Less Is More v1.6

2005-07-08T08:59:00.000+01:00

*giggles* didn't know this was still on...

Grooviness!

2005-01-07T10:52:00.000Z

Right, its finally here.

LESS IS MORE v2.0: 56% of your RDA of blackness and skulls.

Thus draws a close to the Blogspot days. Don't worry, this site ain't going to be deleted anytime soon. People are going to need the archives here, and I ain't copying them onto the new site for a while yet...

So, see you on the new site then!

Chyld, signing out...

WARNING, RUNTIME ERROR...
REBOOT FROM START
LESS IS MORE V1.6 NOW SHUTTING DOWN
HAVE A NICE DAY

The Sun Sets...

2005-01-03T19:13:00.000Z

Well, I haven't properly updated in a while, and there's a very good reason for that, which I actually gave away in my last update.

Something finally snapped inside me while I've been home, and that is the desire to do this properly. Have all my web projects fully under one banner, as opposed to just plain bits here and there. Triggered by my new desire to make a hand-drawn web comic, I finally splashed out the £10 to get a domain name.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I officially announce...

I've finally found some large, volumous webspace to host it on, so once the registration for less-is-more.co.uk has cleared, and my HTML, Java and all that other coded grooviness has been checked and double checked, and once I've added the Henry Skull comics, its all going up. For now, bask in that banner.

This means that updates here will be spasmodic at best, and non-existant once I'm on my new site. In fact, once I reformat the old archives to go on the new site, I'm out and out deleting this old site completly.

Less Is More v1.0 is dying*, long live Less Is More v2.0!

*Well, its more like v1.6 or something, but who's counting?

Freaking Scary...

2004-12-30T13:47:00.000Z

It seems to be "Dead Short Updates Day", doesn't it? Nonetheless, this needs sharing.

I've been looking at free webhosts for hosting what will be Less Is More v2.0 (OH SHIT, THAT WAS A SUPRISE, FORGET THAT!), and one seemed too good to be real. 2500mb of space for free? So I checked the Terms and Conditions. I found this:

12.1 Nothing in these terms and conditions shall exclude or limit [WEBHOST]'s liability for death or personal injury resulting from [WEBHOST]'s negligence or that of its employees, agents or sub-contractors.

How the hell does one die from the Internet?!?

Marky’s 2004 review

2004-12-30T08:27:00.000Z

It was another crappy year. I fucked up lots of things again.

2004: A Year In Review

2004-12-28T10:30:00.000Z

So, as the year draws to a shuddering close, its about time for every blog on the Internet to do a "This Year Summery" update. And guess what? I love bandwagons. They save me from having to think of ideas for updates! Yes, I know that my LiveJournal is the home of my personal life, but who really gives a flying monkey? Easy update, people!

So, Chyld's 2004...

January

The year started as I meant to continue it; up at midnight, pissed out of my face, in nothing but my boxers.

Well, the "in my boxers" thing didn't last the rest of the year, but you get my gist.

It carried on with me waking up in Brian's house, hungover as hell, asleep on a single armchair. Ah, what a way to live.

The only other prominant event of the month, apart from yet more delightful time in the hellhole we called Sixth Form, was going to London to see The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster play in what amounted to be a basement. Still, it was only £13 to get both me and CompleteAnarchy in...

Febuary

Only two significant happenings happened in this month, and they both happened at the same time. One was the America trip, the other was Valentines Day.

Like The Great Sarcastic Webmaster before me, I was being jettisoned from my country, from a quiet and introverted time of life, to sunny and foreign shores. The difference being, I wasn't staying there, I'd left the country before, and I wasn't able to drink there.

However, due to the arrival of Valentines Day, like him before me, I assumed that my landing from my final plane flight would result in me meeting my girlfriend. Since it was Valentines Day, and I in my folly was still arse-over-tit mad for K80. I therefore pumped my heart and soul into the most romantic Valentines Day card you could ever imagine, and a little sand thing which had a heart on it. And so, on Thursday the 12th, I left it with a good friend of hers, to deliver in my absense.

So I left the next day, with a song in my heart, and a bag full of clothes, and sadly no whiskey. Before I had the chance to leave, I recieved a "Thank You!" text from K80, and a text from the courier friend saying (almost exactly) "Why are you going away? You need to be here right now!"

In my language, given the circumstances, this usually means "You're due lots of sex, you lucky, lucky man!" surely? So, across the beaches of Venice Beach, the glamour of Hollywood, the lights of Vegas, and the majestic panorama of the Grand Canyon covered in snow, I was texting home trying to see just how lucky I was going to get.

I also practised my blogging skills by keeping a diary. Although it was very personal, and therefore totally unsuitable for publishing here. Unless you find me saying how much I love someone interesting reading, in which case there's probably about 100,000 odd LiveJournals you can look at...

On my return, it turned out I wasn't going to get lucky, nor did I have a girlfriend. But never mind, there was weed...

March

My birthday, of course! I became 18! Allowed to drink legally! I didn't get any groping time like I did at my last birthday party (even though she did look like the back end of a truck without the beer goggles), but I did get extremly drunk, had a joint, and introduced my half-digested dinner to the bar. Good times...

Also, Yahtzee showed his head again, baggsed a forum on Chefelf Night Life, and I moved into my current favourite forum of residence. Where I am an authority on absolutly nothing at all.

April

K80 ran the marathon, and Less Is More was created. This summerises the pertinant facts of the month.

What? Not every month in my life is crazy fun!

May

The last day of Sixth Form was marked by me being dragged round the school trying to sell Prom tickets, someone sticking a fish in the Common Room, and me coming inches away from sleeping with K80.

I spent an entire update writing about this, so there's no point repeating myself. Summery; I tried tickling her, she grabbed my arms, then once everyone had gotten too embaressed to stay much longer (the gropings did it, I think), she grabbed my face with hers. Next thing I know, I'm on a cricket pitch with no trousers on.

And naturally, given my track record, she decided that she didn't want either me or my babies, desipte my guesses to the contrary. My god, that made the idea of her being my prom date difficult...

June

The onset of exams led to SuperMarct becoming a paid-up guest updater, and a week of updates on aliens, festivals and camera phones.

Exams. Yes. Fun fun fun.

July

Ah yes, enough happened this month, and I documented it all.

K80 decided that being my prom date was too much hassle and pulled Brian (I'm not pissed off - he'd never been kissed by a girl before), the violent backlash forced me into mass drinkery on the barge holiday, where I found myself going out with TinyOne, this carried on into the week SuperMarct came over to meet the then-united "Less Is More Crew - Amersham And Surrounding Areas", she then dumped me the week afterwards. I didn't really speak to her again until September, when... but enough said for now. Don't want to piss anyone else off. Needless to say, there's a weeksworth of update on that month that'll tide you over if you really care that much...

August

Another action-packed month. I went to France for a fortnight, and discovered the fact that French cider is actually better than Strongbow (although I didn't realise at the time). The the day I got back, I discovered that - somehow - I'd got good enough marks to go to Hull University. This was celebrated by getting rat-arsed. The rat-arsedness spilled into Reading Festival, where each date can be summerised as follows:

Woke up
Drank
Watched bands
Drank some more
Watched bands
Went to CompleteAnarchy's tent and got stoned
Came back and slept

The good times. Also, this was the period when we were all playing Path To Glory - Warhammer mini-game where evil Chaos warbands batter each other senseless, in order to score points with which to improve their warband and batter other warbands senseless, in an everlasting vicious circle...

September

And thus, on the Great Plane Crash Day, I moved away from home and up north 215 miles. "Jennings" was abandoned, in favour of various permutations of "Jagger". Hair straighteners were actually brought into contact with my hair, to great effect. My messy room at home, was substituted for half of a double room being knee-deep in studenty clutter. I could actually get into my own bed without having to climb a ladder. I was revered for my nonsense, instead of recieving curious looks. I could actually claim "Yes, I am a student", with all the benefits that this entails. I actually went to nightclubs...

October

...until I managed to spend all of my student loan. £1100 is not THAT easy to spend all in one month, unless you drink as much as I managed to.

November

I spent most of this month living off of one meal a day, not really going 0ut, attached to my laptop. Until parental donations buoyed up the funds, at which point the assesed essays raised their heads. 10,000 words of essays, stories and analysises. Lovely stuff, tempered only by frequent nights in Spiders nightclub.

December

The prodgial son deigned his home with its presense this month. And for some reason, no one saw fit to give him Christmas work. I'll have the last laugh, however - when I come back for Easter, I'll fucking murder them all!

So, a quiet year, then? Hell no! And it isn't going to be any quieter next year!

The Skull's Chirstmas Message

2004-12-24T16:28:00.000Z

More women of the world

2004-12-23T11:45:00.000Z

I actually enjoyed yesterday’s update by Chyldio. Though I don’t think we need to be too picky, Mister Chyld. Besides that the format is all wrong. I dated a lot of different types of girls, so I can know. It is not about the qualities the gals don’t have, it’s about the qualities they do have. And with qualities I don’t really mean good cooking skills and really soft skin, I mean the negative meaning of quality. You’ll find the Ten Be’s that you shouldn’t ‘be’.

Uno: Be a cheat
Normally guys cheat on girls and girls will cry. I have never cheated and don’t think I ever will, so I like girls that don’t cheat on me. Though I’m not going to cry (at least when someone’s around).

Dos: Be one that dislikes me
A lot of people dislike me. But I know some people like me. A few like me a lot, but until you spend a whole week with me you can really judge. My friends used to call me ‘major fuck-up’ and I have to admit it wasn’t without a reason. I remember getting phone numbers for the cutest girls and I simply lost them. Anyway, people think mostly I’m a funny guy. And I agree. But remember coping 24/7 with my sicko jokes can be quite a task.

Tres: Be ugly
Of course I like you to be nice in the first place, but you’ll have to have a bit of cuteness…

Cuatro: Be a fan of crap music
Of course I can’t judge anyone’s taste of music, I like punkrock and pop punk for God’s sake! But really if you look as stunning as Claudia Schiffer does but you like rap, I won’t dig you! I mean come on, I won’t date you if you ask me: ‘Who are those Beatles dudes you keep talking about?’

Cinco: Be lame
You don’t need to have the best sense of humour on earth (you can’t even have it, I already took that), but I once dated a girl who didn’t laugh a single time all evening. If a waiter falls in a plate of soup, that just is funny and you need to laugh about it. Being lame really is a no-go.

Seis: Be a stink
I shower and use deodorant! I don’t smell, now why do you stink like the arse of a dead squirrel?

Siete: Be an amateur cell phone photographer
There are a few things I dislike. And cell phones that take photos is on third spot. You can call me anytime. Anytime of the day. I don’t care. But stop taking pictures of me with a cell phone all the time!!

Ocho: Be very tall
Hey, I’m not that tall! You shouldn’t be either. If I want something I’ll go to the zoo to watch giraffes. No I don’t have a dwarf fetish! Be gone you!

Nueve: Be a sleepyhead
Okay, you will probably sleep more than I do, but I dislike it when you sleep ten hours a night. It’ll mean you’re going to bed like… at daylight… stop doing such things. Sleep is overrated anyway.

Diez: Be shy
This is not really a point that I hate or something. You got to remember though that I have a big mouth. And I will make fun off you, you got to get me back or you’ll end up with a rope around you neck and… well, you get the point. Don’t be shy.

So, don’t do these things and we will live a happy three weeks. You’ll lose your sanity within a month, but always remember: it will be the most bizarre three weeks of your life!

Ps once is: Be an Olympic swimmer. I don’t care if you go swimming, but if you like it, you probably ask me to come with you. I dislike swimming more than cell phones that take pictures.

Women of the World

2004-12-22T16:28:00.000Z

As you should all well know from two-thirds of a year of me rabbiting on about absolutly nothing importent, I'm not a hugely deep man. I drink as hard as an average student is supposed to, I smoke weed whenever I can, and the emphesis of this rant; I'm painfully single.

Admittedly, looking like the back end of a cart is not a good start, but I've been told many times that I don't. I'm also, not to blow my own trumpet, what can be defined as a "nice guy" - I get on with nearly everyone, always help people if I can (I once dropped everything, including an essay, to cycle into town to pick up a bottle of wine), and some other stuff I can't remember. And still no one's interested! Or not very vocally.

So, its beer and weed for now then. But if I had the choice (Laugh My Arse Off), there's quite a very specific woman I'm after. Therefore, to aid the Great Search, here's a few guidelines, if you want to become a registered Chyld's Girlfriend...

1.) Must Be Articulate Typist

I pride myself on being one of very few people I know who, in an age of half-articulate "lol u r teh funnee!!!!!!!" IM conversations, actually spells and punctuates all his online works correctly. Yes, I do abbreviate some words (enuff and enough, thru and through), I do struggle with "teh" and "the" at high speeds, and sometimes I'm just too drunk to notice the mistakes, but these are the exceptions that prove the rule. And it annoys me, when talking to a sweetheart online, having to battle through no capitals, no punctuation, and a prespondence of exclamation marks (I belive many people would agree that "amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" is no more amazing than "amazing!")

All the great webmasters of our time have girlfriends (or maybe boyfriends - I guess there's more than a few quality lady-run websites out there), and I feel it should be something that comes as part of the package - 75p p.a. salary, full creative rights to a domain, free email address of usename@domainname.com, girlfriend who can type properly. Hell, maybe I've hit on a good marketing strategy.

But at anyrate, my ideal girlfriends must be able to communicate on the Internet as articulatly as in real life, if not more so. Long ridiculous words like mine optional.

2.) Must Be Quite OK By Me And My Drunkeness

Some would argue that I should have a "Must Be Hard Drinker" category, knowing me. But I concur! On the one hand, its getting harder and harder these days to find anyone who doesn't drink at all, and its only marginally harder to find someone who doesn't drink like a fish. I may do a survey on it some day.

No, the greater problem lies with me and my bizarre behaviour when I'm drunk. Any lady I go out with must be quite fine with me talking an even greater volume of nonsense, occasional projectile vomiting (and even more occasionaly, having that vomit thrown around by your best mate...) and other such happenstances. Personal alcohol consumption by the girlfriend is optional.

3.) Must Smoke Weed

And I'm not talking about the odd joint on special occasions. My ideal lady must be able to make like a chimney with the holy green herb as often, if not more so, than I do.

There are numerous reasons for this. One is personal taste. I am a stoner, ergo common interest. There's also the fact that, compared to the number of male stoners, there's very short supply of ladies tokers in my life. I'm not good friends with any lady in the South who does it, and up North there's only one who properly "does it". And she's taken. Bugger.

4.) Must Enjoy My Universal Oddities

The first person that can prove I'm as normal as other people will, on me, recieve a free gold-plated pony. Even I know that I'm the strangest, most random person I know. Of course, there's probably stranger, more random people than me in the world, but I haven't met them yet.

Upon encountering this great force of nonsense, people tend to react in one of three ways. Either they're repulsed (I can name one person at each end of the country who hates me for it), they accept it and move on, or they fall in love with it and call it their best friend. I'd prefer somebody from the latter category, because lets be honest, we all love hero worship.

5.) Must Not Be A Whimsical Bitch

Want to know why all of my relationships last less than a fortnight? Don't ask me, I certainly don't know. But its easier on my ego to suggest that all my girlfriends have been annoyingly flighty mares who can't stick with a man for toffee. And ironically, judging from past experience and present communications, its all so true. My ideal lady will either love me for a long time, or not at all.

Hmm, stating the bloody obvious now, it seems...

6.) Shit Hot And Horny Preferable

Well, I'm male, aren't I? Aren't I allowed to dream of large tits, tight ass, and sex 24/7? I'm well aware that each individuals idea of "shit hot" varies, so I'll leave it to you to work out. May I ass that none of my girlfriends have ever been blonde, so wipe that stereotype away right now...

Well, this update's not going to get me laid, but damnit, I need to try. You all know my e-mail address, you all know my forum, hop to it...

4000 Already?

2004-12-20T21:22:00.000Z

Of course, this sum is wildly inaccurate, but who's counting?

You Say You Want A Resolution...

2004-12-18T10:16:00.000Z

Reading my own blog the other day, I encountered Mr Lazer's ruminations upon the coming year, and it reminded me of my own half-arsed resolutions from the beginning of the year. Every year, I make a list in my diary of the same sort of resolutions every year, and every year, I forget about the diary by May. But also, I pull off all the easy resolutions, and none of the none-so-easy ones. So, lets have a gander at some of these worthless institutions...

1.) Work on my drumming

OK, I can see already that very little of this list is actually material for hilarity, I apologise now. So, drumming. I've had that bloody drum kit for over two years now, and I'm too goddamned lazy to walk down to the garage for half an hour a night to practise. Only when I have a band round does it get a workout. The dust and rust must be getting inches thick by now. And its hardly like a guitar, you can't stick it in the boot, lug it up to university and practise in your room. Well, not without surrendering half the floor and pissing off your roommate.

2.) Get a woman ~~(Preferably that one)~~

Along with the "learn an instrument", there's always "find your own penis-holder". However, to use a phrase I coined in Hull (prepares to lose all his friends at uni), the ones that are worth it aren't single, and the ones that are single aren't worth it. Its universal, isn't it? All the people you really like... sorry, sorry bloggy. Won't happen again this sentence. But anyway...

We all know by now who "that one" was, hence the crossing out. Moving on...

3.) Fuck

Well, it speaks for itself. One can only inflate ones own bike tires with the pump so many times before a desire for human contact sets in. See, if you can't think of a goos wanking metaphor, make your own up. Join in, boys and girls!

4.) Principles (again)

I'm a very principled guy, little as it seems. Hold doors open for people, even if you look stupid doing it. Thank anyone who does likewise, even if very quietly. Be nice to everyone you can be nice to. I kinda broke that the other year by slapping a friend, but in all fairness we both know she had it coming.

5.) At uni- join a gym.

I was under some bizarre impression, at the turn of the year, that going to university would be such a dramatic change, that I would end up signing up for a gym, go every week, and end up with abs that ahd women drooling all over them. About one third of that sentence has occured thus far. I signed up, had a stonking cold, thus preventing me going, then ran out of the folding. Ah well, there's always Arnolod Right-Hand, and Mary Jane Wana to keep me going. Sigh...

6.) At uni- drink more.

*insert long amount of uneering giggling*

7.) Take over the world.

Because we all know that I deserve to rule the world. You pretend that I'm just another guy, but really, you all want me as your master, and you all want my children. Yeah, and the usual spiel as well.

8.) Make/update humour/blog site.

Erm... There you go then.

That reminds me, I need a diary for next year. Preferably one with only half the year in it, so that I don't waste paper...

2005? Here I come!

2004-12-16T09:13:00.000Z

It's been awhile since you heard from me. I'm getting tired of all the e-mails you guys are sending me with question how I'm doing. So, I better write it down here.

First I changed my name. Super still fits me, for I am super of course, but the name is so widely known nowadays, that it's time to get back a little. I rather stay the mysterious guy instead of strolling the streets with Ed and Ted all day. Ed and Ted will be my bodyguards of course. I don't want an Ed and a Ted tailing me 24/7!

So, Marky it is now. But if you're a foxy lady you can call me whatever you want.

My job still sucks big time. Only a month or so to go and then I go back to school (which reminds me, don't go watch the movie Back to School it sucks. And I heard a new one is going to be released next year. Don't watch that one either, just in case).

So, my plans for the New Year...

First I need to do a lot of schoolwork. In six months I need to earn a lot of so called Study Points. Normally I would have to get 22 in six months. I need to get 32.

Then I need to find myself a new working experience address and I try to get one outside Hollanda. London's calling? I hope so.

Other plans... Get myself a guitar. A cheap one. Preferably a pink one. And then found the band I want since quite a time.

More plans for the New Year... Turn twenty-two. Though I will try to turn twenty...

Good resolves (or whatever you call it at the Foggy Islands): start smoking, less exercising, faster food... I hate those I'm-going-to-live-a-better-life-now-it's-the-new-year assholes. When people tell me at midnight they quitted smoking, I'm getting myself a pack of cigarettes and blow the smoke in their faces all night! I hate you! Die!

Okay, what will I be up to... travelling I hope. Visit some friends outside The Netherlands... Belgium, maybe even Danmark, I like to go to Spain or Greece... Now I'm not forgetting anything, am I? Oh yeah, I'm going to pay you British lads and lassies a visit too probably! Be afraid, I know where you life! (not too smart giving your address to a schizophrenic psycho, is it?)

Last but not least, the one thing I'm going to try is get a stabile relationship*

For now, merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Marky Lazer!

* Mawahahahaha! Like that's ever going to happen!

(Untitled)

2004-12-09T22:56:00.000Z

OK, this update every week thing ain't gonna happen very often, but its all been news-based lately. We must pause for a moment, and pay tribute...

Start here...

That truely and utterly sucks. Pantera were immense, and it was all down to Dimebag Darrell and his guitar.

Seems its only the latest in the shining gems of rock and roll that have been taken from us this year. Around the time I left for Hull, Johnny Ramone left this mortal coil to join the lads in heaven, robbing me of any slim chance of seeing them live. And forget not Rafe Chiles, who actually pioneered the music scene round here from scratch.

For those who rocked, and have departed, We Salute You.

Existance In The Dark

2004-12-08T15:38:00.000Z

Gather round, boys and girls, I'm about to rant again. This time, it isn't family that is the eye of my wrath, its not poor George W. Bush. It's a man, called Chris Weitz.

No, I don't know who he is either, and didn't until about 8am today. I opened the family copy of the times, to see that they were making a film out of the "His Dark Materials Trilogy". I assume that very few of my readership know of these wonderful workd of literature, in which case my audience is stupid. The importent thing to note, is that the over-riding theme is an attempt to destroy God, who happens to be an evil, oppressive force, rather than the benevolent creator. So what do they do to this wonderful book? Have a look. And here for The Times' article.

This angers me on so many levels, it isn't funny. Let's think about this, its a book whose primary topic is religion. This guy, Chris Weitz, decides to take it on. And then immediatly decides to take the religion out of it to avoid offending people.

What the bloody hell happened to "if you don't like it, don't watch it"? Its not an entirely hard concept to understand. For example, I know I'm not going to like it if I eat soup made out of monkey's testicles, so I don't eat soup made out of monkey's testicles. How this has eluded Christianity completly eludes me equally.

I know what went wrong. Political correctness went wrong, that's what. Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for a measure of PC-ness. I don't like the idea of discriminating against people for their gender, race, religion, etc. Its pretty moronic, considering that we're all just as equal to be blown to Sunday dinner if we get hit by a grenade, say. However, its gone mad. People are afraid of being sued by idiots, so everythings padded by cotten wool. Violent computer games are demonised by mothers of children too stupid to realise that you don't go out and kill everyone after playing Grand Theft Auto, for example. That's another day's rant, but when even my dad agrees with me, you know I'm right.

And notice the quote from the BBC site "Weitz, a rising Hollywood star who directed American Pie and About A Boy, said that the studio, Nine Line Cinema, had expressed concern that His Dark Materials’ perceived anti-religiosity might make “it an inviable project financially”."

Excuse me? Whatever the fuck happened to film as an art form? Profit happened. I could count the number of films that have been made for the art of it on my testicals, and they've both been made by a man whose name rhymes with "Bicycle Whore". Here's a clue: he made Farenheit 9/11. Nothing is made where there isn't a profit, and it seems to be pure fluke when something good comes through. Disney have even made sequals to films like Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, etc. They're fucking with the original fairy stories!

NOTHING IS SACRED.

I got so pissed off, I even bothered writing a letter to the editor of The Times. I'm not reproducing it unless it gets printed, so bugger off.

Work In Progress

2004-12-07T13:29:00.000Z

EDIT: If you check the bottem of the page, where the links to the right have been shunted, you'll see that I've added a mailing list to the festivities. I'll crank out an e-mail whenever I do an update, and sometimes when I think of something cool that can't go in an update. Nifty? Well, sign up then! I'm not going to sell you out to a spam merchant, I've got enough of them after me as it is...

OK, so I'm back home, now what?

Well, those who read carefully around may have found out about my cunning plans for a hand-drawn webcomic to replace The Adventures of Henry Skull. Well, the plans are still in the embryotic stage f0r now - I'm not even sure if I can steal the scanner for my nefarious plan. Howeverm to whet your appetite, here's a page of prelimianary character sketching. The other isn't worth it yet...

How To Save The World

2004-12-01T20:39:00.000Z

So, America then. Its been over a month since about 51% of you decided to be, lets be honest, the most fucking stupid twats of the planet and re-elected George Bush into office. Again. Jesus, wasn't four years enough for you people? Let's have a look at this from a Briton's view, shall we?

Didn't think much of him before 9/11. Wasn't really exposed to him that much. I was young, and more disposed towards stupid stuff that 14 year olds like.
Apparently, someone in the US Government was alerted to the dangers of 9/11, but no one did anything about it.
In addendum, apparently memos went round after that advising Government officials not to fly on that day.
While retribution is a fine idea, it needs to be approved by the UN if you're gonna bomb the shit out of them. Did Georgey Boy do this? Did he shit.
And how long was it before he ran after Osama? Long enough. Considering that they never found him.
And what, exactly, did Iraq have to do with it? Didn't Georgey Boy's dad arm Iraq in the first place?
Apparently, Al Quaeda was a creation of the American media, and the 9/11 bombers were acting independently. Probably a hoax, but if it isn't...
Four years, and America has gone from the biggest budget surplus in history to the biggest budget deficit?
Where have your freedoms gone? Can you spell "PATRIOT ACT"? How did that get through?
Answer to the above: the media furiously tounging the government's asshole.
Let's not even think about general American Imperialism...

Who actually thinks such a President is a good thing? I've spoken to many, many Americans on the subject, and all of them have the brain cell quotient to recognise the above. So I'm assuming that the average American on the Internet has accses to such resources as this. Now considering that America is the heartland of the Internet (it wishes...), its going to be the more primitive areas that worship Georgey Boy. I don't want to use the word "rednecks", but...

There are visionaries. Micheal Moore! Mr Moore knows what's actually going on with America! Our friend Madox, who we were introducedto the other day, hates what's going on. Admittedly, he also hates everything that exists, but who's counting?

What happens? These guys get labelled "un-American", "evil", "asshole" and "unpatriotic". Let's go off on a tangent for a bit - unAmerican? What asshole nation comes up with that kind of label then? But anyway, its under the guise of "patriotism" that the Fourth Reich of GeorgeBush rules with its iron fist. We need to fight back with equally unscrupulous tactics.

1.) Find out when a country-wide Presidential television broadcast is going out. If there's one thing the patriotic assholes of the nation love, its their stupid God talking lies to an audience.

2.) Build a HUGE television-radio-wave-thing.

3.) Soon as Georgey Boy starts, hack into every station broadcasting him, and broadcast your own message.

4.) Hold on as long as possible.

5.) SUBLIMINAL MESSAGING! Reveal the truth as I have told it, create a desire to verify it.

6.) The bomb Bush for good measure.

7.) If all else fails, start a revolution. Hell, you kicked the English out a hundred or so years ago, we were doing quite fine ruling you before you got sulky. You can go one further and kick out a true asshole by force...

The Funny Stuff

2004-11-30T23:17:00.000Z

Time to take a breather from my hectic every-now-and-then update schedule... no, I'm not running off again! Its only a couple of days until I go home, and I've got loads of essay to do (as you all should know from my LiveJournal entries by now, personal life plug), so I'm not in a creative mood. I've done two-and-a-half essay-length stories, and the sum of about one-and-a-bit essay-length essays, so that leaves... erm... a bit more. Lots of work, y'see.

So rather than actually writing anything myself, I'm going to plug a few cool things you should see on the Internet before you get logged off by dodgy proxy settings. Some of these have been hyped by me since the site was founded, some are on the right of this writing, some are unheard of on these shores. Enjoy...

Toothpaste For Dinner:
The collected drawings of a guy called Drew from Ohio, who refuses to believe in the existance of capital letters. It's not as absurd as a lot of stuff I can find on the Internet, but it varies from topical to trivial to just plain odd. Good stuff.

John and John:
Further proof that if you want something perverted, you get a Dutchie to do it for you. Two guys called John, one sick, the other sicker. Thanks to my guest updater for that one.

The Best Page In The Universe:
Hey kids! Who is the most pissed off guy in the entire Universe? Why, its our friend Maddox. I suggest you read his entire seven-odd years of batshit-furious rantings (lets put it this way, if angy lies on a scale of 1-1o, Yahtzee is about 4-6, Maddox is at least an 8), and you'll see a good deal of truth about the Universe. I disagree with some of what he says, but he probably objects to a hell of a lot more I say, so run with it.

A word of warning: don't hate-mail him, unless it really is worth it. He rips his hate-mail to bits more thoroughly than anyone in the known Universe. You've been warned. Do it from a new and disposable e-mail account, if you must.

Lance and Eskimo:
Including Yahtzee and his works. These guys... enough said, just get over there...

Wikipedia:
Not so much funny, or scathing, this really is the font of all fucking knowledge. It does have everything from Utilitarism, to the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster, and a shedload about demons somewhere. Djesuzz...

SupAdSpam:
From the font of all knowledge to the font of all nonsense...

There! I've always wanted a proper links page, and this is as close as you can get!

Give it twenty minutes from time of posting, and it'll be December First...

On the First Day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, some link from above, wot you see...

Oop North, and Down South

2004-11-29T16:45:00.000Z

So, I've been living up north, near Hull, in Yorkshire, for nearly three months now. By my estimates of said county four years ago, I should theoretically start announcing "Eey oop, Vernon! Owt you t'day?" every other minute, walking a brace of whippets, and drinking Yorkshire Tea. Its sad, when your set-piece stereotype for Drama proves to be as accurate as a Blind Archery contest. Except without the arrows in the eyes of the onlookers, that does tend to hurt.

But would an independent observer prefer the lofty heights of Amersham (inc. surrounding area), or the Northern Lights of Hull (inc. next town)? Well, in the time-honoured style, its time to line them up and compare them!

Terrain For Bikes

Amersham: Being a part of the Chiltern Hills, my home town is about as flat as Jordan's chest. You can't really go anywhere, without seeing at least one hill, and they're all over the place when you try and do a paper round. Which results in me alternatly pushing the thing up a steep incline, and braking frantically as it comes down the other side.

Hull: For no adequatly explained reason, the East Riding of Yorkshire is flat as an anorxic pancake under a steamroller, driven by a sumo wrestler on the Atkins diet. Carrying an anvil. I can sit in the university library, and see the Humber Bridge on the other side of Hull. Consider that there's a large town in the way... although this all overlooked by the fact that the library is approximatly ten stories up, where I usually sit, and the bridge is effing huge. Still!

Plus, they have cycle lanes here. Cycle lanes are good, because you can use the road without being flattened by a moron in a lorry.

VAE VICTEUS: Hull

Accents

Amersham: Down south, we use the long "a" (hence, arse instead of ass, so grass is pronounced grarss), and the word no is pronounced Noh. Like it should be

Hull: Being mad Northerners, grahss is the order of the day. And then there's the one thing that I hate most about being anywhere within 500 miles of Up North: No being pronounced Neur! I loathe this more than anything else in the world! With exceptions. WHERE'S THE 'E' AND THE 'R'?!?

VAE VICTEUS: Amersham. IT'S NOT 'NEUR'!!

I'm not sure I've ever seen this building before, but it came up in a Google image search for Amersham, and who am I to fault it?

Railways

We're assuming for the moment that both London Underground and Yorkshire trains are equally late-running, and equally likely to derail themselves at the sight of passing pedestrians.

Amersham: If anyone needs to visit me personally, Amersham is located in the top left corner of the London Underground route. Hence, we get trains that, while possibly a million years old, have enough carriges to hold more than three people and a dog. Plus, bridges convey the smelly old things away from roads, where they're hasselous.

Hull: I've no idea what rail network the local trains run on, but I don't like it. Sure, they appear to be nice new trains, but I can only see a bit from the outside when both carriages of each train hurtle through a level crossing, delaying me by five minutes when I've got ten minutes to get in.
So in summery:
-Trains are pathetically small.
-Level crossings causing delays.
-Delays are ridiculously long for such short trains.
-Cunty bollocks.

VAE VICTEUS: Amersham

Prices of Stuff

Amersham: Being in the prosperous south, everything costs a fucking packet. £2.50 for a pint of cider, is it not? And lets not talk about housing prices.

Hull: The only two commodities I think Hull has are students and fish, and I only know about the fish because my Varieties of Life tutor told us so. Unless she sad there used to be a fishing... but we stray. That being, the drinks are legendarily cheap round here. At lowest, a regular pint of cider in Spiders is £1.20. But with the drinks they mix up at Spiders, you don't buy straight pints. A pint of Tyzer costs £2.60, and contains between 9 and 11 shots. Drink anymore than four, and you'll be projectile vomiting all the way home.

Haven't looked at house prices though. Would I need to?

Oh yeah, I do. Whoops...

VAE VICTEUS: Hull

Look! If you can see where my University is, you ~~don't~~ get a T-shirt!

Weather

Amersham: Typifies the nature of British weather, ie wet and cold, with patches of sunshine.

Hull: It's grim up North. Hence, the rain is heavy, the wind is capable of freezing a man to ice in minutes, and the sun melts things.

VAE VICTEUS: Amersham

And for now, I'm done. Make your own damned mind up. Bloody freezing winds, or big lumpy hills?

Fully Skulltomatic...

2004-11-28T02:29:00.000Z

OK, quick treat for all of you. No, no new Henry Skull comics, but if you dig Chris and Trilby, Yahtzee's shiny new webcomic, you'll be horrified to see I've mutilated the format, by introducing... skulls! There's also Ringo Starr and a fish who will one day say "Spoon Menace!", so don't sweat...

Lost In Translation

2004-11-26T16:01:00.000Z

First of all, you'll want to highlight the end of the last update to read the scores, Bold here means "Make it Black as Fuck". Useless gits...

So anyway.

You've all heard of Babel Fish, right? Translates any sentence you like, very badly?

Ever tried translating: English to German to French to Portugese to English? So you end up with some garbled Engrish?

I did, here's the results...

I like to eat pies. Lots and lots of pies.
becomes:
I can eat cakes shot and lots cakes.

My Aunt Mabel has a very hairy upper lip. Some days, she looks like a walrus.
becomes:
My aunt Mabel has a superior lip very haarige. Some days she seems as a Walrus.

I was talking to my bank manager one day, when he said "Chyld my lad, is that an alien dancing on your head?" He was on acid at the time, I think.
becomes:
J'ai said with my director of bank l'autre day, and said "Chyld my young man, is qu'un foreign that yours head?" ; it dances; He was on l'acide currently it, thinks.

Utilitarianism is a consequentialist theory, based on the idea that an action is morally good, when it provides the greatest pleasure for the greatest number of people.
becomes:
The Utilitarianism is based consequentialist a theory, on l'idée qu'une activity is morally good, if it puts of people bigger pleasure to the disposal for bigger number.

And what if we did it again, this time taking our translations to Dutch to French to Italian to English again?

I can eat cakesschot and partijencakes.

My aunt to Mabel much advanced one lippenhaarige. Some days seem they like walrus.

J'ai has said with my director of bankl'autre days, and "Chyld aforesaid my young man, qu'un is alien who of you head?" ; ; they dances; Currently he has been on l'acide, thinks it.

Utilitarianism consequentialist is based a theory, on l'activité qu'une the moral good l'idée, if people the greatest enjoyment to l'éloignement for the greatest number put.

"Always sees it's the bloody Frenchmen who cause more bigger problems, isn't it?"
"And aren't truly much Dutch improves, for honest being..."

"Bride of Chucky" In Review, Part Two

2004-11-24T18:37:00.000Z

You join us for the second part of my review of the incredible ~~sack of crap~~ film sequal, "Bride of Chucky", about dolls killing people and making bad innuendo. Lets remind us of who's in it, and what's happened so far:

Chucky: Serial killer, soul trapped inside a doll, seeks new body.
Tiffany: Chucky's girlfriend, similar circumstances, wants Chuckys plastic working parts (I'm sorry)
Genric Good Guys: Includes Genric Hot Heroines Chick and her boyfriend, who I shall now call Igor Von Stupid, for the fun of it.
GHHC's Dad: The local chief of police, the foil to the GGG's relationship. Killed by a hail of nails from out plastic pals.
Annoying Cop: Assistant to the above. Killed when Chucky sets his petrol tank on fire.
Fredrick von Jokealot: I think he appeared in the first half, friend of the GGGs, and your genric horror "cheeky jokester boy"

Summery: Dolls brought to life, paid Igor Von Stupid to transport them to the site of Chucky's grave, kill people. GGGs get suspicious of each other, hilarity ensures for the dolls.

Now, the next half.

The GGGs stop off, for little reason, at a 24/7 wedding chapel, and decide to cut out the hassle and get married, as you do on these road trips. The dolls watch from afar, Chucky mocking and Tiffany doing the typical woman's "Oh, its so cute!" Not right for a serial killer, hunny. The entire party ends up in the same room as another bunch of newlyweds, who come off as being slighty obnoxious, and therefore suitable murder material for our plastic mateys.

At this point, with "comedic timing", both our heroes call their mutual friend, Frederick von Jokealot, saying that their spouse is a murderer! Oh teh hilarity, And with cunning cunning, a champagne bottle gets hurled through the glass window above the obnoxious couples' bed, and a blissful fountain of water bed water and blood heads skywards. Quite a novel death, all things considered. Chucky then decides to propose to his missus, and then they fuck. They fuck. The single psudo-virgin in me balked at this point - since when has any doll actually been "anomatically correct" that much?

And of course, the cleaner finds the corpses nect door, and of course, the GGGs, long since accused of multiple murder, have to scarper. And who do they find in their van but Frederick von Jokealot? He talks them out of the idea that they're serial killers, and finds the body of Uncle Nailface just as they conclude they're not murderers. He draws a gun on them (as you do, when looting policeman corpses), and our friend Chucky, concerned his rides going to vanish in a puff of blood, draws his knife and prepares to knife Frederick. He runs in fear of the talking doll, gets hit by a truck, and literally explodes.

Last time I checked, people who get hit by trucks do not explode like they've swallowed some Semtex, they bleed and break bones, but not explode. Suitably petrified, the van full of our friends drives off, leaving a dent and a bloodsmear in a lorry. So its a vanishing corpse too, then?

I'm getting bored of this, so here's a short summery.

Domestic arguement between dolls, lady in the oven, Chucky gets to grave, gets his amulet, tries to get a new body, gets into scrap with now black Tiffany (last time I checked, if you put a doll in the oven, it melted, not turned black), she "dies, Chucky gets trapped in his grave, police come and see the little doll runnning around, drop charges against the GGGs, GHHC shoots doll, the end. Police chief checks the body of Tiffany, who promptly gives birth to a blood-soaked doll-monster, which eats the nost git.

Pah, bother. So, since this is a horror movie sequal, we'll use the Yahtzee Internationally Recognised Review System. Go ratings, as they say.

Fingers In Ears Rating: 2/10
Its a film about talking dolls, luvvy. If I wanted to be frightened by talking dolls, I'd put my little brother in a dress and get him to lie in my bed. Plus, the deaths are more entertaining than scary...

Similarity To Last Film Rating: 7/10
We can but assume that the plot of all the Childs Play films is "Doll comes to life, tries to raise his body, makes a hames of it". Three points knocked off because I haven't actually seen any. Nor do I want to...

Blood And Guts Rating: 6/10
Ten out of ten for simple volumes, minus four because its either ridiculously extravagant (Mr Slitted-Throat), or just ridiculous (Mr Exploding-Corpse)

Get Nekkid And DIE! Rating: 3/10
OK, the couple in the motel are shagging as they die, but apart from that, zilch. Zero.

Hateful Heroes Rating: 9/10
The GGGs annoyed me quite a bit, Frederick Von Jokealot annoyed me a lot, and... well, that was it really. Meh.

Overall Horror Movie Sequel Rating: 5/10
I seem to be rare, in that I found The Shining to be a very boring horror film. Nothing really happened in it, apart from Rotting Old Lady. However, it is as amazing as its supposed to be, compared to this bag of tripe.

Quality Rating: 9%

One-Word Summery: Plastic

"Bride of Chucky" In Review, Part One

2004-11-22T15:58:00.000Z

It's not very often that I do a review of anything, let alone a horror movie, but I've seen lots while I've been here. Damnit, I've seen more films while I've been at uni, than pretty much half my life at home, so I'm going to do a damned review!

So, Bride of Chucky then.

Some of you (not me) may be aware of the "Child's Play" series, which centered around a serial killer, Charles "Chucky" Lee Ray coming back to life as a doll, murdering people, and trying to get a new body. Most of you will not. Take that piece of exposition and run with it.

So, this is seemingly the fourth film in the series, and left me with a horrenous desire never to see its prequals. As far as simple blood and gore went, only Saw has bettered this film. But Saw had the advantage of a gripping storyline, with twists and turns, and of course, actual frightening bits! Yahtzee has said many times that Freddy Kruegar is a jovial-seeming figure of fun, but compared to a doll in overalls, he's the embodiment of Fear itself. I mean, you have to respect a guy with claws and burns, etc.

But anyway, the film itself. It starts with a policeman emptying a police locker of its contents, and stopping in a carpark. He stops the car, casually looks into the bag... and gets his throat slit. Blood gushes in such rivers as to make the bed in Nightmare on Elm Street 1 look like a paper cut. And you can tell its simple red water too. Then, Vaguely Hot Chick Played By Some Bird Called Jeniffer Tilly, thus named Tiffany cleans off her knife, collects her bag, and scarpers.

She returns to her trailer, as all girlfriends of serial killers do, and

attempts a voodoo ritual to ressurect what turns out to be the Doll of Chucky itself from the grave. however, it does bugger all, so she looks a bit dejected as her present crush, a guy they must have pulled straight out of Cradle of Filth, comes in and demands sex. She chains him to the bed, sticks the doll on his chest, and does a strip-tease, taunting Cradle of Filth guy over how much better a lover her ex, who happens to have been Chucky by no coincidence at all, was than he. Mr Cradle of Filth Guy declares he thinks this is bollocks, upon which the doll decides to get his arse in gear, tears out Cradle of Filth Guy's lip-chain, and smothers him with a pillow. He sits down during this, and has a chat with his long estanged missus, who seems to think this doll wants to marry her. Oh mais non, ma cherie! Chucky's more interested in the killing than the settling down, so in vengence, Jennifer Tilly locks him in a cot with a Wedding Bride Doll and laughs at him.

Never mock the serial killer, dearie, and don't give him a wedding ring you can saw through wooden bars with, because if you do both, he'll drop a toaster in the bath you're washing in, and summon your soul into the doll you've left him with. As you can guess, he does all this, much to her horror, and they both plan to find Chucky's grave, to find some amulet that they need to shift their souls into real human bodies, or some crap.

Y'know, this guy's been resurrected into the same doll four times over now. Surely someone must ahve twigged that they could just do it to a normal body, and be done with it, without the whole digging up the dead thing. But yeah.

Meanwhile, the two token "teens that somehow survive to the end" are getting harrassed by the Token Hot Chicks dad, the chief of police, who doesn't want Token Hot Chick going out with Token Good Guy, who happens to live in the next caravan to Tiffany. They plan to run away, but how? Mysteriously, Token Good Guy's neighbour, Tiffany, offers him a thousand dollars to deliver two dolls to a graveyard. How convenient! He takes the dolls and money, and goes off to pick his missus up.

Meanwhile, Mr Police Chief decides to look inside the van, and plant some weed there. Our dolls aren't happy about this invasion of their privacy, and fill his face full of nails. "Hellraiser", I thought. They then hide him in a trunk, and filch the weed. How they intend to smoke it when they're meltable plastic, I don't know.

So the Token Good Guys drive off, and get stopped by Mr Annoying Policeman, hunting for the pre-placed weed. Completly missing the body, he finds it, and tries to radio his boss, who's currently bleeding all over the van. Our man Chucky isn't having any of this delay, sticks some rag in through the petrol-hole, and lights it. Boom. And while this happens, our Token Couple are getting scared that the other is a murderer.

Tell you what, I'll finish this later this week, OK?

Skulls Out For Winter... soon

2004-11-21T20:41:00.000Z

More Henry Skull goodness to tide you over.

Don't worry, more updates are in the pipeline, but this is primetime essay time...

It ain't that hard...

2004-11-16T15:34:00.000Z

I just saw Chyldio has restarted updating again. So, I need to show my face again here too, I guess.

So, I finally took Cyz' advice and started to write in Dutch, because my songs sounded awkward... So, I started some Dutch songs... They are pretty good. Look for yourself: here.

Now, the only problem is... no one understand them...

My metaphors are too difficult it seems. My word jokes are funny... if you get them, which seems a bit of a problem.

So, please breed some more brain cells, gain some culture sense and get a sense of humour, damn it!
That'll be all.

Oh wait, it might help if you learn Dutch too.

Rantings of A Drunken Man...

2004-11-14T21:31:00.000Z

OK, I'm just going to rant over what comes to mind for now because I think all ten of you still reading need to have some reason to come back. Sorry for any spelling mistakes, this is the result of one can of Strongbow, and half an hour wasted on Google. First topic now, my springboard if you will.

Where do those inane forwarded e-mails come from?

You know the ones I mean - a friend sends them to you, you're expected to fill them in, and forward them to your friends. On average, your friends aren't likely to stay friends much longer if you actually forward them on, because they'll be as annoyed as you.

But where do these quizzes actually germinate from?

The only examples I've seen on the Internet were either the 200 questions Yahtzee savaged once, and the several million Heccubus keeps mutilating quietly on his own blog (I'm not telling where, he'll get cross and poke me with spoons). I spent half an hour searching for one I could fob you all off with, and nothing. Except an amusing "are you a geek?" quiz, which was 500 questions long, and would require about six updates to cover.

Do they really germinate from nothing? Does some sad soneofabitch really go "I think I'll send all my friends a list of 100x inane questions (they always come in multiples of 100, don't they?), and tell them to forward said questions, with answers, to all their friends! What fun!" These are the people who belive that the wobbly banner saying "YOU'VE WON $68MILLION! CLICK THIS BANNER WITHIN THREE MINUTES TO CLAIM!" will actually result in a large fortune, and that you really can excite your mate using some amaing pheremone chemical on sale from a hundred different e-mails they've somehow recieved.

That's another thing, spam. If I needed Viagra, I'd go out and get a perscription. If I needed a penis extension, I'd find a plastic surgeon. NOT THAT I DO, MAY I ADD FURTHER TO THAT! It's like regular paper-based spam - gets stuck in the recycling bin as soon as possible, and usually spat on for good measure. Only, while a million Argod leaflets can be simply picked up and stuck in a brown box, the tick box for each e-mail must be ticked, and the "Delete and Block This Crap" must be clicked. Time-wasting, my friend, time-wasting.

Banners are a lesser concern, but still in the same category. Its like large banners plastered on walls - I'll look and bear said advert in mind, not immediatly click it for its crappy wonderments. The only use I've seen for the Google advert banners sweeping Lance and Eskimo and its subsiduraries is hilarious screen-captures in forum posts.

I'm running out of things to say, so I'll grab the first topic to come to hand...

***

That'll do. I've got 7500 words of essay to write in three weeks. Make of that what you will...

***

OK, I've run out of things to say.

Breasts cunt fingering blowjobs lesbien naked nudity Olsen twins nipples anal fucking facials.

Hello dirty bastards out for porn. Welcome to my nightmare...

Covered With A Shroud

2004-11-10T18:55:00.000Z

Right, another gripe I have with the music industry is what I am about to rant about today. It afflicates a large swathe of music in this day and age, and can either come out beautifully, or sound, quite literally, like a dog licking its bollocks.

Bad covers, my friends, bad covers.

I was reminded of this horrendous crime against sanity when, reading the soft-soft-softcore pron mag that is FHM, about some dumb blonde with huge tits called Lucie Silvas, and the following sentence preceeding the daft smut they call an interview:

"Fast forward to today, and a brand new album is in the bag (complete with a piano-and-strings version of Metallica's Nothing Else Matters, no less!)..."

I'm assuming by "no less", it means "it could be no less insulting to Metallica, its fans, and humanity in general". Piano and strings? Wasn't that a feature of the original? The fact that there was an orchestra playing along with it? A whole fucking orchestra?!? Kinda beats a piano and a harp.

But please, this is the song metallers get married to. It is a love metal by one of them great heavy metal bands! You do not insult it by daring a - clearly substandard - cover of it!

This was merely the catalyst of my aggrevation, however. It's been going on for years unpunished.
Take this example in case. These stupid muppets are All Saints. They took another of our good mellow songs, in this case "Under The Bridge" by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, made it worse, and took it to Number One in the charts.

This was Antony Kieldis' (is that his surname? Corrections will be rewarded with castration by a spoon) personel summery of his nightmare with heroin, not just him warbling about nothing in particular. It takes a quartret of women who - lets be frank - probably got the gig through the mystic power of blowjob, to steal said highly personal song, mutilate it, to actually get some fame.

Its not just the mellow songs they're filching. I am one of very few people I know who actually likes the White Stripes. Yes, they're being very pretentious with the style and the means of recording (no recording equipment younger than about 50 years old, I think), yes the guitar lines are very simple, and the drum beats more so, but for all that, they're very good. I only didn't go to see them at Reading, because I was still buzzing from magic mushrooms, had just seen Roxy Saint, and was pleasently in shock, needing weed.

I'm thankful for the fact that I didn't, however, as a friend who did see them observed that they were playing a slow and boring version of their fastest and most exciting song "Fell In Love With A Girl". A version spawned by the - oh the suprise - blonde, large-chested idiot on the left.

A Ms Joss Stone, otherwise renowned for relativly tolerable soul singing, had reversed the gender of said song, taken all the goodness out of it, and (I think) made it into a single. For some reason, the Stripes felt this better than their own work, and adopted it. Not only has the song been copied and ruined, but the original has gone down with it. Dark times.

I was sure there were more ~~targets~~ prats like this around, so I consulted my associates on the Chefelf forums for further guidence. Suprise suprise, the most useful gubbins came from long-time plagurised-by-me associate Heccubus.

For a long, long time, the bag of slag we call Britney Spears has been annoying me. Especially with a song much beloved of Little Brother, "I Love Rock And Roll". To me, this would be like George Bush putting on a can-can dancers outfit, appearing on Iraq TV, and singing a song called "I Like Peace, I Don't Want To Kill You All, Please Be My Friend". It's insulting, because its the most un-rocking song in the whole Universe, played by the biggest pop-whore penis-inhaler in the industry.

Even worse, when I find out it's a cover of Joan Jett And The Blackhearts. Having no accses to the original, I only have her official website to run off of. Which doesn't lead me to think her guitars are set on overdrive. However, the fact that anyones songs are being filched by the Speared Slag is offending ehough, by my books.

Lastly, the rare occurance of the other way round - a punk group taking a good pop song and mutilating it. I wouldn't have thought such a thing possible, until I was reminded that Kelly "I DIDN'T eat all the pies!" Osbourne covered Madonna's "Papa Don't Preach", said cover another favourite of the siblings.

I don't care what anyone says - the evil hag only got a record contact, because her father invented heavy metal. And appearences in "The Osbournes" didn't hurt. Have I mentioned that I hate that show with a loathing only matched by my loathing for Ms "I'm NOT a stroppy bitch! NOTNOTNOTNOT!" Osbourne herself? Is another story.

Haven't heard the orignial, don't want to. The cover sucks balls, and I will hear no arguement.

An idea I had a while back isn't so unfeasable - have an unbiased commitee judge every cover that gets put out, and if its bad, send ninjas to kill all those involved in making it.

Go Ninjas!

Comedy Values

2004-11-09T13:19:00.000Z

It's just occured to me that I haven't uploaded a Henry Skull comic in a while. You're probably ~~not~~ wondering how he's doing. Well, here's some more unintersting comicy goodness so you can ~~drive a screwdriver through your temple~~ find out!

Time Out For Good Service...

2004-11-06T14:43:00.000Z

OK, so Yahtzee (you all know where Fully Ramblomatic is by now, surely? For gods sake, the man's been in PC magazines! Get your arse over there!) has put up a very nice picture of Jesus with a pint and a joint. Naturally, I neither have Photoshop, nor can I use it, but I'm a dab hand at making pictures with text in Paint and Word, so I have two for YOU!

The first is a road sign leading into the town I currently reside in. I'm counting the days until some shitty picture site like FunnyJunk.com pilfers it, and claims it to be original material...

The next is a little something I thought of knocking up this morning. A trophy, if you will. Steal it if you like, but it's only useful if you were at this year's festival, and actually threw bottles...

That is all.

Room For A Little One?

2004-11-04T22:23:00.000Z

So, for want of updates...

Today, I'm going to once again plagurise an idea from the wise and... wise Heccubus of Heccubus fame. Today, we have...

Chyld's Detailed Description of A Student Waster's Bedroom.

Forescript: I'm an oddity, in that mine is a double room. Be rest assured that my roommates is exactly the same, only with the boon of being able to see the carpet.

1.) A Poster. A good student waster needs many posters in their room. These can range from music posters (see later), to pictures of Muhammed Ali (on the opposite wall), to humerous ones such as this example. This piece, entitled "Ladies and Gentlemen", is a stereotypical view of the sorts of people a student waster can encounter on his travels through life and lectures on Subjectivity and Relativism.

2.) Mess. A well-trained student waster needs lots of this. Piles of dirty clothes, clean clothes, books, magazines, bottles, drumsticks, headphones, and who knows what else should always be present, except when the cleaner comes round. Then the mess should be relocated underneath the bed, until you get back after Greek Philosophy, where it can be returned to its natural habitat.

3.) Shelves. As long as these are filled to bursting, a student waster has free rein over what to do with these. Mine consist of (in order from top downwards):
Copies of Private Eye, an unused folder, Games Workshop books, magazines taking a break from the delights of the floor.
My army of Dwarfs.
My CDs, a few books (assorted works by Douglas Adams, George Orwell, Issac Assimov, Scott Adams, and a Slipknot biography. Y'know, the usual pretentious muck.), my Space Marine army.

4.) The Desk. This houses several vital aspects of a student wasters life. One is mess, a continuation of item 2. A computer or laptop, wired up to the Internet, is vital, for wasting time with forums, blogs, porn, or little plastic men, as to taste. If need be, you can occasionly use it to do work, although you should keep this to a bare minumum. Try not to start an essay until 36 hours before it is due in. This is the optimal length of time for essay writing.

A phone may be provided. This is exclusivly for making prank calls to other student wasters. DO NOT USE IT FOR PROPER REGULAR PHONE CALLS. This is what your mobile phone is for.

5.) Window. Notice the use of a poster in this window. This shows anyone looking into your room that you are the greatest fan of the subject of the poster in the Universe. I chose Slipknot as my subject matter, but stolen posters for student events are allowed, as is just about anything. Use your imagination.

The window also provides something to stare out of, in lieu of working. A balcony lies beyond the window, this is for smoking cigarettes ot joints. Smoking eithe in your room is acceptable, as the smoke detectors are specially designed to not detect smoke.

6.) Bed. This should not be comfortable. It is designed merely so that you do not pass out drunk on the landings. It also provides emergency storage space in times of need (see point 2).

As demonstrated, it can even be used as an emergency mess generator in itself, although mess should be relocated to the floor before sleeping, as a large cardboard box impairs optimal sleeping practise.

7.) More mess. See point 2.

8.) Bedside table. This also contains mess, and provides storage for marijuana, pennies, spare models, and sometimes underwear.

9.) Wardrobe. Clothes are the main currency of the wardrobe, although the good student waster should keep his best clothes on the floor, for optimal accses. This also stores all the bags you brought your mess up with you, as well as food you can't hide in the fridge, and don't want stolen.

There is also a sink hidden behind the wardrobe. This is primarily for washing hands, shaving, etc, although if you are hiediously desperate, or drunk, or sleepwalkig (as I was), it can be used as an emergency urinal. Considering that there is a toilet on the other side of the facing wall, this shows the desperate measures required to use this function.

OTHER EQUIPMENT NEEDED:

Money. Used for buying alcahol and weed, keeping junk food in stock, squandering on CDs, and occasionly buying textbooks.

See, I do do some updates! Now buy things from my store, before I stop being lazy and update them to make them look nicer, so you have to buy them all over again!

#3

2004-11-02T10:43:00.000Z

"And if you listen I can't call
And if you jump, you just might fall
And if you shout, I'll only hear you"

U2 - Stay

#2

2004-11-01T13:21:00.000Z

"She says she loves you,
And you know that can’t be bad,
She says she loves you,
And you know you should be glad."

The Beatles - She Loves You

An update is an update, damn it!

2004-10-29T09:05:00.000+01:00

As long as there aren’t real updates because both Chyldio and I are faking that we’re really busy… I’ll post some lines of lyrics that I like, how I feel or just because I like to spill bandwidth…

"It's stupid when her voice can make you smile. "

Things Seem All Fucked Up Today - Screeching Weasel

Anglais

2004-10-26T13:37:00.000+01:00

English is stupid…

Why can you say:

“We are stupid, aren’t we?”

And why can’t I say:

“I am stupid, amn’t I?”

Who made this stupidness up to replace amn’t with ain’t or isn’t?
And why isn’t stupidness a word?
And I’m going to use it anyway.
Another chapter added to The Big Book of Superish Grammar.

Nothing Original...

2004-10-25T16:11:00.000+01:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have a solution to my massive cashflow problem.

The basic premise behind getting a job is surely to do what you're good at, right? What am I good at?

-Drinking
-Getting stoned
-Sleeping
-Paiting little men badly
-Drumming badly

Nothing really suited to the modern workplace, really. But wait! I missed out one; my appearence!

I shall become a professional Mick Jagger Impersonator!

Obviously, I've got no idea how to get into such a line, so any recommendations are welcome...

Meaningless

2004-10-25T09:00:00.000+01:00

There are a lot of things, which are crap and without any meaning. Tuesdays for example. I never had an exciting Tuesday, nothing ever happens on a Tuesday; Sunday is free and means something to religious people, Monday is the day we worship the moon, Wednesday is the middle of the week, Thursday is Dutch student day (cheap beer), Friday counts as weekend, Saturday is weekend and means football and drinking beer. But what the hell happens on a Tuesday? I suggest that from no on we start with a six-days-week.

Cell phones with cameras! Even some respected Less-is-More’ers have one! Should be banned.

The ‘Q’. We only have it because it’s a James Bond character. But for the rest… I never use a word with a q. And there is a good alternative for the Q. Let’s say Cwestion instead of Question. Also an ‘X’. We only use it for the word sex. But I think deeds say more than words.

Beige. Beige is a really nasty colour that no one likes. So, why not ditch it? All colours are in the rainbow, but do you really think the rainbow loses its prettiness when we take out beige?

And last but not least in the meaningless rant. The 101 blog. I mean 96, 97, 98, 99… You’re really working to get to the 100 post and then you had it! Hurrah! Onehundred! So, 99 posts to go for another party…

In conclusion we should outlaw Tuesdays, cell phone cameras, Q’s, X’s, beige and the number 101.

Big 100? None o' that crap...

2004-10-23T14:27:00.000+01:00

Its odd, its kinda snuck up on me that this is, in fact, the 100th update for Less Is More itself! I was going to palm you off with yet another "100 Inane And Stupid Questions About You", savaged in the style of many before. But that ain't good enough for y'all really. We need teh funnee again!

The History of Less Is More

Back in the spring of 2004, a young street urchin called Chyld got sick of stealing pennies off of the pavements in order to fund his sherbert habit, decided he needed some output for his mad ideas. So he went home, searched for blog providers, and created an entity known as Less Is More.

The dream began delightfully, rattling off a piece about the disturbing logo for Alfa Romeo. "What is this picture that resemles a man-eating snake?" he cried, "Its effing weird!" Thus did the population have a small chuckle. Finally, the good were working. He immediatly followed this with a rant at the foolish weight watchers, and the wobblers on the Fatkins diet. "No carbs! The folly!" went up his warcry. Which resonated with another individual, who became intertwined with the paths of Chyld and Less is More.

Supermarct, a Dutch street urchin of a more drunken dispoition, was told of this wonderful venture, and went ahead to provide the first ever guest update, on him being drunk at an awards ceremony in London. And thus did it develop...

Nothing interesting happened for a while, pen drives were bought, laptops gave up the ghost, Vauxhall Corsas were slated, and all was merryment, with Super taking most of the Friday Guest Updater slots. I even managed a Theme Week onone of the best bands in the Multiverse, Slipknot. Then I almost got laid.

Then the summer came, creating a death knell for the website. I had a few good ideas, but as soon as the Prom came around, everthing Chyld and Super had worked for crumbled. "Aha!" thought Chyld "Copout!" And thus, the only updates that came from that point were diaries. Of proms where I'd been betrayed, of barge trips where I did-not-get-laid-despite-appearences-to-the-contrary-I-dug-a-big-messy-hole-over-this-leave-me-alone, and festivals where much drugs were smoked, munched, and vomit produced as a result. No sex, though.

And now I'm 250 miles away, poor, and running low on ideas. I hope that was a goo enough post, and lets hope for another 100, because at this rate there isn't going to be another 25...

No title

2004-10-22T09:54:00.000+01:00

it used to be all fun and games it used to be ok
we used to party every night we used to hang out every day
but it is not the same no more to much is said and done
somebody’s going to drown some day but I won’t be the one

That'll do for today.

Desperate Times...

2004-10-14T14:33:00.000+01:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm very poor now.

I went into town today, to sort out the paying for my new phone. Inadvertently, I was given a mini bank statement. In one month, I've spent £1000 of my £1100 student loan.

Times are therefore a bit hard in Chateau Chyld. I'm hunting for a job, looking at the various internet options avaliable to me, but its time for the Last Resort...

Yes, its a PayPal button.

I realise that, with the chronic lack of updates lately, this is like a once-wealthy man crawling on his knees to random strangers for bread crusts, after having mooned them from his horse-drawn carriage. And neither do I have anything to repay said kindness.

Unless you factor in the Merch Shack, which has sold one T-shirt in just under six months. That's anywhere between 20p and £1 profit then.

Tell you what, you donate and I'll write. Fair?

Good. Now, I'll line up a rant on covers for... ooh, some time in the future. As an incentive, I'll whack up a Henry Skull comic, right?

Good day, chyldren...

What Goes Around

2004-10-05T18:07:00.000+01:00

Its been a long time since we've had a proper update, and I do mean
ages. By now, I'll bet the regular fanbase has started to move on, so
its time to become funny again. So I'm going to try and maintain a
Tuesday-Thursday-Sunday update schedule, at the very least from now on.

So, getting into university every day then.

The Lawns Halls, the place wot I lives at, is about three to four miles away
from the university itself. A fairly imposing distance, and one I need to walk
every single fucking day. Apart from Wednesday, which is reverentialy given to
a hungover lie-in. But what about the other days, you don't cry at all. Here
we are...

1.) Walking It.

While I've no objection to walking, really, its four miles. Four Miles. The
average human walks at about three miles an hour. Does this suggest any reason
why NOT to try it? It takes at least half an hour for me to get my arse in
gear every morning, negociating the creaky floorboards in my room, getting
dressed, and working out whether my bacon or my milk is more likely to kill
me, and therefore choosing fry-up or cereal.

Basically, I don't want to. I had to walk home on the second day, with no idea
where I was going, in the blazing sunshine. Not conductive to good health. I
have forsaken that option completly now.

HOWEVER, I insist on walking into the town where I live, if theres a trip
there to be done, for doctors appointments/shopping/robbery/etc. Its five
minutes walk away. FIVE MINUTES AND PEOPLE STILL INSIST ON DRIVING IT. Gits.

2.) Take The Bus
The more popular option for most people. Its quick, easy, and only £1.95 for a
return ticket. Less if you're using a bus pass, which I kinda need. I don't
have one, because I didn't have any money (no savings, no loan, no cannabis to
sell to CompleteAnarchy...) to pay for it with, and now I have the money, I
can't find anywhere to get the damned thing. AARGH!

Yahtzee once pontificated on being the scary man on the bus no one would sit
next to. At the time, I felt "Yeah? I'd be, but I never take the bus. What of
it?" Now I am, I find myself being that scary man. I compensate by lurking on
the top of the bus. There's something relevant in here, I'm sure.

3.) Bike

Ah yes, my bike. Retired from helping me deliver the parish's papers, now
occasionly pressed into service as my lift in when I want to save two quid.
And I kinda need to, now. I've spent £260 of my £1110 loan, and that's before
they take money for bus passes, tuition fees, etc. Fuck and whoops. So, bike
it is.

It only takes 20 minutes, gives me exercise, and is totally free. Apart from
the £8 portable bike repair kit I bought because the front brakes fucked up.
Now if I try braking, I make like Superman and go flying over the handlebars.

So, moving on...

4.) The Cheetsmobile.
Free like a bike, quicker than bus, only marred by a bass system that could be
used by the police in a seige. Seriously, its so loud, the optimum place to
listen from for best sound quality is in the car behind. Not an option I can
take very often...

4.5) Other Cars

Yes, other cars do exist, may I add as a footnote. However, no named
characters have one, so it doesn't help.

5.)Taximobile

The ultimate in getting back to/from clubs at ridiculously late hours, the
local taxis are among the fastest way of getting places. If you remember to
order it about two hours beforehand. And if the taxi service has any taxis
avaliable (read: if they can be arsed). And if the taxidriver isn't late. If
he is, a small wait of about 5 million years should be added into your
schedule.

However, you can't go far wrong with taxi driver banter. I've had
conversations that have ranged from the quality of the local nightlife, the
intricacies of being a taxi driver (did you know that they have to pay
for the signs on the side themselves?), to basically calling one of my mates a
virginal wanker. Good stuff in context.

If that was funny, give me money.

New Henry Skull Comic: Breaking Even... Or Odd

To be(etle) or not to be(etle)

2004-10-05T08:10:00.000+01:00

While technically being at work, I saw a question on the Internet:

>What sort of things do beetles eat???<

I think this is an interesting question and I started to wonder. Why do we want to know what beetles eat? It’s not like I want a beetle as a pet or something and need all the information to give him a warm welcome. I don’t even care wetter it eats or not.

Anyway, we did get an answer.

Probably The Beatles eat beef and mashed potatoes, but…

Oh the horror. A person that likes bugs with a sense of humour!

…beetles eat most anything, depending on the species. Some eat meat (live and dead), others eat plants, others eat other insects, …

Now where are insects made from? They are meat too!

…and others eat dung. Better look at a web site or a library book on insects to see the variety.

Oh, this is great.

“Hey All!”
“Hi Mike!”
“Hey All, you know what beetles eat, All?”
“No, Mike. What do beetles eat, Mike?”
“Search the Internet for yourself, All!”

Why did this lunatic came up with this question in the first place? No one asked for it, he posted it anyway, and now we’re all interested and excited, he tells us go find it ourselves! What’s the point of mentioning it in the first place? Why do you spoil bandwidth? I hope that meat eating (not insect-eating) beetles will eat you alive! Argh!

Tell Us A Story

2004-10-03T22:22:00.000+01:00

Right, how fucked am I?

I've had a fortnight to prepare one A4 side of a story for Creative Writing.

A whole freaking fortnight!

Well, that's a good reminder of how bloody lazy I am. But luck is on my side, I've found an idea. Its a bit thin on the ground for now, but this is where YOU can help ME for once.

I put up what I've been arsed to put down so far, you give me feedback in whatever forum I will read it in. Mine, preferably.

Its a fantasy setting (Wizards and trolls as opposed to breasts, jelly and vibrating cucumbers), and the protagonist is a wizards son, sent away from home to study under a better wizard. Do read on...

"The thing about magic", my father had told me, "is that nobody understands quite how it works. There's obviously more to it than just waving your arms around and saying a few funny words. It’s just that we don’t know what. Bear that in mind before you start your magical training."

I grimaced slightly at this recollection, and opened the large and heavy book in front of me. It was a plain and simple book, bound in what I assumed was red leather (although, in all fairness, tomes of magic can be made of anything these days), and had the words "Ye Booke of Magikal Lore" engraved on the front. This was the last thing my father had given me before I went away, and while it was priceless, irreplaceable, and heavy with the ancient knowledge of sorcery from generations long past, it wasn’t exactly going to buy me a good ham sandwich.
Which was, I felt, more important to sating my grumbling stomach, than being able to make sparks appear at the click of a finger.

Scolding myself...

That's all I've got so far. He's going to do some reading from the book next. It fills about a third of a side of A4 right now.

Well, critique away then!

Schizo’s going madder?

2004-10-01T11:55:00.000+01:00

Well, well, well. Another update from the schizo?

Why the hell am I updating this much lately? Mainly because I’m bored as a supermarket, and I want to increase the spamming in the forums. It looks only Cyz and I are posting in one section nowadays. Now, we can argue quite a bit with the two of us, but it would be nice to see you guys around a bit more.

My dearest Amy?
Funny Bubbles?
Cute TinyOne?
Underaged Girry?
Fellow Dutchie Skorpio?
Utter coolness Johnny?
Where are you guys?
Even our beloved moderator doesn’t show up too much anymore... Chyldio!?

Is there some nasty virus infecting all sane people and disallow them to contact the schizo?

Yes? Really? Then why is Cyzyk still around? Oh My, does this mean Cyzyk is one of my personalities too?

Argh!

The horrors

2004-09-30T08:15:00.000+01:00

Just peek to the right, please. On the right we have some links. We all thoroughly enjoy Henry, followed by Hull Student Life, our precious forum and... Yes, my love, the Merch Shack...

Let’s have a look what horrors we can find in this dark liar of the World Wide Web.

We have this weird looking piece of clothing to torture dogs with. I don’t know why our lord and master hates dogs, he probably keeps stepping in the warm piles some of the loyal four-footers leave behind. Otherwise I don’t see a reason why he want to torture them with the cruel shirt.

Then we got a BBQ Apron. What were you thinking Chyldio? You live in fucking Britain. It rains 300 days a year in the UK. And it’s foggy 60 days a year. Leaving you with six sunny days, six when you’re lucky. Don’t you think it is a tad bit unnecessary to buy an apron for these six days a year?

The leering skull thong is the worst piece in the whole shack I think. Every fibre in your body wants sex, but the leering skull makes you feel really shy.

I copied all the shop items, so I read Camisole. Haven’t got a clue what it is, so it’s useless in a shop.

The Skull Clock! What a horror it is! Of course we loves the skull, but what use is a clock if you can’t see what time it is?

Trucker hat? Do I look like a trucker?

Okay, all horrors they are… But now it’s time to be more positive. Yesterday my brand new White Skull T-shirt arrived. Hurrah! Envy me. I am the blitz. Well, I would be when the shirt was black… sigh

Ps Hoodies are always good!

Fools unite!

2004-09-29T14:39:00.000+01:00

Okay, here is the deal.

Things are rather strange lately, and this time it’s not all my fault (you can interpret this two-sided).

While I’m at work I’m as bored as a supermarket and so I decided to write a book. You got to entertain yourself, don’t you?
Anyway, knowing me, I won’t write about anything less complex than myself. The list of subjects to write about was empty in no time, until only one issue remained: insanity. Well, I think I am just THE person to write about this very topic. And so there I went.

Writing about a person turning crazy is fun, but not too original. Explaining why the reader is crazy is much more fun. And quite original too.

So, I’m searching the Internet now, searching for information about mental illnesses, chaos theory, brain-information, everything about the seven deadly sins, blindness, deafness, choices between right and wrong... Name it and I use it to show you that you’re insane.

And building up my story I finally realised humanity is insane. No matter how an individual thinks or acts, humanity is just insane (well, we actually knew that already, looking what humanity does with Mother Earth). So whenever someone calls you crazy you can counter it with ‘humanity is crazy, no matter how any individual thinks or acts’. For arguments send them to the Less-is-More forum and let them ask for Super.

Then strolling the Internet a tad bit further and speaking with some convict offspring, some people know as Snook, we decided being insane isn’t all that bad. Better, being sane is all wrong. The best example is that insane people love and care. Sane people don’t. Sane people are selfish, greedy and God knows what more!

In conclusion, you are a fool and be proud of it!

Freshers Week Diary Part Two

2004-09-21T15:47:00.000+01:00

Alright, boys and girls? Still not bleeding from your eyeballs yet? Well, we've got ~~another easy cop-out update~~ another real treat for you, the latter half of last weeks debauchery and stuff.

Shouts out to all the people doing Creative Writing who decided to come and see what the hell I was rattling on about earlier today, by the way. Don't worry, it might actually be funny tomorrow...

Right, just to remind you, I went to bed on the Tuesday night utterly hammered...

Wednesday 15th

7:13am

Of all the fucking mornings to have a fire alarm...

3:19pm

Finally get out of bed, recovered from last night. I've no idea how much I ended up drinking, but I've never ended up with a hangover that's kept me in bed until three in the afternoon, even after my 18th.

My debit card hasn't arrived yet...

7:12pm

It took nearly twelve hours in bed, half a meal and one shower to do it, but I've finally recovered from the most apocalyptic hangover in the history of my liver. It trumped both my 18th birthday party and New Years Eve '01 together, with one hand tied behind its back. SmugElf did warn me of this, but you gotta try.

And this is how hard I tried, apparently...

-Three pints of cider.
-Two shots of Apple Sourz.
-Four pints of Chyld-made Snakebite.
-Nine shots of lemon flavoured Smirnoff.
-A good portion of a small joint.
-Fuck knows what else on top of that...

And its all good now. Might be going out in a minute. I can start with a can of Fosters I got given for putting up some shelves, inflating a sofa and hanging a poster...

10:09pm

Shock and awe rocked B Block, Lambert Hall earlier, as someone actually set up the Internet. Promptly, I snuck in, checked the forums were ticking over, and reprimanded some idiot for nagging me for updates. I'm not superhuman.

Also, I've actually chanced a can of Fosters...

1:43am

Oh dear. You probably won't know that K80 gave me this class-arse drinking game for my birthday, which involved rolling three dice, each with a different drinking game on each side, mixing up the rolled drinks in a glass, and drinking it. Well,we didn't have all the drinks, so we made ones with the drinks we have, and we've been using them for hours.

As a result, I'm totally hammered. Again.

Then, some girl phoned me, asking me round. It didn't occur to me that this was, in fact, one of the girls on the penthouse with me, which shows the effect of random mixers on drunken webmasters.

So theres me, throwning on a shirt, gargling mouthwash, whacking on afershave (expensive stuff), then running off to A block - to find Ils, one of the saavy metallers from a few floors down, garbed on a skirt...

Oh dear. Gullible may be my middle name, but we've taken it to new heights tonight...

Expect another hangover report, I'm that hammered...

Thursday 16th

"joe, he is totaly hot he has a properlovely luchus body, tonight i'll have my way with him when he sleeps round."
Attributed to Cheets on his 19th. IE, today.

3:03pm

I've not actually been away from the computer for very long, its just that I haven't had a free moment to type anything. So what's been going on?

-Woke up, only a little hungover. Didn't have breakfast, tidied up after last night.
-Finally got my bank card, which only told me the obvious. Nothing in there. Ah well.
-Bought some things in the Co-op.
-Started registering my laptop to get on the net. Its still waiting to give me a proper IP address, so I can do crazy things like actually upload updates and shit like that.
-I'm not due to pit my Salamanders against... my Salamanders... in a game of Warhammer 40k. The things you do for people whose birthday it is...

4:15pm

In the middle of my thrashing at 40k (I'm sure the sides are unequal, as Cheets hasn't played since he was 13, and he's thrashing me), it occured to me that restarting my laptop might help. So I did.

Now I've got Google staring at me.

It seems I've finally cracked it.

4:39pm

Can't get MSN Messanger to work, however...

I'll start uploading this next week, for the sake of consistancy.

7:20pm

Got MSN Messanger working, and found to my horror that I really am the center of the universe. Since apparently, its not been the same since I left back home down south. It sucks, but since everyone else is running off soon...

Time for a party tho. Just did a beer run with Cheets and his evily loud bass system...

9:28pm

Two Snakebites in a row? Fucking hell, its a wonder I can keep my dinner down now. But I've done worse...

Friday 17th

12:38pm

You know the old story, right? The girls who you like/like you are always taken, and the girls who aren't taken don't like you. Its what I've found constantly within the last week.

Blimey, I've been here a week? Crazy...

Saturday 18th

3:40pm

Don't think there was a lot to say earlier really. Went out, got drunk, came back. Nothing wrong with that.

Got screamed at over e-mail by the bitch I call ex-girlfriend. I've never seen so many swear words in one sentence. And all because I sent her a preview of this diary! Women, they're very strange. It did however remind me that I've gone a very long time without thinking that all of humanity sucks. Quite the opposite.

Its funny, because the amount of interruptions I've had, I finished writing this short paragraph an hour after I started it...

Sunday 19th

12:25pm

Once again, I've woken up apocalyptically hungover, and I've just been told that something I smoked last night was not, in fact, a joint, but was in fact a teabag. Yums...

Hopefully, this shows just how hammered I was last night. I was introduced to the delights of Spiders nightclub, the local metallers bar. And fuck me, its cheap. £1.20 for a pint? Bliss. Plus:
1.) Its perhaps the only bar which could actually serve a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster with a straight face.
2.) For £3.50, you can get a shot of just about everything stuck in a pint glass, coloured green, and served to you. Its called a Green Monster, and was the only thing I had to drink last night apart from a half of cider.
Methinx I'm getting a membership ASAP...

5:38pm

Just got back from the Satanic ritual known as Eating Dinner, a process comprarable to the Holocaust, only pitting the poor unwitting students as the murderees, and using a bit less gas.

(Apologies for bad taste)

Went out and played my first game of footie for several months, scored a goal for the first time in years, and actually enjoyed it for the first time... erm... ever? I might even want to repeat the exercise some time in the future. Disturbing.

Monday 20th

2:06pm

Last entry for my uni diaries. Of course, you can now find new ones on the LiveJournal, but it'll be time for good ol' humour again.

Last night was the first proper stoning session. Imagine about eight people on my balcony, which wouldn't be big enough to put a mattress on, passing around a joint. Good times. Also saw Phoenix Nights, which was extremly freaky at the time but on reflection, merely hilariously funny.

This did mean, of course, that I was weedovered throughout my first tutorial. Did befriend a guy called Jim, who's taking the same course. See, good!

Also, my bank card came, with a cool £1k on it. That's drink sorted until Christmas then. I'm very happy.

With that, good day.

Freshers Week Diaries: Part One

2004-09-20T14:09:00.000+01:00

Right, no ones been waiting for them, but they're here anyway. Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the Grand Premiere of...

Chylds Freshers Week Diaries
(aka, Beer and No Clothing in the East Riding of Yorkshire)

Saturday 11th

4:25pm

So, I'm here. No sign of the internet for a while though. I haven't found where to put my cutlery, bugger actually setting up network cards and all that crap.

There's shitloads more to say, but I've got five minutes in which to pack...

7:04pm

Right, there's time between now and "getting drunk time" to rattle up some bollocks for the masses.

Partly, my fears have come true. MY room mate is not a dyed in the wool metaller, but neither is he your Reebok-wearing gangsta numbskull, which is good. I think we'll be able to go more than three months without trying to knife each other in the back, as long as I don't end up getting stoned in our room.

Gotta move, we're going early...

Sunday 12th

11:13am

Just woken up, I think. Blimey.

Yesterday was a bit interesting - I think I've majorly miscalculated my finances, so until my student loan arrives, I've got about £2 to last off of. And I seem to have discovered that it ain't coming until about Friday, so it seems I'm a bit fucked...

But first night seemed to involve drinking as much as one could afford (thank god for my saavy new crew, or I'd have left sober), dancing badly, and not getting anywhere with any women. On the bright side, we did try to walk home, got lost, and explored Cottingham.

I've got nothing to do today, apart from wander round and meet people. I'll start by having a shower, methinx...

12:05pm

Fuck me, those showers are cold. All the delightful memories of the barge holiday, minus accses to a fine and horny woman called "my girlfriend".

Just had breakfast, a notion only notable in that its not at home, and I had to wash up my shit after having used it.

I need to phone the folks, I need money to not stay sober on...

6:05pm

Its been a relativly busy day today. Went into Hull, had a look around, and ate at Pizza Hut. We came back, and we've been bored ever since.

The money problem's sorted - Ma Jennings has stuck about £50 in my account, which I can get to from lunchtime tomorrow. Which only leaves getting the bus to the campus tomorrow - with a quid, possible - and this evenings socialising - and some damn fine chicas downstairs are having a gathering there later, which we've been invited to. I should be popular, what with all the whiskey. I'm kicking myself that I forgot the bottle of Strongbow bequeathed to me by AmyJay.

Tomorrow, I can get this damned thing hooked up to the Internet. Which'll be good. In the meanwhile, I need a shit...

7:46pm

God, I'm fucking bored...

The women aren't anywhere in sight, we've got nothing to do.

1:02am

In the middle of what amounts to be a respectably large party. I am on the top floor, therefore I am part of the Penthouse Massive. My crew expands to have a name! I've now become Jag, (crossref: Rolling Stones) the legend of the Penthouse Crew. World Conquest one step further...

I can't stay, we've just finished messing around with camera phones (sounds of SuperMarct gnawing his phoneline) and USB ports, so its time to get back to actual socialising...

1:38pm

...and the first meeting of the Penthouse Massive (feat. Jagg) has abdicated for the evening. Now I'm going to eat food, type random bollocks, and listen to The Prodigy. G'night y'all...

2:02am

OK, so I've done another Henry Skull comic. Productive? Oui. Well rested? Do I need to be?

Monday 13th

1:40pm

Absolutly nothing has gone right so far today, and here's why.

-"DO NOT MISS IMPORTENT MEETING AT 10:15 THIS MORNING OR ELSE!!" declared the importent letter from the Philosophy Department. Somehow, I managed to read this as "10:45", and set my alarm for 10. I didn't even get up then, oversleeping until 10:20, looking at my timetable, and collapsing in a panic. Thankfully, I got there just before it finished, got the nessersary paperwork, and decided to get a drink. First of all, a trip to the cash machine to get out the money the parents had left there...

-Then the cash machine ate my fucking card. I assume its something to do with the new account, but I stuck it in to get the money, and it told me "This Card Has Been Detained". Fucking great. Now instead of having £1.50 and a student loan on Friday, I've got 40p and no way to get any more money at all. I'm going to have to ask somebody for some, but I can't see it happening.

-I haven't eaten anything but a handful of Cheerios since 3pm yesterday, and I don't really care. It must be the Dutchman in me.

-I need to go into town now, and pray to any deity that has existed, will existed and will one day exist, that I can get out some money using my chequebook.

-Fuck, I'm thirsty.

7:10pm

Well, it all got a bit better after that. In the last six and a half hours, I...

-Had three glasses of juice.
-Also had a Pot Noodle
-Got on my bike at 3:15 and went into Hull.
-Asked half a dozen people where the Woolwich bank was.
-Found it by accident.
-Managed to get out £50.
-Stopped back at the uni to get my NUS card.
-Go told I was too late to get it.
-Got a Grim Reaper poster.
-Went back, and got dinner with the Penthouse Crew.
-Came back here.

In a bit, we're off to a club. The ladies are dressing up nice, the lads (metallers mostly) are just going in jeans and T-shirts.

Time to stop being a recluse and talk to people...

Y'know, its ironic that I'm doing Philosophy, and I get my own ivory tower to ruminate in...

12:39am

Y'know, it seems my bad luck keeps fucking going on and on man. Once again, it seems the heart of Chyld is being stomped on by the womem he likes. I'd say more, but its all I can do not to bite a wodge out of the shelf and throw up everywhere.

Other than that, its all beeen fun until about midnight. At that point, Cinderella didn't leave the party, she got whisked off her feet by some random bloke while Prince Charming looked on and wondered how he managed it.

Am I making sense? Cos I don't think I am.

Incidently, three shots of vodka and a VK in The Mission pub is a combination that'll get anyone slaughtered after one pint. And Snakebite! Duck has been telling its virtues for months, and I've only just tried it, and fuck its nice!

Time to be sociable again. Or a whiny, lovelorn piece of shit. Both are fitting titles at the moment...

3:09am

What the sodding hell am I still doing awake NOW, of all hours? Not even the most legendary blazes with the lads lasted this long, and I'm still here listening to assorted remixes, re-reading "Mostly Harmless", and massaging my poor bruised ego. I'm even sobering up, for fucks sake! That ain't supposed to happen.

Tuesday 14th

10:02am

Oh, my fucking head...

7:10pm

Oh, my fucking arse...

I've been on campus all fucking day, and Im whacked. My day after that last entry followed as such...

-Had a shower.
-Hopped on the bike.
-Only just made it in time for the thing I had to be in for.
-Wandered round with the girl I spectacularly failed to get with last night, looking at stands giving out free stuff.
-Attended a boring waffly meeting.
-Went and had lunch at Subway. Fucking lush.
-Went back to register with the uni.

Two and a half hours later, I had finally got through the queue, and then...

-Started to cycle home.
-Picked up eight cans of cider for a fiver.
-Got back.
-Had dinner.

And now I'm being hassled to go out...

10:18PM

Yep, we went off to the pub to see Arsenal vs Fuck-No-Who in the pub down the road. Importent announcement:

Five Shots of Apple Sourz For A Fiver In The Cross Keys!

This fact is so importent, it deserves a paragraph in its own right.

Then we got back, and me and The Resident Stoner From Block A went off and smoked The Last of The Summer Weed. And now I'm stoned. And everyones swarming around and reading me talking bollocks, and commenting as such. Oh wibbles.

Incidently, I can now make a mean Snakebite...

Next time: Sleeping alongside women, trouncings at 40k, and eight differnt shots in one glass...

Quick Score Check

2004-09-17T15:03:00.000+01:00

Right, as I've probably already said, I've finally got the Internet set up, including MSN Messanger and all that crap. Only Kaaza eludes me grasp, but give it time...

For the first few days next week, you'll get the privilage of my Freshers Week Diaries, sources of much hilarity in this block of these halls I'm now in.

It occured to me recently that Less Is More is slowly becoming me just talking about my life, as opposed to writing humerous articles. This will not do! I've therefore set up a LiveJournal to act as a day-to-day "what I'm doing" thing, while any humerous crap I can come up with will go on here once again. Said LiveJournal is now here, but don't look at it yet, since it doesn't say anything I haven't already told you here.

Although you do get to see the gnarly pixellated triangle man I'm using as my mood thing. Which is as good a reason as any...

Finally, heres some pointless insight for you; if one of your new best mates pisses off of your balcony, but its raining, should anyone be pissed off? Answers on a postcard...

Don't Get Excited Yet...

2004-09-15T21:21:00.000+01:00

...I'm not back online yet. Out of my entire block of houses, I've only found one computer connected to the 'net, and I'm using five minutes to check no ones killing themselves.

And its true - nobody gets out of this place sober...

We lost it

2004-09-09T13:05:00.000+01:00

Okay, I fully agree, Dutch are weird… but it seems we lost it completely this time!

The latest crime fighting weapons we use are… cows!

A vacation resort in Holland is going to put cows in the forest. Not a big deal you think, but they’re actually doing it so gays won’t have sex in public! This seems to be quite a problem in Spaarnwoude. Well, that might be all true, but I doubt cows can see the difference between homo-sexuals having sex and heterosexuals having sex.

The Reading Diaries: Two of Two

2004-09-07T18:56:00.000+01:00

Saturday:

Finally, some proper sunshine had broken through this morning. It didn't help much, the path by the tap near our campsite was by now nothing more nor less than a small swamp, assuring that my shoes constantly had a layer of wet mud.

This could not daunt me - the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster were playing, surely nothing else matters? First off, however, was a couple of other acts I wanted to see, The Bronx and The Icarus Line. The former was an absolute stormer - imagine Raging Speedhorn, if they'd grown up in America listening to punk, instead of living in Corby on a diet of metal. The only good thing about the latters performance, however, was the frontman's excellent hair. I was expecting some agression, any agression, but there was none.

This put me into bad sorts as The Eighties came on stage. And the mood followed. Sure, they were good, sure their songs could disembowl a donkey. But in my opinion, they just weren't very good that day. It was nice to hear some more new songs, though. However, they were giving out DVDs somewhere, and I didn't find one, not learning until I visited their forum the other day.

It was at this point that one of my many whims ran away with me. Finding the least dodgy market stall I could, I went and picked up a smal bag of magic mushrooms. I ran back to the campsite to indulge in these. I was disappointed - I was expecting hallucinations, all that happened was a pleasent high, not dissimilar to a good joint, only a little less disorienting. After these, I moved onto the Apple Sourz again. Everyone had a bottle of this, and while no one else had even touched theirs thus far, I had drained half my bottle by the time I left to see Roxy Saint.

A kick to the nads for anyone who didn't see her. The body of an angel, the mind of a devil, and a damned good singer to boot. Conparisons to my ex are curtailed over whether the arguement of "good singing voice vs. sex". Buy her DVD, you plebes! And do it now!

I decided that, after that, I didn't want anything to ruin my euphoria, so I just went straight to CAs tent for... you already know what. It doesn't help that he was asleep for all the time that he wasn't ripping bongs with me...

Sunday:

I was really quite bored today, mainly due to the lack of appreciated bands. The Rasmus got bottled off after one song, while I lay around and ate a pot noodle. Eventually, we all went off to see the Lostprophets and Placebo, both of whom were good. Then came the most fun of the weekend not clad in spandex.

For the life of me, I've not been able to find out what administrative blunder booked 50 Cent, the epitomy of everything there is to hate about bad rap, to play the Carling Weekend Festival, the biggest rock festival in Britain, and why they expected him to be liked. Throughout the entire weekend, I only found one person who liked him. That was out of at least a hundred people. There was only one outcome.

Five minutes before he even came on, bottles were flying at the stage. As he came on, you couldn't see the stage for the flying plastic in the air. And it never truly stopped, just slowed too much for my liking. I myself have never ended screaming "WANKER!" for so long, nor seen so many people raise their middle fingers in the same direction. You have to credit the man for his balls though - he stuck it out for 20 minutes before he buggered off, to the sound of the biggest cheer of the weekend.

This gave Green Day extra time to set up and play, and thank God for it. If Roxy Saint hadn't shown up, and I had failed to pick up for another year running, this would have been the highlight of the weekend. Not one of the band was sober, they covered everyone from Queen to The Ramones, and they dragged some guys out of the audience to play on a Bad Religion cover. Quality.

Then came the final blaze of the weekend. Both CA and I showed up for a party in a tree near his campsite, where we encountered a fine young lady who was up for a bong or two. We only got as far as CAs tent and one joint before she ran off "to go to the loo". She didn't come back. We were worried she'd just stolen his vodka, but it turned out that I'd just left it outside in my stonedness. Maybe we just weren't cool enough for her. We were joined by two of CA's mates from Croxley, and we experimented by putting the dish from my newly acquired pipe into his bong. Trying to clear this nearly made me throw up all over the place, and actually DID make CA throw up all over the place. I made my excuses and left shortly after that. Everyone else from my camp was out when I got back, so I concluded my night by falling asleep.

Monday:

On Monday, I packed up, and went.

Incidently, I still need to go and get my pipe and hat back I left them in CA's tent...

The Reading Diaries, One Of Two

2004-09-06T17:57:00.000+01:00

Right Chyldlings, its been a while, because I've been lazy, and relativly uninspired. As a compromise, I'm whacking up a weeksworth of updates, with a comic each day too! Today, we're starting with my long awaited review of Reading Festival.

I've been hyping this up to me and you all for months now. Drugs! Rock! Women! Drink! General High Times! And hey, four out of five ain't bad going. But which crazed individuals did we drag along on this mad social whirl?

Chyld- Resident Stoner/Webmaster
Big Brother- Foil to many a joke
AmyJay- Senior Chyldling
-with her brother
Bubbles- Not-so-senior Chyldling
Batman- The in-house boyfriend
Tadpole- The lanky bloke who didn't bring his guitar
SmugElf- Resident Student
Sod- Drinker of London Pride
Brian Blessed- Producer of flatulance (and my tent)
Duck- Former rival, now reconciled with and to, Thankfully
Butterfly- One of Bubbles' "other" crew

Also, decamped near us was CompleteAnarachy and his crew, who provided the cannabis for the expedition.

Thursday:

At about 2:30pm, we (being me, Big Brother, and the father) finally parked the car in a car park. Within 10 minutes, we decided that we were too far away from the campsite. "Too far away" being "anywhere but on the campsite itself", my stuff weighed at least three metric tonnes, with the weight of 5L of water too. By the time we got into the campsite itself (after about an hour), one of the wheels on my bag was in a worse state than the American government. And that was just over paved roads...

This year, it had been the rainiest August for fucking ages, all over Europe (crossref: France holiday), and this resulted in gallons of mud everywhere. Along the path from the road to the campsite, along the temporary roads erected for the weekend, and particularly thickly by the taps, there was more than enough mud to totally cover ones trousers after one trip through it. And we still hadn't found the campsite.

Eventually, after finding CompleteAnarchy and getting directions off of him (see: him taking us to the campsite), and another trip to fetch Big Brothers stuff (left at the entrance to the campsite, because one bag was heavy enough), we erected Big Brother's tent, and I got to work on my bottle of Apple Sourz (tastes like Apple Sour Chewits, is 15%vol alcahol. Perfect!)

Not much else happened that day. At some point, I ran off for a smoke with CA, and started the first word association game of the weekend. You know the sort - say a word, they say a connected word, so on. Try doing this when you're butchered on skunk, and see how many times the words "tripping" "monkeys" and "poop" come up. I eventually went back, to find that Duck and Butterfly had finally arrived. And at some point, the day ended.

Friday:

I awoke to the semi-glorious sensation of an apres-weed morning, and the sound of rain battering off of my tent, at about 10 in the morning. Good start, that was.

Thankfully, the rain was light, the weed hangover was soon covered over by breakfast and Apple Sourz, and into town I went with Tadpole and SmugElf, in search of adequate toilets. We spent two hours looking for them, which resulted in me missing Goldie Lookin' Chain. Which was annoying, as a group I thought was them was bloody good when I was testing the weed for the weekend after we picked it up. However, I got a good shit out of it, meaning that the familys failure to bring bog roll was not an issue. I also got cranberry juice, and no one can argue with cranberry juice.

As a group, when we got back, we went off to see Reel Big Fish, a favourite of most of our group. I'm not as much of a raving fan as everyone else, but they were good, horns and all. We then went off to see someone in the Comedy tent, but I realised that, in actual fact, Hundred Reasons were playing the Main Stage straight after the Fish. So off I went. And saw them. And they were good.

After that, I returned to the campsite, to get on with the serious business of drinking and eating. Eventually, we all regrouped, and ran off to see the three headliners of the day...

We missed most of Ash's set, but they were good, and I was content to be the only person in our group to know who Har Mar Superstar was when he came onstage and stripped.

After that... lovely spectacle, the Offspring were on. Surging forward, me, Duck, and the two Jays were seperated from everyone else. Not a problem really. But then, as the 'spring began playing, I was cut off from absolutly everyone else by the huge pits that developed. Not a problem, I thought, last year, I found my weekends lady by advancing fowards into a pop-punk bands set, when they were just before the headliners. However, my luck in that regard was nil. Also, space was so cramped up front, I couldn't actually breathe, I was boiling from the sweat of twenty people per square metre, and when the guitatist Noodles was handing out popcorn (POPCORN? A gallon of water would have been better), I was retreating.

Oh yeah, The Offspring were good too.

Then the Darkness came on. I missed them last year, and I wasn't going to do it again this year. Neither was I going to be pulverised by a hundred thousand other people doing it.

The Darkness were a joy. Justin managed at least three costume changes, and ended up with a huge pirates hat. And everyone likes pirates. They barelled through all of their album, most of their B-sides, and a healthy wodge of new songs ("Girl! With the hazel eyes! Ahhhahhhhhhahhhhahhhhahaha!" Quality). Plus, someone was giving out "official Darkness lighters"! In actual fact, it was only branded with their record labels name. But it had a bottle opener on the end, so they're excused.

The plan was to go and see Shawn of the Dead afterwards, but I had no idea where it was, or when, or where anyone else was. A chance enconter with SmugElf allowed us to channel our searching efforts, and we eventually were told that Shawn... was on in the Comedy tent. While SmugElf had a piss, I went on ahead to see if I could find the others. I didn't. Instead, I found a man whacking his leg with a meat tenderiser to the sound of "Angel of Death". I'd lost everyone, again, but I'd found where Dirty Sanchez were putting on their performance. The 'chez are one of many progammes I enjoy when I'm stoned (alongside Bo Selecta, Viva La Bam, and just about anything even slightly funny. Even in a crap way), so I hung around to watch. Welshmen sticking needles into themselves, smashing things across each others heads, and bonging/drinking more unpleasent parts of each other is the best way to end an evening such as this.

Well, unless you include running off for a shedload of weed afterwards...

I Know, I Know...

2004-09-01T20:31:00.000+01:00

So I haven't done a write-up of Reading Festival yet. Big deal, I am lazy. Have another Henry Skull comic to make up for it, and expect writings in a day or two...

Ultimate Laziness

2004-08-26T10:52:00.000+01:00

Aaaah, reading about Chyldio's laziness I remember My good ol' life. Lazy happens to be My middle name. I recall that one time watching a 1,200 channels of cable TV where I asked My brother to push the remote control against My thumb.

Also when someone asked when I went to the barber again to cut My hair. Well, I hate to go to the barber any way, but I hate it even more when I have to go there by bike for 4 miles or so. So, I'm actually trying to get My hair as lazy as Myself, so it won't grow any longer.

I told about My exploded cushion, it still lays somewhere in My room, because I'm too lazy to throw it some where near a bin.

I aslo told about how I killed My laptop's spacebar and I know it only takes a drop of glue to fix it... sill haven't done it.

My laziness goes so far, some times I just don't sleep because I'm too lazy to fall asleep, but My excuse is known to you all. Sleep is for the week, indeed.

More Laziness...

2004-08-25T20:29:00.000+01:00

Aha! I'er realised that I can palm you off with Hennry Skull comics, and there's nothing you can do about it!

I'm getting ready for Reading Festival, leave me alone!

Mega Laziness

2004-08-24T17:45:00.000+01:00

Well, I've not had chance to write a proper update, so have a few mini-mini-ones.

1.) The third Henry Skull comic is up, check the link to the right, Or click here if you want! I spent hours drawing ten of these, be happy damnit!

2.) More of a my-life thing, exam results came out... about a week ago. But France Diaries came first, so you've only just found out, unless you frequent the forum, or I told you on another forum.

In which case, you definatly know. But I'll tell you again anyway.

I got a C for English (the exact specific grade I needed to get for it), D for Maths and Media Studies, and an E for Drama. By some pie-eyed logic of universities, I therefore got into Hull University to do Philosophy with creative Writing.

Therefore, expect the next few months of updates to be about panicing about leaving home, tearful goodbyes to lifelong friends, drunken tales of Freshers Week, and perplexed warblings about how to use washing machines.

3.) Off to Reading Festival on Thursday. Don't expect an update, but expect a comic upload. Then expect next week to have tales of rock gods, alcahol, drinking, and the top secret "Operation Hotbox Big Brother's Tent". Oh, and maybe sex if I'm lucky.

4.) One day, I'll finish my "My Fool Is A Crock" story...

The France Diaries: Three

2004-08-23T17:29:00.000+01:00

Day Eleven - Saturday 14th

12:31pm

Onwards! To Brittany!

I've finally cracked open the laptop, for the delights of the Horrorpops, and I might as well write something while I'm here.

Fuck, I'm hungry.

2:58pm

Stopped off at McDonalds at some point, and grabbed some more food in the wonders of E.LeClerc, so the hunger issue is little more. There was an Internet computer there too, but it only took cards, so no chance to regale the hoardes with any adventures. In hindsight, my debit card might have worked...

6:56pm

Well, we're at the third and final campsite, and it seems we've actually finally got a caravan worth the money, as opposed to Keycamps old stock. No third bed, mind, so it looks like I'm on the sofa whether I want it or not. Also, the pools not free, but the folks are covering that angle. Still...

For now, its a matter of a-working on the tan. I've fought for at least half an hour to find a position where I can
-See the screen
-Be near a plug
-Actually be in the sunlight
And even now, the monitors being a bitch. How lovely.

Day Twelve - Sunday 15th

1:12pm

Didn't get a chance to make notes last night, so I'll bring y'all up to speed now.
-Explored the delights of the campsite bar. Stella is €4.50 a pint, so I only managed two before the funds finally gave way.
-Found the arcade, complete with that seminal classic, Metal Slug. What little money not spent in the bar was pumped into this, to the delight of some small French children.
-Found another book, by Chris Ryan. SAS stuff. Quite interesting. Almost finished it.
-Patronised the pool. While a respectable totty-fest, it wasn't very exciting.

4:10pm

We were going to go to one of the... "charming" beaches of the area, but we were warded off of going to the seaweed-clogged messes by the heavens literally opening. We're lucky to have used the car - you did feel sorry for the poor sods hurrying home under the solid wall of water.

I, however, am now stonkingly bored. I'm not wasting another €2 today for a game of Metal Slug, but all my other avenues of entertainment have dried up like corpses in the sun. That Chris Ryan book didn't last very long...

5:15pm

Things done under extreme boredom within the last hour:
-A few new pictures of Henry Skull, both on paper and on computer.
-A picture labelled "Heart Breaker"
-A photo of "my bed"
-A list of all the tourist spots in the area
And of course, scaring the siblings with the electric fire lighter...

7:59pm

Its now throwing it down with rain. With lightning and thunder thrown in too. To keep my sanity, I might just have another whack at Metal Slug...

Day Thirteen - Monday 16th

11:21am

After half an hour's frantic hunting, we found my phone, which had gone missing. Later, we're off to some place called Pont Avon. It's either that, or a town which sounds a bit like Pantera Con Carne. Heavy metal spicy foods? Or crappy Frenchy town.

Soon, we shal be home. Back in my comfy bed, back by my comfy computer, back with my nice commercialised Strongbow. To be sure, French ciders alright, but still...

2:14pm

It seems that we did, in fact, go to Con Carne instead, and it might have been quite nice. However, the rain decided to rear its ugly head again. All over me and my remarkable absense of hoodie. We're now hunting for somewhere for lunch. By car.

8:09pm

Instead of finding lunch, we picked up a wodge of buns in an E.LeClerc to tide us over until the French had finished their three-hour lunches, then went back to Con Carne. However, we spent half an hour hunting for a parking space, and had to hike halfway across the town to get to te restaurants. In the end, all but one had stopped servig food by the time we got there.

After that, we had a gander at what I will call a castle. Ma Jennings supposes it to be a fortified area, and I suppose that applies too. We wandered the ramparts, and Little Brother didn't flirt with death in the form of falling off, so much as violating it like a horny Thai hooker.

I've been given €20 for souviners and pub money. Its a shame I couldn't find any souviners worth the bother...

11:47pm

Just got back from the bar. Nothing exciting, no womens, just a couple of pints. The exception is that I found a computer attached to the Internet. Like seaweed attached to glass. It took six tries to get it connected, and moved slower than my old 14.4kp/s modem. IE, like a snail through treacle. And at a cost of one euro per 10mins, and a touch-screen keyboard, that's not much fun. Did catxh up on my net-based affairs. From what I gather, Rhubarb is abusing her mod powers on the FR boards, Bubbles needs an Elvish translation of something for Batman, they've invented backless thongs (the stupidest thing I've heard all the time I've been away), and Supers done two updates in my stead. Jolly good then. Mind you, I was relativly pissed when I added my replies on Cheffers' board (as I am now) so I don't know...

At any rate, the beer has gone down in price by €0.10 since Saturday. Whoope de doo...

11:54pm

Oh yeah, and I found no way to reply to threads on our forum, or create new ones, so don't panic, and try searching for my replies.

On reflection, I should have tried to strike up a conversation with the girl who dibsed the computer after me, but she did seem a bit Sharon-ish, and besides, computers>women.

Day Fourteen - Tuesday 17th

3:19pm

Visited Pont Avon today. LB bought a froggy-xylaphone thing, we all got rained on, and we found a restaurant. All jolly good. Might go off swimming now.

As an appendium to yesterdays notes, I did try writing a brief update, but it crashed the computer. Whoops...

9:16pm

...and that was it for our last full day of Froggyland.

I'm just about to pack, and then its off to the bar for a final royal piss-up. I also intend to get one last game of Metal Slug in, and a bit of time sorting my affairs on the Net. IE, write a short update, bother the Chefelf forums, fail to bother my own forums, etc. Then 'tis bedtime, and a 6-8 hour crawl across France to Calais. After that, its an hour on the boat (hopefully spent philosophising about the sea and/or playing Silent Scope with the £2 I never got exchanged), then another 2-3 hours (at most) getting home.

Then theres all the fun of exam results to contend with. Expect the update before this gets uploaded to be all about the results...

Time to go.

The End Of Times - Wednesday 18th

6:57pm

We've been travelling since 11:15 this morning, and we're just about to get into Calais. In that time, I've re-read the first two His Dark Materials books, and I'll have a whack at the last one when I find it.

Last night was nothing special - Big Brother and I went to the bar, I saw a girl, she was fine, and I didn't talk to her. Confidence? Appearence? I don't know what I'm doing wrong, and I don't know any normal girls I can ask. That's a sentence that'll piss off a fair few people.

An hour on the boat, up to three hours driving, then we'll be home. And I'll have exam results to worry about. I'm sorry, have I said this already? Ho hum.

8:38pm GMT

Back on our blessed soil! 2 hours to drive, and just under 2 hours of battery to do it in. Piece o' piss.

I'm just discovering that I do actually know how to touch type, to a degree - I can't see the keys, and I'm only making a few mistakes...

And that, my friends, was it. I'm doing another "Where I'm at now" thing tomorrow, but for now...

You'll have noticed that there's actually a link up for the Henry Skull comics. That's because I got so excited, I decided to start uploading them on Friday. The second is going up today...

The France Diaries: Two

2004-08-20T19:01:00.000+01:00

Day Six - Monday 9th

7:22pm

Morning- More lying around bored.

Early afternoon- Trudging around a slightly more developed French town. Sampled the delights of a waffle laden with very dark chocolate, observed many masts of boats, saw an advert in the window of what I remember to be a pharmacy, with a lady completly topless and exposed on it. Wonder how that'd go down back at work.

Later afternoon- Went off to another beach. Still plenty hot chicks, more coarse sand, and waves that rode taller than me at some points. Tried catching some waves on the body board, until the waves decided that they had other plans, and tried drowning me. Worth it, though...

10:27pm

Tempted by the delights of the bar, but I'm physically knackered. Not just tired, but it feels like the crap has been royally beaten out of me. Which it has - these were waves big and powerful enough to make one scared of the ocean.

Have finally completed five Henry Skull comics. We therefore have a week-long spectacular of skull-comics for you upon my return. Which, upon youe reading, will probably amount to "next week". Meh...

Day Seven - Tuesday 10th

1:53pm

We've been here a week then.

Went to a market today, and once again observed how fucking cruel the French are to their animals. Chickens in crates. Piglets and puppies, sat in the blazing sun, being used as marketing tools. How nice.

Big Brother bought a ridiculous hat. I cannot describe the sheer stupidity of this hat through words, so just take my word for it. Little Brother "bought" a new shovel and a boules set. And I bought a new, larger, djambe-type drum from one of the many African stall-holders you find at French markets. I'll need to eBay off the old one when I get back to Blighty.

Then we visited a hypermarket, as is the tradition, and saw the live crabs, as is also the tradition. We also got to see halved crabs too, which were relativly nauseating.

I'm covered in mosquito bites - 19 at the last count. Everyone else seems to have gotten off with only one or two each. Do the useless parasites like the cannabis in my blood or something? Do they end up getting the munchies and coming back for another bite? As a result, my hard-line approach to stopping the rest of the family has been totally dropped in relation to mosuitos. I splattered at least three of the bastards myself last night, and I still found one hiding in my bed the morning after, empty of blood itself, but surely with a grin on its needle.

7:03pm

The tally of insect bites has risen to 21. Bastards.

Went to the beach. It was cold.

Day Eight - Wednesday 11th

8:54pm

The insect bites are becoming ridiculous. I can't even be arsed to count how many I've had now. I spent half an hour hunting for the bleeders and squashing anything with long legs and a small body, coated myself and my bed (the sofa - the only comftable sleeping place avaliable) in insect repellant, and I still woke up with at least two more bites.

Took a trip to Noirmoutier Island today, remarkable for its castle, salt marshes identical to the ones on the mainland, and general tourist-trappings. Did find another weapons shop, however, which is always fun. Was tempted to buy a hand crossbow for €15, but the thought of explaining it to Customs ("I brought it out with me..."), and trying to keep it away from the wrong people (visions of Little Brother skewering people with it spring to mind) stayed my hand.

Still haven't attempted any of my literacy projects yet. Must get on with it.

Texted K80 and TinyOne, who disagree with my synopsis that its raining back home. This does mean that I'm almost slap-bang out of credit. 49p a text? Blimey...

9:23pm

Its worth noting that the title held by the Vauxhall Corsa in England (ie, "Car Most Frequently Sighted By Chyld") is held in France by the familys car type, the Citroen Xsara Picasso. What correlation there is between "tiny saloon car" and "hulking great family car" remains to be seen.

Day Nine - Thursday 12th

2:02pm

Another hypermarket trip, more out of need for something to do during the rain than dire need of supplies. The only funny thing to be drawn from the experience was a bottle of washing up liquid, with a picture of a 1950's 'good wife' throwing a two-finger salute. Quality stuff.

8:04pm

After an afternoon of doing not very much at all, we did a short tour of some of the windmills of the area. Which would have been a lot easier if our tour guide at the first windmill had spoken English. It's a shame, it sounded like an interesting commentary, only it involved more French than one learns at GCSE level.

Day Ten - Friday 13th

11:41am

Friday the Thirteenth, then. Bad luck, or death by Jason Voorhees? I'll leave it up to the court. Either way, it ain't going to be affecting me, unless the weather's tied to the day, in which case, we're a bit fucked. Since its the last beach trip at this site, and its not really very sunny at the moment. Whoopsicles.

1:20pm

Beach trip abandoned, because its too bloody cold. Plus, it looks like it may rain. Off for lunch.

8:32pm

After the torrential rain that inevitably came, we decided to go to the biggest town in the area for a shopping trip. Rather ironically, this was the point where the sun decided to come out. Fortunatly, there was a convenient glorious beach to hand, so we made use of it, with the time-honoured rituals of "digging a bloody great hole in the beach", "splashing around like a smacktard in the sea" and "acquiring a tan".

Then we wandered round the tatty tourist shops. Big Brother brought a badge and (god help us all) a dreamcatcher, one of those daft things with a spiderweb-thing and feathers that Native Americans use for, erm, catching bad dreams. Yeah. I bought a T-shirt decalring "Marilise Legaluana", and a skull and crossbones wristband. My Lucky 13 band has been very faithful, but I've worn it nearly every day for a day off of six months exactly, and its a wee bit filthy.

Last night in the Vendee, then we're off to another campsite in Brittany. I'd like to hope that I'll have a bit more luck with the ladies there, but lets be honest, I'm on a family holiday, not a great time to get to know new people. Patience Chyld, Reading isn't too long away. At any rate, I did get to see the sights of many beautiful French women in bikinis. A fairly good remedy for getting dumped, I'd say.

The France Diaries: One

2004-08-19T16:32:00.000+01:00

Day One- Wednesday 4th

5:57pm
Its bloody melting in here. Hot like you wouldn't want to know. The legs on my bondge trousers have been unzipped, the beanie has been removed, and nothing adorns my wrists, and it still feels like being taped to the fiery armpits of Satan himself.
We've been here for about 10 minutes now, after a two hour drive in Blighty, an hour on a ferry, and about three hours driving through the French countryside. And you can't say it's like home, simply because it isn't. There's a vast gulf between the architecture. At the very least, the French prefer their houses to be a particular shade of tan, as opposed to white. Must be the stone.
Now, we have a wodge of difficulties to contend with.-I need to find a peer group.-I am useless at developing new peer groups by myself.-I have the Brothers Dimm in tow.-Big Brother will therefore tail me like a puppydog.-Big Brother (is not equal to) gaining the respect of any peer group.-I only have €60 to play around with-Drink still costs a pretty penny, I'd imagine.-Tourists = fleecing material.-I have 14 days of this to go.
Very soon, I may have to explore the avenues provided by getting a tan. Or swimming. Or dinner. Whatever.

Day Two - Thursday 5th

11.36pm
I didn't write anything today, because nothing really happened. MY activity was divided between swimming, eating, reading (the "His Dark Materials" trilogy, should you care), and seeing the local sights. Which amount to being an anonymous castle, and the railway carriage which the Armistice (sp) was signed in 1918. That was relativly interesting, until I'd seen everything in the room the carriage was housed in three times. Shint swords though.
Little Brother wondered why he wasn't allowed to buy a BB gun from the souviners of the latter sight. There's so much irony and general (un)funniness in that statement I won't bother.
After seeing said castle, we stopped off in a rural Frenc vllage, where Little Brother sulked because he wanted to go back to the caravan, sulked because the waiter had never heard of Dr Pepper, sulked because he couldn't have pizza (despite having had it the day before) and topped it off with a bit of sulking because he didn't want to go back to the caravan. Not wanting to deny him his immature rights, I merely failed to enjoy a bottle of cider. Too sweet, not tart enough.
Tomorrow, we're off to the commerical pardise of Disneyland Paris. Expect three hours of queuing per ride, hoardes of screaming puking kids, and substancially less hot chicks than there were in Disneyland LA.
There's alarmingly few hot chicks at this campsite, and the few that are here are either MILFs (not a colloquial term), or taken. I suppose it stands to reason - this is a family holiday campsite, and hot chicks usually don't do that sort of thing. But still, one does need some poolside eye-candy....

Day Four - Saturday 7th

10:15am
Two out of three isn't bad Yesterday, there were hoardes of mewling bags of shit - or crying children, as they are sometimes called - and there were much fewer hot chicks then there were in Disneyland LA. By all means, there were plenty. but LA was, in fact, a wet dream.
Naturally, I went on all the actual decent rides, while the family contented themselves with the twee childrens rides. Space Mountain, boys and girls, is something you have to do if you enjoy the sensation of your dinner moving in directions other than "up" or "down".
As for souviners, all I bought (apart from hiediously overpriced refreshment) was a pirate T-shirt. Hey, we all like pirates, right?
Now we're off down south. For six hours. Great...

6:53pm
We've been going for a bit under five hours. Sometime after 11, I recall. Its not been nightmarish, but I've bled my CD collection dry in the meanwhile, and powered my way through an entire 530-page book. Well, so much for His Dark Materials then, I've polished off all three books already.
I've seen yet more of rural France, and I'd like to say its interesting - but it isn't. Its quite decrepit. If it wasn't for the actual people and cars going around, one could quite easily imagine it to be a post-Armageddon wasteland. Oh hyeah, and the crops too, couldn't have them.
I've got no idea how much further it is to our next campsite, but I'm praying it's not far. I've only got two hours of battery on this laptop, I'm hungry, and my arse feels so numb, its probably falling off. Plus, I think the air conditioning is starting to give up.

7:05pm
Oh, its only 3.5km away...

8:05pm
We're here at bloody last. OK, we've actually been here for a relative while, but I've only just got out the laptop to make comment.
Its quite isolated out here. There isn't even an on-site shop, which makes buying bread a bit of a nightmare, the games room amounts to be "a pool table and a pinball machine",and the pool (which I have just frequented) is a barren and cold experience. However, there is a benefit to this site.
Its a royal totty-fest.
I mentioned the other day how all the hot-chicks weren't staying where we were. I reckon that this is because they all come here. Only about two women I remember seeing weren't damn fine examples of womanhood. One was actually round, and the other was an infant. If I get lucky this holiday, it'll be here.
However, there's a problem. There'll be a picture that Big Brother has just taken, with me topless. Yes, the mullet was flowing locks (although now they're going hard...), but the body is pasty, hairy in the wrong places, and pale as hell. I've had praise for my pale form (crossref: the ladies of the Chefelf forums), but for women I've actually met, its probably quite revolting. I wonder how TinyOne can have liked it, although I think that the person drew her in, and the body drove her away (I reckon I'll get flamed in a week and a half over MSN for writing that...)
So, my priorities:-Find a tan, and rapidly.-If at all possible, buy a new pair of swimming shorts (a pair not demeaningly short)-Score with a hot chica, or maybe two if I can be arrogent enough.-Actually write the two stories I said I'd write (ie, a My Fool is a Crock story, and a story based on Alice in Wonderland{link?})-Relax, I suppose.-Write some updates.

Day Five - Sunday 8th

11:13am
Oh great, we're only a quarter of the way in, and the laptop screen's playing silly buggers with me. That's just plain dandy.
Quiet day thus far. It seems that the sofa is now officially my bed - I can't actually get any sleep on the normal beds, they're nearly as uncomfortable as the barge boats. Why am I doomed to spend every trip I make this holiday sleeping on iron-hard beds?

6:32pm
Got cut off earlier by the screen freezing on me. Everything else was fine, just that the screen wouldn't move. Ah well, there wasn't that much more to say, really.
First beach trip of the holiday. I left the caravan pale, and I came back pale, red in parts, and covered in sand. Hurrah for the sun and its magic tan-giving properties...
However, I did find the time to recreate the likeness of Henry Skull in the sand.

The King Returns

2004-08-19T00:28:00.000+01:00

I'm back.

My concern for now is sleep, its half past midnight and I'm tired.

The next concern will be getting my exam results, checking university places, and celebrating.

At some point, I'll divide my diaries of France into two or three serperate pieces, and upload them.

Next week, bef0re I go to Reading, I will unveil my not-so-secret project. The Adventures of Henry Skull! I've written a total of ten comics, seven on holiday, and you may or may not like them. But they are good, and they are coming.

After that, is Reading.

And I also need to make peace with some people. I have mellowed over my break. People I have bitched about, I wish to befriend again. People I've ignored, I wish to take in again. And yeah, I do need to say sorry to a few folks. If you think you're one of them, feel free to get in contact next week. I'm Chyld, I can't be messing around making enemies, it's not my way.

Good morning.

Kapooof!

2004-08-18T13:43:00.000+01:00

As promised, a new Super adventure...

When I woke up this very morning, I was covered in... well... stuff. What happened? My pillow exploded. Now, that's not something worth mentioning, but the thing is: have you ever realized what the hell the put in pillows? I thought it were feathers or some kind of fabrics. I was wrong. Or my cushin was made in Tjsernobyl. So, I try to search te label of my cushion. Guess what. There wasn't any.

How bizar! In a society where you can sue a microwave company when you put your poodle in it to dry it when you walked with it in the rain! There was no disclaimer on my pillow! What the hell!?

If I would put the cushion for half an hour on my little brother's face so he wouldn't get any air and die, I only need to say: "Well, it never said I shouldn't do such things."

Oh Myself! I could make millions sueing the company!

If I only had a little brother...

Super's Adventures

2004-08-14T16:19:00.000+01:00

You want to hear an adventure? Okay... I killed my laptop’s space bar. And if there is one key you can’t miss, it is the space bar. I mean imagine you don’t have the Q-key. Well, big deal! I only know ten words with a Q.

Quite, quiet, quote, quack, quadragenarian, quadroon, earthquake, queen, quid and squid.

In other words:

Fairly, silence, citation, sound of a duck, forty year old chap, bastard-child, well, never happens here, I hate the monarchy, pound and octopus.

See? No big deal! Anyway, the ‘Q’ isn’t that important, but that’s not the point! The point is you can’t do without a space bar. The space bar is as equal (hey! Is that a q?) important as beer. Well, good second maybe. Um... the space bar makes it into the Top 10 anyway. Probably. Maybe...

Hmmmm... now I think about it...
Super’s Top 10 of important things
10. Food (even I need food)
9. Air (for breathing)
8. Monty Python and Fawlty Towers
7. Santa Claus (Aaaaah, I love X-mas)
6. Books
5. Beer
4. Punk Rock
3. More beer
2. Friends
1. Girls (this includes love)

Hmmm... as I thought, no space bar around. Well, I put him on spot elven than from now one. Or should I replace food?

Any other adventures... Um... Maybe tomorrow...

Fridaynight is Apers night!

2004-08-05T18:14:00.000+01:00

Howdy! First appoligizes for M crap typing, I'm tired and angry and schizo, deal with it. If you don't like it, don't read it!

Soooo... You are all pathetic braindead losers, because you don't know The Apers, admit it! Well, I don't care that you don't have taste... Don't become mad because I do...

Anyway, the other day I went to the true definition of punk rock. Indeed, the Fridaynight...

So, Schizo goes to a concert... First I live like in Nowhere. It's called Zevenhuizen, but it's synonymous for Nowhere. Nowwhere-at-all even better. So, when your concert starts at 11:30 you take the bus to the place at 7 o'clock. And wander around for 4 and a half hour in town. Thank me the doors opened at 10, so beer there was. But, because no one has a good taste around, I had to go alone, meaning wandering around for a way to long time with only My voices. And drinking with My voices. Well, never stopped Me before...

In conclusion, the concert kicked ass, because that is what The Apers do. But you don't care or don't agree. But then the fun part... Living in Nowhere-at-all means going early with the bus and no chance you can get back with the bus. Then what do you do? You walk home 15 miles. Life's unfair for the punk rocker.

So, that's it? No... I know a shortcut... It is known as a place where gays meet. So, I walked around, going home, when a car stopped by. Oh dear!...

I looked at the guy and started laughing. I got no problems with any gay, but this guy was just over-the-hill... (and I started laughing louder). Anyway, here's the conversation...

"Hey dude, you don't go do anything stupid are you?"
"No, why the hell should I?"
"But you aren't going to jump for the train, are you?"
"Hell no! I'm not crazy. I could get hurt if I did..."
"Hey, what if you..."
"Hey, what if you leave me the fuck alone, stupido!"

And off he went. But not for long.

"Hey, pal. If you are in trouble I can help you, just get in the car or something."
"First, I'm not your pal, second, I would not get in that car even if it was My very own, thridly get the hell out of My site!"

And off he went again... But he came back of course.

"Hey listen..."
"NO! I'm not going to listen to you. I asked you twice to get the hell out of My sight. You want to meet Mr. stiletto?"
"Dork" he said and drove away.

Lessons to learn...

* Don't walk home 15 miles through a gay meeting place
* Always act as if you had a stiletto
* If you really have to walk home 15 miles, don't wear wrecked Converse All-Stars
* Apers rock
* Beer is good
* Don't go life in Zevenhuizen

That's it, meet you next time... While Chyldio is gone to Smelly France, you can sent your guest updates to me anytime. Just PM me and everything will be OK. Adios!

ps Mention how all the My's in the story are capitalized... Eat that God!

Talking Bollocks

2004-08-03T19:23:00.000+01:00

Well, last update for a fortnight, unless the guest updaters pull together and put something together. In the meantime, design me bongs, damnit! Is it so hard? No!

So, my idea.

Google Image Search, in time-honoured tradition, provides many of the pictures for my updates. And earlier today, I did a search for "bollocks", as you do. The results were... interesting, to say the least. No actual pictures of bollocks. Not one! But all of this crap instead...

Left: An astronaut from the United Bollocks of America!

Right: A stupid pop moron talking bollocks about music infinatly better than her own.

Left: Erm... pensioners playing with boules... that look like bollocks!

Right: Cranberries that look like other precious berries... BOLLOCKS!

Left: One of a thousand "Never Mind The Bollocks..." themed pictures!

Right: Mr Smoking Man... and men have bollocks!

That's all we have time for right now. Join me again in twoi weeks, where I'll be ranting about eating frogs legs, men in berets, and saying that the beer's shit! Tata!

An American In America

2004-07-30T13:42:00.001+01:00

As promised, Cyzyk's holiday rants. Enjoy. Chyld

I probably ought to start this with an introduction, but won’t, because you don’t want to read about me. It is enough explanation to say I am an American, and something of an anime fan, specifically Final Fantasy, even more specifically a fan of Vincent Valentine.

‘The Armpit of America’. This is what many people refer to the state of New Jersey as. Although the home of Bruce Springsteen, it has little else to recommend it. Flat, ugly, and sparsely forested with scrawny pine trees, it also has high property taxes. Its main virtue is that it has some of the best beaches on the East Coast. (It also has the best casino this side of Las Vegas.)

It was to these beaches that I recently took a vacation. The shore is a nice place- relaxing, not too pricey, has good restaurants, and plenty of girls in bathing suits. Admittedly, not all the aforementioned appeal to everyone, me included. The greatest thing about a beach is the limitless sand. Wildwood is considered to have the best sand of any beach for a hundred miles around.

As a comment on modern society, it seems that the art of sandcastle making has fallen into decay. Three days on a beach, and I was the only person over five making one. There weren’t more than two children under five making them either. Enough with social criticism for now.
Day one was mostly spent dragging my family’s clothing up to the hotel room. If you don’t have a sister, you won’t understand this being a problem. Normally, for a 4 day trip, you need two pair of pants, and maybe three shirts. I think she had at least six of everything. (Insert sexist comment here- Chyld)

I hit the beach, and assemble a small castle, which is nearly finished before the tides comes in and floods it. Annoyed, I went further up the beach and wrote ‘Mitsuhide Akechi loves Azuchi Castle’ in large letters in the sand.

Day 2- I’m working on a larger than usual structure, modeled loosely on the Alamo, and populating it with Green Army Men. Everything is going well, until a group comes marching down the beach and sets up a radio. They were an extended family group of about fifteen Hispanics, of various ages.

Normally I don’t have anything against Hispanics, except that they don’t speak English, and even then that isn’t much. The problem here is that they were playing loud Spanish techno on the radio. Loud, as in ‘ear-splitting ground-shaking 3 digit decibels’. You may not be familiar with Spanish techno, but it’s awful. Even for techno, which is saying something.

Well, I tried gesturing at them to turn it down, since they didn’t speak English, but they didn’t understand. (Probably didn’t try.) So I go back to working on my sand castle, and finish of the tank compound, complete with tread marks. Then something really bad happens.
Did I say there wasn’t anything worse than Spanish techno? There is, and you’ve probably heard it. Britney Spears off a bad radio. And just as loud as before. I gave up at this point, and went somewhere else to complete my magnum opus.

Day 3- I spent it on the boardwalk. Unless you are familiar with the concept, this is a raised wooden platform with stores at the same level. It’s done in case of flooding, since ground level (about three feet above sea level) can get pretty wet sometimes. Now, there are three kinds of venues on the boardwalk.

Beach stuff stores. Plastic shovels, bathing suits, towels, and so forth.
Various games for prizes. The kind you can’t win, like put a giant basketball through a tiny hoop, or throwing a quarter on a glass plate.
T-shirt stores. Now I don’t know why you’d want a t-shirt so bad you could run a dozen stores selling them exclusively, but there are. These are generally of a rather off-color variety, featuring lightly-clad women and highly inappropriate captions.

Of these, only the last requires comment, as I had gone to the beach with the intention of purchasing a t-shirt. I didn’t, as I am not about to go anywhere in a shirt labeled ‘I’m Rick James #####.’ Or anything else of that sort. Instead, I proudly wore my Final Fantasy 7 shirt everywhere I went. This spawned a second interesting point- Apart from my shirt, and a episode of ‘Cowboy Bebop’ I saw on TV at 1:30 in the morning, there wasn’t any mention of anime. None of the (seemingly) ubiquitous Pokemon, DBZ, or so forth shirts or posters for sale, and no one wearing any such. Perhaps anime is no longer mainstream?

Day 4- By this point my vacation was winding down. I’d inflicted a crippling injury on myself by slipping and cracking a table on my knee. (Yeah, the table cracked, and not me. Must have been a cheap table.) Having purchased the requisite shore item (fudge), gotten a tan, built several sand castles, and had a rather disturbing dream, I was quite ready to go home.
What, you wanted to hear about girls at the beach? Who do you think I am, Ricardo Montalban?

Intermission

2004-07-30T01:34:00.000+01:00

I've been quite lazy, recently.

One of the cornerstones of this blog was to update it daily with pithy humerous observations. I've done a week-long hiatus without telling anyone. Not good, considering that there's going to be a fortnight when I'm in France when I can't update. Unless I can find the Internet somewhere in Frogland, but I think it would be unnessersarily expensive...

But apart from that, hows my life been recently, you may ask. In which case, your a demented fool. But aside from that, lets have a look at that's new since I last updated.

1.) Dumped By TinyOne

Yeah, that kind of sucks.

It's got to be a first, being dumped by e-mail, of all things. Now I can say "I've been dumped by text, by phone, by e-mail, and to my face occasionly." But her reasons were good enough - she was losing friends over it.

This feeds back to ranting I may or may not have actually done in the past. I only remember two people actually telling me we made a nice couple. One was a Dutchman who I happened to be drinking with a fortnight ago. The other was a publically much despised ex-girlfriend, who I haven't spoken to properly in a while. No one else said it. And only one person actually helped smooth the passage of the relationship at all.

All I gathered was people violently opposing what we wanted to do. Certain duck-named ex boyfriends spouting death-threats behind my back (I'm not bitter, just observing, so shut up), good friends of hers being jealous (she can say all she like, I know), and various minor assaults from other exs, associates, etc.

On the positive side, I get to lay anyone I like at Reading, without feelings of guilt.

2.) New Band

Whee! New reasons to get behind a drum kit!

I met up with our resident munitions expert Johnny Napalm the other day, and naturally got very drunk. At some point, I agreed to drum for the band he was in with his cousin.

After a trip to Camden, and Harrow (to buy a bass, as you do on a whim), we gathered in my garage, and started playing some Ramones songs. We later moved onto Green Day, and eventually got to work writing our own ska tunes.

This is hampered somewhat by the drummer/rehearsal space provider vacating the country for a fortnight, then running off to Reading. But I'm listening to the Ramones Greatest Hits album while we're away, and then we'll crack on with it. Now we need a name...

3.) Design A Bong Contest

I've had the offer open for well over a week now, and I only got an entry today. You lazy slackers! You're supposed to let me be the lazy slacker, by designing an artifact for smoking green, then sending it in so that I can laugh! There'll be a pointless and trivial prize for the winner! I'll try and make it! And photograph the endeover! Will that do?

Oh, I might throw in a T-shirt if I order one myself. Content?

Good.

4.) France Trip

Yeah, so Mama Jennings decided to randomly book a week in France on eBay. As you do. This was extended by a week, by us travelling half of France, it seems.

This means that I can't update, and I can't get Big Brother to do it either. Great whoopdees. Talk to SuperMarct about it, he might be able to help.

On the other hand, it means that I'll have some new material when I get back. Including...

5.) The Long-Awaited Henry Skull Comix

I've been promising Henry Skull Comics for ages, and not actually delivered. But this will change soon.

My biggest issue was hosting - how? I considered Keenspace, but dropped that idea when it became a technical nightmare. After this, I was stumped.

Recently, an idea came to me - create another blog (Blogger allows you unlimited accounts under your user name), whack the comics themselves onto ImageShack, and do it thatway. Now I just need to get my trail of inspiration back...

So, that's about it in my world. On Monday, I'll run up the update Cyzyk sent me about five times, before it finally got through. Then I'll whack up something on Tuesday, and maybe even Wednesday, and then you've got a fortnight to design a bong. Get to work, minions!

Whoops

2004-07-23T21:12:00.000+01:00

I've been neglecting my lovely blog for a while. Don't worry, I'll write some new material over the weekend.

Incidently, you might want to send in your designs for bongs for the Design-A-Bong contest. Only one person has even suggested that they're making an entry, and he was stoned himself at the time.

Oh yeah, in case you're interested, I'm now free and single again. You could also say I got dumped. Who knows?

Now, design those bongs!

Dry As A Lake

2004-07-22T15:42:00.000+01:00

OK, we haven't had any updates for a while, because I'm out of ideas. Also, I'm working on several secret projects. I won't tell you what, but they may or may not involve doing work for the Lance and Eskimo community. Possibly connected with walkthrough guides and crock-esque fools.

If you want to see my name in lights, I've just found out that Heccubus, of Heccubus fame, has actually used an idea of mine in his Human Prey project. Have a looksky. Its a lot funnier than reading anything else you'll read today.

In other news, I wrote a huge rant against the people objecting to the union of me and TinyOne, because they're starting to royally piss me off now. However, the rant I prepared would probably alienate 81% of my friends, so its not going up. In short, however, shut up, it's not your business.

That is all. I need a guest update, and my e-mail isn't recognising that anyones sent any, despite the fact that Cyzyk's sent me one at least twice...

Tao of Bong

2004-07-20T17:22:00.000+01:00

Like many stoners before me, one of my favourite ways to spend my time is to design and make bongs. I'm better at designing, generally, but CompleteAnarchy seems to do nothing else. I believe his mission in life is to convert every sort of bottle that exists into some large pipe for narcotics.

We all know roughly how a basic bong works. And if we don't, here's a relativly accurate pictured plagurised from Everyone Does It...

The chicken legs are, by the way, optional, but that's how a bong works. Thumb over the rush hole, light the dish (should be full), then toke away. When you've toked all you can, remove thumb, finish toking, then breathe out.

But this is just a layman's bong. Yes, it will get you mashed, but there's so many avenues to explore! Ice! Tubing! Pumps! And other stuff that's beyond me.

I had the suave idea of using two loads of water, to doubly purify the smoke. You can see the problem already, can't you? Gravity. And using lots of tubing, while a suave idea, is beyond me.

While I ruminated on this yonks ago, my man Nick suggested using a ball sat in a hole as a valve. Inspired by this, I designed this:

But when me and CA tried to make it, aside from the obvious problem of not having a ball, we discovered that there was no way of making it un-leaky. So we gave up and just used a normal bong.

But now, since I've got nothing else to write about, and I feel like plagurising ideas from Fully Ramblomatic again, its time for a Less Is More Competition.

That's right! Design A Bong!

Send me an e-mail at the usual address, with your gnarly design for a bong. Consider the plagurised picture as a guideline for where to start, and add all sorts of crazy decorations, extra features, whatever, that you like.

It doesn't need to be immaculate, long as its not a bag of shite. Extra marks will be given for pretty pictures, however, and moreso if you actually make it.

Next week, I'll run up the best entries, with scores based on criteria you cannot hope to fathom.

And I'll design one too, just for giggles.

Get to work! There's no special bias for being my girlfriend, being my ex-girlfriend, being a smacktard... no, there is there. Just draw SOMETHING!

That is all.

Dick Hat

2004-07-19T18:01:00.000+01:00

Recently, as you've all noticed, I've been avoiding the main reason I set up Less Is More - ie, writing funny nonsense for a dozen odd people. I've instead been using my social life under the pretense that it might actually be funny. Well, now that I've got a free moment, is time to start writing humour again.

The other day, I bought a respectably large box of condoms, as you do when you're as much of a general optimist as I am. We all know what condoms are for, so anyone that wants to ask can go look at the Tellytubbies website, right now.

Obviously, being condoms, the box gave me an instruction leaflet cum advert sheet. We'll return to that later, but really. If you're buying condoms in boxes of 12, you probably have a good reason for it by now. The people who need to be told how to put on a condom (erm... apply to penis, roll down, engage porking?) are the ones running off to Tescos toilets to buy two-packs of the things, because they're too squeamish to go up to the counter with a box and actually talk to a person. While you do have the sad prats behind tills who feel obliged to call for a price check when anyone buys condoms, bear this in mind: if you're buying condoms, you must at least think you're going to get some in the near future. Personally, I'm very tactful when it comes to selling condoms in my shop, but since the only person who's bought some I've encountered was a dodgy looking 50 year-old man, I'm hardly in a position to comment too much.

But to move back to this lovely leaflet, having derived all the humour value I can from diagrams of penises, we turn to the back, with intriguing diagrams of the assored condoms the company makes. Most of them are relativly sane constructions, and some of them are not...

So, this thing's supposed to be a condom, then? Here is a short list of things it could more likely be:

A Cannon
A Comb
A Rather Lob-sided Axe
Etc

I'm guessing that this hiedious contraption has a shedload of ribbing up one end, on the pretext that it rubs something, with pleasurable results. Far be it for me to use my blog as a platform for my inexperience of female gynocology, but I'd have thought that if such a thing was called for, it'd be better off on the other side of the condom. The upper side? Where all the things that need stroking are? I'm sorry, dirty dirty webmaster...

I could talk about the general contrariness of flavoured condoms, but I've lost interest. Join us tomorrow, when I talk about the delights of spermicidal lubricant.

Schizo in the UK

2004-07-16T19:17:00.000+01:00

Friday, July 16, 2004 7:13 PM and I have to write a update about my trip to Amersham. Let’s make it quick. Hmmm… let’s go with a day by day diary then. If I finish this one in the same pace that The Apers are playing in the background it’ll be OK.
Sunday, July 11, 2004 late when I realize I still have to pack my stuff and I decide I don’t need the sleep too much. Tomorrow I’ll travel by bus, train and plane. Time enough to catch some sleep and besides that, Sleep is for the weak.
Monday, July 12, 2004 way to early and my cell phone is waking me with a sound louder than an anti-aircraft alarm and curse myself. Why did I choose for a flight to UK this early? I drag myself to the shower and prepare myself for a whole day public transport.
Boring, boring, boring and then I am at Amersham Station. No signal on my phone, how do I call Chyldio? Waste 2 pounds on a pay phone for a 20 second call. I hate England.
Okay, meeting up with Chyldio. We decide to go for the park and soon after Johnny Napalm joins us. We talk about random things and decide every place with more than three trees is a forest. In other words, we are in a forest. We’re heading to Tesco’s, Johhny needs food, Super says food is for the weak and Jennings needs something else. We’re wasting the rest of the day at the parking lot of the supermarket until it’s dinner time. Even though Super still thinks food is for the weak, Mum Jennings prepares chips and chicken. We’re spending some time on the computer and busying ourselves with texting. Time to go to the pub. But first we’re picking up Jess. "Jolly good!" I say. Jess is at Tesco’s and by then I haven’t got a clue why.
Okies, we’re in the pub and here the story goes. We know all about the love birds, but there is one mean duck around. I only say a few things about it.

1. If I had to spend three hours at a supermarket for every girl that dumped me, I should pay rent.
2. When it over, it’s over. Reason isn’t of any importance.
3. There are tons of girls in the world, even in England.
4. Making a fool of yourself is stupid. And trust me, I know these things.
Anyway, we’re in a pub which name I’ve forgotten and I’m really quite. Don’t I enjoy this place? No, I really enjoy it. Andrew turns out to be a nicer bloke than expected and Jess is cuter in real life than on a crappy webcam. Than what is wrong? I stare at a quote of Jeffrey Bernard and realize it’s more brilliant than something I’ll ever produce. I try to unravel both the incredible simplicity as difficulty, but fail hopelessly. Even when all my other personalities help me (6 know more than 1).
Jess has to leave early, and when I realize I never ever in my life get the quote of Bernard, I get more talkative. We order another pint and some pub adventures and school adventures are told. Time to go home.
I need to find a sleeping place. Well, let’s put if different, Chyld insists I find I sleeping place. "Sleep is for the weak" I say again and add that the weather is good. In other words: I’m not going to sleep this night. We say goodbye and meet each other at Amersham Station at 10 the next morning to visit Camden.
Monday, July 12, 2004, night I decide I haven’t anything to do and go for a walk. Soon I arrive at the shopping street. I agree with myself that Amersham is quite boring around 4 in the night. I walk back to Tesco’s for something to eat. 79p for some Fairy Cakes, sounds OK to me. I eat one on a bench outside Tesco and remind myself food is for the weak and put the rest of the cakes back in my bag. I walk around some more, the night is chilly and I think it’s going to be a day that shows some similarities to a summer day.
Tuesday, July 13 2004, somewhere around 9 I arrive at Amersham Station. I only need to wait for an hour, I don’t mind it and work on my tint. Chyldio indeed arrives at 10 and we’re off to Camden. Camden is the Walhalla of the Alternativeness I think, so it’s quite obvious I enjoy it. Everywhere people wear Converse All stars is a good place. We see tons of stands selling Magic Mushrooms, but don’t need them. We too see a shiny skull belt, but don’t buy it. Chyld says it’s lunch time and buys something Indian. We don’t need food, we just finished our cake.
"Let’s go for a pint!" says Chyld.
"My idea!" agrees Super.
After two pints we go home, but the weird British bloke wants to buy an ugly belt. "This one!? Why not go for the shiny skull belt?" I ask. Good idea we agree. But we realize we don’t know where the bloody stand is again, so we go home anyway.
Mum Jennings is getting us pizzas, and I say to myself that she is a good mother. And soon after it I realize Dad Jennings is a good man too. He offers to let me stay for the night and I agree that it’s a good plan.
We’re obviously going to the pub again, but after two pints I think I stayed awake long enough and we go home.
Wednesday, July 14 2004, 11 AM and we get out of bed. I’m going to meet Amy tonight and of course am excited as a young puppy. It isn’t time though and I feel like a puppy who is forced to stay at his place or else gets whipped by a cruel master. We spend some time on MSN and I hear the weirdest things. Jess wants me to touch her legs and Amy likes to be stroked in the neck and under the chin. I decide English are weirdos. We still need to kill some time and we’re going for a walk and buy a shiny mag. I read the shiny mag while drinking a Bud and decide life is good. After that we watch Two Towers. When it’s dinner time, my ideas are confirmed. Mum Jennings is a good mother and she cooks a great meal. Suits with my new bud.
We’re off to a pub, and after a few minutes the ladies arrive at the pub too. We spend some quality time there doing some quiz for the poor. I know something about flags and we score more points with round 1 than all the other rounds scores added together. I’m an official hero and claim we should get a lot of bonus points.
Time for the ladies to go home. We say goodbye and the chaps want to buy another beer at the, by now, famous supermarket. Unfortunately it’s not allowed and I agree with myself that English really are really weird. Why would you stay open 24/7 if you’re not allowed to buy a beer after 11?
Thursday, July 15 2004, 10 AM and I decide I read enough music magazines and go downstairs. Chyld has finished his paper round and is already on the computer. With help of Mum we agree I go by bus and only need to leave at 4 (I believe it was 4).
I have to go. Chyld drops me at the bus stop and we say goodbye. "I’ll come by again." I say and fighting the tears. I see a big tear rolling over Andrew’s cheek. "I got to go."
"I’m not leaving yet." Says the kind of rude bus driver after five minutes.
"Why?"
"The bus has broken down."
"Okay then… WHAT!? The bus has broken down!?"
"That’s what I said."
"Holly me!" and I run to the Underground Station. Things aren’t under control anymore.
Boring, boring, boring… and I’m back at earth’s paradise. I’m home at 2 o’ clock English time and decide I did a great job. I also realize I miss my daily drinking hour with Chyld. I walk to the fridge, but after several beers I decide it’s not the same.
I want to go back to UK.

A Dutchman in Britain, by Chyld

2004-07-16T15:13:00.000+01:00

OK, this should have gone up yesterday by all rights, but I was knackered. So it's going up today.

For the rest of this week, you've enjoyed the endeovers of me on a boat with ten other people for a week. Now listen as we hear the endeovers of SuperMarct's week-long visit to our fair and cloudy land. Funny how one evening can be streached out over a week of updates, while two weeks can be crammed into a smaller space...

Monday

At about 3pm this Monday, I decided to stop talking to my lady for long enough to put up the days update. Having not heard from Super at all, I wasn't quite sure what was happening. At all.

Halfway to my bedroom to fetch my pen drive, my phone rang. And an unfamiliar voice declared that he was at the station. Amersham station. Evidently, he'd wasted no time in coming up...

Making my excuses, abandoning the update for now, and grabbing my Vans, I made all speed up the hill.

Only one person stood by the station, vaguely familiar from a picture as sent by MSN. He however had no way of mistaking who I was. The hair and the trademark beanie gave it away. He was Marc, alias Super, and I was Andrew, alias Chyld.

Then began the process of meeting the crew. We met Johnny Napalm in the expanses of the park, I caught up with his news, he caught up with mine, and Super just absorbed.

After wandering Amersham for a bit, we left Johnny, ate at my place, uploaded the update, then did what any self respecting Dutchmen and Britons should do - run off to the pub.

On our sojurn, we encountered TinyOne, fresh from trying to sort out things with her ex. I refuse to talk about said topic, because I'll be incredibly rude, and he'll be even more angry. But essentially, I was happy to have my girlfriend by my side, and Super was happy to meet another Chyldling.

The pub trip ended with me and Super rolling out, him retiring to his place of accomidation, and me rolling off home drunk...

Tuesday

For some ungodly reason, the whole Less Is More crew: Amersham and kind-of-Beaconsfield Branch were supposed to be meeting at Amersham station at 10am to go to Camden. But TinyOne had work, AmyJay just didn't want to, and Johnny had less money in the world than I did. So it was just us two.

There's nothing very much to say about Camden that hasn't been said in many better places before, but I took the oppertunity to top up on 1" badges and a new chain, and Super... followed, looking at the identical rows of shops. We did have a pub break, in order to bitch about pidgeons and tourists.

Eventually, we got back to my place, and repeated the exercise of the previous night, minus my lady. However, having had no luck finding somewhere for Super to crash for the night, I unloaded the camp bed and erected it in my room. Not bad, given the circumstances.

Wednesday

Bad planning to the fore! I had no idea what to do today, except in the evening. IE, the crew in the pub. We wandered Amersham for a bit, we watched The Two Towers, and then we left for the pub.

At long last, Amy met Marc, and Marc met Amy, and we all started the long process of getting drunk. Ah, nothing like routi...

And a man came up to us. "You taking part in the quiz? A fiver a head, and it goes to charity!"

Ah, what the heck, its for a good cause...

And thus, Less Is More took part in the Eagles pub quiz.

We did astoundingly well in the flag guessing round, thanks to Super's seemingly endless knowledge of flags and accurate guessing, but elsewhere we did struggle a wee bit. We only came second last, which was satisfactory. The free chilli did help a bit...

Thursday

The plan here was: wake up at 11-12, Super leaves at 1. A bit of computer time, but otherwise sorted. However, fate is a bitch. We woke up at 10, and his bus came at 2. I swear, I've never been so embaressed to be in front of a computer for so long.

Strangly, he didn't seem quite so pissed off with this arrangement as I thought. We parted, me asking him for an update by today, him glad of the time spent. Altogether, a good parting.

In that time, he ate:

Half a pizza
Seven fairy cakes
Two kebabs
A few chips
A chicken fillet

In total. I kid you not, I could not get him to eat anything! But apart from that, twas an intriguing experience. If for no other reason, then a prime example of how not to arrange an internet meet-up.

In a bit, you'll be able to read Super's view on it. Or maybe you already have...

Bizarrity

2004-07-15T21:53:00.000+01:00

Well, Super concluded his visit of Amersham today.

I had planned to write about it, but you'll have to mkae do with both reports tomorrow. You're quite welcome.

For now, consider this. Spoons.

The Barge: Days Four and Five

2004-07-14T23:59:00.000+01:00

OK, so now we're past the bulk of the week. Having warded all competition for TinyOne on the barge and taken point as her man, we move into the hive of activity that was the last day and a bit. All joy if your idea is "the webmaster getting cuddles"...

(its midnight, still technically wednesday!)

Day Four (08/07/04)

12:05pm

Very late morning. Woke up at half nine, sadly alone. This was soon corrected.

If I wrote everything I've been thinking, these notes would turn into a 'life suxx!!!!11' rant, boring to both the bargemates constantly reading these notes, and the people who will read it on the 'net. So I won't.

Problem is, all the funny things happening on this barge are in-jokes, Shouting "In The Morning!" would be very amusing to 10/11ths of the barge (CN: Bubbles hated it with a loathing fury, but everyone blamed it on PMT), but would mean nothing to, say, the Dutch.

What we can laugh about is when I emptied the rubbish earlier just now. The wind caught the bag ad enptied half the rubbish into the canal...

1:40pm

We're back at a point wher there was a fence halfway across the canal on Day One. An odd sight, and a mark of how near the end we are.

2:25pm

"Cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies

boobies

cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies..."

Batman's present thought patterns.

We've just had lunch, fresh baked cookies are cooling, and gropings have been introduced to keep eager hands at bay.

And apart from an in-depth discussion on disability, and salad for lunch, there's nothing to report. I'm only writing because The Smug Elf told me to.

Need to get on with:
-Choosing 2000pts of Dwarfs
-Having a shower
-Tactless groping!
-Listening to Slipknot.

Chyld Notes: Check, check, very check, check.

5:15pm

I'm sure there's an update to be got out of the fact that AmyJay fancies at least one person out of every film she's seen. And she's seen a lot of films...

CN: Still waiting for that...

6:36pm

Off to the pub. Back later...

CN: For dinner. Tasty pie. But, with typical aplomb, the one time I not only have enough money in the first place, but am actually offering to buy a round, we get nagged back onto the barge by the women. IDIOTS, its never going to happen ever again...

12:00am

Off to bed, after tasty pies in pub, mass drinking in the boat, and several embaressing pictures of mullets. My mullet, it seems. Meh.

No horny groping tonight - AmyJay's been a-moaning to Bubbles about it. What goes around etc, it seems.

Last night, it seems. Quick wee, not enough drinking on my behalf. However, the Fifth Age of Chyld has begun, thanks to one girly chat and lots of horny groping. Hormones to the rescue, it seems.

(CN: I think it was The Smug Elf that said "Chyld, you know those special rare moments you keep to yourself? That was one of them...". Also, it was obvious then that me and TinyOne were/are going out. HAppy times beckon...)

As an interesting sidenote, this shows that I am well over K80 now. I bet my boxers she'll turn around and say "Oh Chyld! I love you really!" Well, she can Fuck Right Off(c). I've now found a Real Woman(tm). Happy happy happy...

There might be a summery tomorrow, there might not. For now, peachy bum cheeks...

CN: Well, it seems K80 is happy for us as a couple. Its only a matter of time, however...

Day Five (09/07/04)

7:57am

Woken from an odd dream about (fairly recent Sega game) Shenmue, and my shop being a foodstore, by Amy#2 hollering "WAKE UP!" like a small effeminate foghorn. Naturally, soon as both of the girls proved they were awake by similar hollering, they fell back asleep.

Scratch that, AmyJay's just started babbling on about toads...

8:36am

Right, summery.

To be perfectly honest, I was completly joking when I thought "In a room with two single girls? Threesomes!" Obviously, I didn't get to partake in any actual threesomes, but I have got a girlfriend out of one of them. Just like mother said, rather randomly.

We're here now, for some reason.

CN: 'Here' being the place we started. Its true, before we left, my mum did say "Why don't you ask out that (TinyOne) girl, then?" I said no, because I didn't see it happening, and DannyDuck would kill me. For the record, he IS out to kill me...

9:40am

Still no sign of g...

(interupted)

10:12am

I was just writing about how we still weren't getting off the boat, and Sod's dad showed up to render lifts to Tadpole, The Elf that is Smug, and me. Its a bit hard to write in this much space.

That week went quickly. And I haven't written as much as I did in my America Diaries. But then again, I didn't have the extra four days, the bizarre new experiences, and I could tell the lady I loved sweet nothings to her face, as opposed to writing them on scraps of paper and not showing them to her.

On such a note, K80 has left me alone for a whole week, which has helped me not be angry 24/7. Think I'll let the daft cow start annoying me soon.

Made sure that Brian and I parted on good terms. He's a good bloke, just that he has the same taste in woman as me, to our mutual detriment. Now once I've broken it to DannyDuck, it'll all be over, and I can get on with it. This won't be easy...

Chyld Notes: Essentially, that was it for Barge Diaries. Here's a summery of the last few days to wrap up.

FRIDAY:
-Got home.
-Recieved my new checkbook and provisional drivers license.
-Sorted my 'net affairs.
-Bought an album.
-Argued viciously with K80 on a whim, then stopped.
-Discovered that Bubbles had done my nastiest piece of work for me.
-Slept.

SATURDAY:
-Went to work.
-Guess what? Its just as I predicted. The one day I least wanted to go to Boots (and therefore see DD), I get sent over to get drugs. He was about as pleased to see me as a Klu Klux Klansman is to see a black man coming over for dinner. I was just petrified he'd break my nose. Shit like this always happens to me...
-Nothing else so funny/painful.

SUNDAY:
-Went to Harrow with TinyOne. Hmm, coupley things...
-Phoned K80, with the intent of bringing her to account for her prom actions. Ended up having a chat about the barge holiday. Still, she knows now that I'm definatly not avaliable...

MONDAY:
-Super arrives...

The Barge: Days Two and Three

2004-07-13T18:03:00.000+01:00

One day into the week, one day into the barge holiday. Nothing exciting has happened yet, so you'll have to read on. Hop to it...

Get on with it! Yes, get on with it!

Day Two (06/07/04)

9:15am

Its very hard to juggle a pad of paper, a 288 page rulebook, 2 litres of water, a croissnt and half a bacon sarnie at the same time. (CN: No, not literally!)

Woke up at 4:30, (somehow) fell asleep again woke up at 8:30, then retreated to the front deck of the boar with the ladies to look at ducks. And naturally, since I was topless, an entire boatful of old ladies sailed past...

2:58pm

Really, I should have bothered my fat arse to write something earlier. But to be honest, I couldn't be arsed.

We stopped at a sort of canal-y service station, to take on water for the boat, an pints in a pub for us. The couples decided to stay on board and make tasty sandwiches, bless their cotten socks.

I've finally found a good skull and crossbones flag to replace thE crazy-ass Scottish flag hanging from my bed. It'll go right at home with Henry - both of them have evil red eyes.

Chyld Notes: Its hanging there right now, looking as if it has always belonged there. I only had a Scottish flag, because I let Mama Jennings to get me somthing, and "it was cheap". Despite me having no Scottish heiritage whatsoever.

Still need to find a cool presenty gubbins for Big Brother though, he did/is uploading this/last weeks updates. I hate having to write outside the timeframe people will be reading in, it mucks up your tenses royally...

3:42pm

So, we've gone from "lying on my bed with TinyOne" to "stopping the boat because the engine's smoking." Lovely. This bodeth not good.

4:38pm

Rugby. Home for many years to the one known as Yahtzee, and city of birth of Chyld himself. We're here. I've gone from "back to lying in bed with TinyOne" to "helping moor the boat" to "We can't moor here, its for taking in water only!". And I was nice and relaxed and all.

(CN: Can we see anything going on yet? Chyld lying in bed with a woman? Doesn't happen often...)

Once we stop, a man is coming to look at our smoky engine. We did find some shorts entangled in the propellar, but their removal didn't help much. Ho hum.

CN: I missed out a huge wodge of time here, so here's the events of the time:

-Me and TinyOne started furtivly hugging.
-We stopped for dinner, in this case jacket potatoes.
-My cold blossomed into a fever, with me talking no sense at all. Well, more so than normal.
-I took paracetemol for it.
_Brian and TinyOne ran off to discuss the prom, me, and how he fancied the pants off of her.

As Soulfly sang, no hope, no fear. I had no fear in this case...

10:27pm

Taking the paracetemol earlier did make the feverish gibbering go away, but it did stop me drinking for four hours. I missed primetime drinking time. I've only been at it for half an hour.

(CN: In this case, I missed Apple Sourz drinking. Apple Sourz are the nicest alcahol drink in the world, sweet shots of something that tastes like sour apple sweets, but gets you pissed at light speed. Bugger.)

I've lost my voice. That's sodding great. I can't really ward off verbal attacks, I can't sing along badly to cheesy rock songs with the lads, et cetera. I sound like a dying bullfrog that's been kicked in the froggy balls if I try to talk normally. Whispering hurts too. Am I going to be mute for this whole trip?

CN: What I've tactfully missed out here is the return of Brian and TinyOne. They had vanished for two hours, and everyone had started to think they'd gone off and done the bad thing. Nope. I specifically asked her. First sign of jealousy from either one of us, something that carried on for days afterwards. But I told her that I liked her, she'd already told me as such, and... it begun. What I do or don't do with my friends in my bed is none of your business. Now...

Day Three (07/07/04)

10:52am

Spent last night under the stars with TinyOne, which resulted in AmyJay wondering where her roommates had gone, and several raised eyebrows from everyone else.

For the record, we did nothing under the stars last night. Take that any way you will.

(CN: Of course, innuendo or otherwise, this was the first time spent sleeping in the same bed as a woman. Gravy!)

First glass-cut of the trip was greeted by a howl of pain from Amy#2. I could see a whole lotta blood from where I was. Whole Lotta Blood, sounds like a black metal band covering Led Zepplin songs...

We're turning around in about an hour or two. That's quite sad, I've only just started, and we're already facing the finale already. Well, live it up, there's ages to go yet...

3:25pm

Is it semi obvious from these notes that I quite like TinyOne? Et vice versa? Is this not obvious from the text? The constant cuddling? The Day One girly chat you didn't hear? OK, stick to the constant cuddling. And the fact that someone earlier actually said "Chyld, stop groping your girlfriend for five minutes!" *rolls eyes*

(CN: Well, that and the extra DVD footage you're reading now. Quite welcome.)

So how come Brian seems quite oblivious to this?

You'd have thought he'd had enough of messing around with those labelled "my women" after the prom. You'd also have thought the US president could go five minutes without starting a war. And he has the audacity to give me the evils!

(CN: What he had been doing before, I came along, and started doing better, to a more willing recipiant. Ro-may-oh...)

Other than that, nothing to report. A game of Monopoly, an about-turn to head home, a glass of warm Ribena for the throat, and some improvement in my voice. We'll have to wait for the drinking to begin before interesting stuff happens...

9:30pm

Well, after I got to the "knife my good friend Brian" phase of unhingment, Bubbles decided to talk to him, to the effect of "you're being difficult, leave her alone." He wasn't happy. Right now, he's off somewhere soaking. Great. Now, its just a matter of telling DannyDuck. That's going to be hard.

We can't sleep out again, since its raining.

CN: Brian nearly resolved the Danny problem for us, Bubbles only just stopped him in time. Quite literally. She then told DannyDuck herself, which is good, as I didn't get a punch in the face for my troubles.)

Before we went properly to bed, us the Unofficial Third Couple and the Assistant Resident Couple ran off to catch forty winks in the 'ladies' room. NOT A HORNY ORGY. However, the masses watching Red Dwarf seemed to think otherwise, and sent trainee tabloid photographers to catch some money shots. I'm sure there's a picture somewhere of me groping TinyOne's arse. And I need to find that picture, and frame it.

The Barge: Day One

2004-07-12T18:25:00.000+01:00

You all know by now where I was last week. If not, skip to the end of this update, and read last Fridays note by me. Then tell the hospital that the lobotomy worked out fine.

Right, so this was the plan. Take twelve good friends, put them on a 12-man narrowboat, add alcahol, and see what happens. Predictably enough, the obvious. Except for the twelth good friend. We never found one in the end. Ah well, all the more rrom for storing bags...

Read, and enjoy. Everyone on the barge has seen everything I've already written, so I've thrown in a bit of suprise reading for you. Enjoy.

THE CAST in no order other than me on top

Chyld: Webmaster extrodinare, Keeper of the Ships Log
Tadpole: Organiser, Co-Captain
Batman: Head Pilot, Co-Captain
Bubbles: Batman's lady, Supreme Cook-in-Chief
Thus United: Primary Resident Couple
AmyJay:
Chyldlings, Single Women
TinyOne:
Amy#2 and her man: Deputy Resident Couple
Sod: Guiness Drinker In Chief
The Smug Elf: Chief Tadpole Annoyer
Brian Blessed: Jolly Geezer, Photographer, Despoiler of Women

Day One (05/07/04)

3:35pm

So, I'm on a boat. I've been on a moving boat for just over an hou, and a nice man spent half an hour on top of that teling us how to drive the thing. Not bloody useful, as we've already crashed three times at least...

The aftermath of the prom (to imagine: "You pulled my date!""And his too!""Really? Oh shit..."), and SuperMarcts impending visit are the main topics of conversation. Nearly everyone has told me to move on from K80, not something I really need to be told to do now.

It's quite clean water at the moment, but earlier, it was filthy. Here's a list of the crazy shit we've seen so far:

-A door
-Tire
-Cushion
-Cushion
-2 Coconuts
-A ball
-Plate
-Table leg
-Builders helmet
-Bowl
-Book
-Pram wheel
-Pail
-Tweenie doll
-Regular dolly

There's nowt else to say for now. Where's the beer?

Chyld note: That was about the extent of the funny stuff we saw in the canal, actually. The first strech of canal was full of filth. I blame the prespondence of kevs for that. The rest of the river was quite clean, actually.

4:15pm

Just passed a sofa on the starboard bow. Oh, we love using naval terms, we do.

4:30pm

First sign of other boats since the start. Also, first traffic jam we've caused...

CN: Of course, we only ever had problems moving the boat when other people wanted to get passed, didn't we? Good thing I never had a go at the helm of the boat, we'd all have died...

4:50pm

Ruminated on why Tweenies are called Tweenies. Bubbles suggests that they are bisexual, being beTweenie straight and gay. Also spoted an "atomiser" in the river. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeees...

CN: I still have no idea what an atomiser actually is, so don't ask. The Tweenies are a kids TV program not far off of the Teletubbies.

5:35pm

Went through first lock. There's nothing very funny to say about going through locks. It involves opening and closing lots of doors, and jumping onto moving boats. End lock story.

6:45pm

Have spent five minutes chopping onions for dinner. I'm now (not) crying, and also starving hungry. Will put Hundred Reasons on soon.

CN: I spent all holiday trying to get everyone to listen to Hundred Reasons. What happened is that I heard the first four songs about sixteen times, and the later tracks... not at all. Bums.

8:13pm

Just finished washing up. Meaty goodness was good, except when I tried to eat myself from the inside out. Damned wisdom teeth popping through. If I needed to be eaten, I'd find a woman for it.

God, being single sucks royal ass.

Brian's just taken another picture of some ducks. We've seen lots of ducks. Yes we have.

CN: Yep, lots of ducks did we see. Funny beasts. Swans too.

9:25pm

Started drinking. Tadpole and Batman seem to have trodden in dogshit. And Batman's somehow sat in it...

Items lost to river:
-One glass
-One pair of shades
-Lots of bread and cakes

CN: To feed the ducks, idiot! No, not the shades... oh never mind.

11:00pm

Risk starts.

11:30pm

Risk abdicates for "sleep" time. Spend about two hours privy to that arcane femenine ritual known as "girlie chat". I now know who all the single women on the boat fancy (CN: Me. No shit.), exactly what manner and volume of lies K80 has been telling to everyone (CN: Loads, and loads), and many other things few men usually hear.

1:30am

Everything that could keep me awake is...

CN: A short, but eventful first day. Did most of my drinking today. Quite significantly, found out that TinyOne liked me a bit more than just as a friend recently, and still does. Its obvious - I can never tell when women like me...)

Return of the King...

2004-07-09T12:40:00.000+01:00

Now then.

I'm back from my week-long piss-up on a boat, and bloody hell, did it go quickly.

Big Brother has done a fine job of uploading updates, and he has been given a stick of tasty rock for his services. The formatting cock-ups I made and did not correct have now been rectified, so you can see the first two updates without strenuous italics.

As to the barge holiday itself? That's the suybject for at 2-3 days worth of updates next week. All I'll say for now is; peachy bum cheeks. Yummy.

Poor Super, it seems. Need to find the man a hotel on the cheap...

Love is cruel. Is it? I’m confused (again)…

2004-07-09T11:21:00.000+01:00

After reading Chyldio’s proms adventures I realized the proms were besides the drunkenness quite a disappointment (Understatement!). And since last Saturday my life itself is a bit confusing too.

Until Saturday 11:45 AM, I had a girl I really liked, actually the first girl ever I really really liked. The smooth talker I am, I always talk to people and say whatever I want. But with this girl I was a bit wary to ask her out. But my worries weren’t based on anything it turned out and for some time everything was OK (I know the girls are going to blame me that I don’t know the precise date, but I don’t live by time, actually). Anyway, back to last Saturday. I’m the coach of a football team as a volunteer (Yay! We are the champions last season! No really). Because of all the spare time I ruin there, the FC was organizing a Volunteers Night, which actually means: beer for free. Together with my friends Dickie S. and Niles Handyman we had a good time. And in Schizo’s gang this means we were quite drunk around 11 (the night started at 8). Then around 12 o’clock my cell phone played the A-Team tune, which means someone is trying to contact me (Whoa, trying to contact me sounds like I’m a spy or something, in any case it sounds better than someone called me up on the phone). You guessed it, it was my girl. She would leave Tuesday for her vacation to Greece, and here I can’t do anything else than quote the chat we had. This is the best crap I ever heard:

“Heya Marc.”
“Hullo Cutie.”
“Do you mind if we break up while I’m in Greece and when I return we’re just going on?”
“Erm… you’re asking me if it’s OK that you’re going to screw every guy you like you meet in Greece and then when you return to the World’s Paradise (Holland obviously, ask Johnny) we’re OK again?”
“Well, that’s not exactly what I meant, but…”
“That IS what you mean, and I don’t care go ahead, screw some guy, get AIDS and die!”

Yes, I agree, it is a bit harsh, but who comes up with this stupid idea in the first place? Of course it’s not OK that you partying for two weeks in Greece and building up a Rep (I don’t know if you’re familiar with the term Rep, but I think you do). Besides that, I really liked her and then things get complicated real fast. And I drank too much, I don’t hide behind that, because I’ve always drank too much. I still think I did the right thing. I actually didn’t feel the urge to speak to her. On Sunday I went to Skorps and didn’t bring my cell (which by the way is a normal cell without a camera in it. Have I told you how much I hate those!?). When I got home I saw on the display: 17 missed calls. Hmmmm… who would that have been? Just when I picked up the cell, it started to contact me again. Oh surprise! It was my girl (other than Chyldio I’m not going to spell out her name for you. You are not to be trusted! And besides that I’m not that good with l33t as Chyldio). I didn’t answer the phone, when it rang for a second time, I pushed the red button. For me that means, I’m not going to answer you!

One minute after that I got a text message. It is not kind to put such personal text online, so I’m not. I only tell you my reply: Crazy Amanda Bunkface! Line12! To most people this doesn’t mean anything, but I know she listens to SUM41 and I know she got the message. For those who don’t know that song the twelfth line is: What’s so hard about goodbye’s? Did I make myself clear, hell yes I think.

In conclusion, (no, this update isn’t finished yet, I’m only starting!) it’s Saturday, I’m on a lame party (with free beer, but still lame), my girl sort of dumped me and I was drunk as a Turk (Dutch thing) this girl breaks up stuff made me all clear again so I needed more drinks. Then we have the largest club of the north of Holland in our town and I’m here with two of my best drinking pals (ooh I hate the word ‘pal’)… Tough call, what am I going to do?

Okay, twenty minutes later I have my first beer that I actually paid for and I lost my two friends and I’m hating myself because things never work out as I would like them to for me for too long. Then it feels like someone hits me with a sledge hammer on my shoulder. This only could mean Hoef is around. I turned around and my guess was right on target, but to my surprise he brought his girlfriend too. And this is always a moment where my heart starts beating a few beats faster. Not because I want his girl, but she has a real cute sister. Always when I see her I hope she brought her sister along, but Cutie wasn’t seen around. So, I buy them a drink and they ask what I’m doing here all alone. Because I didn't want to share the story yet, I’m bringing up a story that is far from true, but by far more intresting to listen too (didn't contain any aliens though). But then I see the Angel nearing us (sometimes I think there is a god with a heaven, where else are such creatures made?). Half way my sentence my voice goes weird and I greet my Princess (I nicknamed her Princess, and the funny part, even her sister calls her Princess nowadays). So, we talk for a while with the four of us, and I’m being polite getting some more drinks (well, polite I was still thirsty and when the others don’t drink in my pace, I’ll keep getting drinks. Erm… I don’t know why I told you this, I think the few days in London will cost me quite some money…) Anyway, I’m bringing two beers and two drinks for the girls which look really nasty. I’m think if you drink it your blood is going to glow green or something and I almost run over some giggling girls because I wasn’t paying attention to anything but these alien drinks. I continue my way and think that those girls are really young and so it happens I almost run over my friends. What are they telling me when I return? They where about to go dancing. “Oh, but I brought drinks.” I emptied my glass in one sib, as did Hoef. But the girls didn’t want to do that with their Glow-in-the-dark drinks (which is quite understandable), but I wanted to dance. This was an opportunity I didn’t let escape. So, in thirty seconds I emptied those horrible drinks and to the dance floor we went (and now I'm sure you never should drink those horrible drinks in one sibs, yigh!).

Someone once said: Why doesn't feel it the same to fall in love and break up. I just showed it can feel the same.

Prom Coverage Week Day 4: Epilogue

2004-07-04T16:30:00.000+01:00

"Seeing into the depths of the Warp from his sanctum on Prospero, Magnus beheld a vision of Horus' pledge of feallty to Chaos upon the fields of the feral world of Davin... Alone in the entire galaxy, more clearly than even Horus himself, Magnus was given to understand the events at hand. He saw it all and understood every consequence, except his own."
Index Astartes, Thousand Sons

Yes, random quote that will mean nothing to half of you, and makes no sense in contect to the rest of you. This is the last day of the Special Prom Coverage Week, not Quote-Some-Fluff day. Well, having had two days to reflect and talk over the events with everyone else (it'll be just under a week when you read this, so maybe things will have changed? I don't know, I'm writing this on Sunday), I feel like the aforementioned Magnus, seeing all events as they unfold, but never knowing what I'm supposed to do myself.

So what has happened in the aftermath? Lets look at the major players in my evening then...

Tadpole:
I did mention that Tadpole had a date. What I didn't mention was the circumstances. He went with a girl he works with, who already has a boyfriend located in the land Hitler once called "mein bitchen". Therefore, kissing the girl goodnight, while probably a nice gesture, would have been a wee bit silly. IT would have been a very clever idea in my case, but... we'll save the poop flinging for later.

Brian:
Our lad Briangot quite lucky at the prom, it seems. He managed to secure his first kiss from a girl, for a start. Admittedly, its very annoying that he secured this kiss from my effing date, but I'm happy for the lad. I'm still saving the poop flinging.

Apparently, he was messing around with TinyOne as well. I didn't see this, because I was heidiously drunk at the time. This could either make the barge holiday I'm on as you read this difficult, or divert attention from my drinking. You'll see later, I'm probably seeing while you read this.

Tiny1 & DaniDuck:
She's one of our forum regulars. He's her ex boyfriend. They had both been going as friends ages before they started going out. Then they started going out. Then they broke up. And this was the first time they'd seen each other since they broke up. Circumstances nearly as difficult as my own, it seems.

Well, it doesn't help that Brian was "dirty dancing" with our tiny lass, as I failed to observe due to my alcahol. That kind of messed up their evening too. Oh dearie me...

CA:
My favourite dealer managed to cause quite a stir by wearing a kilt, and nearly made me threw up when he made me search through his jacket pockets... for his boxers. And when he unleashed his arse on me when we were both drunk. Apart from not bringing any weed with him, he didn't play any more of a huge part in the course of my evening. However, he has never liked K80, and I've always discounted his opinion, putting it down to superficiality. Now I realise he was onto something, and has my ear in matters of women...

K80:
Of course, first prize for "Ruining The Webmasters Evening" has to go to the bitch who he once called girlfriend, love interest and "best tits in the universe". This is possibly the worst in a two year-long string of her raising my hopes, then crushing them like rusty tins. And now, I've snapped.

Its so obvious now: she's got no respect for my feeling at all, she can't actually deal with men for love nor money, and she's not worth a minute of anyones time. Even if you have infinate amounts of time and a pain fetish. In such a case, I suggest nipple piercings attached in a circuit to a car battery, its much better for your ego.

If K80 herself is reading this, I have a special message for you, bitch. MAY YOU ROT IN HELL, YOU MANEATING WHORE. I may have spoken to you by now, I don't actually know, but if I ever see you again, I'm tearing out that ball of shit you call a heart, and sticking it down your shit-lubricated throat. All with my bare hands and a butchers knife. And that's just for starters. And I don't care how much that hurts your feelings, because you've done ten times worse to me. Eye for an eye. And if I see you again, I'll have your eyes deep fried on sticks too.

Close hateful rant

(Post scriptum: Between time of writing and now (ie, just before I leave), we have talked, she's very sorry, but if she thinks I'm forgiving her just like that, she's yet more barking. What I've already written is staying up, so that if she reads it, she'll know just how much she's pissed me off. You're quite welcome.)

Big Brother:
He wasn't at the prom, but it will have been him uploading all this weeks updates. Bless his little cotten socks. Say thank you to him in the forum, and I'll show him when I get back.

SuperMarct:
Our favourite schitzophrenic Dutchman should have a guest update for you tomorrow. If he doesn't there's no update! So rant at him, not me, if Friday's cupboard is bare.

Chyld:
I still have about as much idea as Magnus where I stand. But then again, I'm neither a Space Marine Primach, a cyclopeian giant, or a psychic genuis, so who's to say? I'll be back on Monday, with fresh updates written on a lazy boat journey. Until then, Chyldlings...

End prom diaries

Prom Coverage Week Day 3: Part Two

2004-07-04T16:29:00.000+01:00

If you've just joined us, this week is Chyld's Sixth Form Prom Week, uploaded by Big Brother. Last time on Less Is More, Chyld has just discovered his date pulling one of his best mates. Or the other way round. We assume the former, as we cut into the last half of the chronologically-screwed memoirs...

NOTE: This half is shorter than the other half. I wanted to split it in two there, at the cost of equally weighted updates, because we love a cliffhanger. Also, given times are probably completly out of sync with times of events that actually happened, and there are still no pictures.

22:31pm: TinyOne asks if Chyld is alright. "I'm going to be very, very angry tomorrow!", he says, "but now, I'm just drunk!"

22:35: Chyld, feeling slightly ill, makes for the bar. To get some water.

22:36: Chyld encounters Brian at the bar. Brian fears he is going to be torn a new arsehole, but observes that it was his first proper kiss from a girl. Drunk as fuck, Chyld celebrates this, and promises to buy him a pint, at somewhere less expensive.

The Chyld Consensus is that he is too drunk to do anything but ignore K80 now, and also, as Da Skorpian observed the night before, a fight would ruin the prom. However, several forms of bloody murder are sworn upon K80.

At this point, I was too drunk to keep even a vague log of time...

??:??: Chyld, Brian, and the one known as Sod take a walk round the gardens of the venue. Brian mistakes a large muddy puddle for the footpath, with hilarious results.

??:??: Chyld and Tadpole observe Year 12 girls stealing lager straight from the taps. Tadpole is appalled. Chyld is happy for the ironic justice exerted. Damn overpriced bars. He refuses a proferred drink from a random glass, however.

All:Night: Chyld screams "ALL RIGHT (suchandsuch)?" at everyone. Mainly because of alcahol, partly because he can't be heard otherwise.

Also, Chyld dances. With TinyOne, with CA, with anyone who isn't his two-faced bitch of a date.

c00:30: Chyld goes for a piss.

00:31: Chyld encounters a man who resembles his dad in the toilets. It turns out that it is his dad, and it is now time to go.

00:35: Chyld has assembled everyone who needs lifts, and makes his way round the table saying goodbye to everyone.

00:38: Chyld hugs TinyOne goodbye, and reminds her to tell K80 that he will kill her. TinyOne tells Chyld that K80 is already in tears, so she might have got the message. Drunk, angry, and unsated, Chyld declares that she deserves it.

01:15: Chyld gets home. He gets straight into bed.

SLEEP: Bizarre dreams, possibly about Spanish Markets, punctuated by hungover wakeing ups.

10:00: Chyld gets out of bed, well rested, but slightly hungover. The anger begins.

11:15: Chyld makes it into work. Another day of hilarious high-jinks...

At this point, prom-related incidents have not had a chance to catch up with the time of writing. Tomorrow will either be a guest update, or concluding notes on the prom/general proms, depending on what I will write/will have written on Sunday.

Ta ta for now, Chyldlings!

Prom Coverage Week Day 2: Part One

2004-07-04T16:28:00.000+01:00

Rightyo then. The prom.

In my ideal world, I'd have noted down times that significant things happened, to make this a hell of a lot easier for me now. However, I realised I had nothing to write on only when we got to the venue. Plus, being drunk as fuck makes it impossible to write anything. Times given are therefore probably accurate up until the second pint, then actual events take place within an hour either way of the given time.

Also, this update would be festooned with cool pictures of appropriate events. This was marred by me not bringing a camera. If I can get some cool pictures off of other people, I'll put them in a thread in the fourm, or even make an update out of them!

So, it started at about 1pm on Friday 2nd July...

13:00: Chyld gets out of bed. After having gotten up a 7, an hout late for this paper round (due to clocks refusing to acknowledge Daylight Savings), he crawled back into bed at 9:45.. And has got up now.

13:12: Chyld picks up the ringing home phone, expecting it to be K80 making excuses for things she has done.

13:20: Chyld puts down the phone, having listened to K80 making excuses for things she has done. Like a big girls blouse, he has accepted them. He now has a date again, after telling everyone he has not.

13:35: Chyld goes up to Top Amersham, to acquire a colourful corsage, and to obtain a Drivers License application form.

14:00: Chyld returns with a whie corsage, and a Vehicle Registration application form.

15:15: Chyld starts to think about getting ready. After all, theres only four hours left. He discounts this, as its woman's thinking.

18:30: Realising he's left it far too late, Chyld throws himself into the shower.

19:00: Chyld emerges from the bathroom, radiant, shining, clean, and immaculate. He just needs money...

19:15: No one has any money at all, and Chyld needs to be at Tadpoles house for a lift. Now. In frustration, his mother gives him a lift down the road to give him money.

19:25: Chyld arrives at Tadpoles house. They both leave in Tadpole's car five minutes later.

In between: Tadpoles father collects Tadpoles date, and another friend, and drives to the venue.

The venue is Pinewood Studios, in Who-Knows-Where, a film studio where a number of James Bond films were filmed. Tadpoles dad, as a result, talks about Sean Connery having the same voice in every film he's done. Chyld does not point out that Will Smith is literally the same character in every film or programme he does. Will Smith the Philly Boy, Will Smith the cowboy, Will Smith the Man In Black, Will Smith the Rapper...

20:05: The car arrives at the right place in Pinewood Studios. Chyld is ridiculed by the fashionata for looking like he has five tonnes of gel in his hair. Chyld no longer notices, or cares.

20:07: Everyone else is found, and a few pictues are taken. Chyld dispenses hugs where due.

20:09: CompleteAnarcy turns up. In a kilt. The man is a legend. It later transpires that he has no cannabis on him. For Chyld at the time this his revealed, it is a bad thing.... (foreshadowing)

20:12: K80 arrives in a lilac dress, is hugged, then given a flowery arrangement.

20:15: Everyone relocates to the bar, for obvious reasons. However, the fact that a pint of cider is £3.20 appals Chyld. And everyone else. Chyld regrets only bringing £12. He orders a pint anyway.

20:20: DaniDuck arrives, the final missing member of the crew. The crew departs the bar, to have their photograph taken by the professional photographer. First photograph of Chyld with his arm round K80 taken.

20:29: After K80 and Chyld have a "couple photo" taken, the last two in the crew to do so, the crew relocate back to the bar. Furtive photos are taken here. Last foto of Chyld holding K80 - and vice versa - is taken.

20:35: TinyOne and assorted other unnamed good friends finally sucseed in dragging K80 and Chyld into the ballroom dance room thing. Music is presently extremly crap, but not meaning to generally lose face, Chyld drinks cider, and hits the floor.

20:39: Chyld, feeling like an utter tit, wishes he was drunk. He returns to the crews table to down more cider. He then returns to the floor. This repeats.

c20:50: The Year 13 boys are called up to have a large group photo taken. Chyld creates the illusion of great height by standing on tiptoes in the edge of the fireplace. IT succeeds.

21:00: Chyld returns to the dance floor.

21:10: The Year 13 girls are called up for a picture. Tired of appearing like a fool, Chyld returns to the table.

21:12: Chyld runs out of cider.

21:13: Chyld wishes he could go and get more cider, but knows that he will miss K80 if he does.

21:19: Chyld gives up, and goes to get cider.

21:20: Chyld passes K80 on the way to the bar, as he predicted he would. He tells her that he will be back shortly. She seems happy. These are the last kind words they share all night. Scrap that, these are the last words they share point blank.

21:30: Chyld is still waiting for his overpriced pint of cider. This may be because at least six other people have asked him to get their drinks (at their expense) at the same time.

21:40: Chyld finally returns to the dance room. There is no sign of K80. Chyld rationalises that, since they are only going as friends, she is probably on the dance floor, and will come to find him soon. He indulges in cider.

c21:50: TinyOne, claiming a dance Chyld owes her, drags Chyld up onto the dance floor. Some diabolical R&B is playing. Chyld does not care too much yet.

22:05: Chyld realises "Hang on, no one put 'Hammer Time' on the song request list! SHIT!"

22:06: Before TinyOne can even say "What?", Hammer Times comes on. Chyld celebrates. CompleteAnarchy joins them.

In Between: Good songs come on. Chyld, TinyOne and CA are joined by assorted members of the crew.

Chyld notices Brian Blessed dancing with K80, but thinks little of it.

c22:30: (because it sounds a good time) Chyld, now essentially 'Thoroughly Pissed', turns his head, and sees K80. With her tounge in Brian's mouth.

Amazement, horror, and fermented apples battle out in his mind for supreme tactical control. The apples win, and he stays happy. For now.

Join us tomorrow for the not very exciting conclusion!

Prom Coverage Week Day 1: Before

2004-07-04T15:22:00.000+01:00

So, the prom that was on Friday.

Its ironic, really. By the time this gets uploaded, I'll be on a canal boat, getting pissed as a fart. Right now, I'm recovering from long enough spent at work after... but today is not the dat you find out what actually happened. This is called "tension building". Today, its what it took to prepare me for the prom.

Me

This is Chyld, the hero of our tales. Its curious, since he happens to be me. He is quite well suited to the rigours of being a metalhead, drummer, and semi-professional stoner, but none of these are particularly good attributes for preparing for a prom. Except perhaps the getting stoned bit, but more on that later.

A suit

Apparently, blokes are obliged to wear suits to proms, and girls are obliged to wear ridiculously elaborate dresses. There's probably something to be said here, but we're not ranting for femenism right now. Isn't it curious that there's no male equivilant of femenism? Probably because the femenists would complain about it...

...sorry, back on track. My own suit has seen a lot of wear (a whole years worth!), and usually is found indulging in massive acts of hedonism. Here's a list:

>My cousins wedding, where me and my cousin I get on best with pilfered all the leftover champagne and white wine, got merrily pissed in a bizarre marquee thing, and pined for green.
>A party held by my one and only true lay, where I was ripping bongs half the night.
>My birthday party, where I got exceptionally plastered, had a joint, played Ring of Fire (a game involving drawing cards, drinking huge quantities, and talking properly), and threw up all over the bar.
>My granma's funeral. No hedonism there.
>...the prom. More tomorrow.

A Tie

I have several ties, but they're not enough. I have a tie with a dragon on it, that 'Brian Blessed' (crossref: forum, good friend, Friend Who Works At Foxes) has, a tie saying "Kiss Me", and a black tie for funerals. All good, but not what I wanted. I searched the entire internet for a black tie with a line of skulls down the middle, but I had no luck. So I wore the Kiss Me tie, in the hope that I would. Did I? You'll find out tomorrow! Be bloody patient! I've got to write a whole week of updates in two days!

A Date

Yeah, the other mainstay. Suits and women. It being me, it was obvious who I asked months ago to be my date. Back ages ago, before palava with us nearly having sex (ooh dear, shouldn't have told you all that! Never mind), her being flittish and indecisive, then going after another man while we were trying to sort everything out. There was a period when it seemed that we weren't going as a couple at all.

However, she phoned me at home at 1:15pm on the Friday, to explain everything that was going on. A combination of general horny-teenagerness, empathy, and only-being-awake-for-fifteen-minutes, resulted in me accepting her non-present apologies (slipping too far ahead again), and us being instated as a couple again. Want to know what happened? You know when to join us again...

A Corsage

Back in the golden summer of 2002, when MSN Messanger was still a relative novelty, and alcahol was a delightful illegal treat as opposed to what you buy in the pub on Friday, I was talking to CompleteAnarchy on MSN, and talk turned to the rapidly approaching Year 11 Prom. "r u getting k80 a crosage?" he asked. Not knowing what a crosage was, I consulted every source I could find on the matter: the dictionary, and my mother. The former was not helpful, the latter suggest "corsage", and told me that it was a flowery arrangement one got ones prom date. Thus enlightened, I told him "Yes". Well, if anyones going to be a gentleman, I am...

I ordered a delightful arrangement of white orchids for my lady, and he ordered one made of roses for his. Fortunatly, K80 had a black and white dress on, and CA's missus had a red one. I sense this was more design than chance. I can't remember.

This year, I decided to do exactly the same thing. Since K80 wasn't being helpful (here's a hint, younger ladies: get your dress earlier than "the day before", so we can choose colours properly), I ordered a colourful collection of... I don't even know what they were called.

On the same day, TinyOne felt it time to tell me that said date was messing around with other men while I was being all nice and Chyld-like. Much abuse headed K80-ward, declarations of "she's not my date" were batted round, and the corsage was being assembled. In the end, as you now know, we patched it all up, and I picked up my bizarrly white corsage.

Just for reference, the corsage pictured is almost the same as the one I bought.

Finally, there's the things I used to pretty me up. Enough chemicals to keep a meth-head in business, enough smelly things to kill a thousand Nurglings, and some mud. I can't be arsed to list them all.

Now, come back tomorrow, when I actually begin to speak of what actually happened!

Vauxhall?

2004-07-02T17:55:00.000+01:00

First regular guest update in a while. This time, we have Da Skorpian showing why he's not allowed in Blighty. Enjoy...

Hello boys and girls. This week your host will be Skorp. Yep, that’s right! Skorp!
"Does Skorp write!?" Well… when he has something to write about he does (Which is rarely I can say, so don’t expect more updates by me soon). Well, as you probably have seen, this update is about Vauxhall. After reading Chyld’s update I suddenly had inspiration! He said he had an update about Vauxhalls too (Yes, slow writer, I know *sigh*), so after checking with him I was glad to find out we didn’t have the same topic. Before I begin I should say that if you are offended by it, I am sorry, but it just is the truth. :-P So, here goes nothing...

Vauxhall? What the F### is a Vauxhall? We have an Astra, A Vectra, etc etc etc. Well, a Vauxhall is a supposed to be 'English' car! Yes a Supposed to be English car! Yeah, you read it right: Supposed to be! But let me break it to you, it is a German car! Yes GERMAN! Now don’t go telling me they are being manufactured in Luton, because they AREN’T! These cars are called Opel. Every part is build in Germany, and then shipped to the UK where they are assembled and put a nice little Vauxhall logo on it. Here, let me give you the link to Opel, so you unbelievers can check it out yourselves.

The reason for this is that they can fool the English customer into believing it is British build so they’ll buy one of their cars quicker. I find this ridiculous. Why would an Englishman only buy a British car? And yet it is true... The stupid average Englishman believes it! Why? I don’t want to think they all have a double digit IQ, but it sure as hell looks like it. I do not understand it. I do not…

Same thing is with the Euro! The Brits didn’t want the euro because they have there strong home grown Pound! Now you could say that the pound is such an old currency that it can’t be thrown out like its nothing, but the Dutch did it too with the Gilder. Which is even older! So what is the real reason?

Somehow I think this all fits perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle, into the anti-mainland-pro-USA-thingie that’s going on with Great Brittan. Well, I have some bad news for you! You are Europeans, not Americans! And you’ll never be! Now go use the Euro, close down your Vauxhall assembly buildings (I refuge to call them factories, because they build nothing!) and act as Europeans!

Skorp out.

And Chyld too. I won't be here next week, but my trained monkey... Big Brother... will be taught how to upload updates, so he can upload my prom diaries. Until some time soon! Chyld

Lazy Gittishness...

2004-07-01T18:04:00.000+01:00

Right, if you be of the wargaming persuasion, there's a boomer for you today.

Go here. It is the first entry for my diary of the Storm of Chaos. This will mean loads to anyone who enjoys little plastic men, and nothing to anyone who doesn't.

Those in said sad minority are quite screwed today, since I've spent 45mins sorting that out, and I can't be arsed to do anything else for you. BE HAPPY, DAMNIT! Or just amuse yourselves in the forum.

Banks And Balls

2004-06-30T13:56:00.000+01:00

Riiiiight.

You'll all have noticed the new layout. I got bored of the last one (too much grey, not enough black and white), so, inspired by Girdag's new blog (in the Links bar herewith), I changed the layout to something more black and formal. You're quie welcome. Aside from that, service will remain as normal for the forseeable future. But now, it looks like I've actually written lots! Hurrah!

But, an actual update. Lots of ideas have come to mind, actually. Lambasting the idiots who wrote "You loosers" on a picture of David Beckham. Making a Stoner Dictionary. Slating the ex. Or, as the case may be, My Wonderful Bank Adventure.

Ever since I was a foetus growing within Mama Jennings (I think), I've had a kids account for the Woolwich. No longer beibg classable as a kid, said darling Mama has been nagging me to get a "proper" account. Admittedly, I knew I needed to do this...

My bank book. Has seen withdrawls for: plastic men, green, pub trips after sex that never happens. Ah, a good six years...

...but I couldn't be arsed. Until today, I started filling in my form for student funding, a nightmare of beauracracy that deserves an update in itself. But it needed loads of crazy bank numbers I just didn't know. Time to get a new account, thought Chyld.

Part I: Going to the Bank

Knowing I'd need lots of things, I gathered up the following:

>My scrotty old bank book (as shown)
>My passport, complete with spiky-haired picture
>My wallet, containing useful cards
>£7 in loose change, that I was going to put in either way. I am the loony that picks up loose change and hoardes it. Scrap that, I'm loony anyway.
>erm... tasty meat pies? If that point makes any sense to you, either 1.) join the forum, Stalky/anyone else off of FR, or 2.) TASTY PIES, AMY!

Then I left for town. Then realised I'd left the scrotty book behind, and waled all the way back home to fetch it. So what if I'd only walked 50m by then?

Part II: The Man at the Counter, Part One

I got to the bank, and lined up in the queue. As I was the only person in the bank at the time, my waiting time was non-existant. Unlike my average waiting time at the pos office, which is usually long enough for an entire species to be wiped out twice over.

"Hi, I'd like to close this account, and open a shiny new one." I said, in a more nervous and officious tone.

After a few minutes of mad clicking, said man asked "Have you got two forms of identification?"

TWO? OK, one passport, and... one old scrotty bank book?

"Have you got a drivers license?"

No...

"Are you on the Voters Roll?"

Yes...

Promptly, the man rattled off a sheet of paper with my information on it, then promptly asked me where I lived.

Its probably for securitys sake, but having a bank book, passport, and sheet of random paper with it on, it doesn't take too much effort to put two and two together.

After this, I was told to sit down, and wait for another man to come along and fill in the forms with me.

Part III: Man in his Office

After a minute of sitting down watching my trousers not fall down, a man called me into his office. Ooh, lots of officious things to do, I thought.

Not a bit of it.

Essentially, my involvement was to tell him everything I'd already told the first man, which the second man even had on his screen, and sign lots of bits of paper thrust at me.

This sounds shorter than the other bits, which is a lie. It was longer. Just not as 'funny'. Until I was given a copy of the forms I'd signed.

On the last sheet, it gave a list of terms, and reasons my informtion would be disclosed. They generally amounted to "so we can send you spam/junk mail". Except for the last one.

"The only time we will disclose about you is... to our agents and others who work on our behalf."

That made me giggle even then. Out agents? Makes it sound as if, if I don't pay my overdrafts, stealthy ninjas will come and assasinate me in the night! I was very happy that my bedroom was on the top floor of a three-story building. Stil not a problem for Stealthy Woolwich Ninjas, however. Must buy super shiny lazers, or hire pirates to guard me.

As I was deliberaing this, I was given back my many things, and told to see the first man about transfering money from old account to new.

Part IV: The Man At The Counter, Part 2

"Hi, me again."

"..."

"I'd like transfer the money from my old account to my new one, please.

"Rightyo."

"...oh yeah, and I have £7 in change to stick in as well."

"Rightyo."

Once he had done this, Id remembered the reason I'd come, to find shiny numbers to write on the silly form.

"What's my sort code, while I'm here?"

"(insert sort code here)"

"Thanks."

And that was that.

Part V: Get home, and upload a pithy update on my odyssy

Erm...

ThenI've got to fill in that form, fill in another, send them off, all by 2pm, because I've got a game of Warhammer Quest to play. And If you don't know what that is, you wouldn't be interested.

Until tomorrow, compatriots!

Warning: Speshul Feetaz...

2004-06-29T19:35:00.000+01:00

Right, first of all, I need a couple of lines of angry ranting so that the formatting on my one picture for the day actually works. Right, the executive decision on behalf of the permenant Less Is More staff (ie, me, and possibly Super) is that K80 is a bitch. Yes. No need for me to explain why, but she is. So methinx I'm not single for the prom. Good one...

Enough? Enough.

And now, for what I hope will become a regular feature, a Review Of An Album From 2002.

I've noticed recently that many of the CDs in my collection were released in 2002. Both good and bad. In fact, about half my album collection comes from 2002. And why not? 2002 was a golden year for me, the last time I actually had a girlfriend, the year I properly discovered alcahol and generally discovered green. Hell, if we want the lows too, the year I lost my virginity. So it stands to reason, by this pie-eyed chain of coincidences, that 2002 was a good year for my musical tastes.

So, rather than review contemporary releases, I'd like to look at albums from this portentuous time. There's quite enough in my collection now...

Now, to start with, the work of wonder that is Babylon, by Skindred.

Herein be a picture of the band. See, I've got cool text tags now! Groovy!

Seriously, have you ever heard of Dub War? Because I certainly haven't. They exist only as a namecheck on the first Soulfly album, by the name of a guest vocalist, Benji Webbe, and by a man going "Kick up the bass, yo!. But Dub War is the predecessor to Skindred, the only difference being songs played and the choice of bassist.

The premise is a simple one. Take a metal/punk crossover band, and add a groovy ass black guy doing both crazy ragga rapping vocals and singing, and you have Skindred. I discovered the delights of this odd mish mash on a free Kerrang! CD, the same way I discovered half my CD collection. The title track of their album, a furious rant against the police, starting with a squealing guitar line and an extremly fast bout of rapping, continuing in a less squealy vein for four minutes. Delightful, I thought. But due to the utter obscurity of the band, I couldn't find the album, and did nothing else about it for about two years,

Recent developments in the field of eBay/KaAzA resulted in me hearing a few more tracks, and eventually buying the damn thing. Before being told by Johnny Napalm that he got it for free by roadying for them one gig. Git.

But an album review then. The album kicks in with a drum and bass loop, not something I'm particularly averse to, despite my metal roots. This kicks into "Set It Off", a delightfully stomping rap-metal number. No, don't run away, I said rap metal, not nu metal, as some of you may be allergic to.

Most of the album is defined by those things which I dearly love - bastard heavy riffs, precise drumming, and a vocally flexible frontman. On one of my favourite tracks on the album, "Kiss And Make Up" - a delightful number about domestic abuse - Benji quite comftably shows us he's capable of singing, then for the bridge (if thats the right word - I'm a drummer, I know nothing about musical terminology) he launches into a bout of screaming.

There are very few high concepts on Babylon, no politics (apart from the title track bashing the police), but then, no whining about girls. It ranges from songs about banging good tunes ("Selector" - which happens to be a banging good tune itself) to racial prejudice ("Bruises", which is hardly the worst tune on the album, but nothing like the best)

The album only really falls down on two songs. "The Fear", a tirade against bullying with a barrel of unknown guest musicians - comes across as cliched and whiny. And "Together" is a stogy love song, which doesn't cast Mr Webbe as a Romeo, merely a plebe.

My favourite tracks on the album amount to two. "World Domination" is all screaming vocals, roaring guitars, pounding drums, and even has time for odd vocal distortion in the middle. And the album's secret track - dubbed "Vampire Killa", because 'tis what the songs about - is a mental mish mash of bizarre sound effects, silly rapping about hunting vampires in LA, and Benji going "womp" repeatedly, which is the funniest noise I've heard a man make ever.

Incidently, they'r re-recording said album, and adding four new tracks. Well, thanks lads. Just as I'd bought your album the first time round, you go and redo it. What's wrong with just taking more time out and writing a new album entirely? Its a dark day when even the nice guys are screwing you about.

But, at any rate, it might mean youl'll be able to pick up said album, and enjoy its goodness.

Shiny Chyld Album Rating: 7 Shiny Skulls

Operative Word: Womp

Gross National Income

2004-06-28T19:32:00.000+01:00

Right, I'm back from my week-long hiatus from writing updates. A few extra updates are ready to fire, there are several shiny new ideas ready for me to be arsed to write them, and there's no other easy yet witty way to segue into this update, so I'll get to the point.

Back in the Christmas of 2002, I had just acquired a shiny, yet not new drumkit, still had a shiny, yet not new girlfriend, and was generally at the tail end of the best year I've had in a while. And amongst this, I was bequeathed with a book by one of my dear friends.

It has festered unused since then. The drumkit has languished in the garage for a year and a half, the girlfriend has dumped me, messed me around, and become the subject of half a dozen angsty updates, and the years have gone from good to bad to in-between. And this book has remained relativly unspoiled. And now it gets a digital pasting.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the book of Gross Cheques.

This book consists of an assortment of cheques, with promises of "things that make you go YUCK". Joys. So, lets see what horrors lie for anyone I send a cheque too...

I PROMISE TO...

"...give you a Chinese burn"
"...tell everyone you still sleep with a teddy bear"
"...save my farts in a bottle just for you"
"...pee in the pool and blame you"

From these four (the best of a bad bunch), we gather that the targer demographic for this work of high literature is pre-pubescent. Honestly, how can you tell who's pissed in a pool or not? Surely before anyone notices, it will have diffused into the water... lovely imagery, lets stop.

At any rate, I said I'd try storing my farts in a bottle ten years ago, and sodomy with a bottle aside, I'm still none the wiser as to how to do it.

"...ping your bra strap"

...hang on, we've gone from Chinese burns to pinging bra straps? Either they're aiming at very mature pre-pubescents, or someone hasn't reseached their targert audience at all.

But why the pinging? Its so much more evil to just undo the bra completly! It doesn't hurt quite so much, but its miles more embressing...

"...tell everyone your middle name"
"...put your love letters on the school website"
"...tell people you fancy them"

...than this lot. There's no threat to me, however, as I know everyone's middle name as it is, all my love letters were burned in The Big Angry Fire of 2003 (the few survivors aren't really love letters at all, more a case of "I don't love you, stop stalking me, damnit!" letters), and the world already knows who I fancy. Not that I'm not open to suggestions, but no one makes them.

Also, does my school even have a website suitable for reproducing love letters on? Its probably easier just to sign up for a free forum to do it on. Or to erect it in fifty foot high letters of stone.

"...put your hand in warm water when you're asleep"

Just to dispel any notions of pre-pubescence, we're given the ultimate "drunks thing to do" idea. It's never happened to me, and neither have threats that my head will be shaved. So it seems not sleeping with anyone does have some benefits then...

Hold me I'm lonely.

"...put mustard on your dogs bum"

Lets be honest, I'd never heard of that idea until now. And my interest in the results is enough to stop me ever actually doing it.

"...make you smell my trainers"
"...never to use deodrent"

Bad smells=teh funnee!!!11

If I were to never use deodrent, or forced anyone to smell my hiking boots, people would die. Its not a pleasent smell.

"...make things out of my ear wax"

How much ear wax do you have?

"...diss you in public"

An all time low, even for this book. No one in their right mind uses the word "diss" in a real sentence. It's not a verb, its gibberish, at most an abbreviation of "disrespect". Only a smacktard actually uses the word "diss", when "talk shit" works so much better. Oops, can't do that in a book aimed a pre-pubescents wearing bras...

The only other surviving gift from that Christmas was a bottle opener, kept more for its sentimental value than its ability to open bottles, and a photo of me wearing a Budweiser box emblazioned "I Luv (K80) 4Eva!" from my New Years Eve party.

Oh yeah, and add "drum kit" to the above list.

Cell Phones

2004-06-25T10:15:00.000+01:00

Oh Myself! I hate cell phones! I hate the multi-functional bullshit of the latest models! Last Wednesday the Holland Team beat Latvia in the Euro Championship 2004 and our very nice Czech friends beat Germany. We wonder well managed it to the quarterfinals. As mentioned before my local pub has this ‘pay-ten-Euros-drink-free-all-night-policy’ and obvious I was wasted when I returned home. Started drinking at 8, coming home at 4:30 and catching my bus to school at 7:15. I can tell you that zombies still show up once in a while. Totally wrecked I arrive at school and one of my class mates starts to take pictures with her cell phone of me. I hate that anyway, I hate it more when I don’t feel too well, and I despise it when you do it with a cell phone. A phone is for phoning! The word phone says it all! P-H-O-N-E. How can you mix up the words phone and camera? What the fuck!? You’re not taking pictures with a goddamn cell phone! When do people learn that things are made for a purpose? A radio is designed to listen music, a toilet is designed to take a shit, a camera is designed to take photographs and a cell phone is designed to phone! That’s the order of things! I still take a shit on the toilet even if I had a million cell phones! And the thing is, since a cell phone can make pictures, everyone starts taking them at random moments of the day! It all are stupid pictures without any reason to shoot them and no one wants to look at them in the first place.
“Look this is Super!”
“Um… why did you take that picture, he isn’t doing anything at all?”
“Because I can…”
Because I can!? That’s no argumentation! I can put a baseball bat up my asshole, dress up like a ballerina and blow George Michael at the same time! But that’s not a reason to actually do it!
I heard the story about exploding cell phones, don’t know exactly why they exploded, but I liked the idea. It should happen more often. Well, more often… it should happen all the time when someone takes a picture.
“Smile!”
Kaboom!
“Oooh, now THAT’s a nasty look. Yigh, is this your nose!?”
Ha! Good! You deserved it! Now die! And rot in hell! Till the End of Times! Jerk!

Argh!

Sad Deluded...

2004-06-24T19:57:00.000+01:00

You wouldn't belive this, Super's ruse actually worked yesterday!

So to celebrate this fact, I'm not going to put up any Pictures Of Mary-Kate And Ashley Olsen Twins Kissing, Screwing, Licking, Fucking, Giant Bouncing Breasts Boobies Jugs Tits Nipples, Tounging Cunt With Strap-Ons. You're quite welcome.

I'll be back on Monday, and if anyone wants to give Super a reprive, send me an e-mail...

Bureaucracy argh!!

2004-06-24T14:42:00.000+01:00

Yay! It’s Thursday! The week is almost done and then Chyldio will take over again. If someone has a guest update for Friday mail it to the known address and it’ll be on tomorrow. Otherwise I’ll try to come up with something or Chyldio will.

I have to do a training assessment this fall, commencing on September the sixth. At the moment it is June the 24th, but somehow my school needs to direct a teacher who will visit me someday at the company where I going to work. So, today I wanted to fix all these blab but to my surprise the lady behind the desk freaked out. What was I thinking? Only arranging this two months before I had to go! Ooooh pressure! Too little time! Help!
And all the time I stood there with my hands in my pockets without a clue where the fuzz was all about. After a minute I thought the hysterical woman was calm again.

I was wrong.

Anyway, another lady showed up and when I explained the story I had a new result: two women freaking out. You are not going to believe it, but another lady needed to hear this amazing story too. So, I again explained the story and ended up again with a freaked out woman. I had to fill in a form wherein I needed to explain why I didn’t arrange these things earlier. Only with a good reason I could get myself a teacher.

In other words, I needed to think of a good story or else I can’t do my training assessment. And that equals: being fucked!

There I sat with a pencil in my hand ready to let my inspiration flow…

“It was on a Friday, I now it quite well, when I was abducted by aliens. They did all kind of experiments with my brain, which obviously was an enormous task for the purple one-eyed creatures. They collected as much data as possible out of my head and therefore I forgot to register for a trainee teacher.”

With all my other information filled in, I gave the papers to the Lady number 1. Only then she realized I had been given the wrong form. I had to do it all again on the proper form. So, there I went again. And when I finished my story again and handled it in she said I needed to bring it to someone else. Okidoki, up to another lady I went. After she read the story she said “Alien Abduction” was not a valid reason. I had to fill in the form again and this time properly. Back I went to Lady Number 1, asking for a new form. How I lost it she asked? “A vicious dog attacked me in the corridor. But nothing to worry about, I’m ok.” She gave me a new form and I thought of a sad family drama. Again I went to the second lady and gave her the form. She knew my story was complete bull, but it fell under ‘private problems’ and this was a valid reason. But because it was a pretty heavy reason I needed to fill in another form. Oh, my God! I now started to get annoyed, but I decided not to loose my cool. Yet.

Again I filled in a form, handled it to the lady, who didn’t even bothered to read the newly form. Autograph under it and everything was ok. “What if I just came up with another alien story?” I asked, but the only response was a roaring sound. With two forms and an autograph I needed to go to yet another person.
This time it was my favorite teacher. I handed him the papers and he looked at me.
“Really?”
“Of course not” I answered “this is total bullshit. I was abducted by aliens, but that’s not a valid reason.”
And now the anti-climax… the guy said: “How long did this crap took you?”
“About 45 minutes.”
“Great!” he said while he threw the papers in the bin. “If you buy me a beer, I’ll be your trainee teacher.” he said with a huge grin on his face.

Blimey...

2004-06-23T13:48:00.000+01:00

...the guest updaters are taking over! Or one of them is.

I was going to see if I could palm you all off with my gnarly lightsaber design, but you don't really need palming off, it seems. Ah well, have a looksy anyway. Who says you can't have black lasers? The ex-pats, it seems...

Pay per view!?

2004-06-23T12:19:00.000+01:00

The other day I looked at our precious forum and saw Chyldio kind of worried about the 1,000th hit on his blog. Did Visitor number 1,000 made a print screen of the counter? Waiting for the further reactions, I realized it hasn’t been saved. A strange purple cat always said: “It never hurts to help!”

The “it never hurts to help” kept buzzing in my head. I need to help the poor little lamb… The normally rough and tough macho cried big tears. An uncountable amount of tears wetted the red cheeks of the once so proud warrior. Not a single God could stand the weeping of the hurt child, but none could help him out.

And so I had to use my superpowers and save day…

So, on I went with crappy MsPaint and tried to make a forgery picture of the counter hitting the thousand views. But it never satisfied me to betray Chyld, though it looked as if I really were the 1,000th visitor. Other ideas came and went as fast as Jennifer Lopez changes husbands.

And there at the cliff of despair where lightning lit and thunder stroke… There was the perfect solution…

I would have to boost up the counter to another respectable number. I only needed to get another thousand hits! And that is as easy as falling in love! You only need to mention some key words which are on top of all the lists in the Googles, Yahoos and AltaVista’s… So, here we go!

Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen! Indeed! The annoying Olsen twins will turn eightteen soon which allows them to go into the shady world of porn industry and somehow whole the world is waiting for that. You know who I mean with the Olsen Twins don’t you? The annoying Full House babies grew up and because of a bizar reason everyone wants to see them naked. In other words if I put the words ‘Mary-Kate’, ‘Ashley’, ‘Olsen’, ‘Twins’, ‘naked’ and ‘porn’ in one sentence this blog will hit the 2,000 in no time. I’ll give it a go…

Have you heard about Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, also known as the Olsen Twins, who will show up all naked in a porn movie on the very day they turn eightteen.

I did it! The views soon are flooting the blog. But to boost it up even more:

Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen nude pictures for free!

Up to the 10,000 hits!!

Yummy, yummy metal grrrls

2004-06-22T12:41:00.000+01:00

Rightyo, my very first, official update. Not counting yesterdays test of course. As promised it’s about the Wald Rock festival I visited last Saturday. We had to leave at 10 o’ clock for a strange reason, the doors only opened at noon and it is an hour drive. But we brought Hoef' who didn't want to miss a thing... Anyway, the festival started for me on Friday night when I had to pre-drink and discuss which band I definitely not wanted to miss. This was of course Hatebreed, Testament and Monster Magnet.

Back to Saturday... with a hangover I dragged myself to our rendez-vous and I met the gang. Hoef., Kiend, Bacari-coke, Jimmy and Deb. (Maybe it’s fun to tell Kiend is the Dutch synonym for Chyld, in other words, my gang has it’s very own Chyld too).

At eleven we arrived at the festival terrain and decided to go for our first beer. The weather didn't decide to cooperate if we had to believe the weather forecasters, but so far it was all merry and joy. Then we went to the waiting lines and the sun really showed her face. As we were going to a metal festival everyone was dressed up in black and the sun burned us alive. Luckily a German Girl sold ½ liter cans of beer...

Finally we made it on to the terrain and after I was searched by a cute girl for weapons (I suppose) I could enter. And immediately someone wanted my opinion on the festival so far. "The beer is good..." was the only thing I could answer "and the girl at the door was cute." and not wanted to be a complete ass "and so are you." We're on the way for 2 hours and things were look ok.

Okay, okay, okay! Time to buy festival coins for beer! 50 Euros multiplied by 6 = 300 Euros for beer! Good!

The thing I like about festivals are the cute girls. I always like cute girls, but when I see one in a club most of the time she likes DJ Tiësto, Britney or the Back Street Boys, in other words, she hates music. But when I visit a festival I know they have a good taste. I wasn't in for 15 minutes or Arie and I had talked to several different girls and already were involved in several arguments with over-protecting boyfriends. Things almost went out of control when my Big Mouth decided to insult a type of humanoid that somehow didn't complete the evolution. It was time to move along and get some beers.

First disappointment: Testament was canceled. Argh! But a few new beers solved this and all was merry and joy again. Up to the first band: Transport League. Never heard of it, but they were ok. And afterwards they were the second best band of the day. The weather was so different compared to the doom seekers of the Weather Channel, it was the perfect weather!

Some more bands annoyed me, and I asked myself why did I came along again. But then I heard the speaker announcing Monster Magnet made their appearance. 70 minutes of mosh pit later and I realized this was the reason why I came.

The headliner Cradle of Filth sucked big time, but I already had a good day. It seemed like God hated the annoying singer too and decided to flood the festival with an enormous cloud fracture and so the day ended. I realized I hadn't eaten all day so off to the pub I went with Arie, where the rest of the crew decided to be smart and go to bed.

After a few more beers and a lousy meal it was time to go to bed and dream of the cute metal girls...

Conclusion go to festivals!

ps Half way the festival there was the football match Czech Republic – Holland and of course I don't need to mention the result, but I do need to mention the crappy coward manager of the Holland Team who decided to become the moron of the tournament. If there is something like the burning fires of hell I know a new customer...

Muppets on a chain

2004-06-21T20:45:00.001+01:00

Hello good citzens!

While half of the board is busying himself or herself with school, and our uber-mod is one of them, he gave me update powers! Slowly, but steady I’m taken over the world now! One day you all will be my slaves! Muwahahaha!

Sorry, about that... it carried me away… It isn’t too clever to give a schizo any powers, but now it’s too late!

Anyway, this was a test. Tomorrow I’ll tell you about the Wald Rock festival I visited this weekend!

Cheers

Super

Two updates in a day? What is the world coming to? - Chyld

Week Off: Day 1

2004-06-21T20:02:00.000+01:00

Right, like I said, I'm taking the week off to revise, write new material, etc. So don't be suprised when you find nothing funny here.

However, offers are always open for guest updates. Send them in and I'll whack them up when I get them.

On a similar note, I've added SuperMarct to the staff formerly. Now you'll see his name under his guest updates, not mine.

Right, now, revision...

I Like Being Driven In My Car...

2004-06-18T20:49:00.000+01:00

As I type, I am on an unknown motorway between Gordano serivce station and Amersham.

The Family Jennings returns from the funeral service of one of its First Ladies, and after yesterday's utterly wasted update, it does not feel appropriate to write about it. Suffice to say, it was a very nice service.

But that's not why I fired up the laptop, what will be "earlier" when I upload this, but "now" at the time of writing. There surely has to be something said for car journeys.

Every other holiday until recently, we have packed up our stuff, and crossed the country to visit the family in Devon, And roughly every year until recently, we have done the same, only crossing into the next country, the one full of frog-eaters and onions. Factor this out via means of me being eighteen venerable years old, and I would call myself a veritable expert on being a passenger during long car journeys.

Here, therefore, is my insights into being a non-fatal passanger in long car journeys.

Chyld's Insights Into Being A Non-fatal Passanger In Long Car Journeys.

1.) Never Sit Next To Little Brother.

I hate mankind. I've grown used to it, can smile at its nicest examples, get along with the humans I call friends, and can plot the gory end of my foes without actually doing it and getting arrested for it. However, annoying people are just that - annoying. I refused to be stuck in a car with someone annoying, it annoys me.

Little Brother, clever, dumb, or otherwise, is the most annoying human being in the Universe. Everything he says or does is calculated to ten significant figures to tick me off as much as humaly possible. Combine these two volitile elements withing a meter of each other for four-eight hours, and blood flows.

Therefore, by mutual agreement of everyone in the family, Big Brother sits in the middle of the car. I deplore not his presense, and LB enjoys the presense. Mother and Father are not driven to bloodlust by Chyld and Little Brother beating each other, and crashes are avoided.

2.) Bring a CD player. Or a laptop. Or thieve BB's.

3/5ths of the family are pop-loving cretins (although Father claims to have been in a band hat opened for Eric Clapton). 1/5th is partial pop-loving cretin, part pop-metaller/punk. 1/5th is writing this update. Right now, I am listening to Sepultura (quite 1337 enough for you, SM?), while the rest of the family is listening to... Brittany Spears. God Almighty! The values esposed by either Mrs Speared-on-penis, or God, will not be discussed here, I need Big Brother alive.

Therefore, I need me my CD player, in order to play the blissful sound of angry men screaming. Oh yeah, all my CD players are broken! Damn Woolworths/eBay crap.

Next option is my laptop. Either the CD drive can be plugged in, or one of the 20 saved albums on the hard drive can be brought to the fore. Perfect? Not with only 2 hours of battery!

When all else fails, Big Brother's Neva-Shok CD player can be borrowed for the purposes. Although the problem with that is thqat the pop-evilness needs expunging before I can use it, and the incense annoys Father, who is trying to drive.

3.) FEED ME!

Amy, K80, tiny1, and just about any other lady whos walked with me anywhere at any time will know what a gigantic appetite I pocess. Not just for food, though! There, contractual item of innuendo included for today...

Basically, I need feeding regularly, not too easy in a moving car. Traditionlly, Mother packs a large volume of eatables, but its usually crap. However, this time, it was proper edible munchy pastry/meaty gubbins. Considering that I was whacked off of my face on excellent skunk yesterday, this was much appreciated.

Such blessings aside, it is usually up to me to provide tasty goodness. Either buying it before, taking too much effort not to eat it right away, or buying it on the way, at usually a 1000% cost markup. Ghey.

4.) No Porn

Sounds odd? Yep. If I get horny now, its going to be very, very embaressing.

5.) Sleep

Well, is there much else to do? Eat tasty pies? Listen to Slipknot? Play Commander Keen again? When you're wasted in a car full of people you don't want to talk to, there's nothing else to do.

6.) Enjoy the scenery

OK, I'm tripping over my heels now.

If no one overly objects, I'd like to take a week off of writing updates next week, in order to muster new ideas, revise for my final exams, etc. If I come up with anything cool, I'll put it up.

Finally, a joke my little cousin told me. Both amusing and cringsome! Wahey!

"...and Jesus spake to John 'Come forth my son, and you shall have eternal life!' Unfortunatly, he came fifth, so he only won a toaster."

Out And About...

2004-06-17T13:07:00.000+01:00

Chyld: Right, its Chyld and CompleteAnarchy, and yep, we've got MASHED....

CompleteAnarchy (CA): who gave a hciky 2 herakl street?

Chyld: We're stuck round CA's computer, listening to Weird Al Yankovic! \m/

CA: so we hav a topic 4 2day........ the stoner horoscopes =)

Chyld: Someone is NOT Patrick Moore, CA! Get on with it then!

CA: ok 1st we hav the crab person errrrmmmmm (C: cancer) ok kool ya that 1 u will currently b goin thu a dry pate later in your area but dont weorrry this will b greated by a nu delviery shortly

Chyld: I think that's Pisces actually. Well, if you're Sagitarius, you've be my dad, who would be very funny if he had a pipe. Maybe a bubble pipe. Or it's Little Brother, whos' blonde, annoying and eats toast. CA?

CA: errrrmmmmm cant thing of ne ithers......oooooooo the unicorn 1 torarse hehe...u will b paid back for favuors in the past..lucky u!

Chyld: Torn Arse, CA? Suggesting something, are we? So anyway, we have Libra, like Mother, and you sister used to like Alice Cooper, but acts like an old woman now? Went to Reading, for some reason. I'm just carrying on a family tradition...

CA: wooo reading bitches juz over 2monthes2go =) and whos goin mofo..me fosho... =S munkey...*pause for headbanging******IIIII GOOOTTTAAAA HAAVVVV FFFFFFFFAAAAAIIIITTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH x4 BBBBBBBBAAAAAAAABBBBBBBBBBBBBBYYYYYYYYY* ok neway so who do u think are oing to be the highlights of this years line up?

Chyld: Watch the tone of the webisite go straight down the plughole.... So anyway, I believe my highlight of the weekend will be THE EIGHTIES MATCHBOX B-LINE DISASTER! :D:P:S There's also all the headliners, Hundred Reasons, loads in the Radio 1 and Carling tents, The Wildhearts, and of course hooting loads of bongs!

CA: wooo provided by who i wonder =P whoop whoop OMG trippy music bass bass bass bass wooooo....errrmmmm neway the white stripes are poooooooooo....hey Chyld giv me the kerrang 4 the list...ok my highlight for reading 2004 is....*drum roll*...headlineers part from,white stripes =P offspring, the hives, 100 reasons, reel big fish, soulwax, franz f, the vines, funeral4a friend, har mar, a, sick of it all, goldfinger =) bouncing souls, flogging molly...as well as kool stuff in the carling and if im mashed in the dance =).. and im done

Chyld: W00t! Not long until the prom. If my date decides not to throw more issues at me within two weeks, we all know who i'm taking ;-) I'm probably going by my car/Tadpole's car. WTF are you doing then, CA? Got a woman?

CA: not yet but i know i will goin 2 b aaaammmmazin and guess wot im not wearin a tux =P

Chyld: And guess what? I've already told you I'm going out, so I'll say it again for CA's benefit:
1.) Shagged.
2.) Pissed.
3.) Utterly STONED! :S
I've got to leave tomorrow for Devon, so I'll upload something serious on Saturday again. Soz about that, lads and amy (and tiny1. leave me alone!) but it's for a respectable reason. Shit, I'll need to go in 20 minutes to pack. Only a week and a day of exams. So say us with exams...

CA: o the 1 earlyer on that woz on didnt do 2 bad i thought hopefully it will b 3rd time lucky lol. only 2 more to go now....party time

Chyld: lol? lol! What The Fiddling Diddles was that? I've got three exams on the monday, stupid me! Need to revise P2 Maths. It'll be hard to do. Oops, innuendo and out the other! Freedom beckons! Later for my than CA, but freedom=freedom=peebles! NOT snotballs, little shapes with feelers!

*malcom in the middle theme enters here...*

CA: y im in this world there is no point explain in

ur not the boss of me now and ur boss so big!!!!!!!

Chyld: People=shit, cannabis=pwns! OK, it seems this party is coming to a close. I'll be back on Saturday, and Frank might be in the forums straight after. Talking crap. Oh well, its different crap. Bye bye, everybody, bye bye...

CA: thiss is my closing statement...bye

Chyld: Quite right.

*madness, not Madness*

Tales from the Crypt: Stupidity

2004-06-16T15:17:00.000+01:00

For your joy, we have short stories again! Only today, they're all about the gross stupidity

1.) The other night, the family was seated around an outside table having a barbeque. Convosation eventually began, after it had enjoyed a brief coma, and moved onto the subject of the Sun.

As you may remember, Venus crossed the Sun the other day. And it won't happen for another 243 years, as The Times told us, across half the front page. Goos to know that they're focusing on events as they happen. But anyway, The Mother asked which of her offspring had actually watched this portentuous event.

"I might watch it tonight." he said.

Consider that a.) There was at most only an hour or two of daylight left. b.) You can't see the sun at night. c.) we had been specifically told that it had happened a good six hours ago.

2.) I was doing my paper round the other month. Well, actually about to cross a road on the way to do it, as you do.

This will make no sense, unless you know the geography of Amersham on the Hill, so here is a brief stage set-up. There is a road, the road my paper shop is on. Halfway along the road, is a zebra crossing, the point where I sought to cross. Right opposite this is a bank. Specifically, a Woolwich bank. For the minding of finances, like most banks.

As I said, I sought to cross at this zebra crossing, and only jus avoided being hit by an idiot in a white van who stopped right across the crossing. Exactly where it is illegal to stop at all, I think.

The driver, not content with nearly running me over, decided to persist in his stupidity. Getting out of his dodgy vehicle, he made as to ask me a question, facilitating me pausing my CD player (bless it, its hinges are broken now) and removing the headphones from my ears.

" 'Scuse me, mate, can you tell me where the nearest Woolwich bank is?"

Check the concluding sentence of the second paragraph of this rambling monologue, and understand the aggrevation as an arm of mine extended lazily in the direction of the bank. Headphones were replaced in ears shortly after.

3.) Ebay. Wonderful, isn't it? I've seen and heard of all sorts of things being sold on it. But that's for another update. The importent thing to note is that you can buy Yu Gi Oh cards on it. These horrific specimens are like Pokemon, only no where near as cuddly, and shitloads more confusing. And somehow, both brothers are smitten.

Big Brother, being marginally more computer-literate than Little Brother (that is an insult to the former, and a compliment to the latter), employs the means of eBay and forums to satate his fetish for card emblazoned with monsters. Fair enough, I buy little men on eBay, and my mum buys computer roles. No biggie, apart from the oddly inverted gender roles...

The other week, perhaps the day of the eclipse, I found him having an arguement with some poor unfortunate from a You Gay? Oh... forum. It was a very vicious one, at that.

"What ails you, brethren?" I asked.

"He's outbidding me on a card." was his main point.

I swore like a sailor at this point. Its a public bloody auction, and my smacktard of a brother actually thought he was the only one allowed to bid on the auction.

If I ever find the poor guy on the other end, I will apologise like crazy. If he ever gets to meet my brother and doesn't punch him in the head repeatedly, the guys an idiot.

I'm quite sure I've got more stories of stupidity, but I can't remeber anything, and this is the season for short updates. They'll be long again one day...

Coming Soon To A Desktop Near You...

2004-06-15T16:38:00.000+01:00

Lets diversify, for a minute.

I'd like to talk about all the exciting (sort of) things I have lined up as updates for this summer. Ironic really, since at the time of writing, there's very little to write about as it is.

More Exam Bitchings

At the time of writing, I am in the midst of my A levels, the most importent exams I will ever take. Since the GCSEs I took a few years ago. And the SATS exams I took a few years before that. And, of course, until I take whatever exams are required for a Philosophy degree. Notice a pattern here?

Nonetheless, once I take an exam I remember the actual content of, I'll regurgiate it into Notepad, and tell you all about how useless it is.

My Prom

This should be fun. Not long after said exams, after the year below us try poisioning us at the Leavers Lunch, we have the Prom. Technically, an excuse to dress up in suits and say goodbye to each other, in some cases for the last time. However, given my statuses as a.) Adolesent b.) Stoner c.) K80 Worshipper, my priorities are so far off of that mark, its not even funny. In order of what will probably happen, here is my plan:

-Get to prom, with K80, Tadpole, AmyJay, and whoever else will fit in a car or two.
-Find the bar. Drink. Maybe buy a round.
-Get up off my arse and dance. Whether in a group, with my date, or simply alone, it will be done very, very badly.
-Drink. Buy a round. Get merry.
-From here, the ultimate course will be, in order of preference.
--Provocative things which result in me getting sex, or as close as possible.
--Get utterly ratted on anything vaguely alcaholic.
--Band together with Frank, and get stoned out of my mind.
-Somehow get home without having my clothes ripped off in the passion, or ripped in the fights that will ensure.

An actual account of events (maybe as a guest update from someone else if I have that much fun) will be posted, with appropriate pictures of (me being a fool/any willing Less Is More crew/my lady fair). Delete as desired.

Barge Holiday

Four days going up and down a canal on a narrow boat. I'm hoping for a weeks worth of updates from this, but I fear that, without it being very tedious, I'll only get one update, maybe two.

How I'm going to keep track of it is beyond me. My options are:

1.) Laptop-based notes. A fine plan, foiled by my laptop only having a two-hour battery, and there being no electricity on a canal boat. Maybe there is? A giant car battery? I'll have to find out beforehand.

2.) Paper notes. A fine reserve plan, not so easy to convert into HTML, but fine nonetheless. Can't be anything too explicit, however. My diaries of the America trip were either a.) five words a day average b.) addressed to K80, at a point where I thought I had a realistic chance. Ha ha ha! So therefore unprintable on the Internet without me looking an utter fool. She hasn't seen them, either, don't worry...

3.) Organic memory. Ha ha ha ha ha! Yeah right.

Reading Festival

Ah yes. Reading Festival. Highlight of the summer, unless I become not-single, in which case... NO YOU WON'T GET PORN! Sick perverts. You want to see me naked?

...moving back to Reading. I can see a week or so of updates coming from this one, but much less time to make notes. Obviously, the trusty laptop can't come with me, it'd be stolen by Thursday teatime.

For further preliminary notes, see my update on it from the other month.

University

I see big changes ahead. Just before Reading, I will get my exam results, then realise I should have revised harder. But, with skill, I will actually get a university place. My succsess will be paraded across the site with great gusto, and whole months worths of updates will be drawn on me deliberating the changes. Oh yes. But no "life suxx!!!!11", if at all possible.

Getting Utterly Stoned Off Of MY Face

Expect at least one update written while I can barely move my arms, let alone think straight.

While we're planning ahead, I'm not going to be here on Friday, as I have a funeral to go to. Thankfully, we'll have a guest update by then. From someone not called SuperMarct? Man, you've done enough already!

Feed The Beast

2004-06-14T16:41:00.000+01:00

First off, apologies for the absense of an update on Friday. However, unlike last week, it wasn't the guest updaters at fault (even though no one sent me anything. Again. Gits.) It was left empty as a mark of respect, as my granma passed away on Thursday, bless her soul.

However, I have noticed a trend recently, of me heading down the "life suxx!!!11" path. I am defiling one of the founding principles of Less Is More, and I'm disgusted by myself. So only the first time this week then? Therefore, funnies this week.

I eat all kinds of incredible junk. My philosophy is that I have a digstive system, therefore I use it. Here, for the sake of an update, are some of these things. Part horror-list, part cookbook.

Paper

The trump card of this theme, it seems. I used to eat paper all the time. I've been alive for 18 years, and it hasn't done me any harm at all. Since the insanity seems to be hiereditary...

Its quite simple. I take a sheet of regular, A4 paper (recycled or otherwise), tear off a strip, roll it up, then chew it. It provides a good work out for my jaws, and if I still did it regularly, I could feasably bite off the end of a lump of wood.

Then, once its all pulpy, I swallow. It's shedloads more filling than anything else a man can eat. Let me tell you, two sheets of A4 paper is nearly as filling as a full meal, if not as filling as. Top tip for you anorexics!

It is importent to note two things about this, though. That shiny paper you usually find junk mail is made out of is revolting. Imagine buying a MacDonalds burger, but forgetting to remove the paper wrapper/polystyrene box. That's exactly what eating shiny paper is like, only without the grease. Also, you should not garnish your paper with anything. Sauces are better spent on chips and burgers, and pen/pencil, while never having killed me, might be a bit much for your delicate anatomies.

Cheese and Biscuits Mark Two

I love cheese on toast, with Lea and Perrins. Its a perfect lunchtime food. As is a cheese sandwich with lots of pickle on it. No butter should grace it, though, as butter is a plague and a pestilance unless its melted. But grate some chedder cheese, spread it on a slice of toast, add Lea and Perrins, then grill for five minutes, and you have an ideal sandwich.

Having been told off many times for not cleaning the cheese-coated grill afterwards, I decided to explore the microwave for my cheesy goodness. And it worked. Very, very quickly. Ths led me on, the other day, for updating the ancient classic of Cheese and Biscuits, as much beloved by The Father.

Take a number of cheese biscuits, as many as will fit on a suitable plate. Grate some cheese, and make a mound of cheese on each biscuit, about two and a half inches high, and an inch diameter around the bottem. Pour a small amount of Lea and Perrins onto each pile of cheese.

Put in the microwave, and heat on full power for ten seconds. Remove.

The cheese will be a bubbling pool sitting nicely on top of each biscuit. Now eat, and enjoy the loveliness.

String and Material

As with paper, I would eat pieces of string, or string-like material when I was young. Once in a blue moon, I will still do this. But only if I really, really want to.

"The Trimby Max"

This one requires lots of explaining. For a start, I used to be a Scout. You know, green uniforms, tents, burnt meals over campfires, etc. But before the Scouts, for those of Little Brothers age, there was Cubs. And round here, theres two groups, Milan and Trimby. Milan were the extremly boring lot that actually knew how to put up tents, as patronised ten years ago by me, Big Brother, and Tadpole The Lanky One. Then there was Trimby, the group that actually had fun, as patronised by Just About Everyone Else Ever.

I did help at a few Trimby camps before everyone else gave up the whole Scouting lark, so I became privy to the delights of the Trimby Max. Sounds elaborate Hell no. It was two different cereals, in the same bowl, seperated by a Weetabix.

But lets be honest, when your mother refuses to buy you anything but Minibix, the oppertunity to diversify is lept upon.

Women

What do you mean, April Fools Day was about three months ago? And yes, I am single and very desperate, leave me alone. Or don't, as the case may be. El Oh El.

Incidently, you do have an entire forum that you can discuss this in, just to tell people who don't post yet, to remind members who aren't Dutch to actually post, and to tell the Dutch to stop posting so damn much...

No Love, Actually

2004-06-10T17:08:00.000+01:00

Unfortunatly for me, I am human.

By and large, I deplore my species. We are the species that tore a hole in the ozone layer, we are the species that thought George Bush was an ideal candidate for leading a superpower country, we are the species that champions gangsta rap as music. Admittedly, we have the Americans to blame for most of this, but they're too much of an easy target, and also good people individually.

However, being a human, I do a number of things. I piss, I eat, I corrupt the world to make my life easier, and I interact with other people. Yet, maybe thankfully for mankind, but not for me, one aspect of my humanity seems to elude me over all other things.

Why do I have to fight like a mule to even get close to women emotionally, when some guys quite literally just pick them up off of the street?

This summer already seems to be becoming a summer of love (just ask Tiny1...), and I myself have come so close to joining in, having actually been kissed! by a girl! who I like! If anyone cares for the outcome of that, heres a summery I can get away with. You know how some of you get regular sex? You know how some of you get any sex at all? I didn't, and it doesn't seem I will.

So really, the best way of turning my situation around, is to look at what I'm doing wrong in the eyes of women, and correct it. Has anyone else seen the flaw in this already?

That's right, not even the women know what they're after!

It is commonly quoted that "women like nice guys". A fine principle, but it only works fifty per cent of the time. I'm told repeatedly, by women and men, that I'm a nice guy (hell, if I don;t brag, no one will), and I've been very single for nearly a year and a half. With only half a dozen stolen kisses, and the very rare grope (without the favour returned, usually) to tide me by.

Common sense dictates that "women like fit guys". Which is obvious, since guys like fit girls. Note for the not-English: fit as in attractive, not fit as in muscley. Muscley women are an eyesore, I believe. The problem lies in what defines a fit guy, since women are far worse at promoting what they look for in men than us men do for women. And its hardly like I'm an eyesore. Apart from the vague mantitties. And the gangly arms. And the Mick Jagger Mullet. It may sound a lot, but really, is it so much?

Is it my metalhead appearence? I like my baggy, slightly muddy jeans. They show how "metal" I am. If I were told this were the problem, I'd be quite screwed, since my entire wardrobe is full of baggy, frayed, easily-muddied jeans. And is there so much wrong with a beanie in high summer?

Basically, I can't see what I'm doing wrong, and I'm not convinced that the readership of this 'ere blog is in a position to enlighen me, being mostly male, or failing that, just good friends. Neither really material for falling in love with. There is occasionly one exception, but she's essentially shot me down, and I'm still a-burning.

Is it just confidence? You wouldn't know it to hear me over the Internet. Or even know it to look at me, provided I already know. Yes, I am flamboyantly confident, but only because of familiarity. If I went into a bar without my rampant hoardes, chances are I'd have a few pints and leave, unable to muster the confidence to actually even try and talk to a girl, let alone drag her home for a night in the sack, let alone anything near a serious relationship.

So, I don't know.

Oh, I'm sorry, were you after something funny? Try the chap next door...