Archive for March, 2009

Anthony Reynolds, author and the genius behind Jack, Jacques, and a plethora of other projects under various names is the second individual to fall under the beady eye of the sinister world government, and as such he has to go. The crime leveled at him once again is that he is simply too damn awesome. He was offered my services as the facilitator of an excellent last day yet, in the spirit of rebellion (and, some might say, having not really entered into the spirit of things) he turned down all my offers of assistance.

On my last day on earth I’d do exactly the same thing as If I were invisible for a day - Stay in Bed.

Anthony Reynolds with a kitten, yesterday

And really, who can argue with that?
Be seeing you…

As an agent of the sinister world government I have been given a solemn duty. There are a number of individuals on the planet who are just too damn awesome to survive. They don’t fit in with our plans and they have simply got to go.
The first person facing the executioners block is singer, songwriter, chanteuse, polymath and wunderkind, George Pringle. If you haven’t heard of George Pringle (or if you are someone who, for example, booked her to play at Panic! In Birmingham then didn’t get around to following it up thus torpedoing my chances to woo her) then you are an idiot. Go here first and gaze upon her beauty and listen to her songs. Then buy stuff. She is having to sell her own things to pay for her album, the poor dear.

Ms Pringle. After death by Megadrive, yesterday

Anyway, as an agent of the aforementioned sinister world government my job, far from being the executioner is to make sure that their last day goes as pleasantly as possible, to which end I have a check list that I must run through with everyone.
And here it is:

What will your last words be?
Girls. Love. Disco.

Who is your last phone call to?
Family.

What would you want to do on your last day?
I’d like to go to the beach in Marinella. I’d like to dance and be drunk in a pleasant fashion. I’d like to see my family and friends.

What will your last thoughts be?
Shit.

What reading material do you want?
No time to read when you’re busy dying.

What do you want for your last breakfast?
Italian style Custard pastry and an Espresso

What will you have for your last meal?
Meat. Some really good meat and vegetables.

What sort of a day do you want it to be?
Sunny. Not too humid though.

What album will you listen to?
New York Noise compilations, Chic, Motown and absolutely nothing too sentimental.

What film will you watch?
La Dolce Vita.

Who, or what will you miss most?
My family. My lover. Being alive?

Who, or what will you not miss at all?
The endless toil and struggle of being an artist and the lack of validation and satisfaction therin.

Where do you want to go?
Nowhere. I’d like to stay alive.

What would you like as your epitaph?
George Pringle

1984——-FOREVER

GIRLS. LOVE. DISCO.

What do you want done with your remains?
Put in fireworks and blown up over the field by my place in Italy to Talking Heads “Once in a lifetime”

What do you want to do as your last action?
Kiss. Hug. kiss.

How would you like to be remembered?
People can remember me however they want and I don’t really care what they think. I usually make sure that the people I find interesting like me anyway. I’m fairly persistent. So they will probably remember me fondly.

What will you regret?
Absolutely nothing.

What will you remember most fondly?
I won’t be able to remember anything because I will be dead. But in sentimental spirit, I will probably miss youth and possibility.

Who would you like to spend your last three hours with, forsaking all others?
Family.

How will you justify yourself to Saint Peter?
I had all the best intentions.

What does God look like?
God doesn’t exist but if God did then she would be like God in Absolutely Fabulous and be Marianne Faithful.

What happens when you die?
Probably nothing and that is why you have to make the most of the time you have right now.

Thank you very much, Ms Pringle… ah, there she goes, off for her tragic beheading. And I didn’t even have time to share my feelings with her.
Be seeing you…

Everyone knows that being in a relationship is living hell on earth, the very, very worst thing that can happen to a human being. But what can we do? With 63% of single people abusing at least one child, 48% of them committing murder and a staggering 97% of all people in relationships dying by their own hand, our options appear limited. Either be a lonely, hateful spinster or pervert, or face an almost certain suicide after years of spirit crushing, soul fucking moral destitution where the promise of oblivion is the only thing one has to look forward to.

Some suicides who were in relationships, yesterday

But wait, what is this spark of hope in this mire of disgust? Why, it’s the trimarriage of Ravi, Kris and Nancy from off of Hollyoaks. Here is a relationship that can never, ever, possibly go wrong. Any blame (and there will be blame) will be split three ways making it a much more manageable proposition. In a three way relationship, things will always work out OK. Studies have proved that people in this sort of situation live up to 80% longer than those not, and have an average of 126% more dopamine in their brains. These are true facts and cannot be disputed.

But there is more. I propose we take this further. I propose we take it to it’s logical conclusion. Two boys and one girls is a good ratio, but not I deal. After a short while of taking turns they will obviously progress to dual penetration, double vaginal and of course, the holy grail, double anal. Which is all well and good fun but look at, say, Belladonna. Years and years of this sort of treatment have left her with a ladygarden like a wizards sleeve (I have it on quite reliable information that when she had her baby it just strolled out, and her poos just drop straight down from her tummy.) which, without some extreme pelvic floor exercises will offer little or no pleasure to anyone. But, as usual, I have a solution. Even the most ardent, ridiculous and homophobic member of the Nazi party (WW2 - runners up rosette) will admit that everyone is entitled to a partner of each sex at the same time, this is obvious, but lets follow this line a little further. Under my rules we are also allowed, nay, entitled to one partner from each race (male and female). How we decide who is what race may prove slightly problematic, but in my experience people are very easy going about being lumped in with various random categories and subcategories of people (just look at the success of all artificially imposed boundaries and borders such as Northern Ireland, Israel etc.), but to simplify it further I propose the use of a Dulux style colour chart (which you will find at the bottom of this, ahem, “article”. Cut out and keep, fans.) Simply tick off the ones you already have and hold it up to the skin of someone you like the look of and if you don’t already have a partner of that hue, then you can invite them in. Obviously if you do already have one then you could suggest that they perhaps get a tan.

A fake tan, yesterday

Wait! Don’t throw away that there colour chart, we might still need it. Inclusive as my scheme is, there is more. Hair colour. Using the same chart (with a natty flip down section revealing blondes and the many shades of ginger) collect more folk of assorted hair colours. Then we can finally say, with all sincerity; “you are the best light skinned, red headed black guy I have ever met, and I want you to be a part of my relationship.”

Obviously a large administrative body will need to be developed as this scheme is obligatory for all and any overlaps, such as someone having two ginger people in their… entourage(?) would be frowned upon. And probably punishable by death. Whilst this may seem like needless beurocracy it is doubtless a good, if not great thing in these times of mass redundancies and the blighted dollarcaust™. I’m not going to say that I am the greatest analytical mind in history, I will leave that to others, but this is an amazing idea. Everyone, I urge you, for the sake of the pound in your pocket, join up, join up, join up!

Cut-Out And Keep Skinchart

(I can’t be arsed to put any links in at the moment. I might do it tomorrow.)

Be seeing you…

Yeah, hi. Look, I had written tons of dead funny, dead insightful and witty stuff, but there was a power cut and I lost it all. What happened was I had it all on my desktop and as my old PC used to auto save stuff, I assumed that my super swish new Mac would, too. Because I keep being told that Macs are miles better than PCs. But it didn’t. Bollocks. But don’t worry, I’ll just wait for more easy targets (the terminally ill, the disabled, the congenitally stupid etc) to come along and I’ll have a pop at them. But as always, most of it will be about Hollyoaks.

Oh yeah, dunno if you noticed but Jade Goody died. I know, who would have thought? It was a bolt from the blue, wasn’t it? Despite my daily scouring of the news I nearly missed it. You would have thought that someone as influential in world events as that would have had a bit of media coverage of the events leading up to her death, wouldn’t you? But no. Apparently she thought that it was much more dignified to shy away from any publicity and not put her children and the ever stoic Jack Tweed through a circus of interviews and “Tribute Issues” of magazines (OK issue 666, by the way), and I for one hail her.

I’ll get back to you, okay?

Be seeing you…