Thinking about the Thoughts of a Xenophobic Man

I was at work not so long ago* and I served an older gentleman and we had a little chat. The conversation began with a little discussion about the age gap between us, I can't remember exactly how it went, I've got high since then, but basically he was saying that he had more life experience than me, although I doubt he's ever been on a two hour bus journey with the worst come down ever. It was a light-hearted discussion. I decided to ask him; “So, seeing as you have so much experience, do you have any tips for me?” to which he responded; “You need to move aboard, there's too many bloody foreigners here nowadays.”

This, of course, had me taken back. I'm all for foreigners, I love their food, their attitude and their female sexual organs. It seemed that this gentleman was so nice up until the point he uttered that xenophobic suggestion. I'd have never had taken him down for a man with a predigest against others because of their nationalities, although I suppose the fact he was buying a Daily Mail should have been a clue, he also had “NF” tattooed on his forehead and seeing as he was wearing a Derby FC shirt I'm assuming it didn't stand for Nottingham Forest or he'd be ConDem Government [; that's now shorthand for “holding two conflicting ideologies that will never possibly work together” - mmm satire] – so that should have been a bigger clue.

I kind of just stared at him as he walked away, slightly gob-smacked over what I'd just heard, but then I began to think about what it was that he had said and how it had made absolutely no sense whatsoever. I understand that some individuals do not like the fact that people from other countries move to England and there's probably nothing I can do to change their minds. But if you're not too keen on foreigners and you think they may be hindering society in Britain, why would you suggest to someone that they should move aboard. I'm no immigration expert but I would go as far as saying that 100% of immigrants that come to this country are in fact from aboard.

This man's argument for getting out of England because there's too many foreigners is only going to land me in a situation where there's more foreigners, that is so illogical and ridiculous it boggles the mind to a point in which my brain could liquidise and slowly ooze out of my ears. At which point my zombiefied shell of a body would be forced to mop up the brain goop - as I was at work, remember?

I sincerely hope that the man took his own advice. I would have loved to have been around when he get on the plane at “aboard”, when he stepped off to start his new life only to realise that he was surrounded by foreigners!

One thing that has always made me wonder about Nationalist is how do they feel about people emigrating from the country they're so Nationalist about? For example if the BNP held power in Britain [they never will, this is just one of those really, really, extremely unlikely, comedy situations] would they stop British people emigrating to the likes of Australia? Surely if you're a Nationalist you share views with other Nationalist the world over, you'd want to make sure their country was “pure”, so you wouldn't want to aid foreigners [in this case; British people] from arriving on their shores. If you are a Nationalist/Fascist/Racist could you please get back to me on this?

*Notice this is the second recent Blog about work, I have no life.

Living in the Party House

Lots of people would love to live in a house that was notorious for its exploits. Where random parties are the norm, where the door is constantly open for anyone looking for a good time to enter and there's always a sofa, mattress or a floor to sleep on. It sounds amazing and it probably is, if you're lucky enough to have money and no responsibilities. But, sadly the majority of us have jobs and other such activities that drain our time, energy and lives away.

Since I left home I've spent all my time in flats [of halls of residence] or houses that have been quite popular – with guests coming and going like I ran a fucking B&B. This has been fun, but there's only so long I can live like this, I'm rapidly ageing, my life is passing me by so fast it's as if I'm watching The Curious Case of Benjamin Button in rewind – but really, really fast*. Aspects of that non-stop-party life are no longer fun, they're simply a nagging nuisance that infuriate me to such an extent I'm prepared to go on a murderous rampage... or write a Blog [no points for guessing which I did].

When the majority of your life has been spent listening to music switched up to full volume, you've probably suffered irreversible damage to your hearing, unlucky! I said UNLUCKY (that joke doesn't really work, as you're reading and not actually hearing me say this – but it's staying in). My house-mate’s have spent the majority of their lives listening to music as loudly as their speakers were able to tolerate before exploding and releasing wires, noise and whatever else speakers are made from into their faces. This leaves me in an awkward position, as their music is either a) keeping me awake at night or b) waking me up in a morning. What you must understand about my house is that it's a house that never sleeps. It's like a mini New York – minus the yellow cabs, ethnic diversity and horrid New Yorkers. The problem with living with friends is that you don't want to piss them off with your moaning, because at the end of the day, they are your friends. You have to remind yourself this over and over again, while at the same time putting together a plot in which you storm into their room and turn their music system into a pile of rubble with the aid of a sledgehammer and perhaps a wild bear. Plus you think; “Well they probably wouldn't complain if it was me playing loud music.” which is likely to be true, but it just so happens that you possess an ounce of decency to NOT play your fucking music as LOUD as FUCK at ALL TIMES of the NIGHT and DAY. So you're thrown into a dilemma; pretend like all is fine, keep your friends but go without sleep for the rest of your life or piss off your mates by telling them what you think to only have them ignore you and your requests for quieter music and go without sleep for the rest of your life! What to choose?!

Another annoying aspect of a party house is party people. A large percentage of party people will come and go, but there is that small amount that stay and crash. This of course leads to your living room resembling a refugee camp. Too many times have I had to walk around and over the passed out corpses of people I don't know, like I'm in a minefield, attempting to make it to the kitchen for my morning cup of tea. To only do the same thing on the way back, this time with the added obstacle of a hot drink in my grasp. I have been tempted to 'accidentally spill' some of my drink, but why waste good tea on scum? It's as if you're a prisoner in your own home, you can't go about your business with randomers clogging up the house, attempting to make conversation or heavens forbid get some free food out of you. I'm joking of course, they don't ask for free food on most occasions they've just helped themselves. True fucking story – people I don't know or haven't invited to my house have ate my food and even drank my beer! These people in turn leave discarded takeaway packaging, used glasses and cups, that fester until someone [me, always; me] finally gives in and washes them.

When randomers aren't hoarding every nook and crevice of the household to sleep in, the people that live here are hoarding every plate, bowl, cup and piece of cutlery like fucking brain-dead pirates that never got a chance to steal anything of worth. I'm a kleptomaniac, I collect a wide range of different things. One of which is mugs/cups featuring the cast of The Simpsons, I have loads in different shapes and sizes. I haven't seen some for months. I don't know the exact number, but with the majority in front of me, I can tell which ones are missing. This worries me. This collection is not simply me wasting my time and money on something stupid, but it's also the culmination of some of my loved ones buying (and in one case; stealing) these cups for me. They hold sentimental value. For me, using my cup and keeping it locked in your room forever, is like kidnapping a mother's [favourite] child!

My diet doesn't consist of what food I have in my cupboard, but rather of what it's possible to eat my meal out of or off of. Soup is out of the question as bowls are scarce. Sometimes I sit and wonder what's more likely; a bowl in the cupboard or a drunk slut coming back to the house that doesn't shout her fucking head off at 3.00am while stood outside my bedroom door? Either would be a Godsend – to the point that if I wasn't awoken by a drunken girl one night and I had a good nights sleep, not awoken by anyone's music or the fucking brain shaking of someone's bass-levels turned up to uncomprehendingly high volumes and I woke up of my own accord, to go downstairs; where no bodies of a bunch on nobodies were scattered across my living room floor – so I was able to get straight into the kitchen, then in the kitchen I opened a cupboard to discover a [well washed and now dry] bowl that I could use for my cereal I would be forced to convert from Atheism to Christianity … as that would be PROOF of a Deity. Of course that would never happen and even if against all the odds it did, there still wouldn't be a fucking spoon to eat the cereals with.

All the fun of the Party House!


* That film is so terrible, the way I described is the only way to watch it.

Sketch: Is it not; Innit?

Hello reader, this month; February, you’ll see little to no activity on this Blog. This is because I’ll be attempting to use all my spare time in writing sketches and one-liners in an attempt to have them accepted by BBC Radio Sketch Show; Newsjack.

This sadly means that my rants and random lists will be put on hold for the time being, as everything I have yet to post is deemed “too personal” and will be likely to offend friends and loved ones.

So, here’s a sketch I wrote:

Is it not; Innit

Visit; Ben Broughton’s Sketches for more half-arsed sketches.

Recent Amusing Altercations with the General Public

Now, it's no secret that the general public are a nuisance for those like me and yourself (come on, you know that me and you are different from those out there – and by 'different', I mean 'far superior'). The thought of having to run into these types of scum gives me a severe case of agoraphobia. People are like rats, you're never further than ten feet away from one of them, they carry diseases and they all should be kept in laboratories to have medical tests forced upon them. In my ideal world I wouldn't have to deal with people, but sadly, this isn't my ideal world, so I'm forced to plaster on a fake smile and act like a give a flying fuck about individuals from time to time. The following two altercations are actual genuine meetings I've had with actual, genuine idiots.

Taxi Driver

Just before Christmas I was laying in bed with my girlfriend, it was around midnight and we were on our way to getting some much need shut-eye for the day ahead. As we lay there we heard a car pull up outside on the street and pip his horn. Quite annoying at midnight, but my street is filled with annoying sounds such as drunks bellowing at the top of their lungs to smack-heads scuttering, muttering and sputtering around in need of a fix. I thought that someone would simply go to the car and that would be the end of it, but no the horn pips again, then again and another time for good measure. Now it's really starting to piss me off. Then the doorbell rings, I climb out of bed [not actually true, I don't have a bed, just a mattress on the floor – ghetto!], throw on my dressing gown and slippers and make my way to the front door as me and the missus are the only ones in the house. I answer it to see a taxi driver parked outside me house. “Taxi.” he says to me. I'm slightly dazed and confused seeing as I'm half asleep. “Nobody ordered a taxi, mate.” I inform him. Hoping that he fucks off, because it's absolutely freezing. “No, someone ordered a taxi for [*My Address – Removed to prevent Hate Mail/Death Threats*].”
“No they didn't mate, I'm the only one in and I've been in bed for the last hour.” I tell him, hopefully putting it to rest.
“Well who is that in the window then?” he asks pointing up to my window. It's my girlfriend having a look to see what's happening and taking so long. “It's my missus.” I tell him. “Has she ordered the taxi?”
“No, she's in fucking bed with me, we're trying to get to sleep.”
“Well someone's order a taxi from this address.” He was a persistent son-of-a-bitch. Clearly my first tactic was not winning him over, so I began to elaberate; “Where are you supposed to be taking people?” I ask.
“Spondon.” He responds.
“No body in this house has any connection with Spondon, none at all. Are you sure you're not supposed to be in Spondon right now? At a house that shares my number?”
“No, it's definitely this address.”
“No, it's definitely not.” I left it at that, before I lost my toes to frostbite, shit the door on him and went back to mattress [/bed].

About 10-15 minutes later, I heard another car pull up, I looked outside to discover it's a taxi from the very same taxi company [not one of the most popular ones in Derby either*], with some of my neighbours getting out... probably after having a fun night in Spondon.

Idiotic Customer #465

At my place of work customers have to pay 3p for a plastic carrier bag, this causes problems, especially amongst those waiting to die (old people). I myself understand that it is slightly annoying to have to pay for something that is free is most other places, but come on it's only 3p! Three pence gets you nothing nowadays. Plus the money goes to charity (Cancer Research), so it's for a good cause.

The other day while at work an old gentleman came up to me to purchase a newspaper, he asked for a bag, so I informed him; “Bags are three pence, sir. Is that OK?”, he responded by saying; “That's disgraceful, I can't believe it...” [he did have a Victor Meldrew look about him, so I found that amusing] “... if I'd have known that before coming in I wouldn't have bothered, I'm never shopping here again. That's disgusting!” Disgusting?! Disgusting!? He's acting like I just showed him a PowerPoint presentation featuring images of me molesting his grandchildren and dead kittens. I followed up with; “All the profits go to charity.” [I have this technique of my own; I inform customers that bags cost 3p, then after I inform them that the money goes to charity, most of the time it wins them over] He continued to stare at me and said; “Don't tell me about charity, my wife died of cancer, I give money to Cancer Research every week!” This was completely from left-field, I can't comprehend what point he is trying to make; he already gives to charity, so he shouldn't give anymore to charity? It was plain baffling to me, as the way I saw it we were fighting the same fight against cancer. Anyway, talking about his dead wife [for no reason] was getting him riled up [for no reason]. I attempted to connect with him; “I lost my grandma to cancer too.” I don't know why I said that, it's as if I was turning the conversation into Cancer Top Trumps, although I think he had me beat; Wife beats Grandma every time, the only Cancer Top Trumps that can beat Wife are Child or Baby … and they're like the rarest. I continued; “So I'd like to see as much money as possible go to Cancer Research.” This seemed to be a nice landing blow from me, as the old bastard switched from 'Dead Wife talk' back to 'Moan about the Bag Price' mode and he uttered something along the lines of; “You shouldn't be charging for bags away.” as he walked off, bag-less, with his newspaper in his arms … like some barbarian! As if it was all down to me setting the prices of bags and sorting out Cancer Research with money. As he left I called him a cunt under my breath, I've worked in retail for over six years, calling a customer a cunt is something you master within the first month, so I have plenty of experience.

A manager was behind me for the whole time and once the old cunt had left he had some banter about it, he asked me; “You alright?” I thought; “Of course, I'm not the one with a dead wife.” Seeing as that sounded a little harsh, I decided not to say it, self-censorship gets me out of trouble again. I just explained how confusing the whole situation was, why a man that gives to charity is complaining about giving another measly three pence to charity.

* probably due to their inability to arrive at the right place.

Topical Sketch #1: Beckham's Hot Spa

I thought it's about time I try my hand at writing topical sketches as it's something that (particularly) radio shows are after. I've written a couple of sketches so far, but they're ideas that have been given time to ferment and I've gone back and changed them – adding and removing parts in an attempt to get them just right. Whereas with topical sketches, I feel like you've just got to bang them out quite fast, you can't sit around waiting or by the time you've got it perfect the subject matter is no longer topical – which makes your sketch dated and therefore pointless.

So here's the first. It's about David Beckham playing for Tottenham Hotspurs.

Beckham's Hot Spa (Sketch)

How to Make Your Blog More Popular

Hey Blogger, are you fiending for more hits than an army of jonesing smack-heads? If so, this is your lucky day. I know there's plenty of other Bloggers out there offering you up tips, but this is the right place to come. Because I'm just like you, apart from probably being much more better looking and successful with females. But I understand that there are millions of Blogs out on the internet and sometimes it's frustrating that some shitty Blog has hundreds of Followers while you just have a measly 19... and one of them is you! So if you're trying to increase traffic to your Blog to get it noticed, you have come to the correct place.

Get Your Product of There by Any Means
Firstly you need to get the word out there to the public. There are many ways to do this, most of them illegal, but hopefully you don't care about a criminal record. Start off small, write your Blog address on bus seats with a marker pen. Once you've done that buy [or steal] so white stickers and spend a day repeatedly writing out your Blog address then go sticking them around everywhere – McDonalds Drive-Thru is an excellent place to start. Write your Blog address on pieces of paper and go into a book shop, leave the bits of paper in books that follow the same/similar subjects as your Blog. Then step up your game. If a friend passes out around you [due to drinking] tattoo their forehead with a your website – now they're you're walking, talking advert for the rest of their lives – unless they wear a hat! Vandalise a national monument by tagging your Blog's address in spray-paint. Have a child and name it after your Blog; “Ahh... my first son; www.benbroughton.blogspot.com”, that's bound to get media attention, yes your child will be tormented for the rest of his/her life, but just image all the traffic you're going to get!

After a while you may want to aim your Blog towards your target audience. For example my target audience is; Young Offenders aged 14-26. So I often get myself arrested so I can spend a night in the cell, once in the cell I inscribe the walls with my website address. My other target audience is Slutty Girls aged 14-26, so I often go down to the local abortion clinic giving out my card. You'll have to come up with your own ways to promote towards your target audience.

Name Drop Famous People alongside 'Pop Words'
Search Engines, such as Google, can be great for directing people towards your Blog, so mention as many famous people as possible. To set yourself out from the rest add a pop word to it. By pop word I mean something exciting – usually sexually based. For example;

P. Diddy Rapes a Midget
Lady Gaga Ball Fall [a Ball Fall is like a Nip Slip – but it's when a testicle falls out]
David Cameron & Margaret Thatcher Sex Tape Leak

I'll probably get loads more views just because of those randomly thrown together words. You will too. Obviously you can't just blurt them out as I did, try to incorporate them into your subject somehow; “I had a great day today, went to the shop and thought I saw Justin Bieber performing a sexual act on a tramp, but when I looked again is was just a bunch of flowers, silly me!”

Use Interesting Blog Titles
Don't twat about like a twat, get them hooked straight away. For example, I was recently searching for “How to Make Your Blog More Popular” and then I thought; 'I bet loads of people Google that', then I came up with an idea to write my own guide to how to make Blogs more popular – which got you here, that's a victory for me. You see, these techniques really do work, you reading this is the proof.

Free Downloads
Everyone loves free stuff, that's a scientific fact. So just post loads of links to MP3s and Videos, just don't get caught. If you do get caught, don't tell them were you got the idea.

Utilise the Rest of the Web
Bombard Facebook Friends with messages, yes it's a Facebook taboo, but do it anyway. Upload a video to YouTube, that consists of you talking about how great your Blog is but entitle it; “New Blink-182 Song. 2011 Leak!”. Just don't read the comments from YouTubers calling for your execution. Hack a celebrity's Twitter account and Tweet to all their followers about how great your Blog is.

Where's Walters?
Is a stolen technique from my friend Mark Walters, but it is based on the oldest technique for promotion; word of mouth. Do as Mark did and randomly shout out the name of your website wherever you are; at the pub, on the bus, at a funeral. Wherever there's people, there's an audience to listen to you bellow out your website's name.

So there we go, six sure ways to increase traffic to your Blog. No need to send me your thanks. Just send me a cheque.

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.