I’m Addicted To The Daily Mail And I Can’t Stop


I had a relatively stable upbringing. There was nothing that Jeremy Kyle would shout at the my mother for, apart from maybe not cultivating an exactly riveting environment to learn in. There was the time she almost burned the house down due to post natal depression, but that shouldn’t be held against her; it was entertaining in it’s own special way. We didn’t like the kitchen anyway. Manmade fabrics had a lot to answer for, even before Anna Ryder Richardson and Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen ruined interior design for everyone.


Why Every Straight Man Needs A Gay Best Friend; A Response


I’ve recently read an article on Huffington Post about how having a gay best friend could be really good for a straight man. 

If you’re not horrified enough by that initial sentence as it is, allow me to elaborate.

Someone has actually thought about how a gay man would be a great asset to a straight man’s life. Not that they’ll have a long and lasting relationship based on respect and mutual love, but how having a gay man in your life can benefit a straight man’s. Sounds pretty shitty doesn’t it? 

So here is why he is so far wrong. 


The Sunderland International Air Show, And Why You Would Be An Idiot To Go

If the Air Show that takes place in Sunderland every year was compared to a national disaster it would be the sordid lovechild of Hurricane Katrina and a really big avalanche. In terms of annoyance, it ranks up there as a wicklow on the index finger of your strongest hand, that you can’t quite get at because your other fingers are essentially five raw sausages flopping around like drunk women on the last bus home.

For those who have the privilege to not know, Sunderland hosts an International Air Show once a year, and bases it right on our “award winning” beach and prom area. Award winning for the amount of chip cartons and gangs of seagulls hanging around on corners, glaring at the elderly and infirm. It apparently brings millions of pounds of tourism into the area for two days and brings the city to an almost stand-still.

Nonsense TV

Sound The Alarm! Pantyliner Advert Uses The Word ‘Vagina.’

The realms of ridiculousness has reached even scarier depths (and I’m taking Jedward’s career into account) as an advert for pantyliners has used the word ‘vagina’ and ‘discharge.’

The absolute monsters at Johnson and Johnson have outraged the entire World by including words for their Carefree pads that would accurately describe what a product would do instead of trying to soften the blow by using words that everyone knows means fanny, but isn’t fanny.

What’s the point in dressing up something unpleasant for the sake of small minded prudes? Although there’s no definite numbers of the complaints, it’s bound to be in the trillions and everyone should start thinking more discreetly about a problem that affects 71% of women.


Get a grip.

Obviously I can’t show the actual advert, it’s just that inflammatory. Instead, look how happy women in the 80s were when they wore fairy shields (which apparently isn’t something that you can buy on Zelda).


What Have We Learned From @O2 Today?

As little invisible butterflies who carry phone signal dropped away (we imagine this is how it works, no one try and tell us different) Twitter got angry. Very angry. There were death threats, and there were jokes, but all through this dark time was a shining beacon of greatness. Like in Lord Of The Rings when the torches were lit from Gondor to Rohan? Well the O2 Twitter stream was the exact opposite of that. They were funny and not a notice that the King had died (or whatever it meant, 3 hours is a long time to sit through a film).

They dealt with customer complaints with a hint of whimsy and mirth, when it could have had a stoic and curt response has made everyone laugh about the problem, instead of going all Natwest on their ass.

Having your network drop is a bugger, and if I were popular, I might have been affected by it, but so far, I haven’t. If O2 made bread, then perhaps I would be swinging from the bannister, but as it stands, nada.

The way that whoever is running the O2 Twitter feed has spoke to customers has been brilliant. When threatened with being hunted down by angry people, it’s turned the entire thing into a joke and defused the situation. So what have we learned?

That it’s actually easier to turn a death threat into something funnier instead of reporting them to the police.

It makes sense to turn something angry into something not angry because it makes the person who’s angry look like a total boob-punch.

Tina Fey also subscribes to this theory


Why I Hate Moths #moths #ihatemoths #whywonttheydie

Summer can bring many pleasant things. Some of those things are upto
and not including, walking along the verdant English countryside as
the Sun goes down, holding hands with the person you love, thinking
‘Jeez, isn’t England a shit tip?’, it can also mean shedding as many
clothes as a run of the mill prostitute and setting yourself up at a
prominent position in the local park, stealing admiring glances from
youths and pedophiles alike, and that’s great. But what isn’t great
and can easily be called the Worst Thing Of Summer isn’t sunburn, or
sticky suncream that gets clogged with sand, it’s not even everywhere
being overcrowded because families think it’s acceptable to take their
children out for the day. It’s moths.


Why I Hate…The Summer


As pictures of nubile young ladies frolicking in the sea start to appear on the Daily Mail’s front page, it seems official that, until the foreseeable future, Summer is here. So, for many it’ll mean overweight men in shorts from Primark topless, groups of teenagers reclining in any patches of grass they can find wearing things that you could only find a Rihanna video, and gangs of LADS careen around in souped up cars that sound like Air Force One has been hit by a flock of chainsaws

Sounds wonderful doesn’t it? Well, not really. When the slightest bit of Sun hits Britain people seem to lose their minds. It’s the equivalent of catnip, but for easily lead idiots.

What is it that makes people obsess about taking off as much clothes as shy strippers and parading around like their shit doesn’t stink? Well, I don’t know, and that’s not why you’re here either.

You’re here because I hate the Sun. For me, the gradual transition from weather so cold that layers are not only advisable but also a good way to stave off instant frostbite, through to clement, bearable levels of weather that frequently flips between temperatures like Katie Price does with husbands. 

The thing that I hate the most about the Summer is that it’s acceptable to do nothing. It’s actively encouraged that you’ll spend hours at a time doing nothing but absorbing some potentially cancerous lightwaves. How has that become an accepted thing? Who’s decided that instead of rushing around like people do normally, they’ll instead take up a seat in a park or lie down on the grass and do nothing. 

I’m not the most active of people. The thought of even walking to a garage can sometime make me want to hurl myself from the nearest bridge (which I would seriously consider if I was closer to it; it’s the walk you see) but there’s always something I know I need to do. Putting it off has become a dark art for me; I’m the Marquis of putting stuff off for another day. How does this knowledge and anxiety just dissipate for people once those rays hit them for the first time? 

Is it like a form of amnesiac radiation? Because that is what it seems to be. 

And another thing; what the Hell happens to your eyes once you come out of the Sun? Everything goes bluey-green and dark. What’s that caused by? The same amnesiac radiation? Will sitting in the Sun for an extended period of time turn us into colour blind amnesiacs? Because that would awful…wouldn’t it?