Daer Alcoholl

Monday 03rd August

in fact, dear beverages of all descriptionnns with a prcentage proof.

plse leave me alone.

i might have gone out of my way to destroy many of your friends and family in the many years i have known of your existance in many various and destrictive ways.

depth charges, boat races, beer showers and woest of allll. cocktail night.

i am deeply sorry.

but being wholesome about this.... i deny responsibility, that wasn't me.

i've changed.

i've got older.

are we not free to forgive the sins of the past so we can enjoy a happy future together?

is there not some happy medium where we can put aside past differences and co-exist?

at least some form of neutral zone where the toilert stops spinning for long enough for me to cuddle it without passing out through crntripital force?

woe is me.

the weekend is over and i have to show for it.....

..... gtg.

He's licking the glass and making obscene gestures with his hands

Friday 7th August

So here I am, home alone again, listening to Beethoven and pondering my career opportunities. In another 8 weeks I'll be out of a job and thrown into the great outdoors.

Personally, I'm thinking of it as my miracle on 34th street, my great opportunity. I might be home alone all day but that's no reason to devolve into all of a flubber, it could even be some kind of wonderful thing happening to me. I needn't be home alone, I could take a vacation, a European vacation…. Hell, if the money works out I could go on another American adventure!

Think of it, stories and scripts by Big Bad Jon made in Manhattan! I might be just visiting but I could travel the world on planes, trains and automobiles! Though I'd probably get lost before getting to San Francisco trying to reach 'The Rock' or some other culturally significant place and end up in some backwater place like Shermer, Illinois.

I'll probably just spend some time relaxing at home. Alone I'll end up watching endless repeats of Ferris Bueller's day off and Uncle Buck, but you never know; I might end up joining some sort of writer's breakfast club (if such things exist) or dabbling in some sort of weird science, maybe seeing what other forms of clothing could be made with the pelts of 101 dalmations.

They might call me crazy, but they called Beethoven crazy when he cut of his ear.

No, hang on, that was Van Gogh.

Beethoven was deaf wasn't he? Wasn't Beethoven the one on that film with the phone booth where he rammed sixteen candles up a …. No, that was that other film from the other night.

Beethoven. Definitely deaf, not crazy.

Which I'm not either.

Glory, Glory Twelfth of August!

Wednesday 12th August

As everybody in the western world knows, it's the Glorious Twelfth.

Happy Glorious Twelfth To You!

Don't tell me you've never heard of it? Shame on you. Go right now to the shame corner and hide your head in the shame bucket until you feel shame coursing through every pore of your body.

Shame on you.

Obviously you should know that the glorious twelfth is the day we all celebrate by getting out our shotguns and blasting small birds to pieces in the name of sport.

Hurrah!

Yes, the Red Grouse season opens today and it is such a popular and exciting hobby throughout the country that we've invented an entire day of celebration and named it… the glorious twelfth!

All through today you'd be able to see people roaming about on moors and parklands gloriously blasting the crap out of small would-be-pigeons.

Are Grouse really that much of a problem that we need a special hunting season for them? Are they a plague that steal babies and pension funds and sports cars and loose women? Are Grouse so demonic as to need an enitre named day just to wipe them out?

Hey, next year why don't we have nation-wide street parties where everybody brings cake and a hamster and at noon exactly everybody stomps on them… and call it Happy Squish Day!*

(* Don't google that…. I feel sick now)

Now I'm fairly sure it's some sort of sporting thing, this shooting grouse thing.

It can't be for food, because I'm fairly certain that Tesco's still have a chicken or two left in their freezers.

It can't be for the challenge, because Grouse fly so damn slow you could nip to the car get a step ladder, climb it and punch them out of the sky.

It can't be for the pelt, I don't think I've seen many Grouse-pelt jackets in the window displays for a while.

So it must be because some people just really like getting large guns and blasting the crap out of creatures far smaller and weaker than themselves, In which case the universe is doomed.

Sorry, I've just read that again and seen where I went wrong.

Carry on.

Who wants a Darwin Bat?

Monday 17th August

I don't know if you've noticed, but the universe is full of supremely stupid people.

This is not news.

How is there not a license to educate/wound stupid people? Call it a Darwin Bat and provide a license certificate with every one sold that gave the purchaser rights to beat people stupider then themselves.

I would buy one of those.

I'd buy a truckload of those.

I'd buy hundreds and wander the streets handing them out to people. I'd host mass rallies where people could come and get free t-shirts and bats and be allocated city blocks just in celebration of beating stupid people.

I'd make it so that it would be Illegal to beat people more intelligent than yourself. In fact you would have to hand over your bat to receive a beating.

Now, you might consider this to be intolerant. And you'd be absolutely right in that fact. Well done you. But that doesn't mean that what I'm saying is in any way wrong.

Obviously there would be limits. You couldn't hit a child or a dog or a clown with these bats, there are other implements for torturing those categories of society, like Anne Robinson.

Just for a minute though, try and imagine what the world would be like without stupid people. It might be elitist to think of such things. Possibly even some could say that it would be genocide. In my favour though, it would be a lot quieter and you'd be able to revisit the land of the stupids any time you like by just popping in a commemorative Big Brother DVD which you can pick up from any branch of the now much emptier HMV.

Oh, imagine how easy it would be to drive places without idiots on the road… bringing me to today's pile of bile from me and the reason for this post.

Saturday. You can remember back that far, can't you?

On Saturday night I was driving a 3.5 tonne truck back into town. As I approach the junction I need, I signal to move into the inside lane, strangely enough so that I can exit the motorway. This is not a complicated manoeuvre. Though spelling manoeuvre is.

At the last second a shitty little black car comes steaming up the inner lane, undertakes me, and by method of non-verbal communication challenges my manliness and virility. I challenge his (the other driver, not the car) views by signalling via my lights that his opinion is in no way valid and his mother is the known source of income for many donkeys. Many, many donkeys.

This continues for a while, maybe even 50 to 100 yards.

At this point, Chappy McDumblebrain sees the upcoming junction and tells me that he would like for us both to use said junction so that we may communicate further. I accede to his request for the simple fact that I have been signalling to come off at this junction since I joined this lane.

I'm now in sat in a huge truck asking myself, and my numerous passengers, if I've just been 'offered out' to have a fight. Do people still do this?

Well I pull off the motorway behind this master of delicacy and logic. He even indicates he wants to take the first exit off the roundabout. How handy, thinks I, that's where I'm going too. I'm even going to pull into the petrol station to get petrol next so he can now attack me under the camera's eye.

How handy.

This is where it goes a little strange. He signals to come off, then as we're both committed he veers out of this lane, crosses traffic and re-joins the motorway laughing to himself. Why is he laughing? Because he's trapped me in the lane I needed to be in before he showed his face.

Well that certainly taught me a lesson. That being that some people are violent and stupid imbeciles.

Think on it. Imagine being in a pub and somebody nudges your drink and then offers you a fight before storming outside and not waiting for you.

And you're in a comfy chair.

And it's raining outside.

Wouldn't you just feel so silly?

JH Movies : Answer

Friday 21st August

27 Films. Well done Zaphod. You win a prize, even though your ability to count is crap you still got the right answer. Oh, and karma for Shittemp who got the quote right.

---

So here I am, home alone again, listening to Beethoven and pondering my career opportunities. In another 8 weeks I'll be out of a job and thrown into the great outdoors.

Personally, I'm thinking of it as my miracle on 34th street, my great opportunity. I might be home alone (2) all day but that's no reason to devolve into all of a flubber, it could even be some kind of wonderful thing happening to me. I needn't be home alone (3), I could take a (National Lampoon's) vacation, a European vacation…. Hell, if the money works out I could go on another American adventure!

Think of it, stories and scripts by Big Bad Jon made [sp] in Manhattan! I might be just visiting but I could travel the world on planes, trains and automobiles! Though I'd probably get lost before getting to San Francisco trying to reach 'The Rock' or some other culturally significant place and end up in some backwater place like Shermer, Illinois.

I'll probably just spend some time relaxing at home. Alone (4) I'll end up watching endless repeats of Ferris Bueller's day off and Uncle Buck, but you never know; I might end up joining some sort of writer's breakfast club (if such things exist) or dabbling in some sort of weird science, maybe seeing what other forms of clothing could be made with the pelts of 101 dalmations.

They might call me crazy, but they called Beethoven (2nd) crazy when he cut of his ear.

No, hang on, that was Van Gogh.

Beethoven (3rd) was deaf wasn't he? Wasn't Beethoven (4th) the one on that film with the phone booth where he rammed sixteen candles up a …. No, that was that other film from the other night.

Beethoven (5th). Definitely deaf, not crazy.

Which I'm not either.

The New Era of Manliness

Monday 24th August

There are two kinds of people in this world.

People who can't wait to see 'The Expendables'.

Women.

If you can't work out which group you should be in because you're both, then you need to send me your number right away. (nude pictures are optional).

Seriously, the only reason you could have for not wanting to watch this film is because you have no Y chromosome. The Y chromosome has been widely and scientifically acknowledged as the genetic part of the male psyche that loves explosions, giant robots, monster trucks and action movies.

(An extra X chromosome is responsible for the existance and career of Mathew Modine and Steve Guttenberg. I leave it to you to figure out which is more productive.)

Anyway, I was getting off point there for a minute, and probably inviting another round of hate mail. Yes, that was it. If you are a man, it is a guaranteed fact that you want to see 'The Expendables'.

The only other reason you could have is because you've not heard about it yet. Let me explain… no better yet, let me tell you who is starring in 'The Expendables'.

Jason Statham. And Jet Li. And Dolph Lundgren. And 'Stone Cold' Steve Austin. And Eric Roberts, Charisma Carpenter, Mickey Rourke, Gary Daniels, Bruce Willis, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone.

That noise you just heard was your balls dropping.

You're welcome.

You're thinking about how they could possibly afford this? You heard about this movie thirty seconds ago and now there is nothing on earth that will stop you from going to see this film, right? THAT'S how they can afford it.

I've already made up the fact that this film will be the basis of 87% of Media studies classes on 'How to Get People to Go See a Movie' from 2010 onwards. (The other 13% will be studying 'Why the Spoof Movie genre is like a dead horse and possible reasons why idiots keep flogging it'.)

There are tribes in the deepest Amazonian jungle who have never seen a white man or electricity, and they've already got a dozen DVD copies on pre-order. From Amazon, presumably.

…. I've just been asked what the plot is, and I have to be honest, I don't have the faintest clue.

Does it matter?

Many Bean Alarm Psycho Chili

Tuesday 25th August

I've not set you a challenge in a while and since I don't have the time to tell you about the Elephant in the room, (hint : it's grey and takes up quite a bit of room) then i shall set you another little brain teaser that i found recently. I like this one.

Gavin, the psycho rockabilly chef, is making a bean stew.

In preparation for this, he's loaded the pot with 75 Yellow beans and 150 Purple beans. Now before he puts any water in the pot then he has an epic fit and decides that there's something wrong with the beans and starts pulling them out at random in pairs.

If the pair that he pulls out contains a Purple bean, then he doesn't care what the other bean is, he drops it back in the pot and throws the Purple bean away.

If the pair that he pulls out are both Yellow, then he dumps them both and adds in another Purple bean from the handy bag he has nearby.

The question is, if he carries on until there's only one bean left, what colour is it and why?

Answers on an electronic postcard to the usual address