Those of you in the loop will know all about The Bar and may even have seen it, perhaps even (have been) drunk in it. We’re coming up with a full report on The Making Of soon, pretty much just as soon as I’ve stopped working so much and can continue to take part in activities superfluous to the furthering of human civilisation, which is always the best stuff. Word, peace out; bye?
Archive for October, 2005
Well America then.
I’d still like to go there even though much of it seems to be all wrong I think that much of it must also be good. Floods, Hurricanes and War.
Its a place full of extremes. Good comics though.
Some time ago I think I decided, mainly through sheer inaction, to grow my hair. Yes yes, pedants, I am always growing my hair, you know I mean “to allow my hair to grow to a specified length”. And yes, Natalie, I mean the collective hair as in “all the hairs on my head” not the singular “a hair”. The last time I grew it was in the 4th year, and that means school. That means… age 16? Yes, I believe it does. The thick, wavy nature of my hair means that when it reaches any length it becomes large, and 70s-like. I look like Fez from the 70s show, except not Mexican, and with a different face and body, and different coloured hair.
Actually, I did grow it in the 2nd year of Uni too but I only just remembered. It wasn’t very Memorable, and hence it may as well have never happened. I gave up, flaked out, before it got to any length. That’s the main trouble; I want to see how I might be with flowing locks, but there is always the limbo between short and long hair where I look, post-shower, fully-dried, like Pat Sharpe with his mullet. Okay, not quite that bad.
This time I’m determined to break the hair barrier into that hedonistic world of long hair, so that I can infiltrate hippy camps and line their soles with sawdust. I can put my hair over my face and pretend to be Cousin It. I can, and I will. But not yet, little one.
The reason I think it’s going to work this time is that before now I’ve been at school or Uni, under the self-consciousness inducing gaze of many peers, and I eventually give in to getting it cut short (at which point my mother comments that short hair suits me and I agree but I want long hair damnit). But this time, I’m in a house with three housemates, and I don’t give a shit about what they think. God, I hate them and I hope they all die. Hi guys! What am I writing? Oh … nothing.
If you look at the word hair too much it stops having any meaning.
Was feeling rather immature this morning and was put in mind of this monty python classic:
Isn’t it awfully nice to have a penis,
Isn’t it frightfully good to have a dong?
It’s swell to have a stiffy,
It’s divine to own a dick,
From the tiniest little tadger,
To the world’s biggest prick.So three cheers for your Will or John Thomas,
Hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake,
Your piece of pork, your wife’s best friend,
Your percy or your cock,
You can wrap it up in ribbons,
You can slip it in your sock,
But don’t take it out in public,
or they will stick you in the dock,
And you won’t come back.
Excellent.
“New Ladycare™ Tampons will not only relieve you of all debt - they’ll bring your lost loved ones back to life!”
“Everyone who knows about UltraMax™ Hammers knows that when you buy an UltraMax Hammer, it’s like the greatest orgasm of your entire life!”
Okay, so those two aren’t real, but judging from the kind of things we’re being promised in adverts these days, brags like this are just around the corner. Listening to the radio on the way to work the other day, a pleasant female voice informed me that: “…there’s nothing better than English apples and pears!”. Yes, apparently if you searched through the entire universe, and put yourself through the overwhelming vastness of all possible human experience, none of it would quite compare to the taste of an English apple or pear. Thanks for the heads up guys. And to think - all this time I’d been thinking the most dizzying high available was seeing the happy smile fade from my friend’s face that time he finished unwrapping the Tupperware container full of wolf guts I got him for his 17th birthday.
In conclusion, may I suggest to the world of advertising tone it down a notch or two before we’re being told “The new UltraBurger 4,000 from the MeatHut™ can and will repair the gaping hole in your personality where a sense of purpose should be!”
Before The Matrix This chap was the Morpheus foremost in in the minds of graphic novel fans. Also known as the Sandman or the Lord of Dreams, he is a creation of the ingenious mind of Neil Gaiman, one of Britain’s great geek talents. Continue reading ‘The Sandman’
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