Ooer. Make sure you have your privacy settings set correctly otherwise a sad muppet on this site will be able to search for your status updates etc.
Unless you don’t give a bollock that is.
Currently I’m too fed up to care either way.
Ok, on way back from hospital appointment on Friday and came across this interesting sign.
What does it mean? I’m all confused now.
Is there just one magistrate, and thus should read Magistrate’s Court, or are there a bunch of minging magistrates in which case it would need to read Magistrates’ Court?
Yes, I’ve gone and done it! I’m getting the following to much on while shooting wasteland scum in the face with my combat shotgun:
doner kebab, 1 skewer of shish kebab, 1 skewer of chicken kebab and 1 skewer of kofte kebab
and chips with extra garlic!!!!!!!!!
So you are a scientist. So what do you spend your time doing? Finding a cure for cancer? Inventing the perpetual motion engine and thus giving the world free energy? How about a top secret volcanic island with a space ship?
No, you go wasting 3 1/2 years working out how cats can drink milk without getting their fucking chins wet!
Knowing the size and speed of the tongue, they were able to calculate a mathematical formula involving the Froude number – a dimensionless number that characterises the ratio between gravity and inertia.
For cats of all sizes, that number is almost exactly one, indicating a perfect balance.
Well fuck yes! How did they get the funding for this shit? How does that help anything or anybody whatsoever??????
And it gets worse….
The team also created a robotic cat's tongue to explore different methods of lapping.
Mathematician Jeffrey Aristoff said: "The amount of liquid available for the cat to capture each time it closes its mouth depends on the size and speed of the tongue.
"Our research — the experimental measurements and theoretical predictions — suggests that the cat chooses the speed in order to maximise the amount of liquid ingested per lap.
A robotic fucking tongue? Fuck the fuck off! And of course the cat will do what it can to get the most milk per lap. I could have told you that with no funding.
Hell, this from The Angry Exile sounds like fun!
"I suggest we start by genetically modifying absolutely anything that moves and then anything that doesn't until it begins to move, and we keep going until the bio is so amazingly diverse that people are having to shoot down their breakfast cereal in the mornings after it's smashed its way out of the packet and is flying round the room chasing the cat."
Oh god. The pet situation has become even more worser with the impending arrival of 3 guinea pigs and another rabbit. All four on a supposedly temporary basis. Just like the last one, George the rabbit, who has been living with us for 2 years now. But he is cute and cuddly and likes (I suppose) being fussed.
So, here’s the potential furry things:
Does anybody seem to this the above is too much? I certainly do. Sounds like some sort cunning ploy to make me so mad as that I’ll immediately think it better to sleep on a park bench than on my very comfy* sofa.
And I’m expected to spend what time I have when I’m not working to feed all these furry buggers? Oh, I think not.
Maybe I will feed everything to the cats…….
* not comfy.
What is Sarsage?
And I would love to eat the potato shine. If I knew what the hell it was, of course. Yum. Maybe they can add some sarsage to it.
And to those of you who think I just trawl around the internets looking for spelling errors, well, maybe you have something there.
Hello boys and girls. Today I am going to show you how many animals you can stuff into a small 3 bedroom house before the RSPCA turn up and take them all down to the glue factory.
So, how many will it take?
For example, take this house, which we’ll call ARMville which is occupied by The Man, The Woman, The Big Girl and The Little Girl.
4 rabbits, 4 cats, 2 rats, 2 hamsters and 3 “dwarf” hamsters. Oh, and a fish.
They are looking to add an indeterminable number of guinnea pigs.
Will this tip the balance?
Listen to this and weep, you sad bunch of wumps!
Hixxy rules yet again!
So take me away
When the colours all fade
At the end of the day
When the world is asleep
I'll be living my dream
We're going so deep
Into the night
In black and white we're only silhouettes
Together nothing more and nothing less
Sometimes we must remember to forget
When the sun goes down
I'll be with you………
If you don’t feel uplifted after this then you are a muppet. Or worse.
Hello again film fans. Or sad muppets randomly browsing teh interwebs.
Last night I went and say Resident Evil : Afterlife. Now I must admit for being slightly biased here in that I really liked the first film. The second was a bit pants though.
So. Here we go:
For some reason, the whole film is a homage to Duke Nukem. He is teh dude and a super bad villain. I’m all confused now. I think I’ll lie down.
Ok, film starts with Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich, Milla Jovovich and Milla Jovovich all playing as a confusing and never explained series of clone Alices attacking the headquarters of the Umbrella Corporation which is in Tokyo, don’t you know.
Not sure why we are doing this bit, but the whole place goes up (or down) in a really good explodey bit. Nice.
Then the silly Alice goes and flies off to bloody Alaska in the search of the famed “Arcadia” which is all nice and jolly. A bit like a Butlins holiday camp, except for the fact that it is actually a big oil tanker run by Duke Nukem kidnapping and experimenting on hoomans. Anyways, she ends up picking up the rather gorgeous Ali Larter and they both end up crash landing on a prison in Los Angeles which is surrounded by zombies. Cool.
And Wentworth Miller (he of Prison Break fame) is locked up Hannibal Lecter style. Oh the irony. The should’ve paid the script writer extra. Not. Arseholes.
Anyways, lots of stock jump frights and stuff, but the 3D (or £D as I like to call it) is used quite well, in places anyway.
Whole film is SHITE.
So go see it. Just for the Duke.
Well now, if you are looking for realism (even vaguely) don’t go see this movie. There are a number of things wrong with it:
Dude is buried in a rather spacious coffin underground in what’s supposed to be Iraq. And he has his cigarette lighter and, for some reason, a torch, mobile phone and huge angry anteater in there with him.
And of course, you always get a good cellphone connection 6 foot below the surface. In Iraq. Or is it?
Bloody O2 can’t even get me a connection in the house!
So, my overall opinion? Oh what? The story? Ok, same sort of thing that happens to all of us really. Get a phone call from some foreign dude demanding $5m dollars otherwise he’s going to let you die in a coffin. Yeah. Just phone up Noel Edmonds Family Christmas Video Accidents instead and get him to pay it.
Fails miserably on the mobile phone aspect, so it’s SHITE.
Great trip home on what they call the Northern Line tonight. Packed to the rafters, with people hanging on outside and on the roof. And I get to get squashed against some twat who obviously hadn’t heard of de-odorant, or in fact had heard of it but was a stinky sociopathic arse bucket.
Well, another day passes and another bit of copper kicking going on. Not the kicking of a copper, but one of Her Majesty’s finest bobbies on the beat giving a beating to some sad woman who was asleep in her car.
The papers have covered it, and there’s a youtube video of the blood spraying about the cells, but what gets me are the words and phrases in the media about it.
Now, imagine you a a policeman. You are expected to uphold the law. It’s the sole reason for your job.
Then we get:
Former soldier Sgt Andrews, 37, was eventually convicted of assault causing actual bodily harm after a trial at Oxford Magistrates Court earlier this summer.
He will be sentenced on Tuesday and could face up to six months in jail. He is expected to lose his job.
Andrews was suspended on full pay after his conviction.
After his conviction? Suspended on FULL PAY after his conviction???? And he is expected to lose his job???
And people wonder why nobody has any respect for the police force any more?
I need a lie down.
Happens to us all. Wife asked me to put some washing in. I did. But overfilled it a bit and during the fast spin cycle the door flew off. Then I remembered I forgot to put the large brick in too! Oh noes! What should I do?
I know, I’ll just lob it in. What could possibly go wrong with that idea?
Saw this a couple of weeks ago so since I’m in a maniacal reviewing fest here’s my, er, review:
Oh, it’s the future again. And mankind have the ability to make replacement parts for bits of body that wear out or break: kidneys, hearts, livers and whatnot. They also do enhanced parts too, such as ears (but with a gigantic knob to turn up the volume for some reason.
All fine and dandy. You can get replacement bits but it costs. But you can get financing.
Unfortunately, if you fall behind on payments then you get a visit from Jude Bloody Law and some black dude who ends up killing him (oops, should’ve said spoiler alert but who cares) half way through the movie and the rest is his dream, who helpfully repossess the part. Usually by cutting the owner into small bits with big knives. So far so good. Apart from Jude Bloody Law.
Jude Bloody Law is one of these credit recovery agents. Then he ends up with a replacement heart and can’t find it in him to go slicing any more people up. So he gets chased around the place and etc.
All good. Apart from Jude Bloody Law. But what I want to know is where are the sales of Ginormous Cocks? I mean, 99% of the sales from blokes would be enhanced robo cocks, wouldn’t they? There’s a scene with some middle-aged guy getting the “For your family, you should take credit to get a new kidney” type sales talk. Nowhere do you get a “Think of what a 4 foot dong would do to make your wife happier” spiel. Come on, lets have some realism for a change.
To be honest, it’s a fairly ok film, but for the lack of realism on the sales front.
But, given Jude Bloody Law and a distinct lack of full frontal nudity I’m afraid it’s SHITE.
Saw this “film” a few weeks ago. So what’s my review?
Well, since the film script writers couldn’t be bloody arsed with actually taking time to write a script, the director couldn’t work out what the fuck was going on, nobody remembered to hire any actors, aside from Laurence Fishburne who spend the whole time talking to a plant pot and then trying to kill everybody with a potato slicer, I cannot be arsed in the least to even finish this sentence which must be one of my longest ever written so sum the whole film up with one word:
So, with nothing better to be doing, such as taking kids to Science Museum* today, I thought I’d go see a film. So chose Inception because it got some good reviews.
So, here’s my angry review:
Marketed by my friends as a cerebral version of The Matrix, I was very disappointed. Not only had they removed most of the exciting bits of The Matrix, they had replaced them with the characters spending most of the film either asleep, trying to go to sleep, or dreaming about having a bit of a kip.
I mean, WTF is this? I think the adverts were more entertaining. At least I now know that I shouldn’t be videoing the film using my phone or that I was sitting in a Cineworld cinema. I already realised that, you dozy chumps, given the enormous sodding great big Cineworld sign on the front of the building, the livery and indeed the packets of popcorn.
Ah, anyway. The film. Yes, Leonardo Di Crapio was in it. But this time he had a bit of a beard. So wahay. There goes the makeup effects. Oh, and a very very very very slow van reversing off the side of a bridge, something to do with 8 sleeping people tied together with lamp cord in a lift with no gravity, and exploding buildings on a snowy mountain.
Did anybody actually write the script or was it one of those round robin type of things where everybody and their aunty gets to write a paragraph.
And for those who love their films spoiled, well you never know whether it is all Leonardo’s dream or not, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Want to sit through adverts, film trailers, some idiot** dropping their peanut M&Ms on the floor and shouting “Bollocks!” about 45 minutes into the film, and 2 hours and 28 minutes of people having a bit of a kip? If that’s your idea of a good day out then go make some god damned vinegar and pour it up your nose. So would ARM recommend this?
No. It’s a pile of shite.
* which I would’ve done if they didn’t go to bed late and sleep in until 11:45 am.
** that was me.
Things are odd, and full of wotsits. If it wasn’t for my incredibly sane brain then I think I would be chewing the furniture and shouting “Don’t be a pussy – get up!”
I love wotsits.
And what the hell am I doing posting this rubbish at 00:54 when I need to get up early tomorrow????
Am I truly mad?*
* don’t answer that.
That's why I turned the music right up!
Reflecting more on the wotsit post earlier yesterday I remembered about another incident involving piss and exceptional embarrassment that I’d now like to share with you all.
This happened many years ago, when I was young and not covered in piss.
Picture the scene, living in a flat, with communal hallway. I had ordered an Indian Takeaway as you do.
Being young and unable to control myself piss-wise, I had a little accident in the bathroom, and managed to spray piss all over my trousers. Again. As you do.
“BING BONG!” goes the intercom, signalling arrival of tasty takeaway food.
I lurch out of the bathroom, furiously dabbing at my trousers. The girlfriend is on sofa watching TV. I shout “Can you get the door? I’m covered in piss!!!” at the top of my voice.
Typically, she says “No”, so I furiously dab more at the trousers as I get to the front door. “I’m all covered in piss!” I complain.
I then open the front door….. expecting then to run to the main door and let the delivery guy in.
And you can guess the rest, can’t you?
Door opens. I look up. OMG. It’s the delivery dude.
We never re-ordered from there.
Ok then, how would you like to go on an exotic holiday? For free? Yes, sure you would be thinking I am now just a spam site or something.
Ok, let’s try something more unbelievable…
Free sex? And lap-dancing in Amsterdam? For free?
Yes. Ok, not for us normal people. You have to be one of the little band of “disabled” people (of whom there are millions remember, you don’t get Incapacity Benefit just by telling the doc you feel a bit lazy and can he write you off as crippled for a bit, mate) who happen not to get be getting any.
According to this report some local councils are using our hard earned money to send a bunch of “clients” off to see some, ahem, ladies in Amsterdam.
Awww. Bless them.
We all know money is made from paper, and paper comes from trees, and trees grow; therefore in their demented logic money also grows on trees and is therefore abundant.
There there’s this:
In the course of 12 months, one man with mental health problems from Norwich received a holiday in Tunisia, a subscription to an internet dating site, driving lessons, and expensive art materials.
And poor mentally ill man. Must has been traumatic whatever caused him to go bonkers and start chewing the furniture, eh?
the man received the funding on top of his state benefits, after suffering from psychiatric problems when his wife asked for a divorce.
I’m going to bash my head into the fridge door again.
If you are ever near Shepreth, please don’t go to their wildlife park. Why? Roaming badgers playing the vuvuzela backwards? Hoards of randy giraffes attacking the donkey population?
No, it’s worse than all that put together and stapled to David Mellor.
Yes, you can book Birthday Party’s here. Like if you’d want to. I would like my kids to grow up with some vague sense of right and wrong, to find the right guy and settle down, open a sandwich shop that sells paninis, teas and coffees, and not ONCE even thinks about paying that little bit extra for the apostrophe to be added.
Look, you don’t say you have owl’s, tiger’s, donkey’s and rabbit’s, do you? So take your party’s and shove them up your left nostril!!!!
I was browsing my iphone (3GS, not a 4 broken antennae job!) apps the other day while waiting for a train to take me to someplace secret – pssst, it’s my secret spy volcano rocket base – when I came across this interesting thing:
Yes, you can now download Steve Davis Poo for nothing at all! Fantastic.
Aside : should it be Steve Davis’ Poo?
Aside : I’ll get my coat.
Hello. Don’t visit this shop.
Not unless you want to have some god damned panini’s. Fuck. And this place is owned by the husband of a teacher at my girls’ school! Maybe she liked marrying a moron.
Still, at least he didn’t have more than 1 specials.
Oops. He did.
Do people never think these days?
Yep, even the on-line dead tree press are still employing illiterate airbenders, aren’t they? Yes, says the so-called journalist* but it passed the spell checker. Effing moron. With nobs on.
* as in can copy / paste from Wikipedia without engaging brain. Here’s the Independent doing a nice splash about the history of The Bill Chill Festival which used to be called the Wanky Balls Festival, don’t you know?
Hello and welcome to ARM’s cookery course. Today we are going to make vinegar. Have you got all of the ingredients you’ll need?
What’s that? You don’t really need any ingredients because it’s really easy and could be made by accident?
You are obviously a fecking moron! You need lots and lots and lots of ingredients to make vinegar!
I mean, where’s your nuts? And celery? Jesus wept, you’ve gone and forgotten the milk, eggs and fish again haven’t you? You twonk!
And WTF is mustrad?
Incidentally, if you have made vinegar using mustard, fish, and celery please go away very quietly and slap yourself repeatedly with a fridge. Thank you.
Then the government says they will tax banks on their high risk balance sheets....
Mmmm. They are just not thinkings things through are they?
Now, howsabout cutting that commie expenditure by 25% and not taxing
me any more, you rancid cocks?
Caring Understanding New Tories
What a cunt!
A nutter dictating a memo to an idiot "and then close brackets comma
and we should therefore open parentheses..."
A bastard eating chicken drumsticks
Some mad woman knitting a cock warmer
A 58 year old dude with mental bling bling headphones on
Well, it is 2010 now and the big freeze is on. The Met Office (paid for by taxes) predicted a mild winter (as well as a scorcio summer). Utter arse.
Snow snow and more snow; bloody freezing, raining and generally shite.
Well done, you nobs.
Yet the ever rumbling climate change crap continues. More Green Taxes to stop the polar bears dying. Even if they were, sod them, the big hairy beary bastards.
I want fewer taxes, not more.
And how about some fecking gritting the pavements for a change, you local council idiot nobs? Don’t we pay enough council tax or something? Fire some god damned outreach co-ordinators and buy something useful, like grit.