “Gone are the days of individual messages on pretty cards that could be placed on the mantelpiece.” I, of course, used to spend hours every Christmas carefully crafting individual cards to send to people. If I made a card and it wasn’t a creation of utter beauty, I burned it and began again. Eventually I became so anxious about creating perfect cards that I began to self-harm because sending out ‘pretty cards’ bothered me that fucking much. Except that I’m lying my fucking face off and actually I’ve always just bought a generic card from a generic shop and shoved a few names in it. Just like everybody fucking else.
Apparently ex-TV presenter Joan Bakewell (who?) was fucking outraged: “E-cards are totally unsatisfactory… after Christmas I sit down with all the cards and read them through. It’s a type of Christmas post-mortem which gives you a chance to really think about the people you care about. An e-card could simply never achieve that.” ‘Post-mortem?’ Well sorry Joan, but I think I’d prefer to get advice about Christmas from someone who doesn’t compare reading some cards with dicing up a cold rotting corpse with a scalpel. You fucking freak.
The article finishes with: “What used to be a genuine and touching gesture has become a minor Christmas task – or, worse, just another marketing tool.” Yes, the days when we openly wept with heartbursting joy at receiving a mass-produced piece of cardboard are over. Oh fucking no.
The second article was just as bad. It’s probably best if you just look at the thing:
That’s right, not only did eBay steal Christmas but it made an innocent baby cry by dressing it in the most hideous outfit the world has never seen. But is Lorraine Fisher really the best person to be dishing out judgement on eBay sellers? Let’s take a closer look at her:
Let’s be honest, she looks as if she’s not only stolen Christmas but thrown its kids underneath a train while it looks on, helpless. Not really surprising considering she writes for the Mail…
There was a two-page spread in the paper today, written by astrologist Jonathan Cainer. Mr. Cainer was apparently revealing how a new comet will affect everyone’s love life in the coming year. Losing my common sense for a few minutes I actually read the thing (I’m a Leo in case there are any freakish web perverts out there who get a kick out of finding out complete stranger’s star-signs – there, I kindly sorted your daily wank out, aren’t I nice?).
Anyhoo, I was somewhat suspicious of the advice I was given to say the least. Apparently, “when we’re watching TV, we can change channels. Our personal dramas don’t normally offer that option. Or do they?”.
“Change channels?” I thought to myself. “What is Jonathan suggesting?”
I read on. Jonathan went on to tell me: “You’ll have to ask if you are prepared to live according to ‘how things really feel’ as opposed to ‘how you think they really ought to feel’… Something amazing is about to be released inside you… you begin to be the person you were always born to be.”
Perhaps I was getting the wrong end of Jonathan Cainer’s nutcase stick, but I began to suspect that Cainer was suggesting that I (and by extension a twelfth of the population) should turn gay in this coming year. This seemed somewhat major advice to be giving out to a whole twelfth of the population, and I began to wonder whether this was some time of bizarre mind control ploy by Cainer.
I wasn’t sure what the motive of this twisted social engineering was, but the conspiracy theorist long hidden within the depths of my mind began to have a few ideas. Perhaps this was some kind of attempt by Cainer to gradually become master of the world. Maybe he intended to start small, suggesting that people buy a pot plant perhaps, before working up to the bigger stuff – getting a divorce, or ‘changing channels’. After a while we would be so under Jonathan’s spell that we would barely notice when he took his throne as the Overlord of the entire planet.
But then I released that I was probably talking shit, so I went and watched some TV.
Speaking of which, the hoodie that Jamie Oliver wears in the new Sainsbury adverts makes him look fat. I found this particularly ironic (although should I be bitching about things like that? Perhaps I’ve ‘changed channels’ already?).
A belated Happy New Year, readers. And Leos, don’t forget to ‘change the channel’!
I had a great idea yesterday. Y'know those new straw things that they have, the magic ones that turn milk into milkshake because they have rocks of milkshake stuff in? Well, how about having ones where instead of milkshake stuff they have crack cocaine inside? Now you can enjoy milk with the great taste of crack! It'd get children drinking milk for life anyway...
Oh, and Apple unveiled a new iPhone yesterday too. But some Daily Mail readers (surprise, surprise) aren't so happy about this: LINK
Guess which reader comment was planted there by a certain someone... the initials should be a clue.
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