Shit Joke #4

I went to see my career advisor the other day and we spoke at length on what career I should choose, after shooting down all of her suggestions she turned to me and asked; “Well what would you like to do?”, I sat and thought about it for a minute and responded;
“I’d like an easy job, something like yours.”
She didn’t look too impressed, “So you think you could be a career advisor?” She asked.
“No.” I responded.
“And why’s that?” She asked, with a grin on her face.
“I’d be too difficult,” I said, “although I’m all for the unification, I think there may be a language barrier, as I can’t speak Korean.”

5 Reasons for Mrs. Cameron to Have an Abortion

Yesterday I read a news article (get me!) that proclaimed that the wife of David Cameron is pregnant. So, due to the fact I want to seem as if I’m on the pulse of current news topics and give the overall impression that I can be topical on this Blog, I decided to put together a list of reasons of why Samantha Cameron should abort that little bundle of joy promptly. For those that don’t know ‘SamCam’ (as some newspapers deem her, although to me SamCam sounds likes a porno-star’s website that features a live sex show broadcast via their webcam) and the evil one (David Cameron) have had three children already; Ivan Reginald Ian, Nancy Gwen and Arthur Elwen. Three children that have the combination of seven names! Although Ivan Reginald Ian died, so now they have two children that have the combination of four names.

1 – No Father Figure
Although sick slowly creeps up my throat as I write this; it is extremely possible that David Cameron will win the next election. This is going to make him an extremely busy man, the NHS isn’t just going to privatise itself you know! Therefore he’s not going to be around to help raise this child. If a child doesn’t have a father figure then it grows up unguided, into being a cynical bastard that writes hateful Blogs about people he/she doesn’t know, just for attention … so I heard somewhere.

2 – One Less Tory
I think we all can agree that The Conservatives are cunts. Yet, in a little over 18 years this foetus that is currently growing in SamCam will have the ability to vote, and who do you think it will vote for? Daddies group of friends, of course. It is important to stop people voting Tory early on in life, and what is possibly earlier than abortion? Stopping the conception of a Tory-baby is the only action that can be taken earlier than abortion, but that is extremely difficult. So one abortion = one less vote for The Conservatives, its simple maths.

3 – The Photo-Op Tot
Lets face facts here, if this little bugger is born it will receive the best education money has to offer, the kind of education that is so far beyond what any of us received we can’t even imagine the intricate details discussed as it would blow our minds right open and brain matter would ooze down our backs. The thing is, one day this child is going to put two and two together and realise that the only reason it was conceived was as a ploy to get votes. Of course growing up to become Tory scum it is likely that the child will come to this conclusion and say; “Father, I have been deep in thought about my conception and have come to the conclusion that the only legitimate reason for my existence to come about was for you to garner more votes at the 2010 election. I must say this was an excellent idea on your part, old chap. What a brilliant way to deceit the voters into selecting The Conservative Party. Heil Thatcher!” Although the opposite is also possible, if the child grows up and is able to keep in touch with its emotions (rare for most Conservatives I know, but it’s probable) and then comes to this conclusion, the child could become so distraught by this fact that it could commit suicide, as it’s life means nothing and it was simply a pawn on the chessboard of political one-up-man-ship. That’s no life for a child! Best to end it now with an abortion, before this horror unfolds.

4 – Over-Population
This kind of connects to something I’ve been thinking about for a while. Basically to get us out of this economic gloom I believe that couples (and slutty girls) should be limited to the amount of children they have in order for the country to get back on track. [This will be discussed at further length in an upcoming Blog … so I’ll convince you then]

5 – This Child could be the Anti-Christ
I firmly believe that when/if the Anti-Christ is conceived it will be by the seed of a Tory. Now I’m not too hot on my Biblical scripture but I do believe the Apocalypse reads like this;

“The world shall come to its end when the tides begin to rise. The Anti-Christ will be conceived on the Eve of an Election by a loyal servant of the Devil. The loyal servant will be congratulated for his role with a position of power, with this he will bring about a reign of terror across the lands. Blood will run through the streets, house prices will go up, the poor shall be slaughtered as offering to Satan. Then the Anti-Christ shall be born, slicing its carrier in two, the Anti-Christ will then feed upon the body of its mother. The loyal servant will pass down the power to the Anti-Christ, upon this happening the Anti-Christ will proclaim; ‘The End is nign, it’s time to motherfuckin’ die!’ And the world shall be engulfed by hell.”

… or something like that. It’s best not to take a chance and abort it now if you ask me.

Everybody Wants to Be a Comedy Writer

Today I was in my Advanced Scriptwriting class and the subject was writing comedy. Now this class is usually subdued like a Harold Shipman patient, but today there was a certain buzz about it. Most of the class was excited about the thought of writing comedy. Now this is kind of worrying, as I want to write comedy and so do all these other Muppets. The thing is since I can remember I’ve had people constantly banging on about how comedy is hard to write. I know this, and I understand it perfectly well. I believe I am up to the challenge. At times I’ve had second thoughts, but then I decide that this is what will make me happy. Yet today I had more doubts, as the majority of the class expressed their aims to write comedy. I’d have hoped that the constant barrage of “comedy is hard” would have dismayed some of my peers, but no, they’re clearly as stubborn as me when it comes to this matter, the ridiculous cunts!

This is where the problem comes along. On the one hand there’s me, on the other there’s them. Now, the difference is; I know I’m humorous (you may think otherwise, but you are entitled to your opinion no matter how utterly wrong it is), I’m not saying I’m a laugh-a-minute dispenser, I’m simply saying I’m humorous. They, are not like that, they are people that think they’re funny. You see thinking and being are extremely different. You can think you’re a bird but when you nosedive off of a skyscraper, you suddenly release that thinking you’re a bird and being a bird are completely different as you plummet to your death.

Now I’m wondering in this cesspool of idiots wanting to write comedy how the fuck can I stand out? How can I possibly make my voice heard when I’m stood next to some moronic fuckwit screaming the exact same thing as I am? If we go based on pure visuals they have the upper hand, as they are comically looking folk, not to say they look funny, they’re just funny looking. Yes, I think the majority of students on Media based courses aren’t exactly easy on the eyes, and that’s the politest way I think I could translate the fact they look like a bunch of overgrown Kerry Katona foetuses.

When it comes to writing comedy I shy away from it when it could affect my grade and therefore affect my future job as a runner fetching pompous cunts coffee. For example I wrote a script based around one of my short stories (Mr. Whiskers Must Die), yet the script only had to be ten pages and I wasn’t able to convey the main plot of the story a cat getting killed nine times (cats have nine lives, get it? Good!). So the plot didn’t pan out. Plus, I don’t trust my lecturer to grasp my sense of humour, seeing as when we’re in class he never laughs at my abortion jokes. The guy doesn’t have a funny bone in his body. Literally, seeing as last year he both of humerus’ removed, now he looks like the bastard child of a human and a tyrannosaurus rex. The thing is with comedy you have to take your time over it and nurture it like a baby, but not any baby, not the ugly baby or the ‘accidental’ baby, but the baby you wanted, the one you’re pinning your hopes and dreams on. The baby that’s going to make a success of itself in years to come while those other fucking babies you had slowly bleed you dry. You wouldn’t give your baby to a paedophile; much like you wouldn’t give a comedy script to someone that’s just going to piss all over it. Plus I do get worried about lecturers at times, for example if I was to hand in an excellent comedy script, what’s to stop him from selling it on as his own? He already has all the contacts in the business, what the fuck do I have? Nothing seeing as that bastard has stolen my only decent idea!

Overall, this makes me beg the question; how is it possible for one to stand out in an ocean of mediocrity?

Clearly I need to start putting together a game plan to combat these other ‘comedy writers’, while genocide does have a nice ring to it, I’m unable to commit to such a time consuming practice, also I do believe genocide can be quite pricey.

I could try and persuade my peers to follow a different path, but the likelihood of anyone paying attention to anything I have to say is improbable. I’m about as popular as Nick Griffin at a Black Panthers meeting, in that class room. Plus that would also take a lot of effort and to be honest acting social without the aid of alcohol is not one of my strong points.

The only other plan I can come up with is working hard. And that’s difficult, for example, right this moment I’m so far behind on University work its unreal. Yet, instead of doing it, I’m sat here thinking of genocide. Because anything is better than applying yourself to something that has to be done. I’m more likely to find a cure for cancer than I am to finish my dissertation early. But I suppose these things have to be done, and working hard is the only thing I can do, unless I stumble across some other short cut soon. I fucking hate working hard.

If Political Parties were Kids

The other day, while sitting around doing nothing of worth I got to thinking about political parties, and they way they are. There’s so many and at times it can be confusing trying to understand them, so I decided to think of them as kids at school, because at school things were so much simpler. Everyone knew where they stood, people were easy to classify by the way they acted. So here’s my personalisation of political parties.


Conservative Party
Would be that rich kid at school, kinda posh but always trying extra hard not to come across that way. The type of kid that wanted you to view him as one of your own but seeing as none of your other mates had butlers, you knew there was something different about him. Plus he’d always try to sound cool by using out of date slang, which he thinks will win you over but it just makes you hate him a little but more. Deep down you’d love to watch someone kick the living shit out of him, you wouldn’t do it yourself of course, because his parents would get some of the best lawyers in England to sue the living shit out of you and your broke-as-fuck family.

Labour Party
Would be that guy you used to get on with so much in primary school, but after a while you realised that deep down you don’t have that much in common anymore. Probably because he went around acting all hard when in fact he was a pussy. Yeah, he used to be kind of cool, but not anymore. So you try to avoid him and act like you don’t know him in social situations, as being linked with such a tremendous twat would ruin your reputation. So you spend the rest of your school life avoiding eye contact and ignoring him as he talks to you.

Liberal Democrats
Is that kid that’s forever teetering on the edge of becoming popular, if you could just remember his bloody name. No matter how many times you’ve been told his name, you just can’t remember it, it’s forever on the tip of tongue and that’s where stays. He’s constantly trying to act cool, much like the ‘Conservative Kid’, and he’d probably pull it off if you could simply remember that he exists, but alas, you can’t, so he’ll never be accepted or cool.

UK Independence Party
Would be that kid that joins the class towards the end of the year and never really manages to fit in. Although he makes some pathetic attempts to get along with everyone, but in the end he simply vanishes into the background and becomes part of the scenery. For example, if the fire alarm wet off and all the classes ran outside to the playground to make sure everyone was ok and accounted for, nobody would notice the ‘UKIP kid’ was missing until fire fighters dragged his charred remains form the ashy rubble you formerly called a school.

British National Party
Would be the kid always claiming not be racist, although they knew every racist joke going around and wouldn’t mind sharing them. And when racist stuff was found written in the toilets they deny it was them even though it was in their handwriting and there were plenty of spelling mistakes. Plus, he’d be the kid with the bald headed father, that only wore ripped jeans and white vests, along with having “NF” tattooed on his forehead, although the kid at school would protest, saying it didn’t stand for National Front, but for Nottingham Forest.

Official Monster Raving Loony Party
Would be that ‘special’ kid, although not ‘special’ enough for the ‘special’ class, but too ‘special’ for the regular class. Think of the kid that ate glue/paste and regularly wet themselves.

Green Party
Would be that eco-friendly kid. Constantly advising you to recycle your empty bottles or cans of Coca Cola, while telling you not to drink Coca Cola as Coke is an evil, capitalist corporation. He’s also the kid that always turns up to school without his homework, claiming to have done it, but instead of bringing into school he left it at home in the paper recycling bin, as the school doesn’t have a “good enough” recycling system. The one good feature he does have is his cool dreadlocks, but seeing as he doesn’t bathe, it kinda puts everyone else in school off of growing their own.

Toilet Humour?

I know this may seem a bit forward but I’m very content with my tiny penis. It does its jobs; expelling piss from my blander and “almost” pleasuring my numerous lady friends, to the best of its ability. But I don’t like the idea of having it out in front of other males, not even young boys.

I know there’s a belief amongst some people that young lads are constantly getting their cocks out for a cheap laughs, but luckily I spent my teenage years getting high, cracking jokes with mates, and seeing as we were all funny fuckers nobody ever had to rely on just pulling their dick out in a poor attempt at humour.

Like I said, I am content, but that doesn’t mean I want other people peering at it while I piss. The thing with public toilets is no matter how content I am or how much I need to piss, if someone stands next to me at a urinal I get nervous. It’s understandable; they’ve just entered my personal space. “Hello, my cock is out, back the fuck up please!” It’s not even the fact that they might see it and collapse in a fit of laughter, rolling around in puddles of back splashed and/or badly aimed piss that’s collected on the floor. That doesn’t bother me, plenty of girls have done it in the past, it does seem to be the natural reaction to the sight of my penis, and it no longer causes humiliation on my part, so I don’t care… like I said; I’m content. But it’s not just other males pissing in my vicinity. In some bathrooms you have those toilet attendants, stocked up with more aftershave than a Superdrug warehouse, and you can just feel their eyes burning a hole in the back of your head while you attempt to force out a pitiful amount of urine that can constitute a piss. They freak me out. Then they expect a tip for handing me some paper towels to dry your hands with (after washing them, the hands aren't wet from the piss – just to be clear). They don’t deserve anything. What do they expect me to say; “Here’s a couple of quid mate, cheers for making my blander empting experience an anxious one”?

Pissing is a private thing, and while it’s taking place I don’t want to be shoulder to shoulder with some random guy. It’s unbelievable how close some guys can get. If someone sits a bit too close to you on the bus, you might think they were a little weird, but at a urinal it’s weirder. In fact it’s an invasion of privacy, I’d rather have them looking through my bank statements or porn collection, than standing pressed up against me. Who wants a random bloke’s elbow knocking their own as he shakes of the last couple of drops? Not me, that’s for certain.

In my opinion it’s time for urinals to be put in cubicles, like toilets, they wouldn’t need doors, just panels of wood between the urinals. This would allow for personal space and would ease ‘stage fright’. As for those urinals that look like pig troughs, they would be abolished. And I’ve even had a cost effective way of supplying the panels of wood needed to fence off the urinals; deconstruct the toilet cubicles. I know it seems a little crazy, as I’m uncomfortable pissing in public, but shitting is so much different. Just imagine a row of toilets, no boundaries between them, there’s so many possibilities. As we know, shits take a much more considerable time than pisses, wouldn’t it be nice to have a little chat with the guy sat two toilets up for you, if you were both going to be in each others company for a while. They’d always be a conversation opener; “So what you pushing out?” Plus there would be no more trying to figure out which toilet cubicles were empty, you’d be able to see which toilets were free with a quick glance. Nobody would be pissing on the toilet seats and if they did (unlikely because all pisses would definitely now take place at the new closed off urinals) they’d feel forced to wipe it off under the scrutiny of on looking poopers. If you ran out of toilet paper, you could ask the person next to you for some. A newspaper or magazine could be passed around; “Here you go mate, read this, I’m off now.” In nightclubs, people would no longer be able to snort coke. One possible problem might arise when it comes to wiping though, as everything will be on show, but if someone watches another man wipe his bum he deserves to be haunted by the disgusting sights he sees for the rest of his life.