Fort Awesome

So, its been another another long and hectic year in golf!

Ah, for the swing of the putting club and the smooth roll of the turf! How I long for the crests of my youth when galloping across the rink to hammer home a perfect 5 pointer between the goal posts was an every day occurence. Now in my long and throbbing obselesence I’m lucky to even hear the soft clinking of sand on lips that is the signature sound of this most graceful of sports. Too many young women were carved asunder in the bloody battlefields of gore this season, but yet what a season! Still, enough about that. For tonight we have something extra special for you all. Yes children! Open up your secret black spider books, and get ready to take notes because its time for another little story.

Tonight’s story is the sad tale of that wily old miller; Jephry Horston-Greene and his sticky adventures in horse glue…

As a young child, Jephry had always enjoyed the soft crunch of his wooden mallet on the pliant flanks of a healthy foal, but it only occured to him as he reached the age of reason that within this simple pleasure might lurk the thrusting seeds of a capitalist endeavour. You see, Jephry had discovered that the more he beat and pounded on the pretty young foals the more sticky the resultant residue. “Well” he thought out loud inside his head, “Pritt stick is just flying of the shelves of my local Asda. Its a sure thing that my new pulped horse residue will fly off those self same shelves with the same alacrity”. It didn’t take long for Jephry’s theory to be proven well and truly correct as ‘Jephry’s hand-pounded organic sticky foal paste’ started flying off the shelves. By being both fair trade and organic he quickly cornered the market in ‘green glues’ and was soon thinking of expanding his buisness beyond his converted mill ( where the foals were forced with electric brooms into the mechanical crushing of the giant spinning milling stones ).

Then tragedy struck our brave entrepreneur. Whilst tending to some minor hedge trimming he fell tragically into the path of ten thousand angry wild ironic horses that had, in recent years, begun to roam the west midlands in packs. Multiple stab wounds to the ears, nipples, feet and shins were hastily recorded before the forensic team itself was swept up in a suprising tornado of excellent constitution. Once again, the folly of man was shown helpless against the awesome power of time, and yet a undergrowth man’s dog in Shrewsbury has more meaningful thoughts than you could ever manage. Where is the justice?

And remember kids don’t go out at night (or during the day) without your paedophile protector caps firmly screwed on! In the event of an attack you’ll be completely oblivious due to the savage numbing toxins released slowly into the brain!

Play it safe, don’t think and strive.

Hey! everybody!! Its new years fucking EVE!!! Lets get OFF our massive faces on liquid love and have a really, really good time. You better be having a fucking amazing time right now, because its godamn new.  Godamn years. Fucking eve. You understand? Comprende my learn’ed friend? This is no night for a quiet cup of cocoa by the fire its a night where you absolutely must have the kind of fun that involves enormous alcohol explosions and a general blistering of enforced joy. We all know you are coming which is why we’ve made the cost of everything so absolutely fucking special. Those other people you see out on the street? Yes, that is indeed every fucktard the seven hells have ever spewed forth; cavorting and spurting foulness in a horror that will burn itself on your retina for the rest of time. Not feeling too well? Fancy a nice book or a movie? FUCK YOU. And happy new year.

….

Well hello, its time to show that special someone just how much you care about them. That’s because today the calender told you that today is the day to stop beating your wife and take her to a restaurant instead. Your love is so pure and so rare and so very sacred that the only way to properly express it is through a mass produced experience. The kind of experience packaged especially for you, and anyone else who asks, by insane psychopaths with golden lips. Why not show her how much you care with a valentines chocolate box or a special selection of valentines flowers, everyone else is doing the exact same thing so its definitely unique and special and shows you’ve really been thinking and loving all by yourself and not at all because you’ve been instructed to do so by the machinery of capitalism. Love you! Here’s a card I picked at random from a range of a thousand equally horrific ones! See how much I care. Now please can we go back to ignoring our feelings and fighting like we do the other 364 days of the year. Thanks, oh and will you be my valentine?

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Bad evening to you stranger because its Mysterious Halloween!! AHWWOOOWOOOO!!! The scariest day of the year isn’t that just SPOOKTACKULAR!!!  Whooooaawoowoooo!!!! You better run because the ghosts are on the loose and the only thing on the menu tonight is GHOULASH!!!! And your BLOOD!!! You better run in terror because I’ve just carved two holes in this pumpkin and now it looks like YOUR MOM!!! Eye of newt and wing of bat; look how the sweets have made you fat. Trick or treat?

….

Well if it isn’t bank holiday monday. With all your banks all taking time off all the day long. What are they doing? Counting money!? Ha! Well probably they are…

Alright, I guess bank holiday monday is OK. Does our reader(ship) have any better ideas for public holidays that don’t make me want to tear my heart from my rib cage and find it already unbearably broken?

Little whisk,
Alone on the platform,
Where are your mushy peas,
Forgotten.

Little stone,
Suddenly a big delight,
Beyond your lies, definitely a,
Superstition.

Great mistake,
Where is the truth?
You know the one, its kind of like,
A Glokenspiel.

The problem with you is that you always get angry at the wrong things.

Take last week for example when you got annoyed at that old lady muttering behind you in the supermarket. ‘She had eyes like over cooked lemons!’ you squawked; maybe she did, but it wasn’t the old dear you should have been getting in a bother over. No, your ire would have been more rightly directed at the European Union - how can anyone not mutter at perfect strangers when there is a no-nothing jobsworth straightening our bananas in fandango land? It’s just not possible.

Then there was that time on Tuesday night when you became irritated trying to squeeze the last bits of toothpaste from the tube, swearing and shouting at it you were as it refused to budge. Yet it’s not the hard working toothpaste tube designers, who you were so quick to blame, at fault here. Not at all, my dear. It’s the immigrants. How can anyone concentrate on the finer points of squeezable paste dispensers when a simple walk down the high street turns into a hideous gauntlet of foreign thieves gushing ever deeper like a tsunami. How can a man focus his razor sharp mind when at any moment the vicious bastards are eyeing up the cash in his pocket, the curves of his wife and the steak in his trousers? This whole country has gone to the dogs, and those dogs are probably from Poland.

Then there was yesterday when you were so upset with me for spending the whole afternoon smoking cuban cigars and beating hookers with my slippers. Yet how can I be to blame when it is society and your own over-inflated expectations that are the real culprit here. You should be focusing your hammer of hate on the real evil of woman kind being allowed to dream and think above their simple capacities. No, by far the best thing is for you to just let me do the thinking in future - I’ll be taking care of deciding exactly who you are allowed to be cross with. Just in time too, as there are some important issues coming up - like exactly who is responsible for me not having a more expensive dog. My bet is on it being either the gays or the poor behind this particular conspiracy, and if I’ve learned one thing its that I’ll certainly find out the answer down the pub.

If music television was slightly more sexed-up it would be indistinguishable from pornography. I wonder if this is an accelerating phenomenon, so that as the music videos get more pornographic they will begin to compete with the porn industry itself. How will the porn industry respond? Perhaps, with larger music budgets, boosting the quality of their soundtracks until the music in porn films is as highly produced as that on the music channels. Then of course there will be a series of mergers and acquisitions until the new ‘muornic’ industry is fully formed. Hmm…

 In response a new, more powerful, undeground ‘true music’ scene will from, rejecting entirely the tyranny of the videographic form. The international world government, using the muornic industry as the perfect cultural weapon against its own people, dispatches units dedicated to the supression of rebellious thought to crush the true music undeground. Massacres take place at outlawed gig venues, news of which spreads like wildfire, massively growing the underground scene.

A few of the organisers begin selling t-shirts.

Pretty soon ‘true music’ is on the shelves of every supermarket in the galaxy. The first true music millionaire superstars hold a sellout concert on the moon. An early true music anthem is the soundtrack to the election campaign of the new galactic president. True music lapdancing clubs become common in the martian colonies.

One of the founders of the true music scene is found dead of an overdose, alone in her appartment, surrounded by blank TDK-90 cassette tapes. England win the galactic water polo championships on the same day and the story is never reported until four months later.

EDIT: Also you must watch this right now: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSb-nV8l2QY

Well fuck me, if it isn’t another sport-tastic weekend of tremendously fascinating sporting sport! Everyone loves sport and if you meet anyone who claims not to be permanently pumped full of sports-based, sporting info spheres then they’re guaranteed to be a sub-human cunt destined to forever lick the sporting boots of the superior athletic master race.

Everywhere I look there is sport just spurting through the nets of the big sports stadiums and into our sporting lives. Could life be any better if god himself was shitting world cups? There’s the biggest sports on the day of sports, bigger sporty sports following on straight after and more sporting sport based sport news about our universal heroes of sport than ever before. There has been so much sporting excitement the contents of my bowels have exploded outward in a simultaneous sporting detonation of epically sporting proportions, shooting a full load of sport all over the sports field, on which I live, sleep and dream of more sports. Can the very skin that binds our fair land’s skeletal communities and cultural organs survive this much sport at once, without breaking out in sports all over its national body? Chances are if this did happen did it would be amazingly great like all sport definitely is.

The question on every right thinking minded adults lips is; who will win the biggest of sporting sports and get to wear the big crown that says “I’m the best at sports you inferior cocksucking shits”? I predict that there will be one massive winner, and that winner is: sports. The very best thing about there being so much sports happening is that we can talk continuously about sports all the time to make sure that the sport has been correctly examined from every possible angle in case of any sporting oversights that we need to inform the national sports teams all about. At length, they are totally interested in hearing all about our completely brilliant sporting ideas.

Frankly if I don’t spend every moment of my life injecting gigantic syringes of sport enhancing drugs I had better spend it learning every last detail about our true sporting legends - every ache, pain and pensive look. It’s the only way to truly feel the sports running through your sporting veins. Thinking entirely in sports is the best way to play like a good sportsman at life, so be a sport and start sporting your national sport’s colours because the sports are here and they are the most important sports ever to have happened because we’re in them and the sport might never be this sporty ever again at least until the next sport load dumped into your sport receiver next sporting sport time.

Don’t forget: sports.

As if you fucking could.