Good morning, shite fans. I'm not normally one for openly and directly laughing at people who have been hospitalised, but one story today was just too good to pass up - Let's face it, Idiots who manage to get themselves maimed by exploding superheated cheese just deserve as much scorn as can be humanly poured upon them. Other than the usual brushes with the deliciously stupid, I've spent a good portion of my day making frequent furtive visits to SuicideGirls.com.I don't feel guilty about giving them some free advertising by linking to them because it's not like they're going to pay me for it, and that's the only reason I'd feel bad about giving them free advertising, and secondly because if you're a straight man and don't want to do at least half of the girls featured on that site, there is something wrong with you and you need something rammed through your face. It's not a porn site, it's like MySpace, but instead of incredibly annoying emo girls, you've got incredibly attractive emo girls. With their tits out. Yay. So alright, it is a porn site, and if you clicked it at work you are now unemployed.
Worth it, though, wasn't it?
First up, because I know you've been waiting a whole paragraph to find out the full story, we have the story of the exploding cheese set. Three people managed to sustain serious burns and another three received minor injuries - requiring no less than three ambulances and a team of firefighters - resulting from some unimaginable misuse of one of these. A way of hospitalising yourself and others which, frankly, makes you a retard. Please, if you find yourself physically incapable of managing a small pot full of warm cheese without physically maiming your family, might I suggest next time you try something a little less challenging to serve your guests during your holiday season parties, like jelly or a handful of grapes - seedless, of course, we don't want you choking on a pip like the knuckle-dragging moron you are. Also, if you manage to tie up what sounds like half the emergency services of Southampton with your cheese-based rampage, you should have to pay for your own skin grafts. Seriously, if I come on tomorrow typing with one hand because I've managed to blow my right arm off while making myself some toast, I'll post an apology and express my heartfelt sympathies for this family and the other unnamed victims of this warm-dairy menace. Until then they're mouth-breathing cunts.
Speaking of cunts, next up we have Joey Barton. Isn't that fun, kids? The midfielder who at Manchester City was formerly an untalented, wasteful, violent, nasty piece of work who's family have a penchant for sticking axes in the heads of black schoolchildren has since been a reformed character at Newcastle, where he has become an untalented, wasteful, violent, nasty piece of work who's family have a penchant for sticking axes in the heads of black schoolchildren. For our Joey, it seems that tens of thousands of pounds a week and countless chances afforded to him by fans, managers and chairmen alike just isn't enough. No. What our Joey wants a fight every friday night, or he just isn't satisfied with his existence. Not satisfied with attempting to blind a teammate last year, being on bail for attempting to knock out another, breaking the leg of a pedestrian while in his car and recently trying to break the leg of an opponent on the pitch, Joey has decided he felt the need to start a fight in Liverpool city center, and has now been remanded in custody and refused bail. Good. Hopefully the little shit will get locked up. Now I've got a soft spot in my heart for Liverpool, and with everywhere I've been in Britain, I've never met a nicer, more friendly group of people than Scousers, but this one is a wanker. Some people will say it's because he got too much too soon, that it's not really his fault, he's just a young man given enough money to make him think he's invincible. I say it's because he's a cock. Lock him up.
Finally, I have to congratulate the BBC on reporting something that men have known for years - stable relationships turn women off. We have known for years that women prefer to climb into bed with the bad boys that mess them around while remaining an enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a secret wrapped in a tosser, and using us decent blokes as shoulders to cry on when it all goes tits-up. Ah well, we still won't get anywhere and the wankers still will, but at least now it's science, and somehow that makes it a whole lot more comforting. Except it isn't. It's the most frustrating thing in the world to have people claim that they want a stable, loving relationship with someone only for them to go out and find some utter wanker with a BMW who treats them like shit for four months while they fall all over him, then come and cry on your shoulder when he upgrades to a different model (of girlfriend, not of BMW - at least probably; it takes all sorts, after all). If I had a penny for every time that's happened to me, I'd have £17.42, which doesn't sound much, but it's an awful lot of fucking pennies. Still, apparently only 25% of men who had been in a relationship for 10 years said they still wanted 'tenderness' from their partners. Whether that means they no longer want kissing and cuddling or that they'd rather their partner strapped them to the wall and belted them with a cat o' nine tails for three hours every evening isn't adequately described, but if it's true, then maybe we're all wankers, regardless of age, gender, race, creed or nationality. Who'd have thought it?
Anyway, fuck this, I'm going to go and kill myself with the toastie machine.
Goodnight.
Worth it, though, wasn't it?
First up, because I know you've been waiting a whole paragraph to find out the full story, we have the story of the exploding cheese set. Three people managed to sustain serious burns and another three received minor injuries - requiring no less than three ambulances and a team of firefighters - resulting from some unimaginable misuse of one of these. A way of hospitalising yourself and others which, frankly, makes you a retard. Please, if you find yourself physically incapable of managing a small pot full of warm cheese without physically maiming your family, might I suggest next time you try something a little less challenging to serve your guests during your holiday season parties, like jelly or a handful of grapes - seedless, of course, we don't want you choking on a pip like the knuckle-dragging moron you are. Also, if you manage to tie up what sounds like half the emergency services of Southampton with your cheese-based rampage, you should have to pay for your own skin grafts. Seriously, if I come on tomorrow typing with one hand because I've managed to blow my right arm off while making myself some toast, I'll post an apology and express my heartfelt sympathies for this family and the other unnamed victims of this warm-dairy menace. Until then they're mouth-breathing cunts.
Speaking of cunts, next up we have Joey Barton. Isn't that fun, kids? The midfielder who at Manchester City was formerly an untalented, wasteful, violent, nasty piece of work who's family have a penchant for sticking axes in the heads of black schoolchildren has since been a reformed character at Newcastle, where he has become an untalented, wasteful, violent, nasty piece of work who's family have a penchant for sticking axes in the heads of black schoolchildren. For our Joey, it seems that tens of thousands of pounds a week and countless chances afforded to him by fans, managers and chairmen alike just isn't enough. No. What our Joey wants a fight every friday night, or he just isn't satisfied with his existence. Not satisfied with attempting to blind a teammate last year, being on bail for attempting to knock out another, breaking the leg of a pedestrian while in his car and recently trying to break the leg of an opponent on the pitch, Joey has decided he felt the need to start a fight in Liverpool city center, and has now been remanded in custody and refused bail. Good. Hopefully the little shit will get locked up. Now I've got a soft spot in my heart for Liverpool, and with everywhere I've been in Britain, I've never met a nicer, more friendly group of people than Scousers, but this one is a wanker. Some people will say it's because he got too much too soon, that it's not really his fault, he's just a young man given enough money to make him think he's invincible. I say it's because he's a cock. Lock him up.
Finally, I have to congratulate the BBC on reporting something that men have known for years - stable relationships turn women off. We have known for years that women prefer to climb into bed with the bad boys that mess them around while remaining an enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a secret wrapped in a tosser, and using us decent blokes as shoulders to cry on when it all goes tits-up. Ah well, we still won't get anywhere and the wankers still will, but at least now it's science, and somehow that makes it a whole lot more comforting. Except it isn't. It's the most frustrating thing in the world to have people claim that they want a stable, loving relationship with someone only for them to go out and find some utter wanker with a BMW who treats them like shit for four months while they fall all over him, then come and cry on your shoulder when he upgrades to a different model (of girlfriend, not of BMW - at least probably; it takes all sorts, after all). If I had a penny for every time that's happened to me, I'd have £17.42, which doesn't sound much, but it's an awful lot of fucking pennies. Still, apparently only 25% of men who had been in a relationship for 10 years said they still wanted 'tenderness' from their partners. Whether that means they no longer want kissing and cuddling or that they'd rather their partner strapped them to the wall and belted them with a cat o' nine tails for three hours every evening isn't adequately described, but if it's true, then maybe we're all wankers, regardless of age, gender, race, creed or nationality. Who'd have thought it?
Anyway, fuck this, I'm going to go and kill myself with the toastie machine.
Goodnight.
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