Monday, July 5, 2010

Born to be an arsehole

God is very good to us. If you’re reading this, it means you have internet access and it’s likely that you are among the more privileged members of society. God Can be good, and mostly is.

But sometimes he can be nasty. Like that time he sent the plagues. And the times he does that natural disaster thing. And the time he gave us Cristiano Ronaldo. And if you haven’t heard by now, he’s cursed us again by allowing Ronaldo to reproduce. That’s right. The world’s most loved/hated citizen shagged some random woman and now he’s got a bebe. A bebe who’s been placed under his care, destined to be an arsehole.

Here's the story from The Telegraph.

What they didn’t tell us is that the baby bears a striking resemblance to Happy Sindane.

And the baby wasn’t pushed out, he dived out, just like his daddy.

His first word is likely to be ‘penalty’.

Please remember the bebe in your prayers.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Irritating from beyond the grave

After years and years of pissing us off in the press, worming her way into newspapers and magazines and even violating our valuable TV time with her 'charitable' deeds, Princess Diana is still raping our headline space from the beyond the grave.

Only famous for her moderate good looks and seducing Prince Charles (among many, many, many others – the slag), she got more airtime than Tiger Woods, his golf balls, and his philandering ball sack.

We all give a R2 to the guy at the robots every now and again. We all give the postmen their Christmas bonuses. But we don’t get airtime. Maybe it’s because we don’t notify the media every time we hug an AIDS baby.

And then her funeral went on for hours. There were people crying like they knew her and throwing flowers on at her hearse like they were playing paintball with death.

And for who? Someone who was famous for the chop she married, who later married Britain’s prized race horse.

I digress. I know it’s taken me long to get to the point, but I have a lot of issues with this woman.
So today, I see an article which some editor, sitting there in his nasty-ass tweed jacket, thinks is newsworthy. It’s about Princess Diana having a headache on her wedding day because she wasn’t used to wearing a tiara. That’s it.

So today, nearly 13 years after she died, she still fucks around in our newspapers. Because she had a headache once.


Friday, May 14, 2010

Roon Man

By definition, a savant is someone who is mentally handicapped, often autistic, but with one super special talent.

For example, Kim Peek, the guy that inspired the movie Rain Man (really), has a photographic memory and reads 8 books a day, averaging 10 seconds a page. And he remembers everything he reads.

The man is brilliant. He also has a special talent for dates: He asks people on the streets what their birthday is and how old they are, and he tells them the exact day their birthday fell on in the year they were born, and what day it will fall on in the current year. He’s so brilliant, he’s called a Mega Savant.

A Mega Savant we all know a lot better is Wayne Rooney or Roon Man. This guy is mentally handicapped and unstable. And like any savant, he has a special talent – football, and he’s brilliant. But Roon Man is an absolute half wit.

Today, he’s in the press saying that he wants to be a football manager when he has retired from playing. He’s busy getting his coaching badges (the qualifications required to be a manager) but he doesn’t even know that you don’t need badges to play FIFA or Pro Evolution.

I pulled some quotes from the Mega Savant’s article:

“I love football and enjoy football - I can't see myself running a restaurant, I want to be in football.”


Here’s a peach:

“When YOU do stop playing, I want to be involved in football.”

I stopped playing a long time ago Roon Man, so go ahead and manage your team. It’s no wonder Nike have cancelled his endorsement contract. He’s now the new face of Pick ‘n’ Pay.

Roon Man. Inspired by you.

Fucking idiot.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010


Let’s clear something up quickly.

Quite often I hear people say, “I’m just going to drink my tablet.”

You can not drink a tablet. You can drink liquids. You can eat solids. But you can not drink a solid. Nobody is physically capable of drinking a solid, not even the late, great Jesus.

Look at them. Solid as a rock. So you eat them.

You take a chill pill, you don't drink a chill pill.

It’s not a very difficult thing to understand. Here are the definitions of eat and drink according to the dictionary.

Drink (verb):
To take water or other liquid into the mouth and swallow it.

Eat (verb):
To take into the mouth and swallow for nourishment; chew and swallow (food/solids).

So can everyone please stop saying they must drink their tablets? You take tablets or eat tablets, not drink them. It’s a fucking solid.

Even if you take it with water: you drink the water and eat the tablet.

Get it right. Morpheus didn't ask Mr Anderson if he would like to drink the red pill or the blue pill.

Only one person can drink tablets. And he’s not reading this (he doesn’t read anyway, he stares books down until he gets the information he wants).

Friday, April 30, 2010

The world has problems

The world is officially a fuckup. We have a lot of problems, which could see our world explode into a million little pieces of anal crumbs, but our problems just got worse.

Never mind the pandemics
Never mind the volcanic ash
Never mind the AWB
Never mind the manchester united supporters
Never mind global warming
Never mind people with Blackberries
Never mind the starving people in Africa
Never mind the people that moer seals with clubs
Never mind fur coats
Never mind Oprah Winfrey
Never mind the fact that our ‘dear’ Alexander McQueen offed himself
Never mind the fact that Hurt Locker won an Oscar
Never mind that Liverpool won no trophies this season
Never mind that Rafael Benitez is still the manager
Never mind that Rafa Benitez still plays Lucas every game
Never mind that Liverpool won’t play Champions League next season
Never mind, Nirvana

The problem that is threatening our very existence was brought to the world’s attention with the release of the 2010 Time 100 Most Influential People in the World list. And up there, with the likes of Barack Obama and Steve Jobs, is none other than fag-ass vampire pansy, Robert Pattinson. This douchebag:

The man/boy/girl/vampire that has single-handedly pissed all over the good names of Count Dracula (the original) and Count Dracula (Leslie Nielson in Dracula: Dead and Loving It).

And you know what the worst part is? Chicks dig him. And now he’s one of the most influential people in the world. Apparently.

Fucking arsehole.

Say a prayer to The Lord above, because there’s nothing on this earth that can help us.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Kentucky Fried Fuckall

Last week I found myself in a state of hunger that would make an Ethiopian look like a king. Everyone has their own 1st prize meal when they’re hungry, the meal that will satisfy extreme hunger the best – mine is a KFC Zinger Meal and a Streetwise 2.

So I made the 5 minute drive to KFC, getting more and more excited with every 100m I drove.

I pulled up to the window of the drive-thru, still unsure of whether “Zinger” or “Streetwise 2” would come out of my mouth first. Zinger came first. Streetwise 2 followed diligently.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for what I heard next. The following dialogue may have been altered for dramatic effect.

KFC: I’m sorry sir, but we have no chicken.

Me: Haha, how much is it?

KFC: I’m sorry, we have no chicken.

Me: What the fuck?

KFC: Excuse me sir?

Me: I’m sorry, what I said was, WHAT THE FUCK? How can Kentucky Fried Chicken not have any chicken? Is this Kentucky Fried Fuckall? Is it Kentucky Fried Dry Rolls and Chips?

KFC: Just hang on a second sir.

(She pops her head through a door and shouts a question at somebody).

KFC: Sir, they said they can make a new batch of chicken but you’ll have to wait a half an hour.

No word of lie. KFC first say they have no chicken. Then they say I’ll have to wait 30 mins for a new batch.

For about 15 seconds, I considered never going to a KFC ever again. But when those 15 seconds of silliness was over, I drove 5km down the road and went to the next closest KFC.

Over the next couple of days, the events of that evening bothered me. I pondered one question day and night for 3 days flat - WWCD? What Would the Colonel Do?

So I decided to find out. I did the only thing that helps in situation like this - I wrote a letter. Actually I filled out one of those ‘contact us’ forms on the website. And I didn’t go for the pisswilly little KFC Cape Town branch. I went for Louisville Kentucky.

And the very next day, I got a phone call, apologising and promising me that the branch will contact me shortly.

I don’t want them to contact me, I want a free bucket of chicken.

If I don’t get a free bucket, I’m getting Eric Cartman and we’re going to find the Colonel himself.

KFC’s got no chicken. What is this world coming to?

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

The Creepy Father

I’ve tried to restrain myself with this one. Being Catholic, I feel bad to make fun of kiddie-fiddling men of the cloth, so when it ‘came out’ that the Pope had covered up some priestly paedophilia, I kept my mouth shut. But the seams burst like a water balloon under Oprah Winfrey when I saw these pictures on Buzzfeed.

I could be wrong here, but this looks like a man who could have covered up some alter boy altering in his day. And some people never saw it coming. Those people obviously didn’t see these pictures.

I suppose he put it on his CV under ‘other holy acts’: Covered up ze feedling of ze kiddies.

Disgusting Benny XVI. Maybe you should’ve just sat yourself down in your little Sistine Chapel and think WWJD?

He definitely wouldn’t have done that you disgusting old man.