A Vintage Fictional Future
This is an entry for a competition run by Mark A. Rayner at his website. The competition is to create a vintage advertisement using a product from a fictional future – TV, book, or movie. The Vintage Fictional Future competition is here. Go and enter. You know you want to. Click here to view larger and actually be able to read the text I like the idea of this competition. Don’t be surprised to see more entries from me. Don’t be surprised to not see more entries either. What I’m trying to say here is: whatever I do, don’t be surprised. Or, if you are surprised, try to cover it up in a manner that doesn’t give away how surprised you are. I find surprise to be most unbecoming. Thankyou for...
A Statement To The Media
Ladies, Gentlemen, and In-Betweenonoids, I would like at this time to read out a prepared statement on behalf of Creamyhinge Buttwart into the findings from the inquest into the death of his loyal butler-toadfrog Timbo. Thankyou. "Ladies, Gentlemen, and In-Betweenonoids, I sincerely hope that my spokeslemming hasn’t commenced its address to you in the same manner in which I have started this communication or I shall be writing to its employer immediately following this statement and I shall not refrain from using some common words – such as those you might overhear while passing through the Port Sector of Flashem City – to express my extreme displeasure. Also, I shall impale it upon a trident and parade it across the cliffs overlooking the Tastesfishy Lake, and I shall berate it with insults while it writhes in agony, and I shall compose a song mocking its parents. Hang on, I’m its employer. Never mind all that then. "It has been a long triple-fortnight to uncover the truth about the deaths of my loyal butler-toadfrog Timbo and the Arsecheeky Girls. I am not the only person of sufficient social standing worth listening to who says that they were murdered. Timbo himself predicted he would be killed beyond the capacity for body-regeneration and how it would happen and he was right that one time when he flashed his torch at me and indicated there was a good chance of rain in the afternoon so there’s plenty of precedence for his precognitive powers despite all scientific evidence to the contrary. So I am disappointed. "The verdicts of accidental squishing through sexual shenanigannery and spontaneous guilt-driven combustion will come as a blow to my bank balance as shenanigannery is specifically excluded in the life insurance policy I took out on Timbo just last year following that fatal-looking orange rash around his central eye which eventually turned out to be Doritos and careless licking. "For the best part of a week I have endured two police investigations. The Dampflangian Contabulary and Semi-Hardonian Amateur Sleuthing Women’s Club’s inquiries were wrong. This inquest proves it. They said it was the work of the Godgoat Analphlegm drunk on prayervapour setting alight their tri-alcoholic sweat-drenched bedding with his fiery laugh while they slipped into post-coital comas and their findings are now dismissed. And I shan’t be singing at their Tertiary Christmas parties this year. "Contrary to the scrawled and childish musings of the verminous, scum-like, gutter press – and I’m fully aware that most of you will be present for the reading of this statement, you common trollfish not worthy to clean my outer anal flap following a night...
Lonely Hearts
These are actual adverts from the Lonely Hearts section of my local, free newspaper. Antonio is sick-to-death of fake females. Please! No more fake females. The Adam’s Apple? Dead giveaway. You’re single? Oh you must meet my friend! What’s he like? Erm. Refreshingly unusual. Seriously, you won’t notice the third arm and constant snorting after a while. Hi, nice to meet you. You were a secretary I hear. Me? Oh, I used to be horse glue. People say my best features are my dark, long eyes. I can see very well at night but it takes me three seconds to blink so I can’t drive or operate heavy machinery. Dude! That’s your mum!...
How To Improve Football
I’m a big sports fan. Not playing any! Oh God, no, not activity! Watching sports. Watching sports. I like many sports. Diverse sports. Not basketball, of course, as I have standards, but I can watch almost anything else from cricket to athletics to rugby league to kayaking to weightlifting to well, as I said, almost anything really. And I love football. American football or worldsoccerballfootball; it doesn’t matter which because they’re both awesome. Okay, it does matter which as far as this post is concerned. Watching the English Premier League matches this past weekend highlighted just what a state the game of global football is in. There’s no one particular thing that’s the problem but there is one person who could sort it all out: Sepp Blatter, FIFA President. An open letter to everyone’s favourite honest, upright, caring, football-loving, not-at-all connected with corruption within the game of football, occasionally sexist Swissman. My darling Sepp, Please allow me a moment to recover from the laughing fit over your ridiculous name. That’s better. Okay, football’s in a right old mess and I just know you want to sort it out but where do you start? Luckily for you I’m around. Problem: Refereeing Referees have a hard job to do. We appreciate that. It’s not easy being the centre of abuse for two hours while the game is on, pressured by fans, managers, players, coaching staff, ball-boys, stewards, and living under the constant fear of a swallowed-whistle emergency situation arising. Then again, they chose to do the job so screw them. The important thing is not whether they’re good or bad, though. It’s whether they’re consistently good or bad. If everyone realises that a referee is always going to fall for a theatrical dive in the penalty area then it provides a fair playing field for both teams and nobody will get upset. It’s when the referee makes a howler giving advantage to the opposition and then promptly fails to make the same howler for you that tensions rise. Suggested Solution: It’s not too late to get Pierluigi Collina‘s stem cells. And by that I mean: Clone Collina. Clone. Collina. Problem: Bad Decisions People make mistakes. They’re not perfect. Referees – even assuming they could be consistently bad or good – are as far from perfect as you can possibly get and will make a lot of mistakes. Mistakes annoy people. Football mistakes annoy spectators and players and they can cost a lot of money to the commercial interests behind football and to people betting on outcomes in dimly-lit cellars while Fat Jimmy and his "Associates" wile away the time sharpening their...
Vintage Slug Advertising
Celebrating the golden age of advertising and the marketing world’s flirtation with all things slug-related, when slugs were the thing for every household to have, men wanted to be slugs, and women wanted their men to leave sticky trails across the kitchen floor. Wait! We still leave sticky trails across the kitchen floor! ‘Slugs’ White Bread Campaign (1957) Adolph’s Slug Substitute (1959) Sluggle Kitchen Cleaner (1952) Interwoven’s Slug Appeal (1978) Keepsake Forehead Slugs (1953) Slugs Holidaymaking Magazine...
How To Fit A Toilet
In theory fitting a toilet is a very simple job. Water enters the cistern. Water fills the cistern. The cistern is connected to the bowl. The bowl receives water and when flushing occurs pushes old water and any bodily excretions within it through the waste pipe. In theory very simple. In theory. In theory chatting up women is very simple too. You coat yourself in Doctor Ofknowledge’s Miracle Unuglifier Sealant. You load the neOnbubble Slightly Saucy Conversation Sentience into an unused node of your brain. You talk to women. They respond. You work your way through the Karma Sutra until dawn. In theory very simple. In theory. We’re going to look at fitting a toilet today. This is based on the assumption that you live in a "builder-modernised" house "modernised" by a "lobotomised asylum escapee" (like me (that is living in a house like that like me, and not an asylum escape like me – I’ll have you know I never escaped!)). This means we’ll need to remove the old toilet first. Preparation Before you attempt to remove an existing toilet and fit a new one it is imperative that you are prepared beforehand. You will need: gym membership – concentrate on building up your thigh and lower back muscles, a double life – at night you will need to engage in bare-knuckle fisticuffs with ruffians and oiks in order to weather your hands, roughening them up for gripping purposes, a triple life – on nights when there are no uncouth youths just waiting for a good old-fashioned pounding you should sell your body as a cheap whore paying special attention to buttock-clenching and being down on your knees a lot, enough food and water to survive a nuclear holocaust in the event that you can never turn the water back on again. Turn Off The Water Realise very early on that there is no isolation valve on the existing toilet. Realise soon afterwards that there is no stopcock in the house. Resign yourself to stepping out into the street and stopping the water from the valve outside your house. The valve is rusty and there is muck all around it and possibly things waiting to bite you or crawl over you like in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. HANDY PLUMBING HINT Why not buy a biological encounter suit for when you need to avoid touching anything icky? Turn the valve clockwise. Then anti-clockwise. Then clockwise again. Then realise you don’t know which way is off. Leave it where it was, consult the internet, and try again. It’s clockwise! Drain The Toilet Flush the existing toilet. This...
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