Archive for the 'Articles' Category

Things that cause cancer

Published by Jeff on 10th May, 2007 in Articles. 11 Comments

I often read BBC news online when I’m at work to keep me apprised of, well, news. And I’ve noticed a disturbing trend in the Health section: everything causes cancer. Now I’m not just talking about the obvious ones. Some of the most ridiculous things apparently cause cancer. Even things that are meant to be good for you! Brilliant. Here are some of my favourites:

I appreciate that some of these may have been proved wrong by now, but there’s a new one every week I swear.

Dear All

Published by Moses Roffle on 26th January, 2007 in Articles. Closed

A few of you may recently have seen a program, aired around 2pm on BBC1 called “Doctors”. It is very important for me to stress to you that these people are not real doctors. They possess no medical qualifications, and are certainly not in a position to diagnose or treat any illness.

If you are suffering from an ailment, please contact your local G.P. as usual - these people cannot help you. Be vigilant: your television is a factory of lies.

Kindest regards,

Moses Roffle

Robert

Published by Nick on 24th January, 2007 in Articles. 1 Comment

We knew a turtle once. His name was Robert. We used to call him Robert the turtle, which in hindsight was quite a suitable name for him. “Hello Robert,” was the term we used to use when greeting him, and “Goodbye Robert,” was the primary method of wishing him farewell after having shared a worthwhile conversation. It would be fair to say that all conversations with Robert were worthwhile, thus lending a small amount of redundancy to the previous statement. “Robert,” we’d begin, in the approach to an inquisitive question, “How much ice cream could we eat before having to go to hospital?” And in his wisdom, Robert would turn his head in that slow turtley way and reply, “Quite a lot.”

We learned a lot from that shelled creature, and we like to think that he learned a little from us, although to be honest that is highly doubtful; Robert’s base level of wisdom was too high.”It’s too high,” we’d exclaim wistfully, much to Robert’s confusion. He just wouldn’t understand; perhaps the one thing he wouldn’t understand. It didn’t matter because he knew most things, and most is surely enough, especially when compared to less, which incidentally was another thing Robert used to say sometimes, though not always in a particularly relevant context.

One day Robert left our village, and went off to be an investment banker. We like to think that he’s the best investment banker around, though we haven’t seen his portfolio; hopefully it is well invested in turtle-based ventures, or at least companies working in that general field. Business is indeed booming, and it is turtle shaped.

FW: FW: FW: FW: From a Friend to a Friend

Published by Moses Roffle on 18th January, 2007 in Articles. 1 Comment

Here’s a poem to say how much you mean to me, and how much gladness you send from your heart to mine, each and every day:

You are my sunshine on a cloudy day
You make my sadness go away
When I’m feeling low, I always know
That you’ll have a kind word to say

You bring me smiles and so much more
Like when you found me, on the bathroom floor
Huddled there, a piece of old, cold drool on my chin,
Staring at the wall and wondering why it was so pointless
Such a waste of matter, empty and hollow, like a dead tree trunk
Full of disgusting beetles.
Thanks for that.

If you don’t forward this message on to five people within the next twenty-four hours, not only will you officially be a friendless loser, you (and all your family) will also start to suffer from sores on the palms of your hands, and your womb or testes will become a barren, lifeless wasteland.

Collins John’s Sink

Published by Moses Roffle on 15th January, 2007 in Articles. 3 Comments

There was a knock at the door. “And it’s about bloody time,” Collins John muttered to himself, setting his mug of chocolate to one side and going to let the three-hour-late plumber in. Swearing under his breath, he opened the front door. A great, soggy twat of a man stood there in front of him.

“Here about your pipes,” he guffed in a bass monotone.

“It’s about bloody time,” said Collins John, curtly. “You look disgusting. It’s as if a giant tumour grew legs and arms, and walked up to my house, and knocked on my door wearing really bad clothes.”

The plumber gave no indication that he’d heard or understood, and instead just stood there like an ape.

“Come in then - it’s this way.” said Collins John. He lead the plumber through to the kitchen. “There - that sink. It’s all clogged up and shitty.”

The plumber shambled silently up to the sink Collins John was pointing at with his skinny, straight finger. He opened up the cupboard beneath, and began his work.

About an hour later, Collins John was in the middle of filing his grey paper, when he glanced at the time. “Piss!” He said loudly. “Piss and piss! Why hasn’t that revolting man finished with my sink yet?”. He headed downstairs. When he got there, the kitchen was empty.

“Plumber!? Where are you?” He demanded of the empty room, squinting his piggy little eyes, and whipping his head around as if it made a difference.

“He’s not here.” Said a gurgling, watery voice. “He never was.”

“Who is that?!” Collins John bellowed, looking around himself.

“I’m over here…” beckoned the voice. Collins John centred on the sound. It was coming from the sink. “Why don’t you come over here and we can catch up! It’ll be just like old times…” it burbled.

“You don’t talk. You’re a sink.” Collins John said, flatly, but approached nevertheless.

“Oh but I’m not just a sink…” it said, “I’m a blocked sink. You were right about that much.”

“What did you do with the plumber, you bastard sink? And if you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me what you’re blocked with?”

The sink laughed. “There never was a plumber you stupid fuck!” it said, still pissing itself like a schoolboy. “I already told you that.”

“…there wasn’t?” asked Collins John, a little concerned for the first time that day.

“Of course not, roachface! That was a stray dog! Don’t you remember? You made it eat raw bacon!”

Collins John had nothing left to say.

“And as for what I’m blocked with… well…” the sink paused for dramatic effect. “I’m full of months.”

Collins John started to cry. “I don’t know…” he bluttered out between heaving sobs, “I don’t know… I don’t… I mean there was… plumber… I wanted… there was a plumber and now you’re talking… it’s… it’s what…” He sat down in the middle of the floor, curled up into a ball, and started rocking as he wept.

“I’ve seen you.” Said the sink. “You put all the numbers in the right place, don’t you? You wank in the shower, I’ve seen that too. Oh the things I’ve seen.”

“Stop it!” Collins John barked from behind his hands, tears coarsing down his horrid face.

“You don’t matter! You don’t matter!” sang the sink.

Collins John now sobbed so hard he could no longer speak. The floor around him was covered with tears, thousands of confused, bitter tears. And that’s where the sea comes from, said my Dad. He is a very wise man, and I’m going to grow up to be a power ranger. For Christmas I am getting a train set that goes “choo choo! choo choo!”. Choo Choo Choo Choo Choo Choo Choo Choo

Man Sued by Burglar

Published by Moses Roffle on 25th September, 2006 in Articles. Closed

The other day I saw this in the newspaper:

Man Sued by Burglar

Jerry Bartwright, a fifty-four year old builder from Sussex, was yesterday ordered to pay £5,000 in compensation to a criminal who had broken in to his house earlier this year. Twenty-four year old Shaun Jones, the burglar in question, had apparently sustained back injuries whilst reaching for some jewels which were, according to the prosecution, “Placed on a shelf that was too high for Mr. Jones to safely reach”.

The presiding judge, the Right Honourable Sir David Harvey, ruled that placing the jewels on the shelf in question was tantamount to criminal negligence on the part of Mr. Bartwright, and ordered him to pay the sum of £3,500 to Mr. Jones in compensation for the injuries sustained, as well as a further £1,500 to cover his legal costs, and the mental anguish he suffered during the trial. Mr. Bartwright has so far refused to pay the fine, issuing the following statement outside the courtroom yesterday: “This is fucking stupid.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sick and tired of waking up in the night to find some shit attacking the wires behind my TV with a pair of shears in an attempt to electrocute himself so that he can sue me for all I’m worth. Call me a right-wing fascist pisscup, but how’s about this for a law: If someone breaks into your house in the middle of the night and starts taking stuff you can do what the hell you want to them.

If one of these dicks happens to break into the property of some deranged pervert, who proceeds to nail them to a wall, and bugger them with a rusty hook until they shit out their own bowels, then TOUGH SHIT. They shouldn’t have been there in the first place should they?

Just a thought. Just a little thought.

Three Profound Stories

Published by Moses Roffle on 31st January, 2006 in Articles. 7 Comments

The number 3 is a magical number. If any of us truly understood the depths of its many mysteries, there would be no limit to what we could achieve – our knowledge would be such that we could have sexual intercourse with light waves. Each of these three stories is just three sentences long, and consequently all are profound beyond depth itself.

Short Story No. 1: Love

Once I knew a woodlouse by the name of Stetson Breadbie, a louse who was never great in stature, and never had a dime to his name, bless the little twat; I loved him dearly with all my heart. When he left me, as all lovers do, it was as if someone were shoving rusty nails under my eyelids and waggling them around. Since that fateful day, I have clad my face in an impenetrable iron mask that makes me look like my uncle would if he was a robot.

Short Story No. 2: Fear

As I was getting in to bed one night (in the dark might I add), I trod on something cold that was poking out from under the bed, and breathed in sharply. Sure, it was probably the buckle on the strap of a bag that I kept under there, but maybe, just maybe, it was the hungry, reaching finger of some cold, dead thing that made contact with my heel that night. If I think for too long about this incident, I urinate in my clothing.

Short Story No. 3: Anger

One morning, as I was a about to tuck into a bowl of cornflakes, said flakes were suddenly knocked all over my nice clean table by a lost child who had come stumbling through my house, crying and shitting all over the place. “Please mister, have you seen my mummy?” he asked pathetically, unaware of the breakfast catastrophe his thoughtless actions had brought about. As I systematically broke each of his bones, using my Turkish hobbling stick, he knew my wrath – and I knew sweet, bloody satisfaction.

The Making of The Bar

Published by Nick on 25th January, 2006 in Articles. 3 Comments

This article has been literally months in the making. That is, I wrote a couple of paragraphs in October and forgot about it.

If you’re in the loop (or you’ve looked round our house as prospective renters), you’ll know that one of the cool things we’ve been wasting our time on is turning our tiny spare room into a tiny bar. Think Changing Rooms vs. Pimp My Ride vs. Commando vs Terminator. Imagine that! Arnie versus himself! Of course, Chuck Norris would ultimately win. But I digress (I dye cress!). Like many things, it was a comment made in jest that went a few steps too far. We documented the demise of our good judgement and the creation of something awesome in a small space. When you see the final result, you will probably want one of your own, possibly. Guaranteed!

Inexplicably, the landlord didn’t seem to mind.

Continue reading ‘The Making of The Bar’

Reasons to be gleeful

Published by Dan on 20th January, 2006 in Articles. 6 Comments

Life can be a confusing place for some. What’s It All About? Why Is It Happening? Why Is It Happening to Me? What The Hell Is Me? Thankfully these questions were answered long ago and just largely ignored by the throng. For your pleasure I’ve condensed them to this concise phrase:

Life is awesome.

Continue reading ‘Reasons to be gleeful’

The virtues of disappointment

Published by Dan on 30th December, 2005 in Articles. 3 Comments

Esteemed comic Bill Bailey states that the English, as a race, crave disappointment.

I’ve been musing a lot recently on the the subtler powers at work in the human psychology and came to the conclusion that I have always found disappointment a more powerful force than anger. Occasionally advised as a treatment for recalcitrant youth running wild in the homestead, I’ve found that in my experience its force extends further long into adulthood.

The problem with anger is that being on the receiving end will generally do one of two things: trigger a collapse into tears or ignite a fiery defensive riposte. Before long a simple disagreement over the best thing about being a pirate can escalate into a full blown cutlass thrusting brawl. It’s very rare that an individual, angrily told that he has ‘a really stupid face’, will feel obliged to change his ways. One sees this often in modern day disagreements between the smoker and the non. More often the non-smoker gets worked up about the smoke being blown in their faces and angrily indicates no smoking signs the more virulently the smoker doth take up his cigarette in defience at the system. Although of course the addictive power of nicotine plays no small role. I’ve heard it claimed that some people smoke just so they won’t become militant non smokers.

I am reminded of another parallel in the violent and frankly illogical protests by animal rights activists. Being a vegetarian myself, and believing in the moral case for it, I find myself slapping my head in frustration with the anger tactics of these hotheaded fools. Who would want to be associated with a movement that espouses violence as a way to stop violence? Then again this kind of fuzzy thinking seems to be employed by almost all those in positions of power these days. Yes, there is a place for intervention but one musn’t charge in all cock-a-hoop with the mad idea that beating people upside the head will somehow heal their suffering. The only message they might learn is that violence is not the answer unless you do loads of it while well dressed, and then of course it’s very proper.

Now all that seems like a whole lot of shit to me. If you want to have an influence and really change things then what you need is the true withering force of disappointment. There is no riposte to disappointment, it’s not a direct attack; it slides by you, making you think at first you’ve got away with it. Then you realise that you’ve actually lost something, you’ve dropped down in the social spectrum. Somehow you are lessened and you know you only have yourself to blame. Where to now? The way back is through redemption, you have to absolve yourself and prove yourself worthy again.

Imagine the smoker, instead of angrily shouting in his or her face try a dissapointed but polite ‘Oh’ when they ask if they can smoke. Make it clear that you thought they were a little better than that and really that they owe it themselves to probably, you know, in time phase it out - because frankly speaking its a little embarrasing for a modern cool and funky gentlemen or a young and stylish lady to be indulging in such a backward practice. Of course the coda of disappointment indicates that you musn’t say these things, but merely ‘make them known’. Once the general message gets out through the codes of looks and small frowns that the practice of smoking just isn’t cool, but that noone wants to embarrass anyone by actually mentioning it; it’d probably stop overnight.

Oh you can’t beat the refreshing frisson of a little angry debate here and there for sure, its honest brutal and very immediate. However if you favour real, albeit gentle, change then one must understand the subtler forces of the slightly disapproving eyebrow.

I Could Care Less

Published by Nick on 18th November, 2005 in Articles. 1 Comment

No, obviously the correct phrase is “I couldn’t care less”. Because it’s an expression of how little I care, and so my level of caring is so low that it couldn’t be any lower; hence, I couldn’t care less. It is never “I could care less” as I hear on TV, because what would that even mean? You could care less? So you do care a little bit? It sounds like a middle-of-the-road statement. I sort of care. Lame!

Jeff from Coventry writes in with another one: “It’s cheap at half the price!” Of course it fucking would be at half the price! Most things are cheap at half the price. The saying is “It’s cheap at twice the price!”, meaning that it’s so cheap that even if the price were doubled it could still be considered good value.

Get it right!

How to Drive

Published by Nick on 6th November, 2005 in Articles. 1 Comment

It has come to my attention that I haven’t been driving properly. Apparently I had the foolish assumption that the Highway Code was an authoritative set of rules when it comes to operating an automobile on public highways, and that others would follow these rules. But it turns out I’m in the minority. I have compiled this list of rules which the majority of drivers abide by, and which I can only assume are the real rules of the road.

This here be Englande; if you drive on the crazy side of the road just swap right and left.

Main rules

  • Indicators were invented by the Victorians before they developed mind-reading. You have no use for these. Anyway, if you can’t see them, what’s the point?
  • If the car in front of you is not speeding, the best way to gently signal to them is to drive no more than 2 metres away from his bumper. This will speed up the car ahead, even when the other car is behind more traffic. Conventional logic does not apply on tarmac.

Motorways

  • Don’t worry about ever indicating on motorways. In fact it is illegal to indicate on motorways. Because all the cars are going extremely fast, it’s safe to simply swerve out to another lane; flashing lights would serve only to confuse fellow drivers.
  • When you wish to overtake another car on a motorway, make sure you get right up to the back of the car in front. This lets them know in a courteous fashion that you wish to overtake them. Flashing your lights is also polite. Then swerve to the outer lane (remember not to indicate), then cut back in front of the other vehicle as close as possible. This ensures efficient lane usage.

Roundabouts aka The Circlebitch

  • The Highway code suggests that you should indicate left before your exit. The Highway Code is wrong. There are a number of different ways you can go about it:
    • Not at all.
    • Indicate right before your exit.
    • Indicate right all the way round, until well after you’ve left the roundabout. Common sense might indicate that this is even less helpful than not indicating at all, but that is one example where common sense will get you in trouble.

Bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch.