Reasons why I’m not a c*nt

Reasons why I’m not a c*nt.

This is going to be a short article.

Erm… maybe.

Yeeeee nah, I’m a c*nt really.

Click the link below. You’d better like swearing though. There’s a fuckton of swearing, and for the less educated amongst you, that’s like 1000 shittons. So if you don’t like professional industrial level swearing which would put a roughneck to shame, or if you’re a snowflake, then scroll on by and have a nice life, otherwise read on.

Continue reading Reasons why I’m not a c*nt

Rantlets – Murder, Freakiness & The young who can’t use a telephone

So – Rantlets – A series of mini-rants on random topics

I do love a smash of random rants – good for the soul.

These Rantlets have been brewing for a while, eking out their thin veil of truth, trust, and a bucket full of sardonic-mode moral outrage. I’m letting them roam into the thoughts of the public. Keep Calm, and RANT on!

Just as a strict disclaimer… If you’re offended by this, assuredly none of the below (Or anything on this site) is targeted at you as an individual. Nothing here is anything-phobic, or rasist, or anything baring a good rant and dark-sardonic humour. If you’re offended, scroll on by and enjoy your life. If you laughed at this article – I like you 🙂

Continue reading Rantlets – Murder, Freakiness & The young who can’t use a telephone

A deep dive of the killer-chicken spabbit-hole

Today I stumbled upon summarized trash-science piece headlined “Eating fried chicken every day could mean you die earlier, according to a new study”.

Oh dear.

A internal conversation was immediately kicked off in my mind, it went something like this:

  • Voice 1:
      Oh shit, I’ve eaten a LOT of fried chicken!
  • Voice 2:
      It was delicious.
  • Voice 1:
      But if you carry on, you’ll die.
  • Voice 2:
      I welcome the prospect of death by fried chicken.
  • Voice 2:
      I want KFC, now.
  • Voice 1:
      Well you can’t – it’s not even 7 in the morning.
  • Voice 2:
      Fuck.
  • Voice 1:
      Meh.
  • Voice 2:
      *silently plots to have a KFC later*

You think that’s bad? I have to put up with that 24/7 – and sometimes, I don’t even know what those inner voices are plotting. Fuckers.

Oh, and don’t even think of Googling “Killer Chicken”, apparently in some-place somewhere it’s a thing:

Bit of a shitty post

Shit-headAs the title implies, this post will detail the one thing in life which we all have in common (Apart from dying, butt that’s taking the darkness too far around the u-bend)… And that is shit – poop, shite, discharge, dung, and stool. Merde, Scheisse, Kak, Mierda, and Gówno. I don’t want you to assume that this article will be guano, it’s going to be solid gold epically funny shit

Getting to the matter at arse – we’re all full of it – shit – from the caveman to the supermodel to the tramp, we all have the shittiest thing in common – it’s the great leveller – pigs have understood this for years, and the shitty little buggers literally roll in it given half a chance!
 
Now this article will detail some of the different shits out there, and don’t assume for one minute that I’ll cover all the shit in one article, but this is my unique shitty view – coming soon to a loo near you 😉

  • Express Shit
    • This is the sprinter of shite, the prince of the playing field – this one will exit your arse at warp and with a happy little splashdown, and when looking down at this roadrunner fast little bastard, you’ll wonder if it ever came from your arse when it winks up from the pan!
  • Hot Shit
    • Now this little shit can only occur in the classical cycle observed during the morning after. Now the night before the morning after in this case will contain one or more of the following, and indeed the night in question may have been fuelled by an alcohol-induced-moment of fuckit which invariably involved a Vindaloo, or some kind of kebab with entirely much too chilli sauce!
       
      The hot shit, the ring sting, the ring of fire – there can be only one King of the Arse, and that, dear audience is the Hot Shit! Some have even wept buckets for just being in the presence of this royalty 😉
  • Torpedo Shit
    • The images which the word torpedo will conjure will range from old war movies right through to the computer generated images of space-battles, but none of them match the real-life experience of the torpedo shit – this streamlined little fucker will get the sewer sonar in a right pinging mess! Exiting the arse port at maximum speed, it efficiently cuts a hole through the surface tension, propelling it around the u-bend and out into the main channel without even a splash!
       
      You’ll know you’ve had an event with this one, but scant evidence will remain!
  • Stealth Shit – aka shit-ghost
    • The genuine spirit of this article – the B52 with the smelly payload – this is one sneak which those pesky kids and their dog will never catch! This is the prince of darkness shit – you’ve sat down, blinked, and there it is – looking up like a brown ghost in the night – and you’ve no idea how it got there. You stand in front of the great portal and wonder if you actually went – the evidence will speak for it self…
  • Bomb Shit
    • BOOM! Shake the pan! The Bomb Shit is here! We’ve all been there, this tightly packed dense ball of crap has been building itself in your bowels, probably after eating something you shouldn’t. The Bomb Shit hits the water with all the grace in which bricks don’t, and produces the splash of the century – when this fucker splashes down, you’ll think your arse needs a towel, not just some bog-paper…. Eugh!
  • Bollard Shit – aka shit-baby
    • For anyone who doesn’t know what a Bollard is (No relation to Bollock), please go educate yourself here. The Bollard shit, often referred to in its most specific form of Concrete Bollard, is the grand overlord of shits. U-Bends quiver in the night at the thought of this absolute beast of a shit.
       
      It’s the shit so big, men actually talk in the bathroom – the sanctum of silence… So big as to make grown lumberjacks shed a tear. It’s the shit men refer to when taking the piss out of preggas women when men say the imortal line “I’ve taken a shit bigger than that baby”, and indeed like child-birth there can be some tearing in the mix. The terror of the sewer – I give you the Bollard Shit!
  • Plug Shit
    • Ending the days of no-arsetivity, coming in a strong contender for the most famous shit of all time, the Plug Shit. This little bastard is the broken down car causing the fifty mile tailback on the highway. When the Plug Shit happens, it’s an event. When the plug shit happens, batten down the hatches (And open the fucking window for fuck-sake), because there’s gonna be an arse-storm of epic proportions coming in the near future. I give you the prince of the arse-jam, the great bringer of relief – the Plug Shit!
  • Snake Shit
    • Slinky little bastard… you know the one, when you’re taking (or giving?) a shit, and it takes time, you can feel this one going and going and going… This sometimes happens after the Plug Shit, but bloody hell, it’s no an arseing around matter – this is some serious shit! This is the shit where people flush half way through (but not living on a prayer) with it still attached like some kind of sick brown umbilical connected to the main-line. It’s the hose from the brown port – don’t look down, it’ll bite!
  • Shitplosion – aka Blunder-Shit aka Shot-Shit
    • The grand exploder! The Shitplosion also often occurs after the Plug Shit has finished its performance, exiting u-bend. This is a nasty little fucker, and is often proceeded by rumbles in the brown jungle. This doesn’t so much as exit the brown port, it’s more a case of getting the fuck out. Remember the Mythbusters episodes where they tried to paint with explosives – I swear they got the idea from the Shitplosion – the one event guaranteed to coat the white funnel solid brown in a matter of a scant second. Boom, muthafuckers 😉
  • Event-Horizon Shit – aka Alternate Dimension Shit
    • Often proceeded by the thoughts of “How Big!?”, and “Where the actual fuccckkkk is this coming from”, I bring you the shit which doesn’t stop, the plop plop plop polpper of the pan. Seriously can one body even contain so much shit? You’ll be dining out on the stories and flashbacks for this epic shit-show!
  • Honourable mention Shits
    • No self respecting arse of a shitty article would be complete without mentions of “Fucking Shit!”, “Holy Shit!”, and finally “Oh Shit!”

Now if you’re still reading at this point, you’re some tough shit, but even tough shit deserves some light relief – so my shittiest couple of jokes:

A Dung Beetle walks into a bar. It says to the Bar-Tender “Is that stool taken”

I don’t want you all to think that all my favourite jokes are shit-based, but they always come in a solid number two…

(I know you’re wondering… there are 63 mentions of the word shit (now 64!) in this article!)

Finally, don’t say I never post anything educational 😉

Ageing Kinkster Problems

BDSM SymbolIt’s well known that as a society, we’re becoming more sexually progressive – more and more those people traditionally into their vanilla sex lives are looking to add some spice by trying BDSM, in-fact, it’s almost mainstream these days! Now, my (slightly) twisted mind takes that idea, and thinks immediately (as anyone would, right?) of the population hitting old age, and what happens to the kinksters when the senior years hit home!

Perhaps you can think of some more lines to add to the list!

Sooo… BDSM & Signs of getting older:

  • Using leather bondage cuffs for wrist supports
  • Wishing you had a rack in your play space – for health reasons
  • Missing your leather collar because your neck gets too cold
  • You don’t mind the beating, but you’d like something padded to kneel on
  • Ball-gags have to be soft as otherwise your dentures might be damaged
  • You can’t be locked up all night, as you need 4 toilet breaks!
  • You need a full quilt in the cage, not just a blanket
  • A Zimmer frame is also doubles as a bondage frame
  • You want to be chained to the bed, as it’ll help you catch up on sleep
  • Viagra is required for a function check
  • Your session music comes from the 60’s
  • Your mistress has to wear flats as she can’t do heels any more
  • You’re running out of hair for your top to pull
  • You get more strokes of the cane because your top forgot to install fresh hearing aid batteries
  • Electro-play helps give you that essential boost for the day
  • A trampling helps with your back pain rather than excite anything
  • You need glasses on to find the handcuffs keyholes
  • The doors must be locked otherwise the grand-kids might discover you’re not as innocent as they think
  • Vibrators need to be industrial strength
  • Nipple clamps don’t work any more due to excess skin
  • A butt-plug means you don’t have to worry for a while
  • You don’t mind being handcuffed and chained, so long as the chains are warmed up first
  • Cable-Ties are more for DIY than Bondage

When the fuck did I become an old man?

Recently something smacked me in the face so hard as to knock me into next week. Yup that’s right… fucking time travel, motherfuckers. Only this isn’t the nice kind of time travel where Doc Brown and a mongrel of questionable origin is awaiting you with a nice warm amplifier. This is the kind of time travel which makes reality movies about the collapse of civilisation look like a fucking cartoon. This is getting old(er)

So, as I was saying about the knocking and next week. It’s next week, and I’m old.

  • Things are too loud
      Yes, this is even though I wake up deaf with bad sinuses every morning.
  • Bright lights are too bright. Someone turn off the fucking sun – vampire? Maybe.
  • Alcohol sometimes works too well… Upside is a cheap date, or more then likely ‘night in’, as it hurts to go out…
  • All I want is for a nice quiet, dim, and peaceful pub to crawl into.
  • Oh, look… I blinked and it’s next fucking year.
  • My body has now altered it’s default setting to ‘ache like a bitch’ (Sorry if this offends all you bitches – not really.)
  • Music. I’m beginning to think of classical orchestral music as ‘super classic’ and 80s rock’n’pop as classical.
  • Clubs. What the fuck are clubs apart from dark, noisy, and hostile environments where the young get off their faces?
  • When the fuck did women start dressing in a pair of tights and some cling film to go out on the town – come on women – leave something to the imagination – I don’t wanna see your thinly veiled minge, even when drunk off half a pint of lager at four in the afternoon. Go put some fucking clothes on.
  • I realised my parents were fucking retards, nasty fucking dribbling retards with as much as an idea of reality as the most retarded of my cats – you know, the one which licks anyfuckingthing.
  • It doesn’t require alcohol to wake up (Yet again?) with a hangover.
  • People in their 30’s are referred to as kids.
  • I’ve forgotten twice as much as I currently know.

So getting older. In my imagination I can see a bold figure clawing away at the walls of life itself, whilst being dragged kicking and screaming into the eternal darkness, all the time screaming like something more wild than wild. Reality: Everything fucking hurts.

You know the worst part? I’m not evening fucking 45 yet, and I might have the best part of another 40 years doing this shite. Still, I’m a cheap date now, and by the time I’m much older I’ll be able to get off on a whiff of perfume 😉

Oh, and you people in your 20’s and 30’s reading this – you’ll all think that this will never be you. HaHa!

I’ve cracked my Facebook addiction.

Around a couple of weeks ago, I had a moment – the moment was a realisation that I was hooked on something, and just like any addict, I just couldn’t leave it alone. Now I’m not your typical person in regard to addiction – I can stop and start both alcohol and nicotine on a dime, as the Americans would say. Yup, very true – friends, colleagues and family all call me various names for my ability to go cold turkey and not turn into a raging monster (Then there’s the other side where I start up with no ill effects!).

Anyhow, despite my lack of traditional addiction, in the moment, I realised that Facebook was an unwelcome intruder in my mind, every five minutes whilst watching TV I’d be on the endless scroll quest to get yet more crap. I’m particular in the crap which flows in – for example, I don’t watch adverts on TV, and try to limit my news intake. Yet despite everything there was Facebook – even saying “Facebook” sounds like some kind of dirty word now.

I understand that some aspect, in a vague nebulous way, some long-ago nascent thought said “It’s a great way to keep up with Friends and Family”. It lied. You know the best way to keep with Friends and Family. See them. Call them. Be with them. Try it, you’ll appreciate the fresh yet old-fashioned way of doing things. Be in the moment. There is no spoon!

At first the revulsion was so bad, I turned off my devices and left them in another room. If I was going to go cold-turkey, I was going to do it full-bore. I managed to make that last most of a weekend, and then I had to re-join the connected-world (I work in I.T. and it’s kinda expected that you’re online 24*7). Even now, getting connected to the News and the world still gives me a mental twitch which I can’t shrug off. I’m conversant with the sardonic nature of recording these thoughts and posting them online – it’s like a great big dirty burger of filth, demolished with gusto, coming back with that sick sinking feeling of “What have I done!?”.

Can I escape Facebook completely? No. The insidious Facebook has managed to weave itself into minds and hearts like some kind of meme-virus. The insidious Facebook had managed to integrate into modern society, it’s truly the electronic equivalent of a symbiote. Instead of a community notice board for my area, there is a Facebook Group. Instead of a buy and sell board, there is a Facebook Buy & Sell Group. Instead of phoning up the local authority, they’re on Facebook, posting official notifications for the masses to digest. You get the picture – Facebook has a Face-Tentacle in everything everywhere.

Where am I left now? In Face-Limbo.

Fuck.