Harry Hill

A common misconception is that his name is actually Harry Hill, but it's not. He's called Matthew Hall, and Harry Hill is just his stage name. Brain surgeon turned comedian Harry Hill's been around for a fair while now, but it's only now that he's really tapped into the mainstream, and he really does deserve it. He's become so recognisable mostly because of 'TV Burp' (since 2001?!) and partly thanks to 'You've Been Framed'. I began watching TV Burp probably about 6 or 7 years ago, and I found it hilarious every week. It was scheduled at a rather awkward time though, if I remember correctly; at about 5 o'clock on a Saturday, so I could never convince the family to watch it as mum was preparing our meal (as usual...) and my dad and brother couldn't be arsed, presumably. Then the show got moved to a prime-time slot, and the viewers began to really pour in. He's managed to find a really clever but ever so simple blend of family friendly humour, with (at times) some more subtle, risky, adult undertones. Yes, since becoming more popular I do feel he has become less funny (for me personally) as unfortunately his material is becoming more geared towards the many simpletons of our beloved nation, but I still find it hard not to laugh at many of his programme's moments. Mocking bad TV is simply a funny thing to do, and I think it's something that could go on for a long time to come. As for You've Been Framed? Well, that's on its last legs for sure. The show has completely lost it (I'm not sure if it ever had 'it') - there's only so many times I can watch a man fall over whilst dancing, or a cat jumping into a window. In fact, I'm not too sure if it was ever really funny in the first place. Regardless, Harry Hill still does enough with his voice-over work to make the show slightly entertaining at least. On top of these, there's a couple of particularly interesting things that Harry Hill has been up to recently. He's got his own mini internet series, and boy, is it strange. Seriously. I've seen many many strange things in my time, but this is something else. It reminds me of a cross between TV Burp and Weebl's Stuff in terms of its style, and it's actually pretty funny. It lacks high production values, and it's certainly not something that everyone will 'get', but for a free web show, you really can't complain. It's good fun. Then there's a recently released album (yes, an album), which I can only wildly assume was made to have a stab at the massively cramped Christmas market. Titled 'Funny Times', it's had a pretty quiet landing. Funnily enough, I hadn't actually heard of this until I bought it for my mum for Christmas as a spur of the moment purchase. It's a risk, I know, but now after listening to it the whole way through, I'd say there's a pretty good chance that she'll enjoy it. I'm very impressed indeed actually. It's hit and miss, definitely, but it's genuinely quite funny at times; and it's quite astute in its statements. It's also easy to listen to and pretty catchy - not something that I expected to say. It certainly won't be an album that you'll stick on repeat, but I think it's got a broader scope than just 'listen to it once and put it away, never to be touched again' despite what the opening track jokingly suggests. If I was a professional reviewer, I'd give it a 6 or a 7 out of ten. But I'm not. So I won't. But here's the dilemma I'm currently facing.

I like TV Burp, but I also like Funny Times

But which is better?

There's only one way to find out...

Christmas...

So, yet again, for the 16th time in my life, Christmas day is nearly upon us. Great. For the past few years I've been well aware of my excitement towards the 25th of December declining rapidly, as I grow to become more of a little old man by the day. This year, I think I can safely say that I don't give a shit. I find that there's so much to dislike about the festive period, that it's hard to really get into the mood; especially this year. But why is this? Well...

1. A-Levels

In January. 4 exams. This means lots and lots of revision. Mind maps, cue cards, mock exams, reading and all that jazz - I've got to do a fair lump of it. If I was actually doing the revision, I'd be having a terrible holiday, but at least I'd be somewhat prepared for the looming exams. Instead though, I've decided to do shit all revision, and to sit around doing as little as possible for as long as I can. I know it's a dreadful tactic, but I'm enjoying myself, and I'm annoyingly inherently lazy, so I can't see this little routine changing any time soon. The thought of the ever nearing exams (and the impending mental rape that comes along with it) is certainly a mood spoiling thought, and I find that the only way to take my mind off it is to spend as long as I can on the xBox. Poor show, Ben. Watch this space, the panic and the frenzied revision will be starting soon - but it'll be all too late.

2. Christmas Music

They're all so cheery. I can't deal with it, I really can't. Every advertisement on the television or radio is not only drenched in garish Christmas themed colours and what not, but they're also given some delightful shitty music as a festive backdrop. Piss off. Give me a Muse song on your advert, and I may actually buy your product. There's not one Christmas song that I even remotely enjoy any more; not even Slade. There's a couple in particular that really get on my tits though (no, just joking, I don't have breasts...yet). No, you are not all that I want for Christmas. Selfish as it is, it'd be quite nice to get some other things too, and frankly, if you're going to be singing this song, if I could have just one present this year, it'd likely be for you to shut the fuck up. Yes, all I want for Christmas is for you to shut the fuck up. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? And no, I didn't give you my heart as a gift last year. That's absolutely preposterous. I may like you to some degree, perhaps a hell of a lot, but the feeling is never going to be strong enough for me to have to physically hand over my life giving bodily organ (and whatever bloody mess comes with it) to you. I'm not saying I wouldn't die for you, because in different circumstances I almost certainly would, but this is a very strange, inappropriate and quite awkward way of dying for someone. It's also totally unnecessary. Whoever it is that I'm so generously gifting my heart to, I'm pretty sure isn't going to want to be the recipient of it. Nobody asks for a human heart for Christmas. In fact, I really do struggle to think of many worse ideas for a Christmas present than this. If I'm saying I'll give my heart to someone, this person is probably a love interest. I'd be hoping that the feeling would be mutual, and upon my act of love and kindness, she'd say that she feels the same way. Presumably, then she'd give me her heart. Here's the issue. IF there's a genuinely good chance that this person would love me back (which there would have to be for me to make such a bold statement at Christmas), I'm pretty damn sure that the consequences of killing myself and then presenting her with my heart in some way would be completely horrific in terms of my chances of winning her over. Here's why. Firstly, I'd be dead. This acts on two levels, because not only would I be totally unable to move or function in any way at all, but I think the girl to whom I am giving my heart would be at least a little bit upset upon hearing that I am in fact dead, and that it was me who did it to myself. This is all under the hugely speculative presumption that this poor girl actually has some kind of romantic feeling towards me, of course. I don't want to come across as a tad negative, but I just have a niggling feeling that my death would perhaps obliterate my chances with the girl. Then there's the fact that she's clearly not going to appreciate the disgusting gift, and that she's most likely to reject it, leaving it inside my rotting corpse. Bah. Fucking song. Wait, what do you mean it's metaphorical?

3. Appalling Television Schedule

For some reason, over the Christmas period (so from about the beginning of December 'til the end of the year, apparently) television becomes a source of visual and audial cack. It is anyway, yes, but the concentration of faeces is considerably higher. It seems that every channel becomes ITV in its way of dealing out consistently bollocks programmes that all look rather...cheap. It hurts that the BBC stoop this low. They more than anyone else deal out half baked spin-offs of popular shows, or one off episodes of a long gone classic, or maybe a Christmas special of everybody's favourite chef. Needless to say they almost always turn out poor. And this year is unfortunately no exception to the rule. Remember the Two Ronnies? Remember how incredibly funny they were, and how they will always be remembered as comedy legends? Somehow I can't see 'The One Ronnie' going down as quite such a classic. Brace yourself for a brutal murdering of entertainment, folks. I can't bear to watch.

4. Wrapping Presents

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!


I just don't really like Christmas any more, that's the depressing reality. It's come to a stage where the bad may very well outweigh the good, and it's a real shame. As a young child Christmas was truly magical. Up until the point where common sense and basic logic enters your mind, and you realise that there's not a hope in hell that that fat man could traverse the globe, giving presents to every single human being. His air miles must be atrocious. Actually, if Santa was real, wouldn't he be incredibly racist? He completely misses out Africa! Urgh, I can't believe I used to like that man. I feel sick now; white supremacist bastard...! Actually, speaking of Africa, I'm really glad that various charities have produced special Christmas adverts for their organisations. Now's a great time for people to be donating, and I really hope they do well from it. Some say the adverts are a bit of a mood killer, and that they're out of place, but to be honest, there's just no complaining; we've got to stay grounded, and appreciate just how lucky we are. Even if it's for a lost cause, which I deeply regrettably think Africa is, the more we can do to help, the better. It's weird, I really haven't even thought about receiving presents this year. I'm actually more excited about my family opening the gifts that I've bought them. So long as they like what I've got for them, of course. But anyway, grumpiness and irritating moaning aside for now, I really hope you all (yes, both of you!) have a genuinely great Christmas. If you're facing exams, try your best to enjoy it. Everyone else, party hard, bitches!

Merry Christmas :)

Robot Wars

Roboteers, stand by.

3...2...1...ACTIVATE!

Robot Wars was brilliant, wasn't it? I used to love it, and to this day I still do. It must have been roughly 10 years ago that I started watching it, and boy was I a fan. I had the 'funfax', the annual, the fact book, the toys, the board game, and a hell of a lot of episodes recorded onto VHS tapes (remember them?!). BBC2, on Tuesdays (I think) at around the same time as The Weakest Link and The Simpsons. Those really were the days. As far as television series go, Robot Wars is certainly up there. It's the perfect male programme. Scrap metal? Check. Axes? Check. Flames? Check. Pneumatic flippers? Check. Buzz saws? Check. Flywheels? Check. Pit of doom? Check. Flying sparks? Check. Loud noises? Check. PURE CARNAGE?! Oh, check. The entertainment that could be had from watching Robot Wars never ceased to amaze the 6-10 year old me. Granted, it's not for everyone - but it was definitely for me. Thanks to opinions, there's no programme strictly for everybody, but let's not go into philosophical mode. Today is the day for nostalgia mode. I'll always have fond memories of Robot Wars, because there were so many excellent moments (and thankfully because when I was younger I seemed to have a knack for remembering slightly obscure pieces of information). Polka dot fur clad Diotor being set on fire every single fight, Razer taking down the 'immortal' Sir Killalot (and also Matilda), Chaos 2's domination (followed by Tornado), RefBot getting flipped, Hypnodisc meeting Pussycat (with devastating results), the lightweight special match in which a robot was literally flattened, the 'ant-bot' fight with the miniature scaled down replicas, the first and only time I saw the robot that was designed to be a gran in a wheelchair, the cluster bot genius of Gemini...I'll cherish all these moments, for as long as I can. Judging by the fact that I'm rather old man like as it is, that may not be very long at all. The demise of Robot Wars was came way too early. The concept had a lot of legs left - it only needed a bit of freshening up. And that's exactly what happened. The Beeb introduced two new house robots, to join the rotating cast of Sir Killalot, Sergeant Bash, Dead Metal, Matilda, and Shunt. They were called Mr Psycho and Growler. Unfortunately, to put it bluntly they sucked. And blunt they were. One was essentially Sir Killalot 2 with totally inefficient weaponry, while the other was a fast dog thing. Seriously. Luckily, to outweigh the disappointing nature of the new house robot recruits, a totally new feature was implemented into the war zone. Alongside the flipper, the pit, the angle grinders, the flame jets, and the steam jets, a new environmental hazard was added. They called it the drop zone, and boy was it good. Wildly inconsistent, but good. Want to see a washing machine dropped on a robot? Sure thing. 20 bowling balls? Okey dokey. It was a case of overkill though, as 'The Disc of Doom' was brought into play as yet another arena hazard. The less said the better - it was bollocks.  And it's here that my best memories of Robot Wars ends. For reasons that I'm unaware of, BBC sold the rights of the show to (gulp) Channel 5, and in all honesty they made it a bit shit. It was a bit limp, and commercial breaks never help (nor does the fact that NOBODY FUCKING WATCHES CHANNEL FIVE), so the show was shortly scrapped. It can't have been scrapped due to a lack of interest though. No no, I know plenty of people who would love for the show to return to our screens - me included! Thankfully, the robots themselves were not scrapped. Though I'm unaware of the details, apparently the robots and their drivers that we grew to know and love are still duking it out regularly as part of 'The Fighting Robot Association'. Their battles are not to be televised. Boo hiss. I would love for Robot Wars to make a grand return as much as I love Anchorman - and bloody hell do I love Anchorman! Please, somebody make it happen.

CEASE!

Guilty Pleasure Music

We all have at least one. An artist that we can't help but listen to and enjoy, even though for whatever reason we feel as though we shouldn't. Is it because it's embarrassing? Or is it just an obscure anomaly in comparison to the rest of your music taste? (Nothing wrong with going for an eclectic range). Or is it even because you're just paranoid? OR are you just looking at me with one eyebrow raised aloft, higher than the other, wondering what the hell 'guilty pleasure music' is and why the hell I'm still chatting on about like the figure of a man who seems to think that he's legally obliged to write any old blog about any old crud that comes into his mind, as often as possible? If you're answering with 'yes' to the final question, I advise that you walk on by and never speak of this event again. You won't like it here. Me personally? I'm rather partial to a bit of Jamiroquai here and there. I have no shame in saying that, so it's not really a guilty pleasure as such, but it's certainly the biggest digression in style from my usual lot, and it is a bit unorthodox for a 16 year old straight guy to be a self declared Jamiorquai fan. To be fair, 'fan' I am not, but I do like their music (it took me years to realise it was a band and not in fact a person...) Jay Kay is clearly a talented man. He's the white man with the voice and moves of a black woman. He's certainly a character too. Allegedly a bit of a man whore, he also has a massive sweet spot for a different kind of sexy chassis...he loves his fast cars. He's arrogant, confrontational, and funny. I don't want to, but I must say that I do like the man. He's been doing his thing for the best part of 20 years now, and his latest work with the band (apparently a totally new line up) 'Rock Dust Light Star' proves that he's back to his best. Jesus, I'm starting to sound like an undercover advertiser now. I'm not though. And if I was, I would have told you. Promise. FINE, if you still don't believe me - would an advertisement say this publicly about a product that it is trying to shine light upon and sell? "Rock Dust Light Star is a dreadful album title, and the cover sleeve of Jay Kay gurning towards the camera with what looks like a space-station (designed by the product of a flid passing architectural college) attached to his head is pretty bad." There we go. I have no allies here, see? Man, the lengths I'd go to to prove my relative impartiality.

If you can relate to what I'm trying to say (and you've managed to wade through all the thick babble that has collected up from the steady spewing of my mouth, above), and you have some guilty pleasure music of your own, then please feel free to share. Without comments I feel alone...so alone...

Es ist sehr kalt!

Y'see, what I learnt in GCSE German hasn't been completely wasted! It's cold. So very cold. There's no denying it. We're getting snow in late November and early December, and everyone's freezing their gonads off. What fun. Could you imagine if this spread all the way until Christmas day? We'd never hear the last of "2010's White Christmas". I can't say I particularly like the idea of that - especially considering that it'd stop the family from congregating. Actually, if we were to have a white Christmas, wouldn't that mean Bing Crosby would never have to dream of experiencing one again? So theoretically we'll never have to hear that blasted song again...! FUCK YOU, CHRISTMAS SPIRIT! Ahem. But no, seriously, it's pretty damn cold out now, and I'm not liking it. Traditionally I'll be wearing t-shirts and thin trousers in the winter (causing my mum to freak like Shigeru Miyamoto after he's seen Playstation Move's sales performance), but this year, I'm in long sleeved tops and a coat, and I'm still cold. What's that all about? Have I all of a sudden become very sensitive to the cold? Maybe it's just because I'm down by the coast every day. As if being close to Yarmouth was bad enough, now I can freeze my bollocks off while I'm there and taking my A Levels. I refuse to wear hats and scarves though. I have an innate aversion to them, I think. Or maybe I had a mentally damaging accident with them when I was younger, that I just don't remember. Maybe it'd be best for me if I can't remember it? For me, not even the appeal of being able to act out a role play of a hat saying "You hang around while I go on ahead" to a scarf is enough to get me to want to wear them. On a side note, born out of curiosity, if it snows while the sun is shining, can we see a 'snowbow'?

Modern art? 'Modern Shart' more like...

Bloody hell, is this something I could go on and on and on about. I won't though. I promise. (Sorry, I was crossing my fingers. First school pupil behaviour for the win.) First things first, if you don't know what a 'shart' or 'sharting' is, I suggest you look it up on http://www.urbandictionary.com/ and have a quiet little snigger to yourself, like a little child. Go on. Informed? Excellent, let's begin. Modern art is a hopeless excuse for art. Now I'm no artist myself, and I'm never going to claim to being an art critic or expert. In this case I certainly can't be something that I'm blatantly not. After all, you can't polish a turd. Will Shakespeare's words, no? For me, a personal achievement art wise is successfully drawing a stick man. Oh yes, I've screwed those up before, and no I'm not proud of it. Able to come out with high class critique I am not, but I can still use a combination of my eyes and innate common sense to determine whether something required much skill to make. Proper art, in all its forms except one, such as paintings or sculptures, takes skill. A hell of a lot of it.  Patience, too. Modern art though? I find it nearly indescribable. It's just surreal. My initial reaction to seeing a piece of so called 'modern art' is 9 times out of 10, something along the lines of 'What the fuck is that?!'. Or if I'm tired, it'll be a simple facial expression of disgust. Maybe even a hand gesture. By all means challenge me on this claim, but I truly believe that even I could make myself a sweet fortune with modern art. You've just got to get lucky, and then make up a particularly wordy back-story to the obviously hideous shit-pile that you're championing. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think I should give up college, put everything down that I'm doing and just let my creative juices flow. By this I mean, bodily juices. All of them. I'll find a nice large canvas, place it on the floor and proceed to shit, piss, bleed, vomit, ejaculate, sneeze, salivate and maybe even ooze pus onto it. I'll then pick up a stick, swirl it all around a bit, and hey presto/viola - you've got some bloody brilliant modern art right there. I'll call it 'The embodiment of bodily fluids'. Then all I've got to do is say how it perfectly stimulates the feelings of deep emotional troubles in a person, while at the same time displaying delicate hints of hope and happiness in the face of extra-terrestrial repression. And that the colour scheme gracefully reflects the notion of feeling too hungry to eat any more, but then desperately wanting to eat more of that food in a couple of hours time, when it's too late and the food is unobtainable. As an added note, I'd also like to say that I love how the intricate swirl trails left by the stick, symbolise undying passionate love for a family pet who's facing impending death. Something along those lines, methinks.  It'll be such a hit, surely? From what I've cannily observed, no skill is required to earn a crust (or a million of 'em) through producing and selling modern art, so surely I'll be successful? I know I'm right. I'm not being arrogant, I'm just looking at the precedent that's been set, and coming to the plainly obvious conclusion that my work can in some (sick and twisted way) be regarded as artistic genius. Takes a lot of thought, planning, and skill, that does. There's NO WAY that it's merely a case of the system being fucked up...

I'm a Celebrity

Well, I'm not, but I think you all know that I was referring to the reality TV show. 'I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here' is definitely a guilty pleasure of mine. I know it's incredibly cheap, and quite lower class television, but frankly, I can't deny that it's entertaining. I've (mostly) unashamedly watched it avidly for the past few years now, and it's been pretty good. The past couple of series however, I found myself wanting something more, because the same old stuff being churned out year on (including Katie Price, aka 'Jordan') gets pretty boring pretty quickly. Not that Katie Price ever was or ever will be interesting, mind. It was getting incredibly stale though. Personally I thought they should reboot the format of the show, or end it altogether. But no, it's simpler than that. How do you make a once appealing but now fading show quality television again? The answer's Gillian McKeith. Wowzers. What to say about this woman? I can't say I've ever been particularly fond of her - mainly because as far as first impressions go, looking like a Scottish interpretation of death itself and examining people's shit doesn't go down particularly well. Nor so is she much of a 'celebrity'. But hey, she's actually one of more well known faces in the camp this year. Lord help us. Let us cast this initial impression of her aside then, and at least try and take her for who she really is. Right, I'm ready now, I'll give it a go. Let's see what she's made herself look like. A terrified, jumpy, whining, ghastly, irritating, pathetic, feeble, hunchbacked excuse of a human being. That's what she is. The feeling of knowing exactly who the public have voted to partake in the 'Bushtucker Trial' day in, day out, is really quite refreshing. And very funny indeed. 'I'm A Celeb', as I'll now call it for the sake of saving marginal amounts of time (oh look, I've now wasted more anyway through explaining), is a rare breed of television of programme. That, and The Apprentice, are pretty much the only two shows that have the uncanny ability of making me genuinely hate somebody that I've never even met, and will (luckily) probably never meet. Her list of phobias is endless. The list of things I dislike about her is endless. Surely she should be put down? Even better, maybe before the series' end, good ol' Shaun Ryder will have had enough and pummelled her into the dirt - cigarette in ham-fisted hand, complete with frequent swearing. That would make my da-...no, it would make my we-...no, it would make my mon-...no, it would make my ye-...no...look, the point is that I'd love for it to happen. Oh, and on live TV? Yes please. Going back roughly 60 words, you're right, I do mean Shaun Ryder. Y'know, that plump 'musically talented' Northerner who spent most of the 1990s awake. The man that collaborated with Gorillaz for a song, in which his inability to pronounce 'there' led to the title of the song actually being changed. And who for that same song, when performing live at Glastonbury earlier this year alongside Damon Albarn and co, had to have a sheet with the lyrics on. What a pro'. You may think that's sarcasm, but I love the man. He's just such a character. But anyway. I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here is just a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. Go on, judge me! If it wasn't for Gillian or Shaun though, I probably wouldn't be interested. I should probably give a special mention to those two short Geordie lads. Annoying? Maybe. Funny? Yes. I reckon without Ant and Dec, that show would have collapsed a fair while ago. It's on its last legs anyway. Maybe call it a day after this series? I think it's fair to say that we all want Gillian's fantastic 'faint' to be remembered as a final high point for the show. Not seen the incident? My goodness, it's pure TV gold.

Check it out for yourself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QNofgJw3azM

The Use of a Dictionary

Think of a dictionary as a horrifically wordy bank of...erm...words. It's a place for words to be catalogued, ordered, and defined. That's what it does. So why oh why oh why, do we get this scenario:
"I don't know how to spell this word. I better search for it in the dictionary".
No. That's wrong. To find a word in the dictionary, you need to be able to know how to spell it. So therefore, if you don't know how to spell a certain word, you're probably going to run into a bit of trouble when it comes to finding it. Yes, admittedly, if the bit you're unsure about is towards the end of the word, you'll find it easier, but that doesn't change the fact that you're just doing 'dictionary' wrong. I remember countless times in primary school being told to search for a word in the dictionary if I didn't know how to spell it, and it drove my little brain mad. To be honest, it just made me think that the teacher didn't know how to spell the word themselves, so they threw at me any tool that looked (to a stupid kid) like it could potentially be of some use. It's incompetence. As a teacher, your job is to teach me, and if you can't satisfy the demands of what, a silly little 6 year old child? You suck. It'd be like going to a garage because your car has a problem with it's engine. You engage in conversation with one of the mechanics, only to find that actually, his recommendation for you is that you spray the engine with de-icer and hope for the best.

"It's related to a car, so hopefully they'll believe me when I tell them it'll work. Oh, and spray it yourself."
To me, this scenario is much the same as:
"It's related to words, so hopefully you'll believe me when I tell you it'll work. Oh, and find it yourself."

I feel as though I have a point. Grrrrrrrrrr, screw you, teachers. However, do not screw your teachers. This isn't Waterloo Road. This is real life, and bloody hell does it have a lot of crap to show us.

Formspring

What a peculiar little website Formspring is. Firstly, I'm going to go ahead and just chuck out there the fact that I have literally no idea why the site is called 'Formspring'. I don't see any forms around, and I certainly don't see any springs. Baffling stuff. Call it what you like, it's still a pretty good (I use the word 'good' very loosely here) site.The basic premise of Formspring, wait no, the only premise of Formspring is that you can ask various contacts (be it your friends or your enemies) questions (be it openly or behind the convenient black screen of anonymity). It creates some pretty interesting results, let me put it that way. The idea of simply asking someone you know a basic question, such as "What's your favourite car?" goes out of the window once you realise that there's a hell of a lot more fun (and twatishness to be had). Some is good. Most is bad. It's probably a 10-90 split. I consider myself of a Formspring veteran now, and after browsing the site various times, it occurred to me that you can divide the types of questions up into 3 main categories. This is how it is:

1. Compliments and nice friendly questions. 
To be honest, these are pretty boring to read on someone else's profile, but it's always nice to be sent a question/statement that actually contains some form of good intention. It's ever so slightly depressing to see 'your so pretty' on some year 11 girl's formspring, but hey, grammar aside, at least they tried? (RHYMING WIN) This is the best side of Formspring that you'll be able to see. It's pleasant, it's light hearted, and unfortunately it's littered with the half-arsed compliments of illiterate bastards. Alas, it's not really all that interesting. Not bad.

2. Abuse/aggression/hate
I've got to be a bit careful with what I say here. I'd like to think that my fundamental morals for surviving the wonderfully crafted bitch of a game that we like to call 'life' are still intact. But, I can't help but feel as though some of the most entertaining reading to be found on Formspring is through abuse. I never send out abusive comments, and I don't condone doing so, and I'm perfectly aware of the fact that it's mean to find fun from other people's hurtful comments (and the subsequent responses) but honestly, some cases just have to be seen to be believed. 99% of the abuse received on Formspring, as far as I can tell, is directed at females of the age bracket '12-16' who are generally considered to be popular and/or attractive. It's basically just a combination of jealousy, boredom and aggression coming together to form some kind of eloquently written point, such as 'u r such slag'. That's a quote, boys and girls. Take note now - if you don't want to be judged by me and various other people, please at least listen a little tiny bit in English lessons. Yes, I know it's not fun, but for God's sake you're English and not some scrawny little invalid troll. Thank you.  But anyway, Formspring hate is hilarious. It's never well articulated enough to actually be hurtful, so it just ends up being a drawn out, pathetic little argument that makes bystanders like me laugh, and shits on the Queen's English.

3. Spam
Spam spam spam spam spam spam spam. Spam. I can't stand it. Otherwise known as 'mass-messages',  spam on Formspring comes in the form of generic, poorly written questions that are almost completely devoid of purpose and are completely devoid of any wit, that are sent to every contact on said spammer's 'following' list. What a royal pain in my arse they are. What the fucking hell is the point in sending everyone 'I love you', when it's plain and clear to see that through your whorish, frenzied compliments, you're actually proving that you've either: A) Got a massive problem with your life and you're a bit of a prick, or B) Your heart has an unmitigated, unrivalled capacity to truly love everyone that you know, with genuine feeling. It's 'A', surprisingly. Their are so many examples of spam/mass messages that I've experienced, that I wish I could show you them all. Instead, I'll point you politely in the direction of my Formspring profile, and welcome you to ask ANY questions you like. Compliments? Abuse? Spam? Incomprehensible gobbledigook? Yes please, why the hell not. Anything to have an excuse to write a bit more, in my usual raging way. And because I'm so kind (why are you shaking your head...?!), I'll show you a delightful taster of my most recent bit of spam. Let's just say that I was in a bit of a bad mood...

Question
who would be the one who is to fat? who would be the one who is to skinny? who is the one who pisses every one off? whos the one who gets off every weekend? any you know what might fir to any of these?


Answer
Righty ho 'wanker', which is what I'm calling you from now on for reasons of poor first impression. I'd like to think that you'd be the one who's fat. I've never seen you, and I don't even know whether you're a boy or a girl (nor do I care), so I can't even begin to know details of your body weight. However, because I find you, 'wanker', incredibly irritating (perhaps this is a trait you've possessed since birth) I would like to assign as many negative traits to you as possible. With 'fat' being a derogatory term, and you actually giving me the opportunity to lightly insult you through asking me, I'll go ahead and say that you'd be fat. Next up. Pisses everyone off? Step right up 'wanker', it wouldn't surprise me if you pissed everyone off, because you've sure as hell done a damn decent job pissing little old me off already - a solid performance. All I need to do is use common sense to extrapolate this results of annoyance, and hey presto, you DEFINITELY have the potential to piss everyone off. That'll be you again then. Who 'gets off' every weekend? Well, this is rather ambiguous, as you could easily be referring to somebody getting off a method of public transport, ie a train or a bus. I'm giving you examples of public transport under the assumption that you really are as fucking brain-dead as you've initially come across to me. Whoops, I'm just being deliberately pedantic and a bit of a prick - maybe we'd get on well then...? No, no we wouldn't. If you think we may get on well, please start reading this again and pay particular attention to the tone in which I am addressing you, twat. Did that help? Good. Anyhow, back to the question. To be honest I think that you'd get off with someone every weekend too. Oh, but before you think I'm praising you, 'wanker', this is under the proviso that the action involves some form of animal (preferably ill and/or decrepit) or a member of your family (preferably dead). Thanks for your well thought out questions. Because I'm such a jolly kind fellow, I'll give you some tips for the future, so you can spam to your heart's content like the retarded little shit-pile of a person you are:

1. Clean up your overall grammar
2. Somehow, as soon as possible, become interesting to at least the tiniest of degrees
3. Fuck off

I hope to speak to you soon, 'wanker' <<<(lie)

Thanks for reading this ridiculously long post. I felt as though I owed you a long, painful experience, after my recent lack of activity.

As I promised: http://www.formspring.me/Benjo6

RIP Paul the Octopus

Paul the Octopus. Paul die Krake. Pulpo Paul. Today he died of natural causes. Whatever you call him, he was a legend. A predicting powerhouse of the sea-life world, he became internationally famous, and a rather big tourist attraction. Taking residency in a tank at a sea life centre in Oberhausen, Paul successfully predicted the outcomes of all of Germany's World Cup 2010 South Africa fixtures, and also the outcome of the final. Initially from Weymouth, Paul the Octopus had a bit of an allegiance with England. He was a true fan, and was made an official ambassador of our (now desperate looking) 2018 World Cup bid. Seriously, I couldn't make this up. I'm still talking about an octopus here. A funeral will soon be held for dear Paul, but for now, I think it's appropriate that we all take a couple of minutes to think about him and his wonderful life, and to watch his unofficial song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ftUvfi1J0QI

An unmitigated mussel eating maverick, Paul, the oracle Octopus, you will be sorely missed.

Rest in peace.

Oreo - Step By Step Eating Guide

Right then. First you twi-...oh fuck this bullshit, it's a bloody biscuit! What makes it so different from every other biscuit (or 'cookie' if you're from the land of the USA) to enable it to have its own specific method of eating? Divine right?! I don't think so. Although, if there is a God, I would like to think that his preferred biscuit of choice would be an Oreo...! Now don't get me wrong, I love Oreos. Hmm, no, I love Oreos. No, I love Oreos. No, sorry, I LOVE Oreos. No no, I LOVE Oreos.Nearly...but no, I LOVE Oreos. Much better. But anyway, they're probably my favourite biscuit around, so I'm not having a pop at them. I'm merely having a go at the way in which they've been advertised. Why can't any other biscuit have its own designated method of eating, eh? Oh that's right, because it's shit. Pointless, overly intricate for what at the end of the day is only a bloody biscuit, and along with the advert (I could punch that kid...), is incredibly annoying. As far as I'm concerned, if they wanted to be truthful and less commercially retarded in their advertising campaign's methods, the guide would be as follows:

1. Eat the fucking biscuit you prick
2. Enjoy
3. Revert back to Step 1 and repeat the process

(Damn that would make for an interesting advert...!) Job done, have a nice day.

Plagiarism

I’m going to try and be as reasonable and inoffensive as possible here, but I know that I run a severe risk of not doing so. If you’re at all familiar with what goes on here on this mighty fine blog (artistic descriptive licence used here to bend the truth on the subject of the quality of the blog), you’ll probably know that often I use it as a simple way of venting my anger/frustration/hatred on a certain topic/theme and shoving right in your unwilling faces. I’m just that kind. With this heated writing then, comes some often over the top statements, or harsh words that I wouldn’t otherwise say. But today, I can at least say when I look back at this blog entry, that I tried to refrain from reaching the difficult depths of irrational behaviour. Bloody hell, let’s just say it’s lucky that I don’t have a character limit. I do however, have a readers’ attention span limit, and the upper bound duration of such an entity has most probably already been surpassed, even at such an early stage. You know it’s not going well when you’re nearly 200 words in, and you haven’t even mentioned what the blog post itself is going to be about, apart from in the title. Oh wait, let me change that. When you’re over 200 words in, and you haven’t even mentioned what the blog post itself is going to be about. Holy cack, I’m just prolonging it now. Let’s just get down to business, before we all die. Plagiarism is a very difficult issue. It has to be dealt with sensitively and diligently, because at times a lot can be riding on it. Half think of it like your mother. Though nobody ‘deals with her’ sensitively, she certainly has had a lot riding on her. To my misfortune, I recently stumbled upon ‘the incredible’ (according to her official Youtube channel) new single from that thing, Diana Vickers. Is she a squirrel, or a chipmunk, or a gopher? None, but she certainly resembles all three. Is she annoying? Yes, yes, and twenty thousand times yes. Is she talented? No, no, and twenty thousand times no. Do I give a shit about her and her career? Read the answer to the previous question. Bugger, that’s me being overly harsh already. But anyway, back to the story. I click on the link to her new single, and I listen. Now, you may be wondering to yourself ‘Ben, why the hell did you choose to listen to a Diana Vickers song?!’ and my answer to that query would be that after seeing her and laughing in response once (for many reasons), I’d very much have liked the chance to do it again. This video was that chance. So I listen away. The first thing that strikes me is just how ridiculous she looks, and also the fact that many themes from the music video have been lifted from other artists and musicians with little subtlety. Naughty. Take the shots in which she’s in a cage, as an example. I’ve certainly seen it done very similarly by Shakira before. It also begs the question, if they finally got Diana Vickers under control and in captivity, why did they not torture her to death, while maximising the amount of pain she experiences for entertainment reasons?! Hopefully this did still happen after the filming of this video. The next thing that strikes me is that for whatever reason, the song sounds a little bit familiar. The next thing that strikes me is that the song is complete and utter garbage, and is comparable in quality to listening to a brain-dead cat soil itself, while it attempts to screech out the national anthem from its nose. The final thing that strikes me is that I have most definitely wasted approximately 3 minutes of my life, that I’ll never be able to get back again. Once the song is over though, I can’t help but get pissed off by the familiarity of the song’s chorus. I proceed to scroll down and examine the comments, and to my glee I find that the video has received nearly as many dislikes as it has likes. Not quite there, but get in. Crucially though, I also find that a massive talking point is about how the chorus of the song has been nicked from the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ classic Under The Bridge. Very naughty. I begrudgingly listen to the (pitiful) song again, and it hits me. They’re right. The basic melody of the chorus is dangerously similar to that of RHCP’s song. Now it’s not as though the whole song has been ‘lifted’, of course, but a substantially sizable portion of the song is very similar. It’s frankly disgusting to see such a talentless, mentally damaged shrew of a woman prance around to the stolen melody of some absolute legends of rock music history (or to be more specific, funk rock). It’s taboo; it’s common sense to know that it shouldn’t be done. I just don’t understand it. It’s frankly laughable that Mrs Vickers can find HEAVY inspiration from such a brilliant song, and yet turn it into the musical equivalent of rotten faecal matter. It’s beyond belief. Let’s look at it in a completely different way. A long time popular and successful chef bakes a scrumptious cake, with the finest ingredients and it’s a massive hit. He releases the recipe to the public domain. A wannabe chef sees this recipe, tries it, loves it, and decides to modify it and release it into the public domain. However, the wannabe chef is incompetent, and so takes out all of the nice ingredients from the cake and replaces them with such delights as camel pus, dirt, semen, and of course her nan’s pubic hair. Is that acceptable?! No, no it isn’t. So, because of this fiasco, the Red Hot Chili Peppers are indeed suing poor little Diana Vickers, the gimped up, mentally held back tart. Watch this space.

Disclaimer: I have nothing personally against Diana Vickers, and I’m sure that she’s actually a rather nice person. However, I find her intensely irritating, moronic, and incompetent, so I feel as though my over the top expression of feelings is partially justified.

Abbreviations

Abbreviations...how convenient they are. At times they just epitomise the sheer laziness of humankind. Hell, I’m not complaining. I’m as lazy as they come. Think Dimitar Berbatov (sorry non-football fans, I’m sure you won’t mind not understanding this reference) after a couple of days without sleep and a few stone put on for good measure. Roughly in that ball park is the magnitude of my laziness. But that’s aside the point. Abbreviations are pretty useful. But at times, I just can’t help but feel as though they could be...how can I put this...more awesome? Don’t leave, I know you’re wondering what the hell I’m on about, but bear with me. It’s better for you to bear with me than for you to have a bear with you, which is what will happen if you leave right now. I know where you live. The bear knows where you live. The bear has the methods at his disposal to maul, lacerate and demolish you. You know what’s best for you. So stay here, bear with me, and avoid having a bear with you (and the bloody consequences). Wow, I really have gone ‘off on one’. Where was I? Ah yes, of course. It’s second nature to us that being more awesome is a generally good thing, so surely more awesome abbreviations are a good thing too? Let me put this into a much more workable context. Names; often they get abbreviated, and to be honest, it’s not always particularly worth it (certainly not like a regular L’oreal user). But imagine this. Your name is Jonothan. It’s okay, and you’re perfectly content with it. Some people call you ‘John’/’Jon’, and some even ‘Jono’. But aren’t we missing a trick here? What about ‘Han’?! (I must remind you that here, the sarcasm is more apparent than in other areas of the blog). I know for a fact that I would rather be referred to as ‘Han’, instead of the now mundane seeming ‘Jonothan’. I know it makes sense, and you do too. Being named after the most badass pilot in the whole of the universe (sorry Lando) is an honour, and Goddamnit is it awesome. I also can’t help but feel as though I could have had it a bit better too. ‘Benjamin’ is all fine and well (though I do HATE it), and it being abbreviated to ‘Ben’ is reasonable (I don’t mind it) but again, aren’t we all missing a massive bit of awesome naming potential? ‘Benjamin’ becomes ‘Jamin’. Oh yes. Indeed, I would definitely need to be black to pull it off with a shred of respectability or aplomb, but it’s still a kickass name nonetheless. Yes, I will find something more interesting and relevant to write about next time. (No promises made.)

Might as well face it you're addicted to lo-...energy drinks?

I'm quite partial to an energy drink here and there yes. Okay, so that's a BIT of an understatement. I love energy drinks. There's something about the taste that I genuinely really really like. Bit of a bummer really, all things considered. Couldn't I be obsessed with milk, or water? Something healthy? But no, it had to be energy drinks. Not only insanely addictive but also face shatteringly unhealthy. Want excessive amounts of sugar? Caffeine? Obscure flavourings? Energy drinks are for you then, sir or madam. If not, then good on you. You have more common sense than me. I've promised myself that I'll cut the addiction I have, and even go cold turkey if I have to. But first, it's my duty to taste as many different energy drinks as possible and rank them in order of awesomeness. Why? Because my life is a far-fetched box of not much of any importance or relevance, with little consistency or purpose. That's why, God dammit. So here's what we've got so far. I'll update it when a new member or the family is tasted. Note that this is the only context in which I will ever mention myself tasting members of my family, because the 'family' mentioned is fictitious. I can't stress enough that I will in no way ever condone incestuous acts. Thank you.

1. Relentless Inferno

2. Relentless Juiced Berry

3. Relentless Origin

4. Monster Energy

5. Rockstar Energy

6. Red Bull

7. Tesco's Kx (formerly 'Kick')

8. Monster Lo-Carb
9. Red Rooster
10. Morrison's Source

11. Mountain Dew Energy

12. Euro Shopper Energy Drink
13. Relentless Juiced Tropical
14. Emerge

Trailing off at the end of...

...sentences. I had you fooled there, didn't I? I couldn't use the single joke I have prepared for this blog post at the very beginning, could I? I had to complete the line just then. I think we all know how this is going to end now...but it doesn't matter. I'll march on. Trailing off at the end of sentences, leaving them unfinished and most likely nonsensical is something that I find myself unwillingly doing quite a lot of the time. I'll be in mid-flow, perhaps ranting (definitely ranting) and then I'll just stop. The words running through my brain will stop, and so my fast moving lips catch up with me and the sentence dies. I don't know why this is. I suppose it could be because I talk remarkably fast. This, I hate. It means that I have to repeat almost everything that I say. I know it's my fault, but I can't seem to kick the habit and sloooooooow it down a touch. I'll improve in the end, I'm sure. Funnily enough, my desire to write has totally dried up. My head has more words to frantically type, but I'm having none of it. Just a short and completely meaningless blog post today then. I guess you could say...

They're gonna taste great, apparently.

Frosties Kid! Where are you?! I can't help but laugh every single time I think about THAT infamous advert. Shocking, pitiful, terrible, awful, dreadful, horrendous, horrific, painful, cringeworthy, dire, abominable, atrocious, poor...I think we all get the picture. It's so instantly quotable (for all the wrong reasons) it's nearly untrue. Why did the poor guy never take a quick step back and look at what he was getting himself involved in? I mean, seriously - you can hear the sound of Frosties hitting your PLATE? Seems like somebody has a bad case of crockery deficiency...! Nobody with an ounce of dignity or with the mental capacity of something more than a half-dead badger would ever consider eating Frosties off a plate. It's illogical, not to mention highly impractical. Picture the scene. You carefully tip the Frosties from out of the packet onto your plate, with minimal mess. They bounce and ricochet a bit, but they all stay on board. Well done, that's a good success. Took a bit of determination, concentration and skill, but it's an encouraging start. Next up, milk. Here's when it goes udders up. How the FUCK could you possibly pour milk onto a PLATE of all things?! A presumably almost perfectly flat plate, with only the slightest of indents, that's already covered in God knows how many grossly overpriced sugar coated flakes of corn?! What a fucking disaster. We all know what happens next. Milk runs all over the place, causing what can only be described as kitchen based white river rapids with little cereal canoes to flow from the worktop, down to the ground, and across the tiles (or whatever style flooring you so wish to be ruined by fast moving milk in this particular analogy) until eventually it reaches a carpet which soaks it up in remarkable time, leaving a stink of stale calcium based goodness to be wafted around the house. If this doesn't seem appealing to you, which it sure as hell shouldn't do, then Kellog's advertising campaign definitely failed in hilarious fashion. This is most definitely why we haven't heard from the so called 'Frosties Kid' since the shit skit was last aired. Remember the internet frenzy surrounding the poor guy's future? It was bloody mental. I think it was the first time I truly experienced the unique behaviour of the internet and its people. Rumours spread like wildfire. Some say he killed himself (the means in which he did so have been hotly debated - did he ram a pencil up his nose, jump off a bridge, run in front of a bus, or even provoke lions at a zoo?). Probably not...apparently he went back to his native South Africa, to escape all the outrageous hatred that he was on the receiving end of. I can't blame the guy if he did. So what if the advert was a pile of wank, he doesn't deserve that! Frosties Kid, if you're still around, I wish you all the best. You've had your taste of fame, was it really Grrrrrrrreat?

Irony - A beautiful, beautiful thing.

Oh comedy, I love you. I honestly do. There's so many different types of it too, that appeal to different people. Personally, I love a bit of stupidity but I also love something clever and well worked, that's perhaps not so immediately accessible. This is probably why I'm such a big fan of Mitchell and Webb (the former of the two I have been compared to many times, which worries me a bit) because they've found such a brilliantly funny and dynamic medium of silly antics and intelligent humour. For me personally though, I'll always be more hungry for more high end humour, if you like. I was never a fan of Catherine Tate, or of Little Britain. I found them too unnecessarily crude at times, and crucially, reeking badly from a distinct lack of laughter. But hey, it's all down to opinion, and (for the first series) I could see the appeal of the aforementioned programmes. One branch of intelligent comedy then, is irony. It's so hard to explain what it even is...I suppose it's something that will just click after a while (or after a few failed attempts at using it, as a certain cousin of mine found out, bless him). It's just like the way in which Will Ferrell's Ron Burgundy struggles to get to grips with the phrase 'When in Rome...', in what is almost certainly my favourite film of all time, Anchorman. Once correctly grasped, irony is such a fantastic tool. It can be so simple, but yet it always feels quite clever. There's just so many examples of it. A fire station burning down is funny. The RAC breaking down is funny. An escapologist being trapped and dying in a lift is funny. An anti-claustrophobic astronaut is funny (he hates space...). The fact that repeating the word 'quench' will eventually make you feel thirsty is funny. The fact that saying 'cringeable' instead of 'cringeworthy' is in fact cringeworthy in itself, is funny. The day I lose my grip on the general concept of irony is the day that I feel as though I should die. Life just wouldn't be the same without it...

Marmite

Oooft, what a controversial beast of a foodstuff! When you think about it, it's pretty damn strange that an opinion has to be so black or white. Even weirder that it's an opinion on a vegetable based spread. Normally, to avoid ridicule, you'll sit on the fence - right down the middle. But no, not with marmite. It won't let you do that. You'll offend EVERYONE that has an informed opinion on the stuff, and you'll look like a trend bucking idiot. But that's not it. You genuinely can't win. If you love it, you'll be loved by the lovers and hated by the haters. And if you hate it, you'll be loved by the haters and hated by the lovers. Marmite ensures that in some way, people won't be able to get on swimmingly. And while we're on the subject, I hate the stuff. Ah, but I used to love it. Does this not mean that I can be friends with both sides, AND the middle ground? No...? Bugger. What makes marmite so 'love or hate' though, seriously? The fact that there are some people who genuinely don't mind it surely indicates that it in fact isn't love or hate! It's near enough normal. Perhaps if the fanatics and the loathers recognised this, we'd all be happy right now, and there'd be no rivalry. You know what, yes. I'm going to go one further. I firmly believe that Marmite is at fault for all that's bad in the world. Let's sort this out once and for all.

As you can see, I have come to an utterly absurd conclusion in this blog post. It was entirely intentional, and crucially, entirely sarcastic. I actually think that the whole 'love or hate' status that Marmite has been labelled with is a bit bloody brilliant. A bit stupid, yes, but a bit brilliant.

FIFA 11 vs PES 2011 (Demos)

It's nearly that time of year again. The time of year when all those many many football fans out there have to decide between the two big football simulation games (or, if you're a rich bastard, just get both) and stick with it 'til the end of the season (and a bit beyond). It's recently become a much easier decision than it used to be though. It once was the big licensing muscle of FIFA, versus the more refined gameplay of PES. Electronic Arts' FIFA always seemed to do better commercially, but critically, time and time again, Konami knew how to win. Me personally? I never really bought into PES, but I do see the points for against both sides. For the past few years though, FIFA has advanced well, making useful refinements and additions, and crucially making it a very playable series by revamping the engine itself. PES however, hasn't fared so well. The package has seemed to stay the same for a few years, leaving a rather stale taste in the mouth. You can't always just stick to your laurels. So, in the season of 2010/11, has anything changed? Not really, no. But it's interesting, for sure. Having played both of the demos a fair bit now (we're told they're not fully representative of the final product, but they never change significantly prior to release), I can make a reasonable comparison between the two.

Graphics: As you'd expect, they're both very solid looking games, but there's something more realistic about FIFA's portrayal of the football universe. The player models in PES still scream (though much quieter than before) 'robotic'. Let's call it a whisper, in fact, because they've still done a decent job. Player faces vary from player to player in both games, with Pro Evolution seeming to have the best and the worst attempts. It's tight, but FIFA wins this one - it's just smoother and cleaner.

Gameplay: This is where it gets interesting. First of all, FIFA 11 feels very different to its predecessor. It's harder. Passing isn't so simple any more, thanks to the generically named 'Pro-Passing' feature, and the shooting seems to have been modified to make it harder to score. Penalties have been given a major facelift, and without a tutorial, I found it impossible to get into any kind of groove. Let's just say many spot kicks were  smashed over the bar. I found myself marvelling at how smoothly FIFA played, but also getting frustrated with a distinct lack of bite, or weight. I find this hard to explain. It just feels a bit floaty. PES on the other hand, plays like cack - all over the pitch. First touches are horrendous, the passing and the shooting feel horrible, the default control system is very awkward indeed, and the game almost feels as though it's playing itself out. You never quite feel in control of your actions. It's a rather surreal experience, and I certainly wouldn't recommend it. Then there's the fact that you can instruct your player on the ball to 'dive' or 'simulate'. What. The. Hell. Encouraging cheating? Good one Konami...there's not a hope in hell that you'd see this kind of feature in FIFA, because (rightly) they're too sensible. Or should I say, not Japanese enough to implement something so pointless and against the spirit of the bootiful game. Oh, and finally. Remember how I just criticised the penalty system in FIFA? PES has something laughable to show you. The camera perspective when shooting is mind boggling, and ultimately, experience hindering.

Presentation: Here's where FIFA sticks to its guns and does a competent job, and it all goes tits up for PES. Both games are serious football simulations, supposedly, so you've got to keep it all authentic to a reasonable degree. FIFA does this perfectly, with a licensed soundtrack, crisp menus, decent commentary (though the voices of Clive Tyldesley and Andy Gray were already starting to grate a couple of years ago), and more official licenses than you can shake a stick at. PES on the other hand, seems to stick to its guns too...which isn't a good thing. The menus are absolutely archaic, and you'll find yourself wrestling with them at every opportunity. It's just such a hassle. All the while you're being forced to listen to some recycled J-Pop tosh that wouldn't find its way into even the shittiest of nightclubs in the rough suburbs of Tokyo. It's nearly vomit inducing. There was no commentary at all in the demo by the way, so I found myself playing to Biffy Clyro (which is perhaps why I got a little bit of enjoyment out of my playthrough). Also, Konami are boasting the ability to completely screw up the dynamics of the visual aspect of the game, and customise everything - eg, players can wear ridiculous helmets, wigs, and the like. Only the Japanese...

Features: Can't tell, from the demos. Much the same as the previous year, with one or two interesting quirks, we can safely assume.

So there we have it. My unnecessarily drawn out opinion on this year's shot at the football simulation genre. It's looking pretty bleak, actually. I'm just not too convinced that either of them play too well (PES more so than FIFA), so I may find myself playing my choice this year (FIFA, by the way), and just wishing that it was more like the previous year's version. PES 2011 though, has definitely reinforced the fact that the Japanese gaming industry is in urgent need of modernising. PS1 style menus and music were fine on the PS1, but not on the xBox 360 or PS3. Get it right people. It seems that only Nintendo know what they're doing in the land of the rising sun.

2013/2014 Solar Flare?

According to recent reports, some boffins (presumably) somewhere in the country have predicted that there will be a 'Solar Flare' in either 2013 or 2014. Now, when I first heard this story, I responded in a manner much like the way most people respond to hearing this. 'What the hell even is one of those?' Well, I still don't really know, so I think a trip over to my good friend Wikipedia will be in order. But regardless of the ins and outs of what happens, I do know what the consequences of such an event are supposedly going to be. Apparently, all electronics globally will be cut off. Yes, that's right. If we have reason to believe what's being predicted (and extrapolated from findings from many years ago), then in 3 or 4 years time, we will completely lose electronic devices. Now, they should be able to be reset, but even so, can you imagine the chaos that would ensue if this were to happen? Phone lines would be down. The internet would be down. Television and radio would be disabled. It would be more than just a shock to the system - it would effectively paralyse the globe! However...I think we do all need to chill just a bit. It's not going to end the world, and it won't even come close. Precautions can be undertaken, such as satellites temporarily going offline to avoid the flare's wrath, and I'm sure that as a planet's worth of countries clumping together, we'll be able to do sufficient work to quash the effects of the flare, regardless of its magnitude. To be honest, I just don't know enough about it. I can't sift the fact from the fiction and the gossip, so I'll either have to research it (too lazy), or just wait and see what unfolds. I do get the impression that this may be a bit of a dud story though, and that we're just doing what we do best; worrying like hell.

Go Compare...my fist to your face

We've all seen it. We've all heard it. We all hate it. Why why why do the people at GoCompare think it's a good advertising campaign?! Yes, it's now a household name, and people of all ages know what the company is, but that's missing the point. You've also got to remember as well, that death (for example) is a household name, and generally we don't exactly like it. For an advertisement to be successful, it needs to have a memorable hook of some sort, but it also needs to be appropriate. It doesn't necessarily have to be relevant (just look at the Cadbury's gorilla advert, which has now made Phill Collins' 'In The Air Tonight' more popular by tenfold.), but it absolutely has to get on the right side of the potential customers - ie, don't fucking annoy everyone by centering your advertising campaign around a fat, Italian, wailing prick. This just so happens to be exactly what the people at GoCompare have done. Imbeciles. Clearly something's wrong with the hierarchy at that place, because it doesn't exactly take a genius to realise that you're going to irritate people with 'Gio Compario' - a man who must surely be the prime candidate for 'Fictional Twat of the Year'. A solid punch to face is definitely what that penis of a man, and every employee who works in the advertising department of GoCompare deserves.

Am I...Posh?

It's come to my attention recently, that I may be getting, or have had for a while, a strange reputation. Now, let's get this out of the way right at the start. I'm not posh. I'm just not. My upbringing has been civilised, to a degree (as in, civilised enough to know that I probably shouldn't eat with my mouth open, and that killing/rape/necrophilia is wrong), but it certainly hasn't been an upper class upbringing. My mum comes from Norfolk, and my dad comes from Wales. Not exactly two places that you would associated with being rife with posh people. In fact, combine the two and you get a place that revels in incestuous woolly sex...fun, fun, fun! And, breaking away from the rigid and (mostly) hideously inaccurate stereotypes for a second, they're not posh anyway. So why and how have I gained this reputation (sort of)? I've thought about it, and it's probably partly because I've effectively become an old man at the tender age of 16. I'm very opinionated (often stupidly so), I follow many traditionally morals and beliefs, and crucially, I'm an absolutely pathetically devoted grammar nazi. Also, I'm often very very grumpy indeed - like your mum when she's been told that she can't have a cream cake (which I'm assuming, if exposed to her, would be devoured in 2 seconds flat), and I recently got told that I dress like an old man. What's wrong with shirts?! Anyway...the signs are pretty conclusive. But how does this make me posh? Well, it doesn't. It's to do with the bit about being a grammar nazi...because I'm that way, I always attempt to write in the best possible English, with unnecessarily long words and excessive punctuation. For this, I seem posh. It would be fine, but in this day and age of seas of abbreviation and hopelessly poor grammar (you know, illiteracy) I stick out like a sore thumb. It's not the standard 'done thing' to talk, text and type in Queen's English - it's weird, apparently (according to the new generation of up and coming youths just a few years below me, that I like to call Fucktards). So the answer is, no, I'm not posh. I just look like a fucking snob in comparison to the majority of the detritus that lethargically roams this doomed planet. Wait, does that mean that I AM posh?

Sacha Baron Cohen is...Freddie Mercury?!

Sacha Baron Cohen. Say what you like, but he's a funny guy. But crucially, that's pretty much (film wise) all he is. I've got to be honest about it. I mean, Will Ferrell is by far my favourite actor, but I'd be one of the first to admit that he can only do (and do BRILLIANTLY, if I may add) comedy, and nothing else. But back to Mr Cohen.

Borat - controversial, but a funny film nonetheless.
Ali G - maybe a bit over referenced, but definitely funny.
Bruno - well, I haven't seen it, so...but I have heard that it's pretty funny.
Talladega Nights - hilarious film, and though not the star of the show, he's damn funny all the same.

That's a quick pick from the man's filmography. All comedies. I, for one, wouldn't be able to take the guy seriously if he had to play a mature, dramatic role. And I know that lots of people share this view. So why then, would you pick him to play Freddie Mercury, the great Freddie Mercury, in a film biopic about our bombastic national treasures Queen? It beggars belief. There's so much that could go wrong here. It's pretty obvious too. Sacha Baron Cohen is known to offend people easily, and being such a universally loved source material that Queen are, fans could very easily be looking at an insult of an acting performance. Because Freddie was such an extrovert, and crucially, gay, the role is on a knife edge in terms of getting it right. Also bear in mind Sacha's pedigree when playing the role of a comedic gay character...he's been there and done that at least twice! It just seems to me that this film is a nightmare waiting to happen. Yes, Sacha Baron Cohen does resemble Freddie Mercury more than most actors out there, but I genuinely can't think of many worse actors to pick for the part. With me being a real fan of Queen's music, I just hope that Sacha can mature (if only for just this once) into a mature, well rounded, and sensitive actor. Freddie deserves a movie, because he was a true legend, and one of the best musicians/showmen our country has ever, and will ever see - let's not let this be screwed up, please.

Pre-school...wait, sorry, I mean 'college'

Finally, college. After what feels like a lifetime of education, going through the school system, taking exams that feel important but ultimately aren’t, taking the piss out of supply teachers, swearing like a tourrettes suffering freak, leaving homework ‘til the last minute, cutting and sticking, trading Pokemon cards, playing races at lunchtime and thinking that taking you shoes off made you faster, and learning countless subjects that don’t interest you, finally college begins. Where the ‘real’ work can be found, and where you get more freedom, and can stop learning all the subjects that previously nibbled at your brain like a hungry rat (with a fetish for brains). You’d think then, that it would all become serious, and proper hard work would begin. Well, not yet, apparently. Because I can never tell who’s reading this, I won’t specify the details of this story. Let’s just say that spending an hour and fifteen minutes constructing models out of simply pipe cleaners, paperclips, elastic bands, and some random scummy shit is not a way of learning. It’s a way of being patronised and frankly, insulted. I may have enjoyed it at the tender age of somewhere inbetween 2 and 8 years old, but at 16, hoping to learn to gain sufficient qualifications to hopefully enable me to move forward in the future and make a relative success of myself, it just isn’t quite right. I reckon there’s schools in Swaziland (lowest average life expectancy in the entire world) that have considerably better resources than what we had to use. I’d love to have a massive rant, (and go into some extravagant metaphors involving faeces, and maybe even incest) but to be honest, it’s probably not for the best, and I’m sure I’ve already repeated the expression of my over the top feelings to various friends far too often. So yeah, this is me bailing from a potential tirade. Doesn’t happen often...so take a mental picture, and frame that bad boy.

Jamiroquai

Jamiroquai are back! Well, will be very soon. The upcoming release of lead single 'White Knuckle Ride' and album 'Rock Dust Light Star' (No, I'm not sold on that title either...) signals a much needed comeback. I really hope both the album and subsequent singles do well critically and commercially, because I'm sick to death of hearing horrendous music climbing the charts. Having a UK number 1 doesn't seem such a great achievement any more, considering the heaps of unmitigated cack that have topped the charts in recent years. The single may not be out yet, but thanks to the brilliance of the internet, you can listen to it here : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BSNWqyAoNqM

I've listened to it a couple of times, and I must say, I do like it. It seems to have found a good middle ground between their older material and the kind of music that is being released to great success nowadays. For me, it isn't particularly amazing, but it's good all the same. If the rest of the album hits this standard, we could be looking at one of the best albums of the year. I remember the good old days, before I even knew anything about music, and the only music I ever listened to was Jamiroquai, or the first Gorillaz album. Those were good times...then came Madness, Queen and Green Day, and so the weird eclectic music taste of mine began. Strange.

The single 'White Knuckle Ride' will be available on October 4th

Apostrophes - who needs them?

Reading the title, you'd probably think that this was going to be some massive rant about how people SHOULD be getting their grammar right, let alone just the use of apostrophes, and how we could soon see the English language being completely disregarded. If you're thinking this, you'd be wrong. This is a blog post in which I will, effectively, concede a minor defeat, and let the world keep going in the direction it seems to want to be taking (ie Majorly downhill...with flames and spikes. Yeah.)

For a while now it's been brought to my attention that the context in which apostrophes are used, by most people, is completely wrong. It's almost as though their thought is that you may as well chuck one in at a random point, and hope that it makes you look like a more literate human being than your peers. Well it doesn't - because most of the time, it's completely incorrect. But anyway, like I said, this isn't about the ranting, it's about conceding a (partial) defeat. Me being quite ridiculously stuck up for a 16 year old, and arrogant in my Nazi-like way of dealing with grammar is not going to be enough to get the situation to improve. So should I keep going? No. I'll just annoy people even more than I already do. On the flipside, should the apostrophe related failings keep going? No. How can this be eradicated? It's quite simple really...we just get rid of the apostrophe altogether. Abolish that little bastard, and the problem disappears (theoretically). Does this make me happy? No, but it's a compromise, and compromises will inevitably have to be made at some point.

Kids' Names

So, I suppose, if all goes to plan in the future, I'd quite like to have 2 kids. You know, along with all the other brilliantly awesome perfect stuff that I'd like to happen. But ideally, 2 kids would be great, maybe 3 (at a push), but no more, and no less than 2. So here's the deal: How, and what should I name them? Now, please note that this blog post is rather light hearted, and that actually, having kids isn't something that's been on my mind much recently. So, I'll need to find 2 suitable names. Not too hard, you may think, but there's a problem...I have a shortlist...(ironic, because the list itself is rather long). 109 names will NEED to be whittled down to two. There'll be no 54.5 barrelled names, unfortunately. Want to see the list? No? Tough cheese, bastard. Actually, I shouldn't be rude to you, as you could easily stop reading right now...noooooo, please come back! I love you! There we go. Much better. Well, enjoy...

42, Abacus, Adolf, Archimedes, Banjo, Bangkok, Barrel Roll, Benito, Berk, Binary, BN BN, Bobsleigh, Bongo, Bourbon, Brio, Burrito, Cake, Carbon Fibre, Chicken Tikka, Chieftan, Cillit, CoD, Cookie Jar, Crocodilius, Darth, Detergent, Diligence, DK, Dominica, Dongle, Dude, Electro, Eloquence, Emperor, Ethernet, Falcon Punch, Fernando, Frodo, Geronimo, Gerrard, Gibralta, Giminez, Gypsy, Headshot, Helter Skelter, Hubba Bubba, Huckerby, Indigo, Ingrid, Irwin, Jabba, Jaffa, Jamaica, Jambon, Jam Jar, Jango, Jar Jar, Jedediah, Jenga, Jesus, Jettison, Jigglypuff, Jimi, Jingle, Jitterbug, Joker, Jolly Roger, Ju Jitsu, Juxtaposition, Kamikaze, Lumberjack, Mandela, Molecular, Monty, Mumbo Jumbo, Murdoc, Nik Nak, Nutella, Optimus Prime, Oreo, Osama, Owen, Paperclip, Pegasus, Petrol, Powerpoint, Quencher, Qwerty, Ronaldo, Rudimentary, Rudolf, Samurai, Scorpion, Shintysix, Simba, Sir Digby Chicken, Spatula, Stalin, Sugar, Supermassive, Tiddlywink, Tom Tom, Umpteen, Vectron, Viagra, Wildcard, Yebda aaaaaand Zebedee.

So...any thoughts? ;)

PC World

Hello there people (assuming that more than one poor sod is sitting here reading this text). No, I'm not referring to the Computer superstore (with a hideously irritating jingle), but to the fact that the world is going FUCKING MENTAL. That's a fact. Everything's changing, and (in most cases) in a really bad way. The day I die will be a fucking celebration for me, the way the world is heading. There's no place for meticulous, sparkling grammar, traditional values, law abiding citizens or dry wit any more. I can't help but feel as though this leaves me a tad fucked. But anyway, that's another rant for another day, which I'll carefully wrap up in a box labelled 'Shit', and lob it in the attic. So here we are, PC world. It's a cliche, and I hear it a lot of the time (and often contribute with red faced aggression), but political correctness really has gone mad. Now, in some ways, it's fine. Racism is horrendous, and anything that has a genuine chance of squeezing out the ignorant shits that hold such racist views should be tested. But ultimately, sometime's things do get taken a bit too seriously...when really, a bit of light-heartedness would do no harm at all. Here's just a few examples. You're not allowed to use the phrase 'brainstorm' any more, because it's allegedly offensive towards people with epilepsy. Now, don't get me wrong, epilepsy is certainly no laughing matter. I need to say this before I accidentally say something that may very well cause offence, and that's definitely not something I want to be doing. But I highly doubt that an epileptic person would find it in them to be personally hurt by a term generally used to encourage pupils to work hard. It just doesn't make any sense to me. I find myself saying that things don't make sense to me a hell of a lot right now, but I don't think it's because I've all of a sudden become a bit more retarded. Then again, if I were more retarded, maybe I'd have a good enough reason to get someone to just finish me off now before the world gets any fucking worse. Following on from a school related term that is now deemed potentially offensive, you're now not really supposed to say 'spider diagram' any more. You know, because it's SO offensive to all those arachnophobes out there. Urgh, I'm sure that one of these people that would get offended by the term 'spider diagram' would also get offended by the word 'spider' on it's own...and should we really be told to ban the act of a simple word being said? No I don't fucking think so. Get your act together, pathetic wank stain of a world. Surely it'd be more reasonable to take some form of offence at the term 'bullet point'?! Thousands upon thousands of people must die from bullet wounds every year, including of course in pivotal and massively important historical events such as the two world wars. Now it's a little far-fetched, but I'm sure as hell that it's more reasonable for someone to be mourning a fatally shot loved one, and to be offended by 'bullet point' than for someone to not like spiders, and be offended by 'spider diagram'. It's just moronic. I'm fucking tired and pissed off now, so I should probably go to bed soon. I don't sleep too well anyway, so maybe I should try counting sheep (besides, what with all the Welshness, it'd give me morning glory...)...speaking of sheep, actually. It's not baa baa black sheep any more. No no, it's baa baa rainbow sheep. Yeah, because that kind of sheep bloody exists doesn't it?! Cretins. It's not even a noticeably racist nursery rhyme, until you look into it. And let's be honest, its target market, the pre school kids, won't be able to analyse texts such as baa baa black sheep with any kind of depth or point at all. What a pisstake. Maybe if it was called 'Baa Baa Nigger Sheep' I'd be more understanding...do me a favour, will you, PC world? Fuck off.

Laughably irrelevant and pointless homework task

"Draw what you think you'll be like when you're 40 years old." Believe it or not, this is a task we've been set as history homework. You know, as opposed to 'bullshit', which is what you'd think the subject was...(if bullshit were a subject). So here's what I've got so far: It's me, with the same hairstyle, but longer, and most definitely (somehow) more trampish. I haven't grown, and I'm unemployed, living alone in a skanky flat, and am reeking of takeways (most probably Chinese or pizza). I've been wearing the same clothes for the past several days or so, and would make the general attire of an everyday hobo look rather clean and upmarket. All 40 year old Ben does everyday is watch a constant toxic stream of re-runs of greatly outdated TV shows and moan about everything he sees, in his now typically (and unnecessarily) cynical fashion, while hopelessly counting the days until he'll next be able to rob Gregg's when they have a some elaborate form of special sausage rolls, that can apparently inexplicably only be baked on one day of the week, every week. All the while, counting the days until impending death. This is me (probably) (possibly) (maybe not) in the future if everything goes tits up XD

Smartphones

I'm very reluctant to get a 'smartphone', which is quite strange, because I can be a bit of a techno-nut at times. But there's a couple of big stumbling blocks that I don't think I'll be able to get over when it comes to considering what to upgrade to from my old fashioned and lovable, but painfully broken Sony Ericsson. First up: Price. They're just too damn much. Well, no, for what they do I suppose they aren't THAT expensive, but for some less than average Joe like me, who can't buy what he likes and doesn't have a job, I find the thought of getting a 'smartphone' rather unrealistic. Take the iPhone 4. I take a light gander at the Apple website, to browse for prices, and oh, would you look at that, it's ONLY either the 'cheap' £499 or, for a larger memory, £599! Wow, what a deal. So that's one reason. Secondly, my other huge gripe is that in comparison to the spawn of our beloved Apple, other companies' efforts are just a tad inferior, and there's no easy way to know which one is better than the other. There's just too many choices, and for such a hefty price sum and committed investment, it'd be nice to know what's best for me. Oh, and if the initial purchase costs were enough, what about the monthly fees? Oh technological world of extreme extortion, you make me want to cry. So, when the day in which I have to replace my current phone (most certainly down to some critical software fault) comes, what will I do? It's simple. I'll buy another cheap little Sony Ericsson, and save myself the pain of searching, and the massive strain in my wallet. Oh, but just to clarify - I'm not dismissing 'smartphones'. No no, they're great pieces of kit. So you know, if you feel like just giving one away... ;)

Radiohead

I'm sitting here, listening to what is generally regarded as one of the best albums of all time. I don't agree with this, because actually, when you analyse it all, it's not too well sung, and doesn't necessarily have many (if any) 'killer tunes'. What am I listening to then? Well, the eye possessing of you out there will probably have been observant enough to notice the title of this post. It's Radiohead. And to be more specific, 'OK Computer' by Radiohead, which I believe came out in '97. For me personally, I like this album more than it actually is good. Don't get me wrong, it's an excellent album, because it really flows as a unit and has its own sense of direction and purpose and I do really really like it (which is why I've had it on loop for a while now), but I just feel as though those that hate it would kind of have a fair point. Some of the vocals are pretty bad. Thom Yorke just isn't a very good singer, and he certainly isn't a genius - despite what many of his plaudits have said. The haters and the lovers will have to agree to disagree, and I suppose we'll have to take the critics word for it, because they know best...meaning that it indeed is a modern classic. I'll happily accept that, because I do really like it, but when I see some of the praise written about Radiohead's other material, I SERIOUSLY disagree. Their earlier stuff had a more raw, rocky (less tuneful) sound to it, which was pretty good, but nothing special. But it's the post-OK Computer stuff that bugs me. It radiates this horribly boring, electronic easy listening vibe, that's best use is not for entertainment as intended, but for sending people like me into a deep sleep. Oh well, I'm happy with my Radiohead fix. Ok Computer is excellent, and their Best Of picks the choice meat from a mostly rotting carcass of a few albums, and turns it into a respectable, and decent CD. So overall, I'm certainly not the biggest Radiohead fan, though at least I can be glad that a couple of favourite bands of mine effectively leeched off Radiohead in the own ways, and have honed it down into their own styles. Thank you Coldplay and Muse.

Holiday 'Review'

So, let's review the holiday, and my preparations for the upcoming hard-working next phase of my life. First up, the holiday. Well, I've pretty much done fuck all, which caters to my tastes I suppose. Football manager, facebook, msn, and the xbox have all received plentiful usage during the past few (billion - it seems that way) weeks. It's been alright, but I should definitely have made more of an effort to see people. In fact, the only friend I really got to see was my little 'sister' with whom I have since, kind of, and in strange circumstances, (perhaps irreversibly) fallen out with. Along those lines I've also completely fallen out with a long time friend/bitch, and have found myself distancing myself completely unnecessarily from most of my closest friends. Yes, I suppose you could say my holiday's been a bit of a cock up, and so now to make it even better, I face the prospect of of college (and imminent hard work and concentration). Woop de doo. What's that I hear you saying? 'Don't worry Ben, you said that you planned to get your sleeping pattern back, so at least that's one good thing'? Well, you'd be wrong. Like fuck would I have early nights - it's been later than 1 o'clock every night for the past few weeks now, and so getting up at half 6 is going to be a BIT shit. And I haven't even thought about what I'll need for college, so I may very well find my self entering the place criminally under-prepared. So yeah, I might be a bit screwed, but I don't even care. I'll just take it on the chin, do my best to fend off the laziness, and hope that everything that's fucked up my holiday gets fixed. It'd be nice if things could go back to how they were, in some aspects. On the upside...Muse in 3 days!

A Strong Contender For The Worst Spelling Of All Time

'Parents'. Not a hard word to spell, to be honest. I've probably known how to spell it since...hmmm, I don't know. A long time, let's put it that way. Now, if you're dyslexic, then you've got a perfect reason to not be able to spell well, so don't fret if you can't spell 'parents'. But anyway, it's a damn simple word. So imagine my horror when I find a status update from a 16 going on 17 year old, who spells the word 'parents' as...wait for it...'peronts'. Uh huh. It's not really even spelt phonetically, so I don't know what the poor guy was thinking. I'm going to try extra hard not to be a dick about this though, because I need to be changing my ways. I can be a Grammar Nazi, as long as I don't act on it all the time in the most prickish of ways. *holds in the unbearable urge to rip the piss out of a retarded, druggie of a teenager with an awful attitude to life*

Cripple!

Hahahahahahahahahahahaha, I'm so glad I can see the funny side of this, because it actually does hurt a fair bit, but for some reason completely unknown to me, I can barely move my neck! Maybe I slept on it awkwardly, maybe I'm feeling the effects of old age at 16, or maybe I'm dying of some rather exotic (exotic in a bad way, not quite like a Caribbean holiday) disease or illness. Oh well. Yes, you may have noticed that I've posted two times in one evening, at breakneck speed (pun very much intended), but I thought I should, well...stick my neck out and just keep writing (pun also very much intended). Neckst time I'll be better equipped joke wise...(even worse pun, again very much intended).

Being Fed Up

Right now I'd say I'm pretty damn fed up with a lot of things, and when it all comes together, it means that I am generally starting to get fed up with life. I'm bored of so many things now, I've made so many mistakes and have taken (and probably without even realising, given) so much shit that I don't quite know what to think at the moment. Perhaps this is why Football Manager and my music (more than ever) have become such stupidly integral parts of my life right now (btw, Frank Ribery on a free transfer really did make my week...wait, does this mean I'm the detritus of the Earh?) They're just what I enjoy most, and at the moment I'm not quite experienced enough to see that it's a massive waste of my time, so for now it's okay. I'm so fed up that many many things in my life that would normally (on some level) excite me simply cause reactions of mild 'cba' or 'meh' or 'kjhfnkajfhcmiu' or 'okay'. I was given some money recently, and though my confusion and 'fed-upness' certainly did not shirk off my gratitude, I almost didn't care. Yes, losing some lust for money (and potentially greed) may very well be a good thing, but to me it very much so isn't good when as well as this, I now eat a lot less (I'M SUPPOSED TO LOVE FOOD), and my care for football (including dear old troubled Liverpool FC) has dwindled significantly, with me desperately trying to talk about it constantly in the meagre hope that maybe, just maybe, the interest will come back. Aaaargh, it's worse than I first feared! Sitting in front of me are 7 brand new CDs that I just bought, and I don't seem to want them on my iPod. I just can't be bothered, but I want to be bothered! And when I look back, I realise that actually, there's more to come. If you know me, you'll unfortunately (and I'm genuinely sorry for this) know that I love to argue. Now, sometimes I'd argue in a good way, and in a light hearted way, and sometimes it would be in a way which could only ever irritate and aggravate people. I'm not proud of this, and for some reason it seems to be my number 1 skill. But now, it's only the latter. Maybe somebody (me) needs to shut the fuck up...(though even if I do shut the fuck up and get myself out of this strange rut for which I think I know the reason, I'll still keep blogging like a retard, so again, unlucky). For me personally though, most worryingly of all, is this, and I'll explain it in a very blunt way: 1 week, Muse, Wembley. Not excited. Now, fair enough, I'm certainly not an excitable person - this is indicated by the fact that the last time Christmas or my birthday made me grin is not an 'event' that I can remember. So anyway. Why SHOULD I be excited about Muse at Wembley? Well...oh screw it, I'm bored now, the few of you that may be reading this long winded stack of aimless words will probably understand without having to read an essay on why music is dying and how Muse are ambassadors for (rock) musical awesomeness, so I'm just going to finish here with no conclusion to this poor, blind, defenceless lump of a blog post. I'll force out a slightly more 'entertaining' (less boring) one with some kind of supposedly witty direction to it for you next time around, whenever that may be.

Perfectly Innocent Addictions

Addiction is a strange thing. I'm not talking about dangerous alcohol or drug addictions of course (but yes, I do love to get pissed), but healthy (well, they aren't healthy at all actually...they just aren't necessarily deadly) addictions, be it food or activities. I don't know of the science behind addiction on any level at all, but I don't care. All I know is that some things can be damn addictive, and it can be damn good/bad. Where do I start then...? I feel a lengthy list coming on. Football manager, jaffa cakes, pizza, call of duty, bubblegum millions, salted peanuts, arguing, doritos, toffee popcorn, tetris, bejeweled, facebook, jelly babies, talking, the impossible quiz, relentless/red bull/kick, making nerd chat up lines (as somebody unfortunately found out first hand), cookies, nutella, buying cds, games and dvds, your mum jokes...there's loads, but when I think about it, I see no point in just listing all these things, so I'll cut it short. The more sharp minded of you (ie, not completely braindead), may have noticed that most of the items on the list are types of food. Well then, I'm a fat fucker, so that's that explained. If you were to hand me a mahoosive bowl filled with jaffa cakes, pizza, bubblegum millions, salted peanuts, doritos, toffee popcorn, jelly babies, cookies and nutella, you'd probably never hear a word from me again. So there's your top tip for today, folks. If you would like me to shut the hell up (an occurrence that is highly likely), your best bet is to be generous and offer me a bowl filled with the aforementioned unhealthy crap. Take note.

Pizza

Tell me, who doesn't like pizza? If your response to this question would be 'me', I suggest you get the fuck out, or alternatively, keep your opinion to yourself. Pizza is as close to culinary perfection as you're going to get. Versatile, and bloody awesome, you just can't beat a bit of pizza. Not keen on having any fancy ingredients? You needn't worry. Slap on some cheese and tomato, and you've won at life. Add some pepperoni? You just won a bit more. Damn, I could really do with some pizza right now. Thick or thin, I just don't care - I want it. I love the stuff, so much so that to be honest, I treat pizza in general as a member of family...it's just that I don't cook or eat my family...nor are they Italian...screw that, the point is that I love pizza very very very much. If there were ever any doubts about pizza's awesomeness, they can be quashed instantly simply by this: Pacman was based off a pizza. That's all you need to know, and it needs no explanation. Wait...what's that I can smell? PIZZA! Oh yes, somebody's getting pizza tonight *grins* Upon hearing/smelling this news, any shit in my life has taken a back seat, because I'm now drooling over the prospect of eating pure awesomeness, with awesomesauce. Thank you pizza, you're now my best friend. I know you'll never leave me.

Anniversaries

Anniversaries are important to most people, on some level. Most couples will celebrate their first anniversary of being together in one way or another, and, if the relationship goes any further, they'll probably celebrate in further years. An anniversary is a way of saying to each other, 'bloody hell, how the fuck have I put up with you for (-insert number here-) years'...wait, no, sorry, I'm not supposed to be saying that. If it's as though you're having to strain to put up with each other, and the anniversary is just a milestone of relief, then it's probably best that you bail out and bail out fast. So anyway. Why am I talking about anniversaries? Is it because me and my imaginary girlfriend have hit our (-insert embarrassing number here-) anniversary? Hahahaha, when I think about it, that day can't actually be far off. Of course, by 'imaginary girlfriend', I really meant 'nobody'. But jokes aside, yesterday, I came back from my grandparents' golden wedding anniversary. 50 whole years of marriage. Not just 50 years together, but 50 years plus however long they knew each other before they bravely committed their lives to each other. Reaching 50 years is an incredibly proud achievement, and they really do deserve it. They're such lovely people, and they'd never hurt a fly. (Well, they do possess and use a flyswat, but...) Hopefully they'll keep going for a while longer, and I'm sure they will - there's no way that anything would split them up, apart from the inevitable...but let's not think about that. Not everyone makes it this far, because sometimes it just doesn't quite work. There's always going to be issues to overcome, and sometimes they'll prove too much for a couple. It's life I suppose. In a perfect world, we'd all like to reach 50 years of marriage with 'the perfect person' - and some of us will. But it won't be easy, it's not as though everything you want will just instantly go to plan. The ideal home, the pets, 2 kids (or how ever many it is that you'd want when you're older), the ideal job...if you get all these then bloody well done to you. I'll be knocking on your door, asking if you could come down to my house of failure and give me some life tips. I.e, write me a foolproof step by step guide, and I might just be okay. But anyway, 50 years is an amazing achievement, and my grandparents really do deserve it. Surely the laws of marriage state that they should be at each other with knives by this point? Surely they can't STILL be happy together after all these years? Well, it looks like they are. Hats off to you Ben and Kay.

Losing Things

Well, I'm a fairly clumsy person to be honest. I'm not necessarily as accident prone as I used to be, but I'm still very much vulnerable to making mistakes, being a bit stupid, or misplacing things. For example, for some reason I seem to have some insatiable desire to unwillingly lose my mobile phone all the time. It truly baffles me. If I could have a quid for every time I've 'lost' something, and then found it in one of the most obvious of obvious places mere moments later, I'd probably never need a job to keep me going. USUALLY though, we find whatever it is we're looking for in the end, even if it has been left in the most curious and thought provoking of places. According to my mum, if I've lost something inside the house, then it in fact isn't lost. It's just been misplaced. Perhaps, but to me, the definition of lost is to not know where the hell the object is. Meh, we all have different perceptions of things. It's not only objects that we can lose too though. Friendships, relationships, people themselves, common sense, enthusiasm, calmness, concentration, health, and many other things too can be lost, in their own way. In this list, the loss of one thing can lead to the loss of another. The loss of health may lead to the loss of a loved one. The loss of common sense, calmness or even enthusiasm can lead to the loss of friendships and relationships. The loss of concentration can lead to the loss of objects and items. It's interesting...quite often, it's only when these things are gone from your life (be it permanently or temporarily) that you realise just how crucially important they are to you, and how difficult it can be at times to cope without them. If you're lucky, you'll at some point get what you lost back, and more likely than not you'll from that point onwards be more careful in general, and more critically aware of just how important that thing can be to you personally. I'm not entirely sure why I've chosen to write about this, of all the topics. I suppose it feels kind of relevant to me right now. One thing's for sure, on many occasions during our (long, painful, depressing) lives, it will most definitely be relevant. Loss of many forms happens all the time, and I suppose we've got to just deal with it in the right way, or earn what we lost back. I can guarantee you that when what slips away from you really matters to you, even if it can't return, you'll always be wanting and trying to get it back. Funnily enough...my mobile is pretty important to me, and you'll never guess where it is...because I don't know. (If I could pull the 'XD' face in real life, I would LOVE to right now)