Poorly Timed Xmas Blog

Blogs are like buses, you wait ages for one then two come at once plus they're both filled with misery. 

This is something I was writing before Christmas, but never got around to finishing due to it being Christmas...

Christmas shopping ... it’s a burden we all share [like Chlamydia], but if you’re yet to run the yearly gauntlet of frenzied, consumer driven zombies clambering over each other to buy material possessions that are meant to define your love/respect/admiration for a person you share your miserable life with; “I feel bad for you, son, I got 99 problems but ‘buying-shit-for-people-I’m-supposed-to-care-about-for-Xmas’ ain’t one!”*

“Hit me!”*

I’m not much of a man’s man; my unintentionally hairless chest and my physique; similar to that of a 15 year old… hermaphrodite… would prove that! But I easily earn some hairs on my balls for extreme levels of hatred I have towards shopping. Shopping is like eating out an arse; I don’t like it, I can’t do it right and the thought of doing it again makes me sick. But this year I actually made an effort. [Add sentence here to prepare reader for long-winded and unnecessary back-story].

As I live away from my [shitty] hometown, my two younger sisters used to take on the duty of buying gifts for family members and adding my name to cards/presents, then they’d hit me up for the cash I owed them later down the line. They don’t do this anymore, probably because they have their own lives and enough money to buy things separately… or maybe they’re just cunts. On top of that; I’m a terrible gift-giver, I don’t know what people like, but those are my short comings of being so self involved and if my family love me, they’ll learn to get over it.

This year was different. My mum had scheduled to visit me [with less than a week’s notice] to drop off my Christmas presents. This basically set off a fuse of the time period in which I’d see a family member before Christmas – without doing it off my own back! So in the few days before she arrived I spent what seemed like two lifetimes going in and out of shops trying to find my family [mother, her husband, two younger sisters and younger brother] gifts – I think it actually turned out to be three hours and I went to a restaurant in that time too.

I also had to buy something for my mother as I hadn’t got her anything for her birthday [yes I’m a terrible son… doomed with two terrible sisters that don’t seem to give a fuck about adding my name to a card anymore]. Worst of all; I had to buy something for my brother. Now you may be reading this thinking that should be easy enough, brotherly love and all that… but that’s bollocks. As much as I love that uber-computer-game-playing son-of-a-bitch, we’re very different people; I’m the handsome, wise-cracking, ladies man, toast of the town, intoxicant binging reprobate, everyone’s favourite yet to mature man-child, he’s the… weird brother of ‘that dude’. So Jack, if you’re reading this; it’s going to be Game vouchers again, mate, sorry. [Note: Still haven’t actually bought them]

Obviously I have a life outside the family I only see a handful of times a year, the main part of which is the lovely lady I trapped into a relationship and she stuck around [Stockholm syndrome, bitches!]. Now this is slightly easier, as I see this wonderful woman daily, so buying for her doesn’t present such a task. What she likes, her hobbies/interests should be embedded in my brain. But if I chose wrong, the repercussions are much greater, it’s not as if I get a wrong present for a family member they’ll stop sleeping with me – they can’t, we’re from Sutton, they make you do it!

I was struggling on a ‘big present’, I’d got a couple of bits and pieces [cheap, random shit] but luckily she knows me too well so she pointed me in the right direction by suggesting a film camera. A film camera is not a video recorder by the way, I recently learned that, about a sentence after she proposed it [Yes, I’m that stupid]. I know what you’re thinking; “but digital cameras are so much better, no film, no paying for having your photos developed… blah blah blah.” But let’s please not dwell on my younger girlfriend’s attraction towards the out-dated relics. I’d like to add I’m such an idiot that the pure suggestion was not enough to for me to go about finding one myself, I had to be aided with a direct link online to the one she wanted. Yet I still bought another one out of spite.

There are some gifts I haven’t purchased yet, the main ones being for my two comrades in smoking, drinking, joking, thinking and intense games on Worms; whom I constitute as my family away from family [although we don’t sleep with each other]. I’m almost sure on what I’m getting one of them. The other one’s a Sikh, so he has no right celebrating Christmas really [said the devout Atheist] and I know what to get him, but a punching bag with the prophet [censored]’s face on it, is hard to find seeing as the EDL doesn’t have an eBay account.

All this Christmas shopping has rekindled a little obsession I had last year with Amazon [website, not rainforest]. I know buying stuff online isn’t a big deal to most people, but as an out-dated relic I’ve never really done it. The main reason is due to my vast amount of [what some would call; illegal] downloading by PC’s have constantly been hit with viruses or malware, this has always made me cautious towards online shopping in case some computer nerd [Jack!] steals my bank account details. But now I just do it on my phone, like most ‘look-at-me-I’m-tech-savvy’ mindless drones inhabiting each others’ lives. I fucking love Amazon it’s like window shopping form the comfort of your own toilet seat, plus you can get anything on there, I recently bought a novelty toilet seat [it’s strange how my mind works].

[This Blog stops here because I didn't finish it]

*that was an adaptation and reference to Jay-Z; 99 Problems from The Black Album [Roc-a-Fella / Def Jam]. 2004.

New Year's Resolutions

Welcome to two-thousand-and-eleven or two-zero-one-one or twenty-eleven or twenty-one-one or whatever else this year will be called. To put it simply it's 2011, to put it simply for any Romans reading it's MMXI. A new year is a good reason to begin a new start, to finally make changes to your already shitty life in a hope that by this time next year you not be as miserable.

I thought last year would be the big year for me; “Two-Thousand-and-Ten … The Year of Ben”. Sadly it didn't work out that way, so like a deluded optimist I'm banking it all on 2011 even though it holds no possible rhyme scheme of tying into my birth name – which is probably not a good start.

I've even completed a list of resolutions for the new year, I know that most people do this and most people fail early on. That's why;

Resolution #1: Stick to New Year's Resolutions

Simple and slightly confusing – as going against this resolution could cause a vortex in the fabric of time. At least that's what I'm telling myself as a way of sticking to it like I was lathered up in super-glue and propelled at this resolution at a neck-breaking speed.

I will also capitalise on the dawn of a new year by trying even harder to do something of merit towards an actual career too. While writing is my dream job, it turns out sitting around twiddling my thumbs, getting high and attempting to compile the largest collection of Lily Thai videos possible is getting me no closer to reaching my [main] goal in life. That's why;

Resolution #2: Write Six Brilliant Sketches
Resolution #3: Film My Very Own Sketch

I have so OK-ish sketches and some first draft sketches so far, but a lot more could [and now; will] be done on them. As for filming my own sketch I already know what this is going to be, I know where it is going to be set. I just need the people and also two more lines of dialogue to finish it off. It will then be uploaded to YouTube, get about 12 views (the majority of which will be me, watching it over and over again) – but it's a slight step in the right direction.

Not all my resolutions revolve around writing, one revolves around my future love life;

Resolution #4: Learn Thai (Again)

I've been attempting to learn Thai on and off for a couple of years now, but this year I've got to stick at it, then in a few years time when I have sufficient money saved up (and my looks have started to decline) I can get myself a Thai Bride and be able to communicate with her. The fact that I want a Thai Bride makes me come across as some shallow, horrible old man that's only interested in looks, when that's not true, if I was [that], I wouldn't be attempting to learn a new language now would I? KAPOW!! - Ben coming with the reasons and shit.

Resolution #5: Embrace Buddha

This isn't slang for get high all the time. I am an atheist and while I put up a front that I do hate religion, I think somewhere in their they do have good morals to teach, it just seems those in charge focus on the killing of other religious people and molesting children. If I'm going to throw my weight behind someone it's going to be Siddhārtha Gautama, as he's not a God but a spiritual teacher, that's why I said “Embrace Buddha” not “Convert to Buddhism” - there's a difference people. Educate yourselves... because I don't know enough on the subject matter to tell you what to think yet.

Resolution #6: Read More

Self-explanatory really.

So there we have it. Six resolutions for me to try my hardest at sticking at.

Happy New Year.

12 Hates of Xmas [Part 1]

It's that time of year again, not only is Christmas quickly sneaking up on us like a randy rapist but it's time for yet another Blog about why I hate Christmas. I have before taken upon myself to explain how Christmas is a now a Capitalist-driven celebration. This time I've compiled a list of 12 things I hate, it's a not-so-clever play on the 12 Days of Christmas.

1) Christmas Songs
“I wish it could be Christmas everydaayyyyyyyyyy!” - Roy Wood, Wizzard
“I wish Christmas songs would fuck off!” - Ben Broughton, Cunt

2) Carol Singers
Luckily this isn't something I have experienced many times in my life. You could say I've had good fortune when it comes to Carol Singers, until I explain that this 'good fortune' comes about because of a bad fortune; where I live. I tend not to live in what the majority of people would call a 'nice area', which is extremely beneficial when it comes to avoiding Carol Singers as they avoid the street I live on in fear of being stabbed in the throat with a syringe by some smack-head. That means the smack-head has less victims to choose from, that in turn is bad for me, as I may now get stabbed. It's all swings and roundabouts.

Carol Singers are basically beggars, that attempt to torture you into giving them money just so they'll get off your property. Not only that, but as I have just started I hate Christmas songs, this includes carols, and when I'm in the solitude of my own home I can avoid these songs until some tone deaf shit stains appear on my door step.

3) Shopping
The most important part of Christmas, despite what those deluded Christians may think. Shopping is hell anyway, but doing it around this time of year is worse. Stores and shopping centres are like a cross between a mosh pit and a cattle market. I'd advise anyone attempting to go shopping to wear a full body protect – American football style – and just charge your way through the crowds.

4) Wrapping Gifts
I hate wrapping paper. It is the most pointless creation that human kind ever dreamt up. Eventually almost everything ends up in the bin, but wrapping paper is destined for the bin as soon as it is purchased. Yeah, it'll cling to a gift for a while but once Christmas day rolls around it's in the bin and forgotten about, pointless. My girlfriend was upset this year upon discovering that I have wrapped her gifts in the same wrapping paper I used for her birthday gifts. Apparently it “shows I don't care”. But in my eyes it shows I do care about the environment and my financial situation – it was smart of me to save that wrapping paper, as it was very expensive [bought it from WHSmiths the morning of my girlfriend's birthday, as she slept; I'm boyfriend of the year material].

5) 'Time Off' Work
People often look forward to work because they will be receiving time off of work, this must be some sort of hang-up from school days, as most jobs these days don't receive much time off. For example anyone working in retail, pubs, restaurants, cinema … basically any job dealing with the public will probably only have Christmas day off and maybe Boxing day if they are lucky. I'm on of these people. A lot of companies will rearrange your hours too, so it Christmas falls on a day you're supposed to work, you'll work another day instead. Christmas is stressful, you need more than one poxy day off.

6) Christmas Films
Christmas films are shit. Show me a good Christmas film and I'll show you a person that has terrible taste in films. But every-year some family member will make a destined-to-fail attempt at gathering everyone around the idiot box to watch Home Alone 67 or Santa Claus: The Movie for the millionth time. This will, of course, always lead to a fist fight – my grandma got put in a coma last year, but to be fair my brother did warn her twice! Christmas films always end on a happy note, which is a total contradiction to what is taking place in most homes, because while we love our families we hate being forced to spend time with them.

______________________________
Update: [03 Jan 2011] I did intend to come with a Part 2 to this, detailing numbers 7-12, but as time ran out, I can no longer be arsed. I have the list but not in order and no reasons, so I may aswell save it until Xmas 2011, plenty of time for me to put it off until 24th Dec 2011.

R.I.P. (Romance in Pieces) [Valentine’s Day Special]

With one more capitalist holiday amongst us I thought I’d delve into yet another unprovoked rant about this one. Having done the exact same thing last year (Who Wants VD?), I thought I may as well carry on the tradition. Yes, it’s Valentine’s Day, the time of year that shops deck out their windows with so much red and black streamers and shit that it looks as if a Nazi rally is about to ensure, it’s just that the swastikas have been replaced with love hearts. Although to me, a big huge love heart carries the same cogitations of fascism that the swastika does. Valentine’s Day is the most ‘romantic’ of all the other schemes to make people buy each other gifts to ‘prove’ their love one more time with materialism.

But I’ve noticed something and I'm not sure when it happened, but it did. Romance died, and that's putting it nicely. The actual truth is women killed Romance. And "killed" is an understatement. Let me explain how it all happens now;

If a male goes out and decides to buy something for his female counterpart there's a few responses he gets depending on what he buys.

If he buys Chocolates: "Chocolates? Chocolates? You know I'm on a diet! Do you want me to get fat? Oh my god, you think I AM FAT? Are you saying I'm a fat bitch!! Fuck you!!"

If he buys Flowers: "Fuck you, you cheap bastard! Buying my something that’s just going to die in a couple of days! I hope you fucking die!"

If he buys Clothes: "What is this? What is this piece of shit? You know this isn't my colour, I'm an Autumn, this is a Spring, you don't know my colour scheme is at all, this doesn't complement my skins or eyes at all. Are you stupid? And it’s the wrong fucking size!"

If he buys Sexy Underwear: "What the fuck.... Do I look like a slag? Do you expect me to wear this shit!?! I'm glad I'm sleeping with your brother and all your mates, you small-dick-having, premature-ejaculating, one-ball-bigger-than-the-other having, piece of shit!!"

If he buys jewellery: “What’s this shit? Did you get this from Argos? This is pathetic; Julie’s man got her something a million times better than this! You’re such a fucking waste.”

You see how complex this whole situation is. Any of the ‘original’ ideas just get shot down, so much for originality. There’s always the option for taking a girlfriend/wife out for Valentine’s Day, but who would want to do that?

Almost all of the restaurants will be filled up with couples celebrating this ‘materialistic cash-in on the fact people are in love’ day. Nobody wants to be in a restaurant with 30 other couples, because when seeing how other couples interact with each other it just makes you and your loved one jealous; “Why aren’t we like them?” Because face it; everybody else looks happier than you. You two just sit there quietly, deeply ashamed and embarrassed over the fact that your relationship is clearly not up to the standards of those around you. You struggle to find anything to talk about, you push your food around your plate because you can’t eat it seeing as you feel sick to your stomach and deep down you know this was the worst idea ever. Getting her a bag full of dog shit would have been better than this. At least with the dog shit, she would have just shouted at you at home, instead of being stranded here in the middle of a fancy restaurant with the happy couples gazing directly at you, thinking; “Look at those pathetic bastards, what are they even doing here?” The worst thing is, the time spent in a restaurant is dragged out, you can’t bail half way through, because that’ll really make a scene. It’s a slow execution, that only ends once the waiter brings the bill, and it dawns on you that you have to pay top dollar for this kind of nightmare-ish hell!

You see, Valentine’s Day seems as if it is geared towards the woman; it’s not a day of love or romance, as some would have you believe. If you look closer it seems to be one more day for women to get something. All those big, heart shaped balloons and cuddly teddy bears in shop windows aren’t for the men, they’re for the women. A man doesn’t want this hassle, but it’s a part we have to play, much better than the other option; being alone. No man wants that, that’s why we fold to this pressure every year; we have to go all out because arguments over the shitty gifts we get our counterparts or depressing meals in restaurants are both a damn sight better than sitting at home alone eating cold beans straight from the tin. Valentine’s Day doesn’t prey on the love between a man and a woman (or a woman and a woman, or a man and a man); it preys on men’s insecurities. That’s what Valentine’s Day really is, a celebration of men’s insecurities and constant fear that they’ll be alone, so they’re forced to worship women by bringing them gifts as if the woman is a type of ancient queen, only to have it thrown back in their faces. The queen is not amused with your pathetic attempts to keep her happy. And in this process of neediness and desperation Romance became a casualty in the on going war for men not to be alone. Decades ago Romance was the only weapon men had to combat loneliness, now we’re left with nothing and destined to die alone.

Happy Valentine’s Day

For Fawkes Sake!

It’s that time of the year in which we embrace an American holiday; Halloween, but we also celebrate that fact that some northerner wasn’t able to blow up Parliament in 1605. I am of course talking about Bonfire Night.

Now, I don’t know how many other countries celebrate failed assassination attempts but I’m guessing there aren’t many, which puts our certain kind of celebration in a class of its own.

The thing is at the end of the day all Bonfire Night is a gathering of people watching shit burn. We commemorate Parliament not being blown up by burning shit we don’t want for one night a year. Then stare at the bonfire like we’re some-type of unintelligible caveman staring at a plasma TV. “Woooo, look at the burny, burny!” We then stare into the sky to watch pretty lights, which always seem to be a let down. If I leave after watching some fireworks and I’m neither slightly deaf nor slightly blind, I’m not satisfied. I also love the way most adults try to say that the fireworks are for the children, when most kids are scared of them and would be more than happy with a sparkler. The fireworks are really for adults, just a nice little distraction for a couple of minutes to take your mind off your shitty lives.

At this time of the year it’s easy to see the difference between us and our American cousins, while they dress up scary costumes and go door to door asking for ‘treats’, we gather together for a tradition deep-rooted into our history. At the end of their night they get home to find a bag full of ‘candy’ and maybe a couple of dollars in their pocket and we end up stinking of smoke, covered in mud, occasionally drenched and often coming down with the first symptoms of a cold or flu.

To me it seems as if this British tradition has run its course. In this day and age in which most of the population hates the government and wouldn’t think twice about walking in Guy Fawkes shoes and attempting a Gun Powder Plot, maybe we shouldn’t commemorate a failed assassination attempt by standing around watching a big fire. When chavs stand around a stolen Corsa as it goes up in the flames that’s illegal, but it’s fine for members of the public to stand around a huge fire once a year. When tramps stand around a burning bin under some bridge they’re still smelly tramps and we point and laugh at them, then go on to stand around a bigger fire, you need to step back and wonder, are you any better than a bunch of chavs or tramps?

So what I propose for next year, is instead of the archaic tradition we should band together and attempt; Gun Powder Plot 2010; Mission Probable! No longer will we celebrate Guy Fawkes getting caught, instead we shall finish what he started.

Summer: BBQs & Beautiful Babes

It has reached that time of the year, the few weeks in which the shitty little island we inhabit gets warm, then a little warmer, then hot and eventually too hot for our pasty skin to take and we simply stop functioning. And the strangest thing happens; we begin to complain that it’s too hot for us. For many people summer is their favourite season. This is because they get to moan about how hot it is, instead of how cold it is, but just for good measure, there will be showers of rain ... that they can also moan about. But this is England, the population is held together by cups of tea and moaning, it’s simply what we do.

So, as the sun appears from behind the clouds and starts to beam down onto us and we get sunburn, let us enjoy this time of the year in the old fashioned way that we always have with beer and BBQs. I’m an avid fan of BBQs, and I’ve been thinking about them a lot recently (like you have a fucking life – don’t judge me!). The main matter to do with BBQs that I was mulling over is that they are often seen as an Australian past time; “Another shrimp on the Barbie?” ... or whatever that saying is. Firstly I’d like to point out that I’ve never seen anyone put a shrimp on a BBQ, is it even possible to cook shrimp in this way? Anyway, I’m not writing to discuss shrimps, I’m discussing BBQs being an Australian past time. I’m putting forward a point; BBQ is British! Through and through until the end! BBQs are just as British as cups of tea and moaning, yeah ... I said it.

Let us not forget that most of the Australian population is made up of British criminals exiled all those years ago, within them British citizens laid the need to BBQ. The thing is Australia sees plenty more sunshine than the UK, so they are able to BBQ as much as they want, whereas us Brits only get a short time every year to poison each other with undercooked burgers.

So what am I proposing? Simple ... a war with Australia over the rights to owning BBQs. For too long Australia has been linked with BBQs and it’s not right, or fair. The BBQ is British! It’s time the Government took notice, a war with Australia is bound to boost Gordon Brown’s popularity ... but at this moment in time anything short of releasing a sex tape of him and his wife will boost Brown’s popularity. This is a war we can all get behind; we’re fighting for our national heritage!

I know many of you are thinking we could possibly loose this war, seeing as it seems as if we have failed in Afghanistan and Iraq. But in those places we were fighting intelligent evil masterminds. What does Australia have? Kangaroos and surfers! Two easy targets; surfers aren’t a threat and as for kangaroos, I’d never attempt to get in a boxing ring with one, but this is war, simply bomb the weird looking freaks of nature.

On another note, it seems that with the sun comes beautiful girls. They are everywhere, I can’t walk to the shop without falling over a scantily clad girl that looks so good you simply want to throw yourself at her and hope for the best. Although the best so far as been a restraining order ... the worst being getting pepper-sprayed and having to appear in court next week on a charge of exposing myself in public (Not Guilty!).

I have come to the conclusion that beautiful girls are either solar-powered robots or they hibernate from September until June. To further this conclusion I’m attempting to kidnap two beautiful girls, for the study of science (of course) to see if either of my predictions is true. I’ll leave one to see if she hibernates and as for the other I will peel her skin off to see if she is a robot. Stay tuned for the results.

Who Wants VD?

Valentine’s Day is almost upon us! You have to love Valentine’s Day, it’s perfectly situated in the year, at a point were the general public has just paid off their overdrafts from the expensive Christmas time and then along comes Valentine's Day to get you right back into that overdraft. I’m starting to believe that greeting card shops really do dictate the holidays we have, there’s always some reason to give our loved ones pieces of card with pretty pictures on them.

I’m often told that Valentine’s Day is just for pussy-whipped guys to buy their women nice jewellery. But it’s much more than that. It is the one time of the year that desperate guys, such as myself, send cards and gifts to the girls we’re stalking – anonymously, of course. We’re desperate, and terrified of being rejected.

Why do these things have to be so complicated? Because we all know that things get complicated around VD (Valentine’s Day). As VD slowly approaches, many things can happen. Firstly we’ll take an example of a young man in a relationship. So, I’ve had this happen to me before; you’re in a relationship with some skank, who says she doesn’t want anything for VD. Usually saying something along the lines of; “You show me you love me everyday, we don’t need to confirm to these Clinton Cards based scams!” But when VD finally comes around, you’re in the shit. Because it was all a load bullshit! So you’re stood there with bags and bags filled with gifts she’s got you and she’s empty handed, calling you a heartless prick. Then you get into a massive fight, she storms off, goes down to the local, gets pissed and sleeps with your brother, who gets her pregnant, then they empty your bank account and move to America – or is that just me?

Next we’ll take the example of a single gentleman. So, you’ve been in love with this girl for months, you’re always accidentally bumping into her so you can smell her hair and feel her soft, hairless skin rub up against yours – it gives you goose bumps and a slight erection. You’ve created a shrine in her honour inside your wardrobe out of bits of rubbish she’s discarded; chewing gum, notes, shopping lists, hair, toe nails, old sanitary towels … all the usual stuff. You think to yourself; “I’m the only guy for her, nobody else would go to these lengths!” So it dawns on you; a VD card will win her over and you’ll finally be together! The problem is, if you’re some kind of perverse, twisted sicko, you really do believe that a £1.99 Hallmark card and a withered rose will make a girl love you. But sadly this is not the case, the girl in question only sees you as some kind of perverse, twisted sicko with a £1.99 Hallmark card and a withered rose! And once this comes to light, you snap … her neck. Accidentally of course, you never meant to. You then roll her up in a carpet, stuff her into the boot of her car and drive. You have no idea where you’re going or what you’re going to do! You end up in the Peak District, lost. No signs of civilisation for miles, then you realise this is your chance! You take the girl out of the boot, stick her in the front seat of the car, once you’ve had your wicked way with her of course, remove all her teeth (something else for the shrine), remove the licence plates from her car and set it alight, burning her corpse and hopefully any evidence that links you to anything that happened here. Then you spend the rest of your life jumping at every knock at the door! Is it the police? Have they finally figured it out? You’re so traumatised you can no longer hold down a proper relationship, that’s why you become a peeping tom or a stalker! You live your life everyday, just waiting for it to all end – or is that just me?