An Insight to the Mind of Ben Broughton

OK, so people want to know more about moi* so here's a little interview I've put together, I got the questions off of one of those MySpace things.

Name: Ben Jon Broughton
Birthday: 14/09/1986
Location: At my PC
Hair Color: Not sure, it's kinda fucked, like a faggots arse ... so brown with bits of white, I suppose.
Eye Color: Red and glazed over.
Height: Taller than midgets, smaller than giants
Build: Skinny like a smackhead
Bedtime: 3.00am - 11.00pm
Tattoos: Ask ya mum, she's see it!
Piercings: Ask ya mum, she's had it in her mouth!
Animals: Had a few bitches in my time.
Siblings: Probably ....
Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year: Stop shitting/pissing the bed
Your Most Overused Phrase: "I thought she was over 16, HONEST!!"
Your Most Missed Memory: If it's a missed memory, I can't remember it, that's why it's missing! DICKHEAD!!
Best Friends: Too many to name, but Jimmy my imaginary friend is cool, although he makes me do bad things.
Favorites;
Place to be: in pussy
Colour: Whatever
Song: The 'Other' Broc Song
Movie: Cheerleaders get drunk and fucked Part 8: It happens again!!
T.V. Show: The Ben & Frenchie Show
Time of the day: 06.52pm
Month: This one
Season: Erm ... they all suck balls
Thing to do: Write my blog while smoking weed, drinking beer, getting head and listening to UK Hip Hop
Food: Microwaveable
Drink: Newcastle Brown, Carling or Bong Water
Part of your body: It's all a masterpiece, don't make me choose!
Do you;
Like to dance: After a few beers I'll start a fucking mosh pit!
Sing in the shower: No, I wank in the shower, if I sing I'll put myself off!
Sleep naked: Only one way to find out ........ ask ya mum!
Like the rain: Yea
Like the snow: No, snow sucks, it's just trying to be rain, but colder! Fuck snow!
Smoke: Fags, Weed and Crack. But that's it!
Drink: Newcastle Brown and Carling
Swear: You taking the fucking piss? You cunt!
Hate anyone: Yea, everyone!
Love anyone: That dude in the mirror!
Believe in love at first sight: Yea.
Believe in yourself: Of course, I'm the greatest!
Believe in life after death: I ain't dieing, so fuck this question!
Like to kiss: Yea, I'm a romantic at heart
Like to cuddle: Yea, I'm a fucking romantic at heart!!
Have you;
Been in love: Yea, but only with myself. I'd trade up, but it's impossible!
Been in two states at the same time: Yea, drunk and high. Lolz!!!
Been to Europe: Yea, I live in England you fool. But I've been to other places in Europe too, I did have an import business til the Feds shut me down!
Had sex: Today? Yea!! Twice!! and knocking one out now, cos talking about myself has turned me on!!
Kissed a member of the same sex: Yea, only on the cheek, I ain't no homo. And I kiss myself in the mirror about 30 times a day, not sure if that counts.
Kissed a member of the opposite sex: Yea, fucking billions of them.
Told someone you loved them, but didn't: Yea, ya mum!!
Told a lie: Of course, I'm a bastard!
Skipped school: No made education is immportanted!
Had the kissing disease: You on about syphilis??
Hit someone: Only when they haven't got enough money for their sugar daddy!
Lost someone you cared about: No, I've never lost myself!


*Moi means 'me', I think!!

The Most Wasted I Have Got #1

The following story is true. Names have been kept the same to shame the guilty.

Before I share my story with you, let me first fill you in on the background of this epic tale. Around the age of 18 me and my friends seemed to do the same activities daily. These activities included drinking as much as we could and smoking as much weed as possible. This all took place in Graham’s caravan. Graham was not a gypsy, although he resembled one greatly, but his family had a caravan on their front yard. I’m not sure why, because this caravan was terrible, it lacked heating, I doubt that you could hook it up to a car and more it without the axel being torn off and the body of the caravan collapsing into a heap. To say that we had demolished this piece of shit over the years was an understatement. Homeless people would not set foot in this caravan. Readers of ‘Practical Caravan’ would have had a nervous breakdown if they had ever seen it. We had consumed so much cannabis in the caravan that the ceiling was constantly sticky from the resin, this caused no end of entertainment for us while we were stoned, due to the fact we would try to discover what items would stay stuck to the ceiling for the longest, and if you are wondering I think a mouldy biscuit held its position for months. Now I’ve painted a picture of the caravan and activities that take place their, I can continue with my story.

If I remember correctly it was a winter night that it all took place. Sadly I can only remember a few people that were in attendance for this historic moment, one being Graham, he was their (because it was his caravan – that is how he always claimed he should not chip in money for weed or beer because he providing the caravan) and Dale was one of the other people. It was a cold night, and being in the caravan was not much warmer, the heating was broke but we did have some heating; the oven. We would put the oven on the warmest temperature and open the door. It was a gas oven too, probably not the best idea to use gas in a small confined space with a bunch of idiots smoking weed. Looking back I’m surprised that we never cremated ourselves. Anyway, after quite a few drinks and joints I needed the toilet. There were two options for using the toilet; the first going inside Graham’s house and using a real toilet or going outside the caravan, walk between Graham’s dad’s car and the caravan to behind the caravan and relieve yourself on Graham’s front garden. There were two drawbacks to both of these places. Firstly going into Graham’s house meant that you were likely to bump into his family, they were good people, they knew what we got up to, but it never nice to walk threw someone’s house high as a kite. Secondly, if you were to use the front garden it was extremely likely that someone would see you, because people were often out on Graham’s street. I decided to opt for the second option, I was two high to even try and walk up a flight of stairs. As I stumbled out of the caravan door (which was voted the World’s Most Rickety Door 2005) I made my way between the car and caravan, bouncing between them both. I made it around to the spot we all used to piss at. Undid my belt and jeans and took one of the longest pisses I’ve ever took. Once I was done I tried to zip up and button my jeans but my hands were too cold, so I thought I’ll sort myself out when I return to the caravan. I began to make my way back, holding my jeans up. As I again walked between the car and caravan I began to realise I was not in the best shape, it was like hitting a wall. I was overcome by the drink and drugs. As I made it to the door I swung it open. I looked at the step to the caravan and thought it looked like too much work. The next thing I know I’ve fell threw the door way and landed flat on the floor. As I lay on the filthy floor, with my legs hanging out of the doorway my friends burst into a fit of laughter. I could not move. I was paralytic. In the mist of the laughter I heard those words, which become iconic with this story. “He’s got his fucking trousers ‘round his ankles! He’s got his trousers ‘round his ankles!”. On my way to floor I had let go of my jeans to soften the blow to my face, leading to my trousers falling down. The laughter went on constantly for about five minutes, while I lay on the floor, with no energy to get up. Finally I came around and was able to stand and fix myself up.

There were many classic moments of my youth that took place in the caravan; this story is most likely in my top three. I have shared it many times. Although it was quite embarrassing, I believe it sums up much of what I (and my friends) used to get up to. So hopefully you have learned from my mistakes. When you are getting wasted, wear trousers with an elastic waistband to save on embarrassment.

Ben Broughton for Prime Minister

For as long as I can remember people have been telling me to run from Prime Minister. Well I now decided to listen to those crazy, homeless crack-heads. Firstly let me just say that I’m not affiliated with any party, apart from house parties. So here is a list of things that I will change when you good people elect me into power.

- First and foremost, cannabis will be legalised. But it will be taxed, and you will have to be 21 or older.

- Secondly, I will change the Smoking Ban. It will not be completely lifted, but restaurants, pubs, clubs and so on will have to apply for a licence to become smoke-un-free.

- Anyone that has been on the dole for over five years will automatically be drafted to the one of the Forces. And if they don’t, they will be deported to the North Pole.

- The Death Penalty will be re-introduced for murders, rapists and paedophiles.

- Smack-heads, crack-heads, Meth-heads and so on, would be rounded up and shot.

- I’d tax the rich more and the poor less.

*More coming soon*

What have the French taught me?

I am under strict orders to post something in my excellent Blog about French Girls, but not ordinary French Girls, some French Girls I have met, so here I go …

Now the French are a very strange people type of people. They live so close to England, yet they are so different from us English people, much like the Welsh and Scottish.

I remember the first day I met the French girls, it was a Monday night, and I was trying to sleep because I had work early the next day. They arrived and made loads of noise moving in, so I couldn’t sleep. Of course only one of them was moving into MY flat, but all of them were keeping me awake. When I first knew I’d be sharing MY flat with someone from France, I thought; “Shit, this place is going to stink like garlic!” But to my surprise I’ve smelt no garlic yet. I haven’t even seen any of the French girls wear garlic around their necks, ride a bike, carry French bread or wear one of those t-shirts with blue and white stripes. So I sometimes question if they’re French at all. Anyway, onto a lighter note, I’m going to tell the world (by world, I mean the few people sad enough to read my Blog – that’s you, fucking loser!), what I have learned from the French girls.

Well, let me just say I have learned a few things. I’ve learned a few French words and phrases; I think I could hold a conversation with a French person for a good 30 seconds or so. I have also learned that the French are not all cheese-eating-surrender-monkeys. But most importantly I have learned; never, ever, under any circumstances touch a French girl’s bum! They will flip the fuck out! I not go into the details of how I discovered this, but you clever people can likely work it out yourselves.

So that’s it, after spending about five months knowing some girls from France, that is all I have learned. Not much really, but they have been lucky enough to have me teach them the ways of our culture. Those lucky bastards!

The Other Broc Song

Here is a song I made for my good friend; Broc.

Advice for Media Students

Seeing as my successful Guide to being British went down so well, I’ve took it on myself to write out some advice tips for Media Students. Media Students have it hard, so I’m trying my best to help them out. Have it hard you ask? Yes, they do. They are constantly under fire from other Students who believe that Media Studies is not even a real Course. And secondly, they’re on a pointless Course.

So, if there is still anymore Media Students reading this, here’s your fucking advice, you pricks:

• As Media Students, you must read newspapers, both tabloid and broadsheet, and buying newspapers everyday, this can easily lean any Media Student with not enough money for the alcohol he/she needs to get threw the day. So here’s the tip, once a week head down to a recycling point and rummage threw the paper recycling bins and you will find a endless amount of newspapers; tabloid, broadsheet, local. It’s a newspaper goldmine. Plus if you’re lucky you may come across a copy of Nuts, Zoo or even a porn magazine.

• Also as Media Students, you must watch television. If you’re rich enough to have a TV, or possibly sly enough to beat up your Grandmother and steal hers, you will now have to pay for a TV Licence. And as a Student you need that money for alcohol and drugs, but don’t worry too much. Just don’t get a TV Licence. If you simply remove the TV aerial wire connected to the wall while you aren’t watching TV, you should be fine. Don’t worry if the TV Licensing people send you letters, they never seem to take action.

• Now, I myself don’t watch much TV, probably only something like 6-8 hours a day, it rots the brain and makes you stupid. So instead I download TV shows illegally, and this is my next tip. Get yourself a Rapidshare account and go mental. You can find everything on the web. And some geeky people will rip shows from TV and upload them for you within hours, so you don’t have to fit your schedule around the Broadcasters times. You can download you’re favourite shows and watch them whenever you want, over and over again.

• In this day and age everyone is on some kind of social network online. It’s either Facebook, MySpace or Bebo (although I don’t fuck with Bebo), and we all know Networking is important for Media Students. But if some clever people get your email address because you want a job with them and they go stalk you online to see what you get up to, they’re going to find pictures of you gurning your face off, stealing public property or pissed up humping your mate’s leg, which doesn’t look good for anyone. So make another email address, make it sound a bit more professional too. Then go on to use that email address to create alternative Facebook/MySpace/Bebo accounts, which you keep nice and clean. This will help you out.
  
  

So, I hope I've managed to help you all out in some way or another.

The Ben and Frenchie Show [Information #2]

So my peeps, I've just finished off a second script for 'The Ben & Frenchie Show'. This one is much longer than the first and features much more action, due to the fact the first script features none whatsoever. Frenchie has made some slight changes, yes, he does have some input, lolz. Anyway people, here's some more information on 'The Ben & Frenchie Show':

‘The Ben & Frenchie Show’ Synopsis

Ben and Frenchie are two students living normal lives. If your view of normal is heavy drinking, using drugs and mass amounts of profanity. Ben has a warped view of the World, and cannabis has made him so paranoid he questions everything. Ben is currently jobless, but makes a little money on the side selling pills. Frenchie is probably the smarter of the two, which in no way is a complement. Frenchie is also ‘between jobs’, and makes a little income from performing with his band. They live together in a house along with Simon, although nothing is known about Simon and he is never seen.


And here are some short (possible) Episode Plots:

Blow-Jobless
Ben loses his job at a local supermarket after knocking out a customer. Although he claims he swung for his manager after a heated argument. Frenchie breaks off his two week relationship with his girlfriend, after she constantly refuses to give him a blow job, which in turn leads to him also losing his job, because his girlfriend is the boss’s daughter. After discussing their financial problems they both realise they’ll have to let out the spare bedroom, which they’d planned on using for a music studio/study room/weed growing room/chill out room/entertainment room. This leads to many strange individuals wanting to rent the room. In the end they give it too Simon, as he says he can pay cash up-front every-month, and he keeps himself to himself so the two can live life just as they did before.


Paranoia, Police and Pills.
Some extremely potent weed happens to come into the possession of the boys, but there’s one draw back. Smoking too much of this skunk can leave you extremely paranoid. Both boys get too stoned and then the paranoia settles in. After hearing a police car drive passed outside, Ben becomes convinced that the police are going to raid the house for his pills. When the boys hear a knock at the door, they panic, and decide to down all of Ben’s pills, about 7 each. When it turns out it’s only a Jehovah witness, they realise that they’re in for a bad time. Both end up tripping out beyond belief.

What’s Your Age Again?
Ben awakes in bed next to a girl, but he has no memory of the previous night. He lets the girl sleep and talks to Frenchie on how to try and remember what happened the night before. Frenchie decides that Ben should go threw the girl’s purse on find out her name (again), then just blag everything else from their. Ben finds the girl’s ID, but discovers she is the sister of a friend of a friend, who is a bit on the crazy side and worse than that the girl is only 14. Ben starts to panic, her brother is either going to kill him or get the police involved. Ben tries to piece together the previous night and determine what happened. In the end the girl wakes up and clears everything up; Ben had been at the pub, then got invited to her brother’s party, she had walked Ben home after she found out he dealt pills, but Ben couldn’t find he pills so they got stoned instead which lead to them falling asleep. Although she had tried it on with Ben, but they couldn’t do anything – brewer’s droop; a blessing in disguise.

Zig Zag Zombies.
After a large smoking session, the boys have a massive case of the munchies. But when they go in search of food, they discover that Simon has emptied the fridge and cupboards of everything edible. He’s left a note stating he’ll replace everything by 7.00pm. But with no money and about 3 hours to wait for Simon to replace all the food the boys go on a massive hunt around all parts of the house (apart from Simon’s room), to see what they can discover.

A Positive LSD Story.
The boys are struggling to get hold of any weed or pills, but Frenchie manages to get his hands on some LSD at the pub. Now the boys aren’t too used to LSD, so after a while they both start to trip out slightly. The police raid the house looking for Simon – apparently he’s wanted for counterfeiting money. The boys convince each other that this is all a hallucination and none of this is really happening. Simon is arrested and taken away, but to Ben & Frenchie none of this is real. The next day, they dispute what really took place the day before. Both are scared of entering Simon’s room to find out if he really did get taken away by the police, this breaks House Rule #0 ‘Never, ever disturb Simon’. They soon find out it wasn’t all a trip and they also realise that all the money Simon has ever given them is counterfeit, this leads to a problem, because it’s worthless and they’ve been saving it up since Simon moved in, which means the boys have almost no money.

Ben Broughton's Guide to being British

Nowadays there’s some much talk about being British. In our times many immigrants and asylum seekers flock to Britain for a better life. I have no problem with this because many of these people provide much needed jobs in today’s Britain. But for them to stay in Britain some have to take a test, so I have written this for them. It’s my guide to being British.

If you know all the words to the British National Anthem, you are not British.

If you think any British sporting team can be victorious in an international competition such as the World Cup, you are not British. As long as you say something along the lines of, “Yes, we’ll win this time around”, but deep down you truly know that we won’t, then you are British.

If you speak the Queens English, you are not British. Let’s face it, the Royal Family are German.

If you think Margaret Thatcher was a bitch, you’re British.

If you don’t vote, you’re not British.

If you hate American’s, you’re British.

If you think the Millennium Dome and London Eye were a complete waste of money, you are British.

If your favourite breakfast is a fry-up, you’re British.

If you think Indian/Chinese takeaway is excellent British cuisine, you’re British.

If you think Larger should only be served in pints, you’re British.

If you don’t watch the Queens speech on Christmas Day then you’re British.

If you watch too many American sitcoms, you’re British.

If you think the BBC wastes the TV Licence money, you’re British.

The Ben and Frenchie Show [Information]

Last year a young man by the name of Adam French was lucky enough to meet me. And I took pity on him and took him in as a very dear friend. After countless talks about how great we both are we came up with the idea of "The Ben & Frenchie Show".

This show basically consists of me and Mr French doing things. What things? We don't know as of yet, but we know it has success written all over it.

Just to keep people updated, one script has been written so far, although it is only a draft and very short.

The first script is basically a conversation between me and Frenchie in which we delve into deep discussion of Africa, alien existence and sexual relationships.

After a few possible changes to the script and a couple more board meetings I will finalise the script (which is entirely written by yours truly) and share it here.

But until then here’s the trailer which I put together last year.

You, a Chav and an Emo

Imagine this situation; you’re trapped in a room with an emo, a chav and a gun with only one bullet. I will now explain what to do.

Firstly remain calm. This is very important. Of course the emo is going to be very scared, because after all he’s emotional! If you show any fear he’ll latch on to you, which you don’t want. No need to fear the chav either. He too, is out of his element. Without his group of little followers he will not act violent towards you, because he has no back up and of course the emo not help him.

Secondly, try to avoid moving to close to the chav, or he may steal your cigarettes or impregnate you if you’re a thirteen year old girl. Avoid the emo too. If you get too close he may thing you want to communicate with him. And if he thinks you want to communicate with you he’ll start to complain about how hard is life is and how all of his friends that act the same and dress the same don’t understand what he’s going threw. Plus he’ll start to list the reason why ‘Bullet For My Valentine’ is the greatest band ever. So avoid them both, at all costs.

Now, before I forgot to mention that the gun, with only one bullet, is in your possession. Now I will explain what to do next.

After a while, you will want to use that gun. But who do you shoot?

The chav? No, don’t be stupid. That will leave you with the emo. And if you ever get out of this situation the chav’s draw smoking, Fosters drinking, dole collecting family and friends will attempt to kill you in revenge. Of course, I’m all for killing chavs, don’t get me wrong, but like I mentioned this will leave you with the emo.

The emo? No. This will leave you with the chav. Plus the emo is probably into self-harming himself so he’ll more than likely get some kind of twisted pleasure out of getting shot in the head.

So we have come to the conclusion that you shoot neither of them. So what’s the solution?

Kill yourself. Blow your own brains out, preferably over the emo so he has something to moan and write poetry about. Trust me; death is much, much better than being trapped in a room with an emo and a chav, unless you’ve been evil all your life, in which case you’ll go to hell. And for those that don’t know hell consists of one room, where you will appear and the only other two inhabitants are a chav and an emo.