Hello internet. It may come as something of a shock to you, but I'm drunk. So drunk, in fact, that I've tried to sit up to write this post four times and I've completely failed, so I'm going to write it lying down. Apologies for any spelling mistakes. To be fair, I started today by falling down the stairs and getting butter on my trousers, so I don't know why I'm in any way shocked at this particular turn of events.
Anyway. News.
After years and years of us all knowing it anyway, Scotland has officially been declared a third world country, as petrol is being shipped into the region to combat the effects of the Grangemouth refinery strike. I'm in no condition to get into the politics of the whole thing, so I'll just point and laugh at the fact the entire country seems to be in absolute fucking chaos because someone's turning off the petrol for two days. There's been panic buying and everything.
Think about it, the strike's only on for two days, and one of those days is a sunday - where the fuck are you going on a sunday that's so vitally important and so excessively far away that anything less than a full tank of petrol isn't going to be good enough to get you there? If you have anywhere you have to be that fucking urgently and that far away, well, you should have moved closer to it instead of waiting for this to happen and then panic buying over the idea that there might not be any fuel for two days.
I thoroughly expect if everybody carried on as normal and only filled up their cars when they needed to, the area would get through this crisis without even noticing, but because the government has got all these cunts running out panic buying full tanks and jerrycans of petrol, of course they're going to fucking run out. There's people supping entire petrol stations dry in case they need to drive their motorhomes to fucking Mars in the next two days.
The Have Your Say mob have gotten hold of the issue, too, but I'm fucked if I can be bothered.
I'd much rather focus on Amy Winehouse, because I'd do her, and I wouldn't fuck an oil pipeline if you paid me. Though if you're weird enough to do that I'm not sure I want you speaking to me at all. This time she's been out headbutting people at taxi ranks, which is a sad reflection of her complete mental breakdown, but hey, at least we're beating America and Britney Spears for national music figure insanity. One more feather in the crack-addled cap for Britain.
Still, you can sort of understand why she's gone insane this time, seeing as husband Blake Fielder-Civil (there's a name of a cunt if ever I heard one) has been described as 'exchanging sweet nothings' with a blonde something or other while in court on charges of assault and attempting to pervert the course of justice. So if you're single again, Amy, I'm fairly sure that more people know who I am than have a clue who Blake Fielder-Civil is, and you're no more or less mental than most of the women I've dated in the past. You'd have to limit yourself to just the crack, though, because I don't do needles.
I think what amuses me most is the fact that while the BBC has gone out of it's way to find a picture of her looking absolutely horrific, the Daily Express has gone with one where she looks downright gorgeous. Oh well, Daily Express 1, other media outlets twenty six million. They're catching up, people!
More importantly, I suppose, ten people have been injured in a motorbike accident somewhere in Scotland. Now, I don't know quite how you go about managing to injure ten people with one motorbike without at the very least falling off, but the BBC is reporting that 'more than one' person was on the motorbike at the time of the accident. Now I realise that probably means two, but wouldn't it be a great acheivement if all ten were on the motorbike, and the stupid cunts just rode into a wall of their own volition?
Think about it. It would be an achievement to get ten people on an upright motorcycle in the first place, let alone get the whole mess up to a high enough speed to cause any sort of damage. I know it's pretty unlikely but it's funny all the same. A couple of morons knocking eight other people over on a high street is just the stuff of cunts, and not quite up to the sort of comedic injury most people should inflict on themselves for my personal amusement.
Oh, and finally, there's a piece about video games ratings systems. Now right away I'm going to come out and admit I've not read it, as I'm writing this post largely off the cuff while horizontal after the brutal impact of most of a bottle of absinthe upon my mental faculties and I'm actually having quite serious trouble wrestling with the spell checker enough to keep this coherent, so I'm just assuming - quite naturally - that the piece is another rambling soundbyte-ridden piece by some cunt that wants to outlaw any video game that doesn't consist solely of colourful blobs that never lose and are always happy always, and every button you press just makes them smile.
You know, the sort of shit your parents bought you when you were a kid, and you closed every time they pissed off so you could have another go of Death Gore Aliens XIV.
I don't understand this bizarre need that some people have to ban things that are fun. I love shooting digital people, but I wouldn't shoot a real one unless he supported Chelsea, which is a crime beyond forgiveness anyway. It might be a crime, but no jury in the land would convict. There's already restrictions on buying games if you're under 18, and if your mum buys you a copy if Shit Spunk Blood Murder 4, then either you're adjusted enough to deal with it or your mother is a shit. There's no need for some preachy cunt to come along and take my shooty fun away because your stupid self couldn't handle a couple of digital decapitations, or you're eight years old and your mother was stupid enough to buy you a copy of a game with a picture of a disemboweled zombie eating a baby on the front. Piss off, the lot of you.
Anyway, that's about it. The room is spinning at a decidedly unhealthy angle and I'm going to close my eyes and go to sleep now. Right after I have what feels like the largest piss ever undertaken by a human being. I might even be sick a bit, just to complete the evening. We'll wait and see, and if you're lucky enough I might tell you tomorrow.
Goodnight.
Anyway. News.
After years and years of us all knowing it anyway, Scotland has officially been declared a third world country, as petrol is being shipped into the region to combat the effects of the Grangemouth refinery strike. I'm in no condition to get into the politics of the whole thing, so I'll just point and laugh at the fact the entire country seems to be in absolute fucking chaos because someone's turning off the petrol for two days. There's been panic buying and everything.
Think about it, the strike's only on for two days, and one of those days is a sunday - where the fuck are you going on a sunday that's so vitally important and so excessively far away that anything less than a full tank of petrol isn't going to be good enough to get you there? If you have anywhere you have to be that fucking urgently and that far away, well, you should have moved closer to it instead of waiting for this to happen and then panic buying over the idea that there might not be any fuel for two days.
I thoroughly expect if everybody carried on as normal and only filled up their cars when they needed to, the area would get through this crisis without even noticing, but because the government has got all these cunts running out panic buying full tanks and jerrycans of petrol, of course they're going to fucking run out. There's people supping entire petrol stations dry in case they need to drive their motorhomes to fucking Mars in the next two days.
The Have Your Say mob have gotten hold of the issue, too, but I'm fucked if I can be bothered.
I'd much rather focus on Amy Winehouse, because I'd do her, and I wouldn't fuck an oil pipeline if you paid me. Though if you're weird enough to do that I'm not sure I want you speaking to me at all. This time she's been out headbutting people at taxi ranks, which is a sad reflection of her complete mental breakdown, but hey, at least we're beating America and Britney Spears for national music figure insanity. One more feather in the crack-addled cap for Britain.
Still, you can sort of understand why she's gone insane this time, seeing as husband Blake Fielder-Civil (there's a name of a cunt if ever I heard one) has been described as 'exchanging sweet nothings' with a blonde something or other while in court on charges of assault and attempting to pervert the course of justice. So if you're single again, Amy, I'm fairly sure that more people know who I am than have a clue who Blake Fielder-Civil is, and you're no more or less mental than most of the women I've dated in the past. You'd have to limit yourself to just the crack, though, because I don't do needles.
I think what amuses me most is the fact that while the BBC has gone out of it's way to find a picture of her looking absolutely horrific, the Daily Express has gone with one where she looks downright gorgeous. Oh well, Daily Express 1, other media outlets twenty six million. They're catching up, people!
More importantly, I suppose, ten people have been injured in a motorbike accident somewhere in Scotland. Now, I don't know quite how you go about managing to injure ten people with one motorbike without at the very least falling off, but the BBC is reporting that 'more than one' person was on the motorbike at the time of the accident. Now I realise that probably means two, but wouldn't it be a great acheivement if all ten were on the motorbike, and the stupid cunts just rode into a wall of their own volition?
Think about it. It would be an achievement to get ten people on an upright motorcycle in the first place, let alone get the whole mess up to a high enough speed to cause any sort of damage. I know it's pretty unlikely but it's funny all the same. A couple of morons knocking eight other people over on a high street is just the stuff of cunts, and not quite up to the sort of comedic injury most people should inflict on themselves for my personal amusement.
Oh, and finally, there's a piece about video games ratings systems. Now right away I'm going to come out and admit I've not read it, as I'm writing this post largely off the cuff while horizontal after the brutal impact of most of a bottle of absinthe upon my mental faculties and I'm actually having quite serious trouble wrestling with the spell checker enough to keep this coherent, so I'm just assuming - quite naturally - that the piece is another rambling soundbyte-ridden piece by some cunt that wants to outlaw any video game that doesn't consist solely of colourful blobs that never lose and are always happy always, and every button you press just makes them smile.
You know, the sort of shit your parents bought you when you were a kid, and you closed every time they pissed off so you could have another go of Death Gore Aliens XIV.
I don't understand this bizarre need that some people have to ban things that are fun. I love shooting digital people, but I wouldn't shoot a real one unless he supported Chelsea, which is a crime beyond forgiveness anyway. It might be a crime, but no jury in the land would convict. There's already restrictions on buying games if you're under 18, and if your mum buys you a copy if Shit Spunk Blood Murder 4, then either you're adjusted enough to deal with it or your mother is a shit. There's no need for some preachy cunt to come along and take my shooty fun away because your stupid self couldn't handle a couple of digital decapitations, or you're eight years old and your mother was stupid enough to buy you a copy of a game with a picture of a disemboweled zombie eating a baby on the front. Piss off, the lot of you.
Anyway, that's about it. The room is spinning at a decidedly unhealthy angle and I'm going to close my eyes and go to sleep now. Right after I have what feels like the largest piss ever undertaken by a human being. I might even be sick a bit, just to complete the evening. We'll wait and see, and if you're lucky enough I might tell you tomorrow.
Goodnight.
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