Posts Tagged ‘rants’

Even though, oddly, I’ve come to love blogging it always seems that this blog of my random thoughts goes by the wayside in favour of other pursuits. What other pursuits? Well, with the downswing in real work of late, those have mainly involved focusing on my writing of everything but my blog. I’ve started to write reviews for a local music magazine, OMS, and I’ve been putting a lot of energy into my screenwriting, though it’s currently getting me nowhere.

I guess I should do my usual thing of looking back on events since my last post. Let’s see…

Oh, right. Bin Laden. Yeah, apparently the Americans got him. I mean, they haven’t got a body to produce, nor pictures of him (the one above is fake) either before or after they allegedly shot him. Oh, and it came at a startlingly convenient time, just as Trump was starting to mount his campaign against Obama. But it’s okay, because Bin Laden is dead. Really. *wink, wink*

I’m not saying I’m not happy about it if Bin Laden really is dead – the guy is/was a monster – I’m just saying show us some proof. The public can handle pictures of him shot to pieces. Really. I mean, we’re talking about people who enjoy Keeping Up With The Kardashians, so it’s about time we showed them that something – anything – in life isn’t fake.

There was a Royal Wedding, too. Wills and Kate finally got married. Yay for our (maybe) future king. Here’s the deal: I like Wills. I’m not a royalist by any means, but the guy seems like a solid, down to Earth guy. With a shitload of money. Yes, I’m a little pissed off that I had to pay for the multi-millionaire’s multi-million pound wedding but, you know what? I’ll let him off. Why? Two reasons:

1. Kate Middleton. Or Princess Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge as we’re now supposed to call her, is a stone fox. With just two words – “I will” – she immediately took Zara’s place as the fittest member of the Royal family ever. The second reason?

Pippa Middleton’s arse. Seriously, though Kate is a beautiful lady in her own right, it was Pippa who stole the show on the day. And not just because of her tremendous, perfectly-formed arse in that tight-fitting dress. but because she’s arguably the best looking of the two sisters. But if Harry taps that before I do, I’m officially a republican.

Oh, the other thing grinding my gears?

Gerry and Kate McCann. These two shameless media whores have been polluting the daily papers every day for the last week, and on a regular basis since they killed their daughter Madeline five years ago. Yes, you read that right. You see, they refuse to admit it, but there seems to be a lot of evidence to support it. Her blood was found in the boot of their car, for fuck’s sake. You’re telling me she skinned her knee so they loaded her up in the boot? Bullshit.

Kate, Gerry… Just confess. Then get the fuck out of my daily newspapers. And even if you didn’t do it, the shit you do admit to amounts to child abandonment you evil, evil twats.

Yeah, I’m going to stop there. A short one at just over six-hundred words. Grab your copy of OMS this month to read my reviews of The Original Rabbit Foot Spasm Band and Katy B. Oh, and if screenwriting is something that interests you, haul your arse over to my new blog, Failing Writer, and bookmark that bad boy. Or subscribe in the same way you should’ve done to this one.

Until next time,

Peace x


So… blogging. How 21st century of me. Let’s spread some hate. I actually kinda hate blogging already. It appears to be all ‘widgets’ and ‘themes’ and ‘templates’ and shit. Look, call me crazy, but I just want to write some shit on the internet, I don’t want to reprogram the international fucking space station. I‘m blogging because life is shit and I’m fairly sure the few remaining friends I have are sick of seeing status updates on Facebook like ‘Kriss wishes he could swallow a shotgun loaded with napalm, pull the trigger and swallow the lot like a tuppenny hooker.’ But apparently the ‘blogsphere’ embraces crazies like me like a crazy on ecstasy.

Here’s the deal with me folks, something you should all know: Despite being a comedian I struggle with depression. Let’s take a moment to embrace that irony: The man whose job it is to make people and happy and get them laughing has been neither happy or laughing in the last ten years or so. Tears of a clown? Don’t give me that bullshit, start quoting Motown-inspired platitudes in my general direction. Here’s the deal, kids, my mantra: Life is shit. Get over it.

Actually, blogging has a use. It means I can essentially do a gig every week without leaving the house, which means I don’t have to go near people. Be clear, folks, that I hate people. I’m not sure why I’m not the only one on this planet but, I guess, if I was I’d be fucked. Well, I wouldn’t be fucked (nothing new there) but I’d definitely be struggling. I have all the ability to farm and provide sustenance for myself as a retard with a glue addiction. I can pretty much manage the ‘walk into supermarket, buy shit, remove wrapper, eat’ process.

Still, I suppose somebody has to read this shit, otherwise it’s just like that time I had therapy, only I’m not distracted by thinking about how much I’d like to fuck my therapist. I wonder what Freud would say about that? Let’s talk about shit that’s pissing me off today…

The Sun and Th Daily Mail, two newspapers that are no doubt written in crayon and aimed at readerships who are barely literate enough to read a Harry Potter audio book, are still up in arms about this World Cup bullshit. Look, I’m as pissed off we didn’t get it as the next guy, okay? But it’s over, no need for an ‘investigation’ into bribery and corruption here. The irony that this ‘investigation’ is being led by a newspaper owned by News Corp. tickles me in ways you can’t even begin to understand. You’re owned by Faux fucking News. I know that nobody who works for The Sun is smart enough to grasp irony but Pot, meet Kettle.

Cameron. Facepalm.

I mean, fuck, let’s have an investigation, shall we? We wanted the World Cup. We had the best bid. I like that, those are facts. Now look at how we presented this: We sent David Beckham, the only man in Britain who’s almost universally liked, along with the following: Prince William, an over-pampered brat, part-time military deserter and waste of tax-payers’ money. Boris Johnson, a guy so far up his own arse that he can tell you what stomach acid tastes like and David Cameron, a man that nobody I’ve met actually voted for, that everybody hates because he’s a lying fascist and has all the charisma of a rotting hyena carcass.

Yeah, that was going to get us votes. Why didn’t we just go all out with this, really try harder? “Mr. Blatter, meet England’s bid representatives; this is David Beckham, Peter Sutcliffe, Rose West and Margaret Thatcher. Can we have the tournament now?”

That said, there were many ways in which our bid was the strongest. Our bid would’ve helped more people by sending money to Africa. Largely because all the jobs it created would likely be filled by illegal immigrants from said continent. It’d also be the best for the environment because most of the players and fans of all the likely qualifying nations already live here, so no need to fly that many people in.

You want an investigation? How about we investigate the idiots who led our bid?


Something that’s been gnawing at me for a couple of weeks is the Bush memoir. George Bush, the single most evil man in human history, believes that the lowest point of his presidency was being called a ‘racist’ by Kanye West. Well, if the shoe fits…

Bush Nazi

Anyway, Bush, a proven sociopath with no interest in any human life but his own, a man who lied about WMDs and any other bullshit he could to have an excuse to finish his father’s dirty work and finish an old vendetta at the expense of millions of lives, most of them civilian, making him the biggest purveyor of mass-genocide since Adolf Hitler. You think being called a ‘racist’ hurt, George? I just called you a Nazi and loosely compared you to Genghis Khan. I’m sure if you go wave your imaginary degree from Yale around on campus for a while you’ll find someone who can explain who that is to you. You fucking developmentally-challenged moron.

The Hairy Bikers. I love these guys, really.

I have a working theory that Cheryl Cole is one of the Hairy Bikers, by the way. I have no memory of how I came up with this but it’s based on a strong theory; at no time in human history have there been more than four famous Geordies (who aren’t footballers) because nobody understands what the fuck they’re talking about. Well, we have Cheryl, Ant & Dec and the Bikers. Five into four doesn’t go. Either we have one too many and they need to be eradicated. How do you choose between Cheryl, Ant or Dec? I suppose it’d have to be Cheryl because it seems a shame to break up a set. And she’s a waste of oxygen. My point is, either she’s a Hairy Biker in a really convincing mask and wig and a really tight corset or else we’re living in uncertain times and I don’t like it.

Know your racist enemy.

Actually, let me court a little hatred here. I really hate Cheryl Cole. I don’t care if she’s “hot” or not. She represents everything that’s wrong with society. A talentless ‘musician’ who didn’t earn her fame that’s been elevated to the position of judging and mentoring other ‘talents’ on television and elevated to the status of overpaid role-model despite a history of racially-motivated assault. Sorry, Simon, we’re supposed to casually forget that, right? Especially now you’re taking her to the US for X Factor USA.

Well, I know there are probably going to be Americans reading this, so let me fill you in on this newest ‘role-model’ we’re throwing your way:

Feel free to ‘investigate’ that one, my Yankee friends. Know your enemy.

Let’s see, who else can I hate on? If I don’t hit 2,000 words, this venting session has failed. Ah.

Justin Fucking Bieber

Baby, baby, baby… NO. My God, what’s the deal with these fucking idiots who signed/produced/like this fucking moron? A squeaky-voiced fucking chipmunk with less musical talent than Helen Keller. My God, this fuckhead is so manufactured that he should have to wear a fucking Kraft logo on all his clothing and have it tattooed on his forehead. As I write this, having Googled ‘Justin Bieber’ to get the picture, the top news story on Google is ‘Bieber appearance on German TV cancelled after tragic accident.’ I read on hopefully but, alas, no joy. His balls still haven’t dropped.

Eight-hundred hate-filled words to target. Michael McIntyre should be my next victim.

Floppy-haired sucker of satan's cock

This talentless floppy-haired sucker of Satan’s cock seems to be polluting my TV a lot of late. What the fuck is it with this guy? Why is he popular? He’s like the British Dane Cook – a talentless fucking nobody who slept his way to the top whilst stealing everyone’s jokes, stopping only to make them shit along the way.

I know it’s the trendy thing in British comedy to hate on guys as soon as they get on TV and some dickhead is bound to say I’m doing this out of ‘jealousy’ or some similar bullshit. Here’s the deal: McIntyre. Isn’t. Funny. Those are the reasons I hate him. No ulterior motive, no between the lines, deep-rooted psychological bullshit reason. The guy isn’t funny. He’s a ‘comedian’ who isn’t funny. See the fail? Good. Just wanted you to know where I stand.


Since I’m on the subject, let’s kill two birds with the same stone and talk about this talentless shit-for-brains Scottish dickhead, too. Hi, the angry-at-the-world attempts at political humour have been done. Only fifteen years ago, funnier and much better informed by a guy named Bill Hicks.


Remember Bill Hicks? American guy, funny, hated everybody. Had actually read a book or two before unleashing his opinions on the world. Not like Boyle, a man who – at best – is just another media puppet (who, unsurprisingly, writes for The Sun) trying to do a modern-day impression of the great man. Just a hint, Frankie, but if Bill were still alive he’d probably treat you with the same disdain that he reserved for Denis Leary. Just another dickhead trying to make a living off of his back by stealing his material.

Five hundred words to go and I seem to be running out of hate for the day.

Fuck it, let’s talk about two-faced people. I can rant on that all day. Let’s discuss bosses who lie to you consistently over extended periods. Let’s talk about ‘friends’ who seem intent on just fucking with you. I got enough of both. Since I’m going to post a link to this on Facebook, I know this’ll be seen. Frankly, though, if guns were legal here I’d have one n my mouth right now, so let’s go balls-out.

I’ve worked for my boss for three years, or near-enough. I’ve been the model of a loyal employee and, since I’ve been there, somewhere in the region of thirty other members of staff have come and gone. Some lasted a year, some a few weeks, all of whom were of varying degrees of ability. Every single one of whom had been promoted above me within a fortnight of arriving, yet another snub to the only guy who gives enough of a shit to stick around for all this time, never complaining about the workload, however heavy, never causing a stir by moaning about some of the abject fucking morons I’ve had to work with, never complaining when decisions are made that seem completely fucking retarded. Here’s a lesson, kids, that you should all remember: Loyalty is like a pussy. If you show any of it, you’re going to get FUCKED.

Friends are the same. I recently became fairly sure that all of my friends hate me. I’ve known for quite some time that my entire family hates me, so it was nice to nip that shit in the bud. I have friends who consistently cockblock me as I attempt to move on from the previous girlfriend who, to this day, seems to delight in fucking me in every which way but the good one. Sure, we tried to stay ‘friends’ for the kids’ sake, but I’m not sure we were ever friends to begin with. I’m pretty sure we were just two people who really enjoyed fucking, then we became a guy who misguided fell in love with a girl who really enjoyed fucking everyone but him.

Since then, nothing, nada, jack shit. I currently couldn’t get a hooker to fuck me. Shit, knowing my luck, my mates would manage to cockblock that, too. Just for shits and giggles.

Look, forty words left. Time to wrap this up.

In summary, kids, I give up. I have friends that hate me, a boss who treats me like shit, zero long-term prospects and I live in a world that’s gone to shit. Someone feel free to explain the fucking point to me, okay?

Until next time, I’ll be the ‘Angry Comedian’ – leave comments if you want to pretend to give a fuck like most of my ‘friends’ and family do.