What has Frenchie taught me?

I can remember what I was like before I met Adam French. I was a A-grade, choir boy with my career heading towards politics, I was in The Times' most likely to be Prime Minister list in the next 25 years. Adam French cahnged all that for me, he chewed me up and spat me out as a skinny crackhead, heading for a early death due to an overdose or in Prison, as someone bitch!! Thanks Frenchie.

What Frenchie taught me:

- Having gay sex, DOES NOT mean you are a gay/homo/faggot. Straight people can have gay sex too.

- No drugs is really illegal, they're just not taxed, which is why the Government does not allow the use of them.

- You are allowed to have sex with under-age girls if you are drunk. But it is done on a mesaurement, for every pint you have the girl can get one year younger, for example, if I drink two pints I'm allowed to sleep with a girl aged 14. If I drink six pints, I'm allowed to sleep with a girl aged 10, not that I ever would, I get brewers droop after five pints!

- If your last name is a nationality that does not mean you are that nationality, for example Adam French is not French, he's German - I think.

- Avoid soberness at all costs, Adam French likes to brag that he has only got high once. The thing is; he got high for the first time six years ago, but he has yet to come down. His first time getting high was a six year drug binge inwhich he took whatever he could.

- Avoid washing. This is time wasted, you could be taking drugs or having gay sex instead of washing. As Frenchie said himself; "We live in er.... England, man. Like ... and like it rains like most Mondays and sometimes on Wednesday too, man. So just wait for the rain and get rained on, and that'll keep you clean". Wise words indeed.

Frenchie may have taught me alot more, but I've probably just forgot his wise ways.

A day in the life of Jeremy Kyle

9.00am - Woke up. Got dressed and washed.

9.30am - Ate my breakfast at the laptop while playing on www.888.com, lost £3,000.

10.00am - Neglected my children to go to work to shout at dole-collecting, working-class scum who neglect their children.

12.00am - Skipped lunch for Ladbrokes, lost £1,500 on the horses.

2.00pm - Returned home to find my brother waiting for me, wanting to borrow so more money. Had a DNA test on him again to make sure he's my brother. William bought me the restults, turns out the results were inconclusive because of the large amount of coke and herion in 'my brother's' system. Gave in and just gave him £200.

3.00pm - Had an arguement with the wife. She thinks I've been spending too much money recently. Graham came over with the aftercare team to discuss our problems.

3.07pm - Bitch slapped my wife in the face.

3.08pm - Bitch slapped Graham in the face.

3.10pm - Got beat up by Graham, until Security broke it up.

3.45pm - Returned to Ladbrokes, won on the horses; £20!

5.30pm - Returned home for something to eat. The wife's still not talking to me.

6.00pm - Watched some old videoes of 'The Jeremy Kyle Show', God damn it; I'm GOOD!

8.00pm - Saw 'The Jerry Sprinder Show', while channel surfing. I wish I could get some guests as crazy as he did.

8.37pm - Depressed, I slumped in front of my laptop, to gamble away my house.

10.00pm - Didn't lose my house, instead I won £45,000! So ending the day on a high note I sent another hate email to Trisha, telling her what a bitch she is. Signed it Kyle Jeremy (clever - hey?). Decided to go to bed.

10.23pm - Couldn't sleep, sent another email to Trisha, this time signed it from myself, but made it nice. Told her if she ever wants to talk about her cancer, she's more then welcome to come on my show, which is watched by two million people, to discuss it. I can sleep now, back to bed (well - back to the sofa in the living room - wife's still pissed, that's the last time I marry someone that was a contest winner to get married to an other stranger on a radio station that I was a DJ on!).

The Pro-Green Dealer

In a society that is slowly becoming more and more obsessed with recycling, buying organic and supporting Fairtrade products, one man has dared to step up and make himself noticeable. That one man is my dealer; Jeff.

Jeff is the UK’s first (and probably the world’s first) Pro-Green drug dealer. Jeff saw a gap in the market and has ceased total control over many other dealers after users have wanted to make a difference by buying his products. Jeff’s income has increased by over 600% because of the recent changes he has made to his business. Customers are shopping each week at their local supermarkets buying organic food and Fairtrade products, so they can feel like they’ve made a difference, so why wouldn’t they want to do the same with their drugs?

Jeff started out selling organic weed, which was grown totally naturally, no pesticides are used and it’s all by natural light, not stuck in someone’s cupboard grown by a lamp. The weed great and gave an amazing high. Anyone that has tried it has recommended it to a friend, and I highly recommend it to you (email me for Jeff’s contact details).

From the weed Jeff branched out into coke. Now this was new to Jeff, but he managed to get contacts of someone in Cuba that was producing Fairtrade cocaine. This coke is made fairly and no-one making it is beaten, killed or any of that nasty shit that goes off in that shit-hole which we call Cuba. Now, I’ve never tried this coke, the only thing that goes up my nose is my right index finger, but I have been told it is incredible. So if lines are what you like, get some from Jeff.

Since then Jeff has been thinking of extending his business further. But he’s not willing to share any details with me, because (and I quote) I’ll “just write about it in my shitty blog”.

One last thing; about recycling. Jeff gives you extra weed or coke if you bring your own baggy, instead of using his.

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!