What with all the snow lying around right now, I thought now would be the ideal time to remind everyone that sledging is NOT JUST FOR KIDS.
Seriously guys, sledging is the most amazing fun you can have in the snow. Just find a sledge, or steal one off a kid, then head to the steepest hill you can find. I guarantee you will have the greatest time ever.
Similar fun can also be had with snowball fights, building snowmen and, of course, making snow angels.
We’re back! After over a year of not posting a single video, we’re finally back in business! We’ve got a lot of retarded shit coming up in 2010 and to give you a little teaser of what’s to come, here’s our uhm.. teaser?
It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything on here so I thought I should probably make it something big. Last night I intentionally went to see 2012. For those of you who don’t know, 2012 is yet another generic disaster movie with copious amounts of inconsistency, plot holes, flimsy science and plain old BAD FILMMAKING. What follows now is an abridged version of the movie’s script for your reading pleasure.
So why is it called a mouse? Is it because it slightly resembles a mouse in that it’s small and has a wire at one end? If so, then that is by far the most retarded name origin I’ve ever encountered. What were those engineers smoking?
They were told told to design a device which allows a user to move a cursor around a computer screen. So what they ended up with was something small that would fit in the palm of your hand, obviously, and also have a wire to connect it to the computer, also fucking obviously. THERE’S NO EARS, NO EYES, NO MOUTH, NO FEET, NO LEGS, NO FUR, NO GENITALIA. It doesn’t look anything like a mouse!
Take the computer keyboard for example. It looks kinda like a bar of chocolate? Do you sit there and type out e-mails on your Cadbury? No, you don’t, because that’s FUCKING RETARDED.
So I was posting a letter to America the other week. Easy right? Stick a stamp on it and just go. But NO. Turns out you HAVE to go to the Post Office.
So off I went, letter in hand.
Me: I’d like to post this letter to America please.
Woman: Just pop it on the scales there.
Pop it on the fucking scales?! It’s a goddamn letter. What do you think I’m doing? Packing sheets of gold leaf in an envelope and smuggling it across the Atlantic?
Woman: Unsurprisingly, that weighs fuck-all so you’ll need one of these 90p stamps.
So then apparently at the post office you have to apply your own stamps despite the face that not only do you give them the envelope to weigh, they’re also the only ones who can get the right stamps from behind the counter.
So there I am like some kind of retarded kid trying to stick a non-sticky-backed stamp on an envelope without licking it first whilst the woman behind the counter is doing absolutely shit-all to help my situation. I didn’t even realise you still got stamps that you had to lick anymore.
With that struggle out of the way she then hands me a fucking Air Mail sticker. Air Mail! How the hell else is it going to get there?! Carrier pigeon? In a mail bag aboard the HMS Titanic? Of course it’s fucking going on a plane. Even letters sent INSIDE THE UK go on a plain these days so what the hell is the need for an Air Mail sticker?
‘Nevermind’ I thought, ‘I’ll just lick the back and stick it next to my 90p stamp.’ But NO. God no. Turns out the Air Mail stamp is DIFFERENT to the 90p stamp, and licking it does absolutely nothing other than make you look like a class-A retard to everyone in the queue behind. Air Mail stamps come on a small bit of paper that makes it literally IMPOSSIBLE to get the damn thing off and stick it to the envelope but finally, I managed.
I swear to god, next time I’m just going to FLY to America instead. It’ll sure as hell be a lot easier.
I went to the cinema last week. Now normally you could expect to be at the cinema, watch an entire movie and be back home within around 2 hours. This is what I would consider to be normal.
These days however, it seems people are intent on making movies long as fuck. Last week I was at the cinema for a full 3 hours watching the monstrosity known as Transformers 2.
15 minutes of shitty adverts, 15 minutes of shitty trailers and then 2 and a half motherfucking hours of robots blowing shit up. Seriously, how can you fill 2 and a half hours of screen time with nothing but explosions!
Shockingly, this isn’t the longest as fuck movie I have ever seen. That prize goes to the groundbreakingly boring, 3 hour long, cinematic catastrophe known as Pirates of the Caribbean 3.
For those curious, my thoughts on Pirates 3 can be found here.
So here’s the deal. I was sitting happily enjoying my refreshingly alcoholic beverage in a social alcohol drinking environment commonly known as a bar. Suddenly out of nowhere, I decide that I would like to visit the lavatory to dispose of some bodily fluids.
No problem, I’ll just work out that door and turn left towards the toilets. Should be easy right?
WRONG.
So there I am walking down this dead-end corridor. I take a look at the sign on the first door.
“Baby Changing Facilities? Weird.”
On to the next door.
“Women.”
The final door now.
“Disabled…”
So back to the first door I go for a closer examination. The logo on the door resembles a small toddler standing spread-eagled wearing what appeared to be a rather large nappy.
Investigations later proved that the dipshit owners of the bar actually thought this actually resembled the universal symbol for mens toilets.
I mean, for FUCK SAKE. We actually already HAVE a universal symbol for mens toilets. Why not, I don’t know, actually… USE IT?
In all honesty though, it’s not as exciting as it sounds.
There I was just innocently trying to ask the big-headed police officer what was going on and he goes and SHUNS me like he’s some kind of movie star type character.
Anyway, here’s a picture of me on Nightcops with speech balloons added for comedic effect.
Anyone who tells you they like the taste of vodka is a liar.
Vodka actually tastes like arse. If you can picture a situation where you’re wearing some really tight jeans and proceed to spend the entire day jogging on a treadmill, then when you get home you take your boxers off and squeeze all the sweat into a small glass, then you leave that small glass to fester in a damp room for 4 months, then you take it out and dip your nutsack in for a few seconds, then give it a quick stir and pour some bleach in. THAT is what vodka tastes like.
Last week I accidentally walked to the cinema and watched a cinematic masterpiece by the name of Fighting. What follows is my depiction of a hypothetical movie script which could have been referred to during filming.