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In an idea shamelessly lifted from everyone else on earth, especially bloggers who think people care about their opinions (like me) I have decided to put forth my own end of year highlights list type thing. In a break from the way everyone else does it, I am going to give it fuck all thought and planning.

Top five highlights of the year.
Katy Perry - especially that I Kissed A Girl business (sample lyric: I kissed a girl and I liked it/ the taste of her chilli chopsticks). The album is also brilliant as fuck. A personal message to Katy Perry: No, he won’t mind.
Spiritualized - ANOTHER brilliant album and an awesome gig.
SebastiAn - I saw him DJing in Spain and he looks like a four year old homunculus with a fag on the go. And is awesomeness, personified.
My Nudie Jeans - I bought these on my birthday at the beginning of the year and I still love them, they still look great and hang so well. They have been washed twice, so they stink a bit.
The rediscovery of my Gold Adidas Forest Hills - I bought these ages ago and thought they were shite. I love them off now.
Nail polish - especially Victoria by Nails Inc. But not in a gay way.
Flight Of The Conchords - Just fucking brilliant. Also check out Eagle Vs Shark.
Tapac 24 in Barcelona - My favourite eatery in the world.
Finding freedom - in my own way, anyway.
The Dark Knight.
Carbon footprints - Allows non-drivers like me to feel smug. Let’s hope climate change continues on the course we have set for it.
My fucking vegetable box - In the summer this is a great way of feeling smug and getting exciting new vegetables.
The Collings And Herrin Podcast - which is brilliant.
Summer Heights High.
Cooking - I have basically learnt to cook this year. A bit last year too, but mostly this year (and this is my list, so fuck off) and it’s ace. I intend to write a cookering (yes, I know it says cookering, it is meant to. It is an attempt at being twee and cutsey) book and grow fat and wealthy from the spoils.

Katy Perry, not kissing a girl, yesterday

Top five shit things of the year.
Apple Macintosh computers - I bought this on my birthday too. I thought it would change my life. How wrong I was. It’s exactly the same as a PC but it cost 5 times as much and you can’t play Broken Sword on it.
Paracetamol.
The state of comedy on TV - E4 and BBC3 used to be about quality comedy. Now it’s just shit like Beehive. A show so bad that, in the interests of her future mental health I kidnapped a small girl as soon as I heard it was commissioned. I intend to release her shortly after the show finishes. I do not wish to incriminate myself so I will not give you her name, suffice to say she has a wonky eye and her parents fucking love tapas.
My fucking vegetable box - In winter, all I get is mud. Or vegetables (allegedly) that are not far removed from mud. Such as turnips.
The Russell Brand Debacle - but I think everyone is bored of the fluff now.
Rufus Hound - What is the point of this cunt? Why is he on my TV? It’s not because he’s fucking funny, I’ll tell you that.
Weather - If I had it my way we wouldn’t have any. England seems to have given up on summers, which is incredibly frustrating.
ATP Release The Bats - to see precisely how boundless my disappointment with this nonevent is, then read my review (and no others. I speak only truth.) but the short version is: Cunt Convention.
Lack Of Money - With freedom comes responsibility. And out goes any real income. I am toying with the idea of setting up a paypal account and subsisting on the kindness of strangers.
Niall being killed off in Hollyoaks - the second best character, written out, just like that and to add insult to injury they let that absolute pricklouse little Tom live. Incontrovertible proof that there is no God. Or if there is he liked Family Affairs.
Mighty Boosh series 3 - Oh dear, oh dear. Is this show set to be governed by the law of diminishing returns? Have those coke addled buffoons shot their bolt? Let’s sincerely hope not.
The canceling of Arrested Development. - Let’s just pray to a Family Affairs loving God that the film is aces.

And, like, so on. To be honest, I’ve got bored of this. Don’t bother commenting on this, it’s not up for debate.
Be seeing you…

PS: If you don’t understand why there are more than five items in each top five, then fuck off.

This is a poem I have written called hostile forces.

I have written it by taking an article by Richard Littlejohn and taking out all the words i didn’t want.

To be honest, it was meant to be funnier than this, but you have to work with what you’ve got, I s’pose.

Oh well, I probably won’t do it again.

Hostile Forces - a poem about war and love and gameshows, by Richard Littlejohn and Wolfdisguisedasmonk

Hostile forces may be operating,
those who believe that can be transformed,
Finally, one of the last countries on Earth to show
top prize -  one million received the pilot
Put the invasions in order
invasion; invasion; invasion; and, finally, invasion.
Time’s up.

forget men, women and children and the deaths Soviet troops
Anyway, fastest seconds, is remarkable

your ambition is to hijack a plane,

luck, can win enough to play?
opium;
opium;
opium;
opium.

Take your time
you’ve got lifelines.
I think I’ll ask

press your detonators
opium;
Opium
Great Satan
opium.

Final answer.

Final answer,

you ignore Death whatever the question,

let’s play one thousand
A)
B)
C)
D)
You’re smiling?

Certain?

Absolutely, quiz night at a jihadist training camp in Pakistan.
attending a wedding.
It’s the right answer.
You’ve got two lifelines
push a wall on top of her; stone her to death; behead the filthy slut; give her a thousand lashes.
STONE HER! KILL HER! BEHEAD HER!

audience, you’ve had your friend
I’d better go.
They are all right. And you’ve just won

we don’t want five thousand You have to play

Who would you like to call?
spiritual leader of the madman in North Wales?

Traffic
My mistake.
Hello.

Great Satan, it really will be your final answer.

Do you know who Neil Boorman is? He is an utter cunt. He is a media do nothing who, a couple of years ago decided to live without brands. He destroyed everything he owned that was branded, “…from Gucci shoes to Habitat armchairs…” as a statement on societies obsession with consumerism. At first glance this seems quite interesting (I will even happily accept that he destroyed them rather than donate them to charity as destruction is more of a statement) until you remember that Michael Landy did the exact same thing (taking it further and feeding everything he owned through a woodchipper, branded or not) in the name of art. A much more powerful statement on consumerism (incidentally, if you can find any footage of him interviewed after he did it watch it, it’s hilarious. He looks as though he is trying not to accept what he’s done but it keeps punching him in the face!). Boorman is a shrewd operator and before he burnt his branded possessions he secured a book deal to write about the experience. I haven’t read this book, but I will give you my opinion on t anyway (how am I going to do that? The same way I would review any of Richard Dawkins [Richard Dawkins: There is no such thing as love, all love is is a temporary chemical imbalance in the brain. Me: Is that what you say to Mrs Dawkins, Rich?] work; I will imagine what kind of arguments he would present, and dismantle them one by one.).

A bonfire, yesterday (Brands not pictured)

My main problem with Boorman is that he doesn’t seem to understand what he is doing or why. He thinks he is being violently subversive and making a point but he falls at the first hurdle by not defining what “Brands” in this instance are. He destroys his Nike and replaces them with dirt cheap unbranded plimsoles (Which were ultra hip at the time he did it, btw.) which he purchases from Urban Outfitters. Even the unbranded plimsoles are made by someone (and remember, if it is that cheap, someone, somewhere was exploited), and Urban Outfitters surely falls under the same category as “Brands”.
The second thing that riles me is that he still uses a Mac PowerBook as “Apple was the one brand I allowed myself.” which completely undermines the whole thing. His book is published by Cannongate, he did spots on TV promoting it, he wrote about it in his Guardian column, he pimped and pushed it everywhere, in every way that he could.

Some brands, yesterday (Bonfire not pictured)

He talks a good fight, yeah. Making pointless non-statements beloved of armchair activists the world over about how the west is obsessed with advertising and consumerism as if it was something that he was the only person insightful enough to realise. We all read No Logo at school, mate. We all thought we were anti-capitalist for a while too, but even as sulky sixth formers we knew we had to back it up with something too.
His flimsy rhetoric sets my teeth on edge, his cooler than thou superiority smacks of self indulgence and makes me physically angry. His refusal to be clear on what he was doing shall surely be his downfall. Is he trying to say that all brands are bad (except for Apple because they are cool a caring tender company who make their computers out of found items and give them away to starving orphans, while at the same time paying their staff an enormous salary (don’t fucking get me started on the deification of Apple, either. Go here to read exactly what I would say about it if I was clever enough), or that advertising is bad? They are similar but they are not one and the same. Charities advertise, are they therefore evil? Was his advertising ironic or is he just a cunt? He wants to live brand free which is fine and admirable. But do it, or don’t do it. Don’t allow yourself select brands as it undermines everything.

He has become the very thing he claims to have been rebelling against. He is now, nothing more than an advert for what he did. By creating something bigger than him, he has become the emblem for it. He himself is a brand.

Bonfire of the brands? Bonfire of my arse, more like.

I’ve been listening to the album “Hold On Now, Youngster...” recently and as no one tells me what to do, even though it’s been out for ages and there’s a new ‘un out now, I thought I would review it.

If this album was a girl it would have a Hello Kitty hairgrip in.
And never, ever have sex.
It’s good, though.

Hello Kitty, yesterday

Be seeing you…