St Patrick’s Day
In my many years of running this website in its various incarnations I don’t think I’ve ever exploited the celebration of St Patrick’s Fun ‘n’ Fight Day which is rather remiss of me considering I am half Irish. If I had an excuse – and clearly I have or I wouldn’t have started this sentence – then it would probably be that usually I don’t think about taking advantage of drinking excuses until days after the event, and typically that’s through a pounding headache and after another trip to the local So You Got Yourself A Tattoo While Drunk And Now You Need Your Love For Some Guy Called Lucas Removed From Your Buttocks clinic. So, let me introduce you to the Ireland I know and love and with whose people I get in fights on a regular basis. Northern Ireland and Eire When I say Ireland I mean Proper Ireland or Southern Ireland or Eire, the larger portion of the island of Ireland. I do not mean Northern Ireland, the top right corner bit. There are a number of differences between the two Irelands. The north is a largely Protestant country filled to the brim with brick buildings while the south is mainly Catholic and fields. Listening to a proper Irish accent makes you smile because of the lilting, flowing, gentle, laidback tones. The Northern Irish accent, on the other hand, is shouted mostly from the front of the mouth and Ian Paisley speeches are used to break terrorist suspects. Food & Drink Everyone knows that the Irish love their Guinesses, Murphys, Beamishes, Kilkennys, Caffreys, various porters, vision-removing poteens, and Harp lagers, often all at the same time, and I’m certainly no exception, but Ireland is nearly famous for its wide and varied food too. From fish to meat and vegetables you’re bound to find something you like, and then boil it. Popular dishes include the traditional irish stew (boiled meat and boiled vegetables, boiled), colcannon (boiled mashed potatoes with boiled cabbage, served with boiled onion gravy), and pizza (boiled dough layered with boiled tomato puree, topped with various boiled meats). And don’t forget to finish off your meal with an Irish coffee and retire for the evening with a rich, peaty whiskey. But don’t boil it too long or the alcohol will burn off and you risk sobering up. Natural Ireland Rains a lot. If you’re an avid mudspotter then you won’t be disappointed. Speaking Irish It’s true that not a lot of Irish people can actually speak Gaelic anymore and those that were assumed to be holding onto the native tongue resolutely have since been shown...
Adult sex dating! For adults! Sex! Rawrrgh!
Recently I was approached by a lovely young lady from one of those dating websites – you know the ones; meet swingers in your local area, the rubber-hooded urine-fetishist of your dreams is only a click away, cheat on your partner with a goat and a priest with a camera – asking if I had ever considered running adverts for dating websites on this one. Apparently, my site was just the sort of site that visitors to other sites that ran adverts for dating sites but who failed to click those links to those sites were likely to visit and, therefore, my site could be an ideal site to advertise dating sites upon. Site. I got lost at the first use of the word "site" and shook my head dumbly which, in retrospect, was pretty pointless since we were communicating via the functionality of forum messaging through the medium of the internet across the vast reaches of time and space that separate Europe and America. I let my dating representative know that, after some soul-searching, I just couldn’t do it. The reasons for this, which I didn’t give, and I know you couldn’t care less about, were: I’m an artist, I have my integrity to think about, I’m a people person, I have my regular readers to think about, I’m lazy, I have my thinking where the hell I can put adverts without ruining the whole look of the site to consider, I’m not really a people person, I need time to devise my how can I trick my regular visitors into earning me cash? plan. Probably the main reason I couldn’t do it was because I know my regular visitors well – in some cases better than they know themselves – and it was pretty clear immediately that no matter which dating agency I ran adverts for there would always be some general grouping of visitors to this site who would be left feeling lonely and uncatered-for, reliant more than ever on their own hands and the toys they sent off for under an assumed name. I’m not an emotional person typically; I’m systematic, have an analytical mind, and don’t have much empathy for the problems of other people when they are quite capable of solving them themselves. But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to help and benefit from the experience myself, does it? I’ve checked the demographic breakdown of this site’s readership and looked into the marketplace for gaps in the dating arena. And where I’ve spotted gaps I’ve attempted to plug them using my new enterprises. homelessloving.net I know that if you’re wealthy then chances...
I was a teenage spaceonaut
It was during that Summer when we all got caught up in the fervour of protecting Earth from aliens when I almost lost my life. Like many young people I rushed to sign up with one of the various private companies that were advertising at the tube stations and in the back of adult magazines; I think I saw the advertisement at Waterloo station but I’ll admit it might have been in Abseiling Bukkake Nuns. It doesn’t really matter now. A lot of the companies went bust before they were formed, were scams, or were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I got lucky. The "L. Ron Hubbard Body Thetan Defence Force" company, as incredible as it seems, actually had nothing to do with the crackpot Scientology "religion" and had been simply named after the seven founding members. I actually met Terry L. and Montague Thetan when I applied and we all had a good laugh about the legal challenges and threatening letters from John Travolta at the time. Later I would discover that Montague laughed at everything because he had been dropped on his head as a baby, three times as an adolescent, and twice the day before I first met him. His laugh, like the rash on his lips, was infectious though and I still remember him fondly. I underwent extensive training – along with seventeen other accepted recruits – in alien warfare on the new-fangled Space Invaders machine at the cafe beneath company headquarters and was introduced to the experience of what space travel would be like through several sessions of heroin-high ‘Pin The Tail On The Donkey’ games. And it wasn’t just physical testing; every week we were subjected to rigorous question and answer challenges at The White Stag. On the Wednesday when we finished third and won a bottle of Pinot Noir we were told we were as ready as we were ever going to be. We were split into crews of six at random and assigned to one of the company’s three spacecraft. I had never been as proud in my life as the moment I was assigned second-in-command of the Orbital Space Fighter (OSF) Marilu Henner (Taxi was popular at the time if you remember). It felt like forever but in reality it was the day after the pub quiz when we climbed aboard our vessels and awaited the signal to leave Earth behind and begin our six month criss-crossing patrols of the Van Allen belt (the most likely injection point of the vile otherworldly creatures who were rumoured to be planning an interplanetary invasion). I had cycled to...
Push polling
I love politics and I hate politics. Actually, to be more precise, I love politics but wish an excruciating death on those who are right-wing nutters (that would be almost all right-wingers then). I don’t think religion has much worth in a world that has turned its back on Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Giant Staring Moth In The Cupboard either but, for the most part I can live with it (religion, not the Giant Staring Moth In The Cupboard) and those who practice it so long as, like furries, they don’t bother me, or, like the Giant Staring Moth In The Cupboard, they don’t bother me any more. Fundamentalists – Christians or otherwise – on the other hand can drown slowly in a pit of lava for their small-minded crimes against humanity in the name of morality. These two groups – right wing political nutcases and fundamentalist religious medical experiments – often overlap if you draw a Venn diagram containing them (they go on the same day trips, share bus rides to Bingo, and, eurgh, intermarry) and, worryingly, often employ the same tactics to achieve their power-crazed aims. And never forget that their aims are power-based. Politics, morality, benevolence, and charity never enter into their plans. They want to dictate what you do, when you do, who you do, how often, and how kinky. Sure, I’d like that too but at least I’m open about it. One tactic they often use is lying, repeating the lie, lying that the lie ever took place, and then following that up with physical and/or spiritual threats. Spiritual threats, of course, don’t work on me; my ghost can beat your ghost any day of the week. Another tactic is called the "push poll". This method uses a seemingly innocent question for survey purposes to subliminally suggest one point of view or another. It’s sneaky, it’s underhand, it assumes everyone is an easily-confused idiot (these days, pretty much true). It works. There are those who think that you shouldn’t use the mechanisms of the enemy lest you become them. However, I never listen to them. What do they know? Push Poll To Potential Labour Party Supporters In The Upcoming General Election 1. If you were told that Tony Blair beats Cherie around the face with a spiked mitten nightly and takes in homeless children off the street to lick him clean in lieu of bathing which he firmly believes erodes the pheromones that allow him to sway swing voters would you a) be more likely to vote for Labour, b) be less likely to vote for Labour, c) be unsurprised, or...
Surviving Jude Law
It’s only a matter of time people – months if we’re lucky, days if the Gods of Fate and Cheekbones have any say in the matter – before Jude Law attacks us all. I’m ready. I rate my chances as better than one in three of living in a post-Jude Law apocalypse as a leader among the mutants, revered for my fine head of hair, adored because of my almost fully-functional genitalia, and tolerated despite my annoying cough that won’t shift. But what about you? Are you doomed to die in the initial onslaught? Could you do more to prepare? Jude Law Attack Tactics Combat may be inevitable and victory dangerously far out of reach but history tells us that battles have been won and lost in an instant and I’ve come to trust what history says especially since it helped me find my car keys that one time. Knowledge of what Jude is likely to do when attacking – and he will attack – might just give you a metaphysical crowbar with which to lever open the metaphorical doorway leading into the allegorical corridor just off the very real instant that swings the fight. It’s not much, and a real crowbar might be better, but it’ll have to do. Jude Law won’t spend much time taking in the situation as he prefers a blitzkrieg style attack so you have to be ready to defend the moment you see him. This assumes you’ll see him. Detailed analysis of his fights to date shows that he is as equally like to come at an opponent from behind as straight on and the margin of preference for tunnelling under and eating the feet of an enemy rather than dropping from a ledge with hooks in his hands is statistically negligible. If you are "fortunate" enough to witness a head-on approach by Mr Law then you can typically expect him to adopt the classic crab position; feet and palms on the floor, body raised to the heavens, head upside down. While this might slow you or I down Jude can move with lightning speed in this position and many experts suspect there is a psychological element to this choice of body shape, carrying with it a genetic memory of giant spiders attacking early neanderthals perhaps. This theory does seem borne out by witnesses to his preference when launching a rear assault on a victim when he is decidedly more likely to flail his arms in windmills and scream like a girl. The Jude Law Crab Attack gives him a number of advantages in a quick fight. He’s a smaller target, naturally, and...
Paris Hilton’s range
By now there are four people in Peru who haven’t been able to see all the latest Paris Hilton photos so this article, like all my articles, is primarily aimed at them for when they’re released by the rebels seeking independence and a return of Paddington. Paris "Goshdarnit, I’m In The News Again" Hilton has recently had her phone cracked and all the stored pictures, email addresses, and phone numbers were leaked to that bane in Ms Hilton’s life: the internet. Do you know anyone with a phone camera? You do! Well, does that person have nothing but 98,000 photos of themself stored in their phone’s memory? They don’t! Guess you don’t know Paris Hilton then. Now, I’m not saying she’s narcissistic, but the only other explanation I can think of is that she thinks you have to look at the small round lens to take a picture. Paris is certainly one for self-promotion and I wouldn’t put it past her to have had this leak arranged but regardless of the outcome of all this I did make a discovery during my perusal of her personal portfolio: she could always make it as a model. Look at the...
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