I have spent much of the past week locked in a mausoleum of my own inadequacy. This is becuase I have spent most of my new found free time watching shows such as ten years younger and extreme makeover. I now realise that any unfullfilled aspirations or ambitions I have remain unfulfilled and not fully realised, tangable elements of my life because of how I look. And only Trinny and Susannah can help me.
The problem with these kind of lifestyle makeover shows is precisely that, they are not lifestyle shows, but makeover shows and are as shallow and superficial as that entails. They are dressed up as psychologically healing, when all they really do is give members of the public a nice shirt and a new hat. It's a symptom of our heat magazine obsessed, celebrity culture that we now believe that any problems you hve can be solved simply by the edradication of cellulite, well they cant. But these shows will make a damn good effort to make you believe that.
The most grating aspect about this is not the fact they are makeover shows, as no one can deny that by improving a persons percieved physical inadequacy you can help improve their quality of life- it's the voyeuristic way in which they go about it. They take an almost sadisdic pleasure in pointing out the contestants flaws, while people at home look on smugly, commenting how awful they all look- you thought you had bingo wings grandma well take a look at this fatty. The contestants, while getting a complete physical makeover, will probably remain the simmering ball of resentment and self loathing they were before, while theres no telling what the trauma of having their greatest physical imperfections pointed out on a beach of chuckling holiday makers on national T.V will have done to their all ready fragile psyche. The likes of Gillian Mckeeth and Trinny and Susannah have turned British day time T.V into a hellish carnival of perpetual resentment and are applauded for it. Really, they should be made pariahs and treated with the same moral outrage we reserve for rapists, peadophiles an the elderly, but instead they are treated like samaritans. We should string their carcasses up and spit on them like Mussolini, but even if their popularity did take an alarming nose dive to the level of a fascist dictator all they would have to do is appear on ITV's next celebrity sing a along and all would be forgiven. And they would make the cover of heat magazine.
Thursday, 7 August 2008
Tuesday, 29 July 2008
Why are footballers so bad at life?
Following the news that Liverpool have signed Robbie Keane to partner Fernando Torres for what no doubt will be an electrifying start to the season; seeing Liverpool hammer Stoke or someone 6 - 0 and proclaiming Torres and Keane the greatest partnership since God met Moses, then inevitably tapering off around Christmas time when everyone gets injured before finishing 4th and bemoaning the lack of funds that meant they couldn't compete with Manchester Utd, Chelsea, and erm, Arsenal, I found some interesting facts about Mr Keane from the Liverpool website, the most interesting being:
According to his page on Bebo.com Robbie loves listening to music and picks out Blink 182, Robbie Williams, Ronan Keating and Eminem as some of his favourite artists.
and
When he's not leading the line on the football pitch Keane likes to relax with a good film and picks out Braveheart, The Shawshank Redemption, Shrek, Saw 2 and Liar Liar as some of his favourites.
Of course I use the term interesting tenuously as, much like Mr Keane himself, these facts are not remotely interesting, but they do bring up one salient point: outside of football, footballers are no good at anything. Given the freedom to choose from all the music artists in the history of music he chose Ronan Keating, having Ronan Keating as your favourite at anything is like having a favourite type of door handle or a fondness for a cardboard box- he is teeth gindingly bad, he is, simply put, the musical equivelant of Alan Titchmarsch. But lets not stop there, Mr Keane's choice of films is equally as mundane, the shawshank redemption aside he has chosen Braveheart - which has and always will be shit, Saw 2 - which isn't even the best film in the Saw franchise, let alone anything else and Liar Liar. Liar Liar! Quite how a bog standard Jim Carey comedy in which even Jim Carey looks bored can be any ones favourite film is, quite frankly, baffling. One can only assume he finds the premise of someone being forced to tell the truth as incredulous as, for a footballer, that would be impossible ("you're right your honour I can only describe our relationship as statutory rape.") It is obvious that outside football footballer's are simply incapable of operating in a normal capacity, from Rio Ferdinand's continued and indelible belief that he is the saviour of hip hop to Joey Barton's indescribable hatred for anything other than himself, it is apparant that footballers cannot operate anywhere other than on a football pitch. Which is why, after they retire, rather than watching them set up hundreds of record labels or become pundits and demonstrate of breathtaking lack of understanding on a game they have just spent the best part of three decades playing or believing themselves to be the second comming of christ and the first comming of Bono, we should just shoot them, you know, they shoot horses don't they and I like horses, it doesn't seem fair. It worked in Logans Run it can work for us, it's the 21st century- the future is now people!
According to his page on Bebo.com Robbie loves listening to music and picks out Blink 182, Robbie Williams, Ronan Keating and Eminem as some of his favourite artists.
and
When he's not leading the line on the football pitch Keane likes to relax with a good film and picks out Braveheart, The Shawshank Redemption, Shrek, Saw 2 and Liar Liar as some of his favourites.
Of course I use the term interesting tenuously as, much like Mr Keane himself, these facts are not remotely interesting, but they do bring up one salient point: outside of football, footballers are no good at anything. Given the freedom to choose from all the music artists in the history of music he chose Ronan Keating, having Ronan Keating as your favourite at anything is like having a favourite type of door handle or a fondness for a cardboard box- he is teeth gindingly bad, he is, simply put, the musical equivelant of Alan Titchmarsch. But lets not stop there, Mr Keane's choice of films is equally as mundane, the shawshank redemption aside he has chosen Braveheart - which has and always will be shit, Saw 2 - which isn't even the best film in the Saw franchise, let alone anything else and Liar Liar. Liar Liar! Quite how a bog standard Jim Carey comedy in which even Jim Carey looks bored can be any ones favourite film is, quite frankly, baffling. One can only assume he finds the premise of someone being forced to tell the truth as incredulous as, for a footballer, that would be impossible ("you're right your honour I can only describe our relationship as statutory rape.") It is obvious that outside football footballer's are simply incapable of operating in a normal capacity, from Rio Ferdinand's continued and indelible belief that he is the saviour of hip hop to Joey Barton's indescribable hatred for anything other than himself, it is apparant that footballers cannot operate anywhere other than on a football pitch. Which is why, after they retire, rather than watching them set up hundreds of record labels or become pundits and demonstrate of breathtaking lack of understanding on a game they have just spent the best part of three decades playing or believing themselves to be the second comming of christ and the first comming of Bono, we should just shoot them, you know, they shoot horses don't they and I like horses, it doesn't seem fair. It worked in Logans Run it can work for us, it's the 21st century- the future is now people!
Thursday, 26 June 2008
The hip-hop-a happening
I've been thinking lately about what sort of content I should have in my blog, as at the moment its merely a hotchpot of drunk ramblings and delirious conspiracy theories. I was thinking there should be some kind of theme or I could use the power of the internet to help right personal injustices, use my corner of cyberspace to, in some small way, help defeat age old prejudices and inequalities. I could use this blog to offer a message of peace and understanding and that, hopefully, others will read it and join in on my quest and realize that we as human beings are a shared consciousness and that the internet is the embodiment of that and, by utilizing its full potential we can grow as a species; cast aside of notions of identity that have caused countless wars and atrocities and move forward into a higher state of being. Then I thought fuck it, I wanna talk about films.
I saw the happening the other day and it is hands down the worst film I have seen in years, it's actually the worst film I've seen since Dreamcatcher(Although that still remains the worst film I have ever seen, it's so monumental in it's shiteness that it should be preserved and held in museums so future generations can compare it to other failures such as the Titanic when thinking about the follys of man) Everything about the film is wrong, it's poorly acted, poorly written and left me feeling quite poorly. The basic plot is that flowers are turning against humans due to our constant growth and economic development and as we are encroaching upon them they are releasing a chemical into the air that makes us kill ourselves. It's a bit like day of the triffids but shit. And stupid. M Night Shymalan's films have got progressively worse, and while I thought he could never, ever top the big steaming pile of cackhandidness that was the village, he has managed it. If he keeps going at his current rate in another three or four years he will create a film of such truly magnificent awfulness, so terribly, unfathomably bad that we as a human race will stop. Then the plants really will take over as Mr Shymalan would have managed to turn everyone who watched it into a vegetable. Which would be fitting as its a twist ending so contrived and stupid, it's worthy of one of his films.
I saw the happening the other day and it is hands down the worst film I have seen in years, it's actually the worst film I've seen since Dreamcatcher(Although that still remains the worst film I have ever seen, it's so monumental in it's shiteness that it should be preserved and held in museums so future generations can compare it to other failures such as the Titanic when thinking about the follys of man) Everything about the film is wrong, it's poorly acted, poorly written and left me feeling quite poorly. The basic plot is that flowers are turning against humans due to our constant growth and economic development and as we are encroaching upon them they are releasing a chemical into the air that makes us kill ourselves. It's a bit like day of the triffids but shit. And stupid. M Night Shymalan's films have got progressively worse, and while I thought he could never, ever top the big steaming pile of cackhandidness that was the village, he has managed it. If he keeps going at his current rate in another three or four years he will create a film of such truly magnificent awfulness, so terribly, unfathomably bad that we as a human race will stop. Then the plants really will take over as Mr Shymalan would have managed to turn everyone who watched it into a vegetable. Which would be fitting as its a twist ending so contrived and stupid, it's worthy of one of his films.
Knocking off a crafty one.
I was asked yesterday why my blog never updated, and it got me thinking. Yes, I am lazy and, yes, I'm not terribly interesting, but that's not it, not it at all. The reason my blog is hardly updated is because of an abusive father; the father abuses us all- time. I'm not aging in a horrifically rapid sense like Robin Williams in Jack, or, indeed, Amy Winehouse in real life, I just simply dont have the time becuase of work. I work 8 hours a day and when I get home I simply can't be arsed, not becuase my job is particularly hard or fulfilling, but because I've wiled away my hours indulging in one natures great pleasures- the solo high five. Knocking one out at work is great! Not least becuase it fills in five or so minutes of your day but becuase you are literally spunking over the man. You feel like a rebel, like your jizz is a white hot blast of defiance right over the hand that feeds. Try it. The other day I even managed to knock out a mind boggling and hand numbing three hand shandies before lunch, causing my boss to enquire whether I was feeling okay- little did he know I was literally spanking away the company doller all over imagined trysts with Cheryl Tweedy( not cole) and Kelly Brook, the spunk nuggett. So there, I suggest trying knocking one out at work, Steve McQueen would do it if he was you. I would go on, but I'm sure you can appreciate it's difficult typing with one hand.
Thursday, 14 February 2008
Half Term Blues.
Half Term Blues.
If you live in Britain then sometime this month you may have experienced the unsettling natural phenomenon known as half term, where the bleak pessimism of Britain's future generation is no longer something you read in the newspaper but something you bump in to on the street- chewing in your face, trying to bum a fag, and speaking in an indecipherable pseudo-text dialect known as slang. These unfortunate beings lurch towards you, looking like a particularly gruesome extra from Dawn of the Dead, asking if you can buy them a bottle of white lightning. It's worrying to think that they were once the apples of their mothers’ eyes. In hindsight, these particular apples were the type that were rotten in the middle and had hundreds of wasps hidden inside them. I have nothing against teenagers, I was one myself recently, but it just seems that this generation of teenagers has no level of self awareness- It now appears that being a bit emo and gothy is quite cool, which is terrible oversight that never should have been allowed, but I digress, what I’m trying to tell you is that I saw an advert recently that stated traffic was the single biggest killer of 12 - 16 year olds in Britain, but as half term has proved, there are still loads of them. Clearly, we need a more effective method. Rather than write them off completely though, I decided to help them by thinking up the following ways to improve their impact on society:
1. Fit all lonsdale or reebok trainers with computer chips that make them jog at least six miles a day.
2. Get all teenagers to select their favourite cast member from skins, all of those who pick Tony will be shot, survival of the fittest and what not.
3. Ban them from watching Hollyoaks - it's completely unrealistic and raises their expectations of the type of bird they are likely to pull to inordinate levels; also, it's meant to be a drama about teenagers yet at no point are any of them at home wanking over Hollyoaks, which is terribly unrealistic.
4. Ban text speech. Text messaging has had the most adverse effect on the way trendy types speak since snoop doggy dog.
5. Make all streets and towns completely spherical; if we no longer have street corners there will be no where for them to form gangs and harass pensioners for their pensions.
If you live in Britain then sometime this month you may have experienced the unsettling natural phenomenon known as half term, where the bleak pessimism of Britain's future generation is no longer something you read in the newspaper but something you bump in to on the street- chewing in your face, trying to bum a fag, and speaking in an indecipherable pseudo-text dialect known as slang. These unfortunate beings lurch towards you, looking like a particularly gruesome extra from Dawn of the Dead, asking if you can buy them a bottle of white lightning. It's worrying to think that they were once the apples of their mothers’ eyes. In hindsight, these particular apples were the type that were rotten in the middle and had hundreds of wasps hidden inside them. I have nothing against teenagers, I was one myself recently, but it just seems that this generation of teenagers has no level of self awareness- It now appears that being a bit emo and gothy is quite cool, which is terrible oversight that never should have been allowed, but I digress, what I’m trying to tell you is that I saw an advert recently that stated traffic was the single biggest killer of 12 - 16 year olds in Britain, but as half term has proved, there are still loads of them. Clearly, we need a more effective method. Rather than write them off completely though, I decided to help them by thinking up the following ways to improve their impact on society:
1. Fit all lonsdale or reebok trainers with computer chips that make them jog at least six miles a day.
2. Get all teenagers to select their favourite cast member from skins, all of those who pick Tony will be shot, survival of the fittest and what not.
3. Ban them from watching Hollyoaks - it's completely unrealistic and raises their expectations of the type of bird they are likely to pull to inordinate levels; also, it's meant to be a drama about teenagers yet at no point are any of them at home wanking over Hollyoaks, which is terribly unrealistic.
4. Ban text speech. Text messaging has had the most adverse effect on the way trendy types speak since snoop doggy dog.
5. Make all streets and towns completely spherical; if we no longer have street corners there will be no where for them to form gangs and harass pensioners for their pensions.
I'll start at the beginning.....
.......Because it's silly to start elsewhere, unless your Quentin Tarrintino, then it's o.k, in a nebbish, post-cool kind of way. I was watching t.v the other day (yes kids it does still exist - you should try watching it sometime, it provides regularly scheduled programming that's beamed, legally, into your living room, not streamed off some dogy Irannian website with all manner of bizarre subtitles and links, all stuffed onto screen so small you need glasses the size of Joe 90's just to make out exactly whose nipple david walliams is licking) and discovered that the planet is fucked, unless we do something about the O-zone layer, or something. So in an effort to ease congestion and reduce traffic, I am riding the information superhighway on a bandwagon- and starting a web blog! In my blog I'll be doing the same thing that every other webblog in the known universe does, namely, boring your tits off with pointless diatribes about my life, all the while contributing to the ongoing decimation of written english, and making the odd witty comment that I think is so clever it drove me to starting a web blog in the first place, So if you're still reading this - enjoy.
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