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.


Monday, April 19, 2010

United Men and Man United

I'm not going to claim to be a prophet, but I've known and expressed this many times: United are a bunch of pansies. This pic was taken after Paul Scholes scored an injury time winner in the Manchester Derby. Gary Neville dropped his Zimmer Frame and ran to plant a wet one on his lips.

But this is one of many pictures taken of United players in compromising positions. I've pulled out a couple of Shrek and the Portugese Pansy:

" I love it when you do that Wayne"

"I want to rub your sweat all over myself"

"My mouth is open, I'm just waiting for you"
This one's a fake, but still a classic:

We all knew it was true. But these were to convince the doubters.

Braille porn

I tell you no word of lie. A Braille porn magazine has been launched, because single blind people also deserve the right to have a nice wank every now and again.

It's called Tactile Minds and unsurprisingly, it costs £150. Which is a lot of money to feel up something that looks like this:

It's apparently a naked woman in a 'disco pose'. But to us, it looks like Caster Semenya winning the 800 metres.

Lisa Murphy, the woman who had the vision (no pun intended I promise) to create this mag, said: "We're breaking new ground. Playboy has an edition with Braille wording, but there are no pictures." I think Playboy should jump back on the bandwagon soon, because Hugh Hefner turns 108 this year and his eyesight is not what it used to be.

They magazine has been getting rave reviews from the now sexually satisfied blind readers/feelers.

Stevie Wonder had this to say:

"... ..... .. ..... ..... . ... ....... .... ..... ...."

Monday, April 12, 2010

Hurt Locker was brilliant


I’m one of those people that will devote 2, even 3, hours of my life to watching a war movie. So you can imagine when Hurt Locker cleaned up at the Oscars, I was like an Archbishop at a alter boy convention.

So I watched it and waited for the awesomeness to smother itself over my eyes.

But sweet fuck it was lame. The Oscar-winners often are, but how can you possibly fail making a war movie? Ask Kathryn Bigelow, who pretended to direct it brilliantly.

That woman should give her Oscars back as well as monetary compensation to the people that should’ve won it. Actually, she should just do the right thing and retire from movie-making forever. And she shouldn’t give blowjobs to members of The Academy.

Oscar-winner my ass.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

April Fools

Right. Let’s clear something up. April Fools Jokes haven’t been cool since in 1 April 1984, when the world believed that Marvin Gaye was shot in the head by his own father. They even faked a death certificate to make it more believable.

That was a good one. But these days it’s a fully-fledged fuckshow. Let’s have a look at the headlines on the front page of IOL today:

Man rams car into parked plane

Somali Pirates hold internet world to ransom

Kitten Trapped in KFC’s wall

Julius Malema got a G for woodwork

I think the dumbass badge has got to go to the people who think we are gullible enough to believe this. Or is it all in the spirit of fun and I’m just the Grinch?

And wait for it. At about 2pm, there’s going to be an article on IOL telling us what all the ‘jokes’ were. Those crazy guys.

Next they’ll be telling us Ricky Martin is gay.

Oh by the way, did you know that if you repeat the word ‘gullible’ 3 times, it sounds just like banana?

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Hear ye, hear ye

Ricky Martin has announced to the world that he is gay.

Besides the fact that nobody gives a flying fuck, we all knew this from the time he waltzed onto the world stage wearing a pink cravat. As if shaking his bon bon in a toit leather pants with gelled hair and a perfectly-groomed goatee wasn’t enough.

The media would also like to let us know that the polar ice caps are slowly melting and Michael Jackson is dead. Oh, and Man Bear Pig is coming to kill us all. I'm super serial.

Fucking Ricky Martin.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Music quiz: what song is this?




Thursday, March 11, 2010

Man marries a pillow

A man married a pillow. His name was Lee Jin-gyu. She was a big pillow shaped like a human with an Anime character’s face printed on it. And now they are married. Until a new Verimark product do them part.

The Japanese call people like him Otaku which means Nerd. We call people like him either one of:

Fuckshow freak
Man United supporter

But there’s huge controversy in Japan, not because this thing is an inanimate object, but because they slept together before they were married.

He also gave her head.

Now I’ve heard of people who can’t find love, but they normally take up stamp collecting or just kill themselves, which would be the right thing to do, rather than take up much-needed media space with stupid-ass stories about love with inanimate objects.

I’d rather go for an animal if I were him. Lots of people have actually married animals. A Sudanese man was forced to marry his neighbour’s goat after he was caught screwing it. He even had to pay a dowry.

If that was in South Africa, I think it would’ve been a little insensitive for the lobola to be paid in cows.

Check out the other bestiality marriages here.

And check out the guy who had his way with a cow in South Africa here.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Hi-fi Corporation

So I’m looking for a TV. Nothing fancy, just something small enough to be cheap and big enough to watch porn on. In search of the perfect television, I went to the Hi-fi Corporation website, where surprisingly, they don’t just sell hi-fis. It’s kind of like Perky Pets:

It’s actually a pet store, not a cat brothel. You get my point.

Hi-fi-Corp actually sells everything from iPods and blank CDs to TVs and cellphones. So I kind of like them: the employees are friendly and knowledgeable about a wide range of stuff. The same can’t be said about their ad agency. Or whichever politician/idiot/United supporter conceptualised this piece of idiocy. See if you can spot the fuckup.

I’ll leave that with you.

Think about it.

OK fuckit. Since when do you need airtime to take a picture? Is this some new cellphone thing I haven’t heard about? Or is ad industry slowly being taken over by nutfucks who couldn’t sell a black cat to a witch?

Adverting qualifications cost money and take time, but common sense is free. Like condoms. But maybe some people got those condoms with staples in them.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

A little girl who found Jesus

I see this kind of thing so often, yet it still warms the cockles of my heart when it happens. We’ve seen drug dealers, crackwhores, thieves and even Manchester United supporters find Jesus and turn their lives around.

But this little girl was different. She was always the quiet one, her parents’ only child and 10 years younger than any of her cousins. Her only friends were cheap-ass imitations of Barbie and Ken. But some of her parents’ buddies would let her drink with them, even though she was only six years old. There she sat weekend after weekend getting pissed out of her skull with 30 somethings, destined to become a dirty crack-smoking smelly pirate hooker.

But then, as it so often happens, she found Jesus.