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Man it must be sweet being a Politician. You get an easy job where you don’t have to do anything or listen to anybody, but you still get a sweet ass paycheck at the end of it. You get to swindle your taxes with no repercussions, you can commit crimes and just get a slap on the wrist for it. You get a bonus just for turning up for work, even though you don’t actually have to turn up for work cause nobody says anything if you just sit at home instead of doing your job. Also you get two homes, and you probably don’t have to pay tax on them either! You get to cosy up to the Prime Minister and remind him that poor people are a bunch of dicks, and that all the stuff they are entitled to is really just unnecessary and that money should be better spent on bonuses. Bonuses for politicians, because they’re the ones who make all the smart moves with regards to our country. Well, the ones who bother to turn up. Also, you don’t get a soul! No need to lug that heavy soul around all the time, that saves effort and saves your back being sore having to carry it around all day. Sign me up for being a lazy useless politician. I’m lazy and useless anyways, may as well get paid for it

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There is an awful lot of hoo-hah these days about the Ebola virus, about how bloody dangerous this thing is and about how we’re all going to die from an epidemic of ebola, as if we’re all eating the fucking virus for breakfast. I think that the last few weeks of bizarre hysteria have been off putting and slightly irritating. People are afraid to leave their houses now! People are now so afraid of ebola, that they are unwilling to go out and lick the faces of those who have contracted ebola! Thats a crying shame, that. So let me relieve you all of your fears, let me quash some of the myths about ebola and try to help you all live your lives again. I’m going to dispel some of the myths and rumours that are floating around the internet, to try and get us all living our lives again. Lets not live in fear anymore, lets go out and lick the faces of people who have ebola, like we used to do! In the good old days! Ok, whatever, lets do this.

1: Licking the face of somebody who has ebola WON’T ACTUALLY give you ebola. This is actually a true fact. I know a lot of you are reading this and expecting me to bullshit most of it, and trust me thats coming. But I figured I’d start with an actual true fact just to get the ball rolling. If somebody with ebola licked YOUR face, you might be in trouble. But generally ebola doesn’t travel unless its through bodily fluids. So if you kiss someone with ebola on the actual lips and transfer some kind of mouth liquid between yourselves, then you’ve probably got ebola. And if you’re a vampire and you’re having a snack on somebody’s neck, just having a little nip of blood, and it turns out that person has ebola, then you have it too. But if you shake hands with someone who has ebola, you’re gonna be fine. Its not as contagious as you’d think it is. But of course, I WOULD say that, as I’m the largest shareholder in the new ‘Anti-Ebola’ vaccine that has just been produced, so obviously I’m going to try and get you all to catch ebola so you’ll all go and buy my vaccine and make me loads of money. In fact I totally made up the ebola virus, it’s all a big scam designed to make me loads of money, ahahahaha! … Oh wait I shouldn’t have told you all this, crap. Forget you read any of this. Well, don’t forget you read the beginning bit, because that bit is true. Just forget the bit where I said I was going to make lots of money off you suckers. Oh whatever, just move on to point 2.

2: Ebola is more popular than Michael Jackson. When was the last time you heard someone talking about Michael Jackson? Bloody years ago, probably. When was the last time you heard someone talking about ebola? The beginning of this fucking article, thats where! Plus, any time you go onto Facebook or Twitter or switch on the television and the news is on, bam! Ebola. Yet no mention of Michael Jackson at all. Can ebola really be THAT bad? I mean we’re all talking about it. And if Big Brother has shown us, if something is on television a lot, it can’t POSSIBLY be a terrible blight on humanity.

3: Ebola is NOT an anagram of ‘sex monkey’, it just isn’t. I mean I have no idea where that rumour came from, thats just nonsense. Whats wrong with you people? There’s no y in ebola at all! Doesn’t make any sense.

4: I can’t think of a fourth one, go onto number five.

5: Ebola does not make the skeletons of the dead rise up and play steel drums. There is literally NO chance of this happening. Most of the dead skeletons have turned to dust by now anyway, given the way erosion works. Time makes fools of us all, especially skeletons. Anyway, ebola kills people, it doesn’t bring people back to life. Think about it! Use logic!

6: Oh, I thought of a new one! Ebola is less dangerous than sharks. Sharks aren’t even that dangerous, and let me explain why. Sharks live in the sea! And everybody reading this, I can guarantee, does NOT live in the sea. Fact. This is what my Tumblr page is all about, y’see. Facts. Anyway, so every year on average there is around about 4.2 shark attacks on people, whereas ebola has only killed … er… like, 4000 people. Oh. whoops. Ok, scratch this one.

7: Ebola is less dangerous that going hot air ballooning! Fact! And this tumblr page is all about facts, yessir. I couldn’t find any legitimate statistics about hot air balloons, so I’ll just make them up. Did you know that 46 million people die from hot air ballooning EVERY YEAR?! Thats a lot of deaths! Although thats to be expected when you decide to float high above the sky in nothing but wicker and flammable gas. Eh, live and learn. Whereas the statistics for ebola are readily available because everybody is talking about it. Only around 4000 people have died from ebola this year, thats not even CLOSE to the 46 million people that died from hot air ballooning! Fact. And I wouldn’t lie to you guys, would I? Of course not.

So there we have it. I’m pretty sure I’ve been able to calm you all down, and we can make this hysteria about ebola just go away and fade out completely. Lets not let a deadly virus and a potentially lethal epidemic ruin our lives! We’ve got so much other stuff to be doing, we can’t spend our lives living in fear! Lets go out and do something with ourselves. Lets go hot air ballooning, I hear thats a fun thing to do…

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Apparently its national poem day or somefink leik dat, so I figured I’d write a poem especially for such a fine and memorable day.


Walking barefoot in the snow
As to why he doesn’t know
But a great way to spend a day
Sat there watching the tides
Disappear off the sides
The sky is a miserable grey
World spins faster in his head
Especially when he goes to bed
As for why he cannot say

(or mustn’t)

He keeps it all inside his head
Until the very day he’s dead
And the world might never know
They wouldn’t want to anyway
All the things he has to say
All the weights upon his brow
Nobody has the time
To prevent such a crime
The world won’t watch him grow

(and then he realises he’s just talking a load of old bollocks on a corner of the internet that nobody dares to venture into)

The sand hits the side of the hourglass
The world spins on regardless
And nothing more was said

If not for himself
Then do it for her
And the future will right itself.

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Another dreaaaaaaam! I should really stop writing these and showing them off to the internet, I guess. But then on the other hand nobody reads this piss anyway, so I guess I can get away with it. Huzzah. Whatever.

So I can’t really remember the beginning, all I remember is that I’m driving through a town (that resembles Banbridge a little) in my car. I’m driving down a big hill but then I realise I’m going the wrong way, so when I get to the bottom of the hill I swing my car around to the right and go a different way. As I move around it turns out that I’m no longer driving my car, I’m actually walking around on a little path, in like a park or something. I get to the edge of this little tunnel that brings us to another part of the park, and I realise the guy standing beside me is Chris Jericho. So I strike up a conversation with Jericho, but he doesn’t say anything, he just kind of looks at me and then walks on through the tunnel. So I start tying my shoelaces, because my shoelaces were untied. And I look up to see Chris Jericho waving at me, trying to beckon me through the tunnel so he can answer my questions. And I’m all ‘Dude, I’m tying my shoelaces here!’ So he decides to wait.

Anyway, so eventually I tie my shoelaces and I follow Chris Jericho through the tunnel and out onto the other side. So we’re just sitting on the grass in the park there, shooting the shit and hanging out. I’m trying to ask him difficult questions he might not have been asked before. Unfortunately I can’t remember any of the questions, but whatever. Anyway, eventually one of my friends comes over out of nowhere, she just appears, and I’m so happy to see her I kiss her on the chin, for no real reason at all. So now we’re all just hanging out in the sunshine, me and my friend and Chris Jericho. After a while a girl I used to work with joins this little posse, so now there is four of us sitting on the grass enjoying the sun.

Suddenly the scene changes. We’re no longer sitting outside in the sun, we’re sitting inside my new apartment in the city. I don’t actually have an apartment in the city, of course, but my head thinks I do, and it dreamt up a pretty snazzy pad for me. Anyway so Chris Jericho is long gone, but that is of no concern of mine. The girl I used to work with is still hanging out, we’re just watching TV or whatever, but my friend has disappeared and so I go looking for her. I know one of my other friends has an apartment nearby, so I run all the way out of my apartment, down the road, and into my friends apartment just looking for this person. I can’t find her, so I dejectedly walk back to my own place. Back into my place I go, and I walk into my bedroom. Who should be sound asleep in my bed but my friend, the very person I was looking for? Glad that she’s safe, I close the door and let her sleep on for a bit. Then there’s a knock at my door and its my sister delivering a Nintendo magazine to me. Seems normal enough. And then that was it, I got woke up by one of those cold caller guys phoning me about some nonsense or other. What pricks. Ruined a perfectly good dream.

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Yay, new dream alert! This blog of crap is slowly turning into a big catalogue of my stupid dreams. Anyway, here’s another one. So I’m in this big house, right? Big big house, like a mansion. Its so big that one of its big-ass rooms has been converted into a Church. Imagine a big Church. Now imagine that Church is attached to your house. Thats a big house, right? Right. Anyway, so I’ve been invited to a wedding, and the wedding is being held at this Church that happens to be attached to somebody’s house, which is why I’m sitting there. But get this guys, things get even better. You know how when you go to a wedding you get like, a plus one invitation? Well check this out fellas, I’m sitting at this wedding and I actually have a legitimate woman as my plus one! Thats right guys, I’m at a wedding with an honest to God woman! Its like the wedding of my dreams! Quite literally, cause this is a dream I’m having. Anyway so I’m pleased as punch to be sitting beside a person who actually wants to hang out with me, thats a lovely thing, and we’re sitting at the back of this Church cause we’re the cool kids, just hanging out and waiting for this wedding to start. We soon hear word of a commotion, however. People are crowding round me and alerting me of the possibility that somebody is wandering around the house and could interrupt the wedding ceremony. God knows why they’re telling me this, what do they expect me to do about it? I’m not the fucking wedding saving guy, am I? I don’t believe I am.

Anyway these cats keep annoying me about helping, whenever none of them can actually be arsed to help. So I figure I’ll do it just so we can start this stupid wedding and I can go back to hanging out with my new friend, who is called Kiki. I walk out towards the main doors of this grand Church thing, but am roughly shooed away by the relatives of the Bride, who tell me I’m not allowed to leave through this entrance because the Bride is back there, and nobody is allowed to see the Bride before the wedding! I thought that rule only applied to the Groom, but the Brides relatives are insistent that I do not leave through that door, despite the fact that I’m the only one in that fucking Church who is willing to help save the wedding from whatever stranger is roaming around the other rooms in this house. Dreams man, they don’t make no sense. Eventually I find another way out of that drafty old God-house and I find myself in the main hallway of this actual house.

Shit me man, this is a big house. This hallway is almost as big as the Church I just walked through, with grand staircases leading up super high, and big ol’ windows showing off the grand gardens outside. I decide to start looking upstairs, and I’ll work my way down. Makes sense at the time. Suddenly I’m on the top floor of this house, cause this is a dream and dreams like to skip boring bits like climbing up 4 flights of stairs or whatever. So I’m checking out every room in this giant drafty house, and I don’t see nobody, so I move onto the second floor, and then to the first floor, and finally back to the ground floor. Every room I’m in is covered in darkness, no lights apparently, but natural light from the moon is enough to illuminate most of the rooms adequately, as well as illuminating the gardens outside. Man those are some big gardens. Who could be arsed keeping those gardens looking so good? Not me, thats for sure.

Anyway, so I’m on the ground floor and there isn’t a prowler prowling around, I saw nobody that could ruin this little wedding, so we’re all good. I attempt to go back into the Church, but suddenly nobody lets me in and they look pretty pissed off at me. I am perplexed. I saw no prowler, no creeper, no miscreant who could disrupt such a wonderful occasion. Why is everyone so angry? Apparently the wedding is now off and everyone is pissed off at ME! Apparently new evidence has come out to say that I was the one who ruined the wedding. While I was galavanting around that fucking mansion looking for someone who might ruin this wedding, the entire congregation got together and decided that I was the one who ruined everything. Before the wedding took place there was a live camera set up for guest to document their thoughts and feelings on the happy couple and the wonderful day. Now APPARENTLY, some evil heartless being decided to hijack the camera somewhat, acting like a dick in front of it (as I often do in front of cameras) before choosing to lie down and sleep in front of it for about an hour. So apparently I ruined all the footage. And THIS tiny insignificant trivial thing is apparently enough for them to cancel the wedding. Red faces all around. I feel so silly, having ruined their stupid wedding footage. Anyway they won’t let me back in, which hardly matters as everybody runs out past me, most of them with angry faces. I lose sight of Kiki. Uncool.

The dream fast-forwards til about a day or two afterwards. I’m in a car driving down to a beach somewhere, we’re almost there. I’m not driving, I’m the passenger, looking out the window and watching all the crap sail past my face. We park, we disembark, and we walk down to the beach. I see a large group of people on the beach, and I am relieved. Obviously I’m looking for somebody in particular, and I see her standing near the back. There’s Kiki! Everyone ran away the other day during the wedding fiasco and I never got to properly explain what happened. I assumed she’d be pretty pissed at me since I ruined everything, but I still wanted a chance to explain stuff. So I make a bee line for her, and everyone else in the group notices me and starts booing me. Yeah, they’re all booing me for ruining a wedding. Assholes. Anyway, Kiki and someone else who I think might be her brother and I walk away from this stupid group, and it turns out these two cool cats are still on my side, they don’t care that I ruined a wedding nobody cares about. So we all go on a little beach adventure! We’re hanging around this cool little cove near the sea, walking around and hanging out. I realise I don’t have any shoes on when I step on some stray wood and end up pulling a splinter out of my foot. We climb up out of the cove and it takes us onto a little path that leads up a mountain. Kikis brother/friend wants to climb the mountain with the group of people we saw earlier, but I decide to go back to the car to get my shoes, and Kiki decides to come with me. How sweet! Finally we get a chance to hang out.

And then I woke up. Nice work, head. Another dream that could have been salvaged, ruined by the wakening world. Boo. Kiki I believe, is the name of one of the cats from Animal Crossing. One of my favourite villagers. So thats probably where I got the name from. If there’s anyone out there called Kiki, get in touch, maybe we could go to the beach sometime. Not to a wedding though, I’ll probably find a way to balls that up.

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So last night I had another delightful dream which I decided to write down. I should catalogue these like the way I catalogue all the other crap on this stupid site, but y’know, I don’t have time. I’m too busy designing my own helicopter and finding out ways to turn diamonds into coal. Important stuff, yeah? I got bigger fish to fry, if you know what I mean. That reminds me, I need to buy a really big fryer. Those fish aren’t going to fry themselves you know. Except for the Frying Fish that has been known to jump into batter of its own accord, but I digress. You didn’t come here to read about fish-frying, you came here for… er…. I dunno why you came here, I guess that was a mistake on your part. But you’re here now, so y’know, pull up a chair or whatever. God I suck at introductions.

Alright, so I had a dream last night where me and three other friends were walking down a road right beside my house. My stupid brain refused to let me recall exactly which of my friends were accompanying me in this little trip, all I can remember is that there were three other figures with me. So we’re talking down this little road, and at the bottom theres a turn to the left up a big hill. So we’re walking up a big hill now, and we see a figure walking down the hill towards us. He’s got like, a kinda dark purple jumper on, and dark trousers. The most notable thing about this chap though, is that he’s wearing a big black balaclava with eye holes cut out in it. So we all start laughing to ourselves, y’know? There hasn’t been a guy walking around Ireland wearing a black balaclava with eye holes cut out of it for years and years, this is silly and ridiculous to us. Obviously this isn’t silly and ridiculous to the man wearing the balaclava with eye holes cut out of it, because he pulls a gun out of somewhere and points it at me,

I don’t get a whole lot of time to contemplate what is going on, and before I even get the chance to contemplate that I don’t have a whole lot of time to contemplate what is going on, the guy shoots me in the neck. Just to the right of my neck, kinda at the back. I go down, and he then shoots me in the back, right at the bottom, again kinda to the right side. So I’m down, man. I’m on the ground, face down, with this shooting pain in my back. The one in my neck doesn’t hurt so bad. I hit the ground and turn my head so its facing down the hill, so I can see whatever else happens. I’m playing dead because I don’t want this guy to shoot me again, and I watch him plow through my friends as well. I can’t quite see how or where he’s shot them, just that they all seem to hit the ground too. This guy, he just walks away without saying a thing. So y’know, I’m not happy.

I drag myself slowly down the hill to the road we were on previously, and we all kinda lie on the road there, mulling over how fucked we all are. Morale is low at that point, shall we say. I’m lying on my back, hoping that pressing myself against tarmac will keep the blood in. I try phoning an ambulance, but I realise that my phone won’t make calls to any phone number that has less than 5 numbers in it (I’ve noticed that whenever something bad happens in my dreams, and I try to fix it using my phone, my brain sabotages everything and finds a way to deny me medical assistance. I find this very interesting.) so my phone is essentially useless in this crisis. Then, bizarrely, that guy Rainn Wilson, dressed like is from the American Office, walks down the same road we’re all lying on in pain. So I call out ‘Hey whatsisname, phone us an ambulance, yeah?’ and he does. Nicest thing is, he decides to sit with us and wait for the ambulance to arrive. He didn’t have to, clearly he had other places to be, but he sat and waited with us anyway. Everyone always gives those Hollywood types a bad rap, but this guy seems all right. Or at least my head thinks he’s all right.

So we’re waiting there, patiently, all of us feeling like we’re about to die (except Rainn Wilson, who has emerged unscathed from this situation), and I look up the hill we just stumbled down from, the hill where we all got shot. And I see probably the most terrifying thing ever, which is the balaclava man making his way down the hill again, walking straight for us. So I’m all ‘uh oh, looks like some people gonna die?” I’ve decided by this point that I ain’t gonna sit around and let this guy shoot me again, so I get to my feet (in an extreme amount of pain, natch) and stumble away. I can’t remember what everyone else does, maybe they sit there and accept their fate, but I ain’t about to let myself get shot again. My house is really close to this road we’re lying on, so I muster up as much strength as I have and stumble towards my house. I don’t know how this guy can’t catch up to me, since I’ve been shot twice and I’m pretty weak, but I somehow manage to get to my house before he reaches me. And of course, whenever you’re in a hurry to get into your house, thats when you can never find your keys. I’m pulling keys out of my pockets, keys I’ve never seen before jamming them desperately into the lock to try and get the bloody door to open. And it doesn’t open. There is a point where I kind of just sigh to myself and almost resign myself to fate, although I never stop trying to open that door.

And then I woke up. One can only assume that had the dream continued, I’d have been shot a few more times and left for dead on the stoop of my own house. Thems the breaks, I guess.

Photo Set

garfbertcomic:

K. Thor Jensen is a writer and cartoonist and the author of the graphic novels Red Eye, Black Eye and the upcoming Cloud Stories. Follow @kthorjensen on Twitter.

Source: garfbertcomic
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A lady in her mid thirties sits by a bar and looks into the glass of wine she’s just bought for herself. It looks the same as the last time she looked at it, not two moments before. It was one moment before. Anyway, she’s looking at her glass of wine, wondering why she ever even ordered it. She’s not really a big fan of wine, but all those famous people she sees on TV sit around drinking wine all the time. She can’t really see the big deal. Maybe its a rich thing, maybe you have to be a rich person to understand the mysteries of wine. Maybe you have to own a Land Rover but never drive it anywhere except for the school run and to Tescos to get the deep meaning behind wine. Who knows?

The seat beside her at the bar is empty, as its nearly closing time. A man stumbles into the bar, using the walls to hold himself up, and he wobbles over to her. His attention is mainly focused on the bar itself, to be fair, that is his main destination point. Once he makes it there, then he can observe his surroundings in full, or in as full a way as a man who is incredibly drunk could possibly observe anything. He slaps his elbows down on the counter and uses his hands to hold his face up as he barks an order towards the man standing behind the bar.

Drunk: Yo! One beer, pour favour, meester.

Bartender: Are you drunk?

The drunk man looks around him in a wildly over exaggerated manner.

Drunk: Err… Why I suppose I am! Aren’t I in a fucking pub? Gimmie a beer.

Bartender: You got money?

The drunk man reaches into his jacket pocket and drops some scrunched up paper money and a handful of coins onto the counter of the bar.

Bartender: You promise you won’t make a scene or piss anybody else off?

Drunk: I’ll promise you whatever you want, darling. Gimmie a beer.

The bartender sighs and pours the man another pint of beer, as the drunk watches the pouring process carefully. He slides the finished pint over to the drunk and starts to root around the change on the counter, looking for the correct change. He decides to take a few coins for himself, as a little tip for having to deal with this drunk. The drunk doesn’t notice, he’s too busy worshipping the little glass of death right in front of him. He eagerly grabs it and chugs down a few gulps. The woman sipping at her wine beside him looks disgusted. Disgusted in the man for being so revolting. Disgusted in the bartender for taking his own little tip. Disgusted in herself for sitting there in the first place. She really should be at home. The drunk gulps down some more beer before he turns and looks at the woman. His eyes adjust to the shape in front of him, and he soon realises that he’s sitting beside a girl.

Drunk: … Hey gorgeous, what’s your name?

Woman: Cindy.

Her name isn’t Cindy.

Drunk: Cindy? That sure is a stupid name. I think that name would look better on my floor, heheheh, know what I mean?

Woman: No.

Drunk: Ha, don’t be such a proooooode, I’m just trying to talk to you.

Woman: Well you’re actually being a little irritating.

Drunk: Those are some nice tits you’ve got there. So how about you and me get out of here and find some bushes we could fuck in?

Woman: Eww.

Drunk: I get the vibe that you don’t wanna talk to me, huh?

Woman: Whatever gave you that idea?

She immediately regrets having said this, since this guy is probably too drunk to understand or appreciate sarcasm.

Drunk: Listen, I can’t remember what we were just talking about. Hey, so what say me and you find a bathroom stall or something? My house is really nearby, only like 14 miles away, we can get a taxi or whatever.

Woman: Listen, I don’t mean to sound rude, but obviously you don’t mind so I’ll just go ahead and sound rude anyway. You have to leave me alone, I just want to sit here in peace.

Drunk: Aww, whats a lovely girl like you doin’ drinking by your own anyway? Wouldn’t you rather be drinking with somebody? Somebody like meeeee?

He elongates words randomly, and that just gives her more of a chance to smell his rancid breath. She turns to him sternly.

Woman: Listen. I’m a woman, and as a woman I’m entitled to be able to sit here miserably and drink an alcoholic drink by myself without having to be annoyed by male chauvinists, alright?

The drunk man looks confused, and only partly because he’s drunk.

Drunk: Chavva-wha-wha? What’d you just call me?

Woman: A chauvinist.

Drunk: … Chevrolet?

Woman: No! I called you a chauvinist.

The drunk man continues to look confused.

Drunk: What’s that then, some kind of sandwich?

Woman: What? No. It means that you have a disparaging view of me simply because I’m a woman, that you believe you can treat other women whatever way you want and talk to them however you want simply because you’re a man and you think you’re better than me.

Drunk: Whu..? Ok hold on now, first of all you said some things really fast there. Second of all, can I have another beer?

Woman:

The bartender inserts his head into this scene.

Bartender: I think you’ve had enough to drink.

The drunk man continues talking to the woman as if she were the bartender, not at all surprised about how she has apparently changed her voice.

Drunk: I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough, meester!

Woman: …How drunk are you?

Drunk: What? Ok what is going on here?

The bartender shakes his head and removes himself from the scene once again.

Woman: I think you drink too much, and thats what brings on some of these chauvinistic thoughts you have. I’m sure when you’re sober you’re perfectly normal and rational, but you also have to understand that you can’t talk down to women like that, drunk or otherwise. We’re all the same people here, right? Being chauvinistic is like being racist, and by that I mean it’s unacceptable. We live in the 21st century, we have advanced so much, humanity has come so far and done so much, and yet we can’t even learn how to be respectable to each other.

The drunk pauses, mulling this all over. For once the words seem to have gone in one ear and then lodged themselves in the brain, unable to escape through the other ear. The man sits thoughtfully, clutching his pint as if his life depended on it.

Drunk: Well I guess I can be a little belligerent when I’ve been drinking… I mean I didn’t mean to offend anyone…

Woman: You should have heard yourself earlier, you sounded quite horrific. You wanted to find some bushes we could… ‘fuck’ in.

A smile creeps across the drunks face, as if to say ‘heh, thats right, I DID say that, classic me!’ but then it disappears once he realises the woman is glaring at him.

Drunk: I’m sorry… that’s just the way I do things, y’know? Just how I was brought up…

Woman: Well that is a lame excuse. You’re a grown man, for Gods sake! How can an adult like yourself have gotten this far in life thinking thats its ok to talk to people like that, simply because thats how things worked when you were younger? Can’t you empathise with your fellow man at all? Are you incapable of understanding that other people have feelings too, and that the way you conduct yourself around people directly impacts those feelings?

The drunk man loosens his grip on his pint significantly, his fingers barely wrapped around it now.

Drunk: I just… nobody said it was a bad thing… see I saw women and they liked it…

Woman: Well that’s a lie. Nobody likes being spoken to as if they are insignificant and worthless.

The drunk man sits quietly and thinks about all this silently. The women has another sip of her disgusting wine. All she wanted to do was get drunk in a place that wasn’t her own house, now she’s starting to think that it would have been easier to just stay at home with that bottle of gin. Ah well, there’s always tomorrow.

Drunk: … Was I really  that far out of line?

Woman: Yes. You were making me incredibly uncomfortable, and making it seem like I was unable to do some of the most basic things around. Imagine if somebody went around spoiling your trips to the bar, making you feel uncomfortable and vulnerable every time you had a drink.

Drunk: … That’d really suck.

Woman: Yah huh it would suck. So y’know, maybe next time you feel like being obnoxious and lecherous around women, you’ll take a step back and think it through.

Drunk: Yeah… yeah, you know what? That makes sense, maybe I have been a bit of a pig. That’d explain why I’m so miserably single.

Woman: Being single doesn’t have to be a miserable thing, just so you know.

Drunk: Well you know what? I’m going to try all that, y’know? Maybe I should drink less, be a bit less obconcious or whatever it was you just said.

Woman: Yes, definitely be a little less… obconcious. People will like you more.

The drunk sits there for a little longer. He looks at his almost finished pint of beer, and he pushes it away from himself. He stands up from his chair and adjusts his hat (crap, did I mention he was wearing a hat earlier? Shoot. Well he’s wearing a hat, as evident by the manner in which he happens to be adjusting it at this present moment and time) and nods solemnly at the lady.

Drunk: Hey, I’m sorry I was such a dick earlier. I really didn’t mean to scare you or annoy you or nothing.

Woman: S’alright.

Drunk: Maybe you’re right. Maybe everybody should just take a step back and understand that life revolves around more than one person, that we should be a little bit more respectful to those that we share this planet with. For if we were on this planet by ourselves, it’d be a terribly boring existence.

Woman: Exactly.

Drunk: Well then I shall bid you good day, m’lady. I apologise once again for my deplorable behaviour, and now I shall take my leave, by exiting through that door right over there.

The drunk points to the doors that lead to the toilets. She goes to correct him but finds its more fun to watch him stumble into the bathroom, then to stumble out again and eventually stumble through the correct door, the door that leads to the outside of the pub. She smiles to herself, maybe she was actually able to reach this man. It seems unlikely, since he was pretty drunk, but she feels good, good that she might have done a little bit of good in the world. And the man, from that day on he decided to turn over a new leaf, to be less of a horrible person. He decided from then on that he would do his best to be respectful to everybody. And then a piano fell on him.

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When I was younger my friend came up to me and he was all ‘Dude, I’ve seen the funniest film ever, you have to see it. You’ll love it’ and I was obviously dubious. The funniest film ever, huh? Pretty lofty expectations there. I’d love it, would I? I’m notoriously empty of love, for something to make my black little heart beat with joy would be quite a thing, something to cherish forever. I highly doubted there was such a thing, something that could alleviate my unhappy teenage heart. But the boy insisted and I felt like I should at least watch the film, just to see what it was like.

Let me make clear that back then, and since then, I have been told about the best film ever, or the funniest film ever, or the bestest ever whatever. Almost every time I’ve been disappointed with the build up. No film could live up to the extreme hype that we give to stuff. Like we feel the best way to persuade someone into enjoying something you also enjoy isn’t to just say ‘Hey I like this thing, maybe you’ll like it too’, we have to be all ‘oh DUDE! Its the best thing ever, its like the best film you’ve ever seen TIMES A MILLION! Its so good, its like ice cream and pizza and being rich all had a baby and the baby was a film, and the baby film grew into adulthood and turns out it was a woman film with big ol’ boobies, THATS how good this film is!’. Which is just pointless.

The problem I find with comedy films is that comedy as a subject is incredibly broad, it can reach everybody, but comedy films are always very focused as if they can be categorized. Comedy films for kids, and for teenagers, and for adults, gross out comedies and romantic comedies and dark comedies, which meant all the jokes were specific jokes, y’know? There was no zaniness or slapstick or anything else that everybody could understand and enjoy, there was no real imagination or out-of-the-box kinda jokes (since I guess they don’t sell tickets, or whatever) and they always had subplots or other complications that took away from the comedy. I wanted wall to wall laughs of just the weirdest, most imaginative comedy ever. FIlms like that are notoriously difficult to find, so my expectations for this one were very low.

Anyway, so I go round to his house after school one day, and he has the film on this old VHS, his dad had taped the film off the TV years ago. Already I was dubious, but we went ahead. The film started as he told me the name of the film, Mr Jolly Lives Next Door (part of the Comic Strip Presents…, a series of films made by some madly funny comedians in the 80s and 90s, but I had no knowledge of this when I was watching it. None of that meant anything to me at the time) and still wasn’t swayed. That was a strange name for a film, right? So I’m sitting there with my arms folded in a vaguely huffy manner, waiting for this train wreck of a film to be over.

Man, I’ve never been so happy to be wrong. Hell, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be that happy ever again. That film nailed everything I found funny. It was as if somebody had taken all the ideas I’d have put into my perfect comedy film, and then made it 20 years earlier. It really, legitimately, was the greatest thing I had ever seen. After years of having watched comedy films with weak comedy and crappy plot points just for a crappy smushy feel-good ending, I got a good hour of full on jokes, slapped into your face as quick as you can process them. Admittedly not all of them were good, but still the fact that this film was going out of its way to make you laugh was a plus point. I didn’t get characters people could identify with, or likeable protagonists or a heartwarming ending, it went against everything what makes a successfully selling comedy film from Hollywood, and it was the bestest thing ever. I was so happy. It kind of felt like they’d made it just for me and my friend, we knew about this little film while the rest of the world had no idea. The rest of the world had American Pie and we had Mr Jolly Lives Next Door, and we were winning. 

Anyway, in case you didn’t know, one of the lead actors and writers in that amazing piece of film was called Rik Mayall, and he died today. And so this post is all about why that totally sucks. Go watch Mr Jolly Lives Next Door, you might not find it funny, but you gotta admire the way they feed you jokes. They want you to laugh, whereas Hollywood comedies these days expect you to laugh. I dunno, I’m too sad to type stuff.

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What happens when you get an undercover cop that needs to go back to primary school to pull some kind of weird, contrived, awkwardly put together undercover plans that involves going undercover in an undercover-y kind of way. Because when you’re an undercover cop, there’s only one kind of cover you understand, and its under. Its Primary-Cop Undercover Madness, the new summer blockbuster starring some douchebag! Here’s a clip.

The undercover cop is sitting in the middle of a class room full of primary school children. He’s wearing an ill fitting school uniform from the 1920s, complete with stupid little hat. He’s also wearing a leather jacket with his police badge on it over the top. He’s sat behind a desk that is definitely too small for him, sitting on a chair that is also definitely too small for him. He jostles uncomfortably in his seat as the teacher draws something on the blackboard (or African American board for the politically correct people who lurk amongst us) for the class.

Teacher: Ok children, who can tell me what shape THIS is?

She points at a triangle she has drawn on the board. All of the children really start to think hard about this, scratching their chins in an overexaggerated manner because children can’t fucking act. The undercover cop shifts uncomfortably in his seat again, waiting patiently for one of these little idiots to answer the question. Nobody does, so eventually he slaps his fists down onto the table in anger.

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: Its a goddamn triangle you stupid pricks!

Teacher: Dirk! You aren’t allowed to use naughty language in this classroom, how dare you! You have to go sit in the naughty corner.

All the children whoop appropriately as they get to watch one of their fellow classmates be punished. Dirk Cop does not look amused.

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: I ain’t sitting nowhere! Hurry up and tell us all what a fucking rectangle is already!

Teacher: Go to the naughty corner or there’ll be no chocolate milk for anybody later!

All the children groan and start throwing balled up pieces of paper at the undercover cop.

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: Alright, alright! I’ll sit in the fucking naughty corner already!

Teacher: Dirk! That’s a double punishment for using so much bad language!

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: What? DOUBLE punishment? Oh goddamn it!

Teacher: Triple punishment!

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop:

Dirk stands up and kicks his desk over, then angrily goes to sit in the punishment area, throwing crayons all over the floor as he sits down and puts his feet up on the little desk.

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: I fucking hate the naughty corner…

One of the kids seated close to Dirk raises his hand urgently.

Timmy: Miss, miss! Dirk just said another naughty word!

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: Oh, you little prick! I’m gonna kill your family for that one..

Teacher: Dirk Cop, how many times must I tell you to watch your mouth?! I am trying to teach a class here!

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: Well you’re not trying very fucking hard, are you?

Timmy: Stop being mean to teacher!

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: Shut your face, you fucking snitch! Oh I’ve had it up to here with you!

Dirk Cop pulls out his gun and points it point blank at Timmys head.

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: I’ve had enough of this shit, alright? Stop fucking me around all the goddamn time! Look, I’ll sit in the fucking naughty spot or whatever right now, ok? But at lunchtime, I’m having chocolate milk with everybody else, and at playtime I’M getting first dibs on the slide! Ok?

Everybody remains silent as Dirk continues to point a gun at Timmy.

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: OK?!?

The class all murmer that its ok.

Teacher: Fine. Just sit down and put the gun away.

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: Heh… thats what ALL the ladies say to me!

Dirk elbows Timmy in the ribs to try and get him to appreciate the funny joke he just told, but Timmy is scared from the gun and starts crying and stuff.

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: Heh, what a prick. You wouldn’t last five minutes on the street, man. I’ve SEEN things. Scary things. 

Dirk pulls out a cigar and starts to light it up. The teacher looks angry, and slaps a meter ruler down on her desk to demand attention.

Teacher: No cigars!

Dirk Cop, Undercover Cop: What, seriously? Man, going to school is hard…

Dirk throws the cigar out a nearby open window, but it turns out the window wasn’t actually open, so the cigar bounces off the window and lands on little Timmy, burning him to death. End of clip. Its the feelgood film of the summer, show it to your grandparents. They’ll LOVE it.