Song for Brian

Oh Brian, so brave,
You left with a wave.
Onwards you flew,
To gold pastures new.

All Ewoks told,
Your stories of old.
Where you had been,
Things you had seen.

Oh when you came,
Life was so lame.
We'd never talk,
Something, something, chalk.

You called me names,
And broke all my games.
You p*ssed on my shoes,
And drank too much booze.

I'd go to the loo,
And you'd go there to.
You'd stare at my {blank},
And make me feel silly.

I'd call you weird,
While you'd stroke your beard.
It made me so furious,
When you called me bi-curious.

But then something changed,
Something blossomed and bloomed,
Something lit up the dark,
And brightened the gloom.

You became a new Ewok,
Loving and true.
You treated me right,
Like a lover should do.

Our love grew ever stronger,
We'd talk through the night.
The nights lasted longer,
And life felt just right.

People laughed at our joy,
A man and an Ewok?
That Brian's a toy,
They jibed and they mocked.

But their words couldn't fool us,
Just make us laugh and sigh.
We'd take every cuss,
And ignore every lie.

We frolicked through life,
Young and carefree.
Fun was on tap and jollies were rife.
Nothing else mattered except you and me.

Then you left me,
Disappeared without a trace.
One day I woke up,
And couldn't picture your face.

Where did you go to?
Oh why did you leave?
Life was so perfect,
Something rhyming weave.

I miss you so much;
I miss our japes and our jokes.
Now I can't see you,
And the child in me chokes.

Maybe you left me,
Or were taken in haste,
By some gruff looking hobo,
Who spoilt an Ewok so chaste.

Oh Brian you're sleeping,
And though you are gone,
You're memory lives in me,
And our laughter lives on...

Setting Yourself On Fire

Why do people set themselves on fire?

I would personally consider setting myself on fire as one of those things I'm not going to do. You know....just in a 'self-preservation' kind of way. I've always been of the belief that fire and the human body are not strictly compatible.

This is why when I see yet another headline in the news about the latest guy to set himself on fire...it confuses me.

How exactly can anything good come from someone setting themselves on fire? Yes, I know pretty much all of the chaps who end up doing it are doing it in some form of protest or to make a statement of some kind...but really, is there nothing else they can do. Surely there is a more constructive way to get your message across that doesn't involve burning your face off? Now there are always people who turn around and claim that they simply 'had' to make such a dramatic statement to make anyone pay attention. But I disagree.

All that really happens when someone covers themselves in petrol and lights a match outside a government building is this.

People see it on the news and say "that's a bit silly isn't it...setting yourself on fire." and carry on with their breakfast. Some people who actually witnessed it need counseling for a while. The person or people who the protest was aimed at pass it off as some loon who should have been in care. The person who set themselves on fire ends up severely disfigured for the rest of their life...or dead.

Maybe a few people here and there decide to fight for the same cause, but if they're the kind of people to just jump on the bandwagon like that, then they are probably already involved.

Now I'm not going to sit here and start telling you all the ways in which protests can be better thought through and implemented, because to be honest, I can't be arsed. Maybe that's why people do set themselves on fire, because they get bored of coming up with constructive and practical ideas.

Also, I don't know if anyone else has noticed, but it seems to be mainly monks that do this to themselves. This makes a lot of sense really...I mean...you'd get bored if you had dedicated your life to meditating and walking around looking holy, which, let's face it, is all that monks really do. Plus they all think they're going to be reincarnated as a fish or welcomed to some pretty afterlife garden world when they die. So I don't think their heads are really in the right place even before they go lighting up.

Essentially what I'm getting annoyed at here is stupidity. Especially stupidity which thinks it's being righteous and making a point. It right gets on my tits.

Anyway, if you're thinking about doing something like setting yourself on fire for monkeys in Asia...at least think of the guys who'll have to clean you up afterwards.

Secret in the Toilets

So I found this in the men's toilets the other day.

Yup, that's right. It's exactly what it looks like.

That there, is a vibrator machine, in a men's toilet....and not just any old vibrator machine. That is a fully functioning vibrating dildo machine.

Yes we've all seen skanky machines in toilets, usually cheapo condom machines and the occasional vibro c*ck ring dispenser. None of us like them...or use them...hopefully...but we can all understand why they are there. What I can't understand is what a dildo machine is doing in the men's toilets.

Now I'm not an expert on these things, but I'm pretty sure that the main target market for dildos...isn't men. Last time I checked, dildos were primarily a device for women. I mean...they are slightly more aptly designed for women, and have essentially been used almost solely by women since the first ancient dildo was invented many eons ago.

I don't know many men who own a dildo...in fact I don't know any men who own one. I think I can safely say that every single one of my friends who own one of these straight forward sex toys, is female. It just makes sense you know, in a 'who they're made for' kind of way.

I'm not saying men can't use them 'with' women. I'm just saying men are very unlikely to be the ones buying them in the first place. I'm sure there have been many occasions of male on female dildo usage. But women have more to gain from spending money on them than men, which is a hugely significant reason why men shouldn't buy them. Which all leads me back to the same question...what is this machine doing in a men's toilet?

Now my first thought would be a quite obvious one I think. The only kind of establishment I'd expect to find something like this in, would be a 'gentlemens club' type of place. A gentlemens club of the homoerotic variety. Men frequenting these establishments would be more likely than any to make use of dildos. Not that I'm saying straight men wouldn't, or that they don't also frequent these places...I'm just saying its far less likely for them to.

This argument would be at least vaguely possible of it weren't for one fact. The establishment I found this abnormality in was about as far from being a gay bar as it is possible to be. In fact, I'd describe it as the kind of place a gay man would be openly lynched. Before you ask, no I am not a regular at this place. I'll most likely be avoiding it as much as is physically possible. The clientele are the kind of men whose teeth were smashed out of existence ten minutes after they left the womb. They are the kind of men whose livers gave up trying after the tenth Stella of their tenth birthday party. Needless to say I will be spending almost no time here at all for fear of an embarrassingly violent death.

With these kind of men frequenting the toilets in question...there can be only one explanation.

This pub; full of homo-bashing, racist, sexist, liverist douchebags...is actually full of racist, sexist, liverist suppressed homosexuals, who would rather be being bashed by a queen than bashing a queen themselves.

This is the only possible explanation for this machine being in the men's toilets of such a place....and you never know...maybe this is a common thing across the country. Maybe in all the dangerous looking pubs up and down the land, there are secret machines hidden away in every men's toilet. Letting the dangerously closet locked men of Britains council estates satisfy that oh so secret of temptations.

So next time you are being squared up to by a testosterone pumped douchebag outside a shit club, you can be safe in the knowledge that hiding deep inside him, is a tragically suppressed dorothy, just aching to break free.

Inane Posters

I really dislike people who post inane things on Facebook and Twitter. The kind of people who sit down and think right, I'm going to let the world know who I am.  These are the kind of people who decide being tired is an occurrence significant enough to let the Internet know about it. They will regularly post nonsense like 'Just woke up!' or gems like 'Sitting on the train.' The number of times I find these kinds of pearls cluttering up my news feed is astounding. The sheer number of people who think we care about what they do on a day to day basis is reaching epidemic levels. They are clogging up the Internet and need to be stopped.  What's that? I don't have to listen to their drivel-like spouting? I could just ignore them or not go on these websites? Those things aren't important...what is important is the fact that every social whoring website I'm registered to is full of these cretins, and I don't like it.  These people have so little exciting or interesting happening in their lives, that they think going to the toilet is a melodrama worthy of national publication. Their existence is so boring that they must let everyone know what they're up to in the vague hope that someone will care. I've got one small piece of advice for these wonderful fellows. NO-ONE CARES. You are not interesting people. Nothing you do is important. Stop telling me about your children. Stop describing your journey to work. Please stop telling me how you are feeling. No you can't turn this around and ask why people should care what I am saying, I am important. What I have to say is at least a vaguely good read, not 'Lexi iz feelin down innit :( :$ :o :{'.  These people would disappear, and should, but for one distressing thing. The only reason they post these things is in a desperate attempt to feel loved/liked/make sure people don't forget they exist. Some people out there, some strange, disturbed people, are feeding their hunger for acceptance. Whoever it is who keeps liking and commenting on these people's posts needs to be taken away to some kind of camp. A camp where they can be told they are dangerously close to becoming worse than the actual posters.  Unless of course...it is other people like them who are giving them feedback, before scurrying off to post something equally inane on their feed. If this is the case we have a bigger problem than at first thought. If the posters are feeding off of each other we have a devastating form of vicious cycle on our hands and must take immediate action.  I propose a cull of anyone involved in these terrible acts. It is the only way to slow the tide of endless bollocks streaming forth from their fingertips. I know it may sound like a severe measure, but I'm sure none of you want to wake up to another update about how terribly stressful someone's commute is.  So I'll see you outside the Sainsbury's Local first thing tomorrow for the first wave. Bring sticks. 

Public Toilets

Nobody likes using public toilets.

They're just a necessary evil we have to put up with sometimes when we'd rather not sh*t in the street.

Though having said that...sometimes yanking your trousers down and dropping one in the middle of the high street would be more hygienic.

It's the fact that no matter the location, no matter the clientele, you will never find a toilet not smeared with urine and/or fecal matter. I swear you could be walking into a public toilet in the grounds of Buckingham Palace, and there would still be a steaming turd on the floor of every cubicle and piss up the walls. People must just walk into these places and forget everything they were taught as a toddler about basic potty time.

I used to just not use these abominable places. I'd store it up until literally bursting and then dash/stagger through the door when I got home and leg it to the loo. But as I've gotten older and times have become more pressing, I've had to give in and starting gracing them with my delicate posterior.

My original technique was something known only as the 'hover poo'; a stance that involved no actual contact with toilet seat or any part of said toilet. This was particularly difficult on the thighs though, and wasn't worth the risk if a 'long stay' was on the cards.

The next best option was the 'padded seat', which I believe is a very common method. As many sheets of toilet paper as possible are used to cover the toilet seat, to act as a form of shield against potential bodily fluids and diseases. A precarious position is then taken upon the paper shield, where very little movement can be made invade a break in the shield, or shield slippage occurs. This method is however awkward and time consuming, and therefore also not ideal.

Of late though I have been slacking off both of these options and just wiping the toilet seat and then getting on with it. This is out of nothing other than sheer laziness, as I can no longer be bothered with either severe leg pain or time consuming paper cushion making.

It is during the time I have spent actually being in public toilets for longer than about thirty seconds, that I have realized something I hate more than anything previously mentioned.

There has never been an occasion when I've not sat down in a cubicle and heard some middle-aged, over-weight chap groaning in the cubicle next to me. I'll just be chilling out, minding my own business, and then all of a sudden I'll be bearing witness to the excretal groans of a fat pr*ck a couple of feet away from me.

It's like these people step into a cubicle and immediately forget there's a room of other people just outside. It's almost as if they assume they've just stepped into a sound proofed void and nothing exists outside of it for as long as they are inside. Do they think loud groaning alongside their quite obvious severe bowel disorder is an acceptable thing?

I think I just get angry when I see or hear people acting like they would in their own home in public. If you have chronic constipation, and loud guttural noises are the only thing that eases the strain for you, keep them confined to your own toilet. A public toilet, where other people...me in particular, have to sometimes brave, is not the place for your anal moaning...it is disturbing.

What it essentially amounts to, is listening to a man relieve himself. You'd might as well be sat listening to a bloke having a wank. That's basically what it's like. I don't want to speak for everyone here, but nobody, absolutely nobody wants to sit and listen to a man wanking. That is very much something that should always remain behind closed doors, where no one ever has to be aware of what's going on. Listening to a man having a shit, is like listening to a man batting one off, I don't want to do it.

Sigh...I forget what else I hate about public toilets so I will go now.

See ya.