At Wilftonville we recognise the inferiority of women. Not many sites will admit to being so forward-thinking as we are, but this is because most sites have a history of fascism.
"Fascism: nobody on the internet seems to know what it means."
Whenever men and women get into a fight about which gender has it worst, the conversation inevitably turns to the idea of childbirth. Women have to go through with it for nine months (the pregnancy, not the birth itself) without any way of transferring the pain and general irritation over to the men-folk. Apparently giving birth is quite the painful experience, and women are not happy about the fact that they have to do it. And because they do, this means that they have some sort of monopoly on persecution complexes. We can’t stand for that!
Women may feel pain in childbirth, sure. There’s no way of knowing for certain. However, due to the screaming that women do on television whenever they do a birth scene, men will just have to assume that something painful is going on there. Let’s not fight about this. But the problem is that all women seem to be under the belief that childbirth is the most painful thing that could ever happen to a person, when in reality it barely scrapes into the top ten. Men have been far too chivalrous to tell women that their complaints are ill-justified, but a time has to come when every secret gets revealed to the World, and the time has come for this one to be told.
In childbirth, women push their legs apart and think of England (unless they are not English, in which case they think of something pagan) and a baby comes out a few hours later, if all goes to plan. Now that’s pretty nasty, but how often does a woman go through the process in her life? Maybe two or three times, generally speaking, although many others don’t have any children at all. Or have fourteen. But the women who have fourteen babies are obviously enjoying the whole process, and so can’t be counted into the equation. Most women give birth maybe two or three times. They are one-off moments which don’t come around very often. For men, there is something much worse that happens, and society has been too quiet about this for too long. It needs to be said.
Society wants men to set their faces on fire.
There, it’s been said. Society as a whole is aimed towards making sure that men burn themselves hideously around their face at least once in their lives. But where’s the evidence for this, you wonder? Well, let’s first take stock of what nature does to male faces. For no apparent reason, if you take a man out into the wild for more than a few days, he’ll come back with facial hair all over his lower face. Unless the man is still hilariously undeveloped, that is. But most men will return with a warm coat of hair all around their chin, cheeks, and nose. Is there any logical reason for why hair grows here? No! It’s a completely irrational - some would say ‘dick’ - move on nature’s part.
That’s nothing to do with society, though. What is part of society is the notion that if a man shaves, he should cover his face with aftershave... after... he shaves. Again, there is no reason provided for why men should have to do this. And yet: did you know that aftershave is flammable? It says on the bottle that if you put near a naked flame, the thing will explode! So what’s being said is that if a man doesn’t have a beard, he should instead have a face covered in flammable substances?
Why does society want men to set their faces on fire?
As a side-note: this week I’m writing all my articles one after another on the same night, and at the moment it’s gone well past three in the morning. This will provide amusing narcoleptic humour for all of you, if things go well. If things go badly, I may cause a diplomatic incident which will result in my quiet elimination at the hands of covert nerdy operatives of the Government. I welcome either outcome.
Showing posts with label Parents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parents. Show all posts
Thursday, 11 December 2008
Tuesday, 22 July 2008
How To Make Bird Soup
Bird Soup
Introduction – Faintly twee praise for Bird Soup
Bird Soup is a delicious and inpoisonous brew* that will serve 2-4 people, unless you live with vegetarians, in which case it will serve 1 person. If you yourself are a vegetarian, then you have come to the wrong website, commie. It is to be served fresh and hot, so that the taste is not damaged through storage. Bird Soup is unsuitable for cannibals of the human, alligator, or hyena variety. Birds are not naturally prone to cannibalism, but are advised that Bird Soup should be their first taste of their own race, were they ever to grow curious. All other forms of bird-related nourishment are inadequate and illegitimate,
Ingredients – What medicines go into Bird Soup
One Bird (deceased)
Salt
Pepper (large mill)
One handful of birdseed
Method – How Bird Soup gets made
Step 1:
Take a bowl.
Step 2:
This is the bowl where you will put your bird soup once it is cooked.
Step 3:
Have you got the bowl yet?
Step 4:
Unscrew the top of your window, but leave the pane in place.
Step 5:
Take the handful of birdseed and place it in your hand. If your hand is full, then you have collected enough birdseed for the recipe to continue without issue. Look out of your window upon yon garden of yours and hold up the hand which has a handful of birdseed in it (not the hand which has a handful of hand in it though, tee-hee!)
Step 6:
Wait until you see a bird in your garden, and quickly gain its affection and trust by giving it a few grains of the birdseed you have. You will no longer have a handful of birdseed after this step of the recipe, so if you fail you are advised to go back to step 5 and try again. Once the bird is duly won over by your gracious charm, start walking across the length of the window. The bird will follow you.
Step 7:
The bird is now mesmerised, so you should take steps away from the window. The bird will mirror your movements and step back from his or her side of the window accordingly.
Step 8:
Run quickly at the window but stop just before you hit it. The bird will imitate, but will not have the forewarning to stop before she or he hits the window (unless you come across a bird with the notional ability to read your mind. If this happens, head back to step 5). There will be a dull thud as the bird hits the window and then explodes, as is the natural instinct of all birds when faced with danger.
Step 9:
Pull the window out with the liquidated remains of bird and carry it through to your kitchen, and place it in a saucepan and allow to simmer on a high heat (bird blood is naturally resistant to heat and thus needs to be cooked at a higher temperature than human blood) for approximately eighteen minutes.
Step 10:
Why not watch an episode of Arrested Development while you wait for your Bird Soup to prepare?
Step 11:
Your bird soup will stop making feeble, desiccated squawking noises once fully ready for consumption. Pout it out into the bowl.
Step 12:
OH MY GOD DID YOU FORGET THE BOWL? GET ONE NOW, YOU SPASTIC!!
Step 13:
Take a spoon, knife, fork, and primitive hammer with you as you proceed to the dining room. Supply all guests eating Bird Soup with the same implements.
Step 14:
Enjoy!
It really is as easy as all that! And so scrummy! If you can’t eat all of the Bird Soup at this one sitting, then it will still taste just as great cold. Why not put it in a packed lunch for your children?** They’ll be sure you appreciate the effort you’ve made!
*Recipe is unsuitable for use with the following birds: parrot, hummingbird, Andrew, ostrich, emu, pheasant, cockatoo, Big.
**All of the Bird Soup must be eaten within four days of the original explosion, or the bird will reform minus the parts which have been consumed and embark on a rampage of revenge.
Introduction – Faintly twee praise for Bird Soup
Bird Soup is a delicious and inpoisonous brew* that will serve 2-4 people, unless you live with vegetarians, in which case it will serve 1 person. If you yourself are a vegetarian, then you have come to the wrong website, commie. It is to be served fresh and hot, so that the taste is not damaged through storage. Bird Soup is unsuitable for cannibals of the human, alligator, or hyena variety. Birds are not naturally prone to cannibalism, but are advised that Bird Soup should be their first taste of their own race, were they ever to grow curious. All other forms of bird-related nourishment are inadequate and illegitimate,
Ingredients – What medicines go into Bird Soup
One Bird (deceased)
Salt
Pepper (large mill)
One handful of birdseed
Method – How Bird Soup gets made
Step 1:
Take a bowl.
Step 2:
This is the bowl where you will put your bird soup once it is cooked.
Step 3:
Have you got the bowl yet?
Step 4:
Unscrew the top of your window, but leave the pane in place.
Step 5:
Take the handful of birdseed and place it in your hand. If your hand is full, then you have collected enough birdseed for the recipe to continue without issue. Look out of your window upon yon garden of yours and hold up the hand which has a handful of birdseed in it (not the hand which has a handful of hand in it though, tee-hee!)
Step 6:
Wait until you see a bird in your garden, and quickly gain its affection and trust by giving it a few grains of the birdseed you have. You will no longer have a handful of birdseed after this step of the recipe, so if you fail you are advised to go back to step 5 and try again. Once the bird is duly won over by your gracious charm, start walking across the length of the window. The bird will follow you.
Step 7:
The bird is now mesmerised, so you should take steps away from the window. The bird will mirror your movements and step back from his or her side of the window accordingly.
Step 8:
Run quickly at the window but stop just before you hit it. The bird will imitate, but will not have the forewarning to stop before she or he hits the window (unless you come across a bird with the notional ability to read your mind. If this happens, head back to step 5). There will be a dull thud as the bird hits the window and then explodes, as is the natural instinct of all birds when faced with danger.
Step 9:
Pull the window out with the liquidated remains of bird and carry it through to your kitchen, and place it in a saucepan and allow to simmer on a high heat (bird blood is naturally resistant to heat and thus needs to be cooked at a higher temperature than human blood) for approximately eighteen minutes.
Step 10:
Why not watch an episode of Arrested Development while you wait for your Bird Soup to prepare?
Step 11:
Your bird soup will stop making feeble, desiccated squawking noises once fully ready for consumption. Pout it out into the bowl.
Step 12:
OH MY GOD DID YOU FORGET THE BOWL? GET ONE NOW, YOU SPASTIC!!
Step 13:
Take a spoon, knife, fork, and primitive hammer with you as you proceed to the dining room. Supply all guests eating Bird Soup with the same implements.
Step 14:
Enjoy!
It really is as easy as all that! And so scrummy! If you can’t eat all of the Bird Soup at this one sitting, then it will still taste just as great cold. Why not put it in a packed lunch for your children?** They’ll be sure you appreciate the effort you’ve made!
*Recipe is unsuitable for use with the following birds: parrot, hummingbird, Andrew, ostrich, emu, pheasant, cockatoo, Big.
**All of the Bird Soup must be eaten within four days of the original explosion, or the bird will reform minus the parts which have been consumed and embark on a rampage of revenge.
Friday, 18 July 2008
The Problem With Children Nowadays
I’d like to stir up trouble. There are lots of famous bloggers out there who get watched through every minute of their typing days, and I’d like to get knocked up onto their rung of the Internet ladder (at the top are LOLcats. I never said the Internet ladder was fair!) alongside all the cool Bloggers. To do so though, you need to really grab the attention of the World. You need to say something that will get everyone talking – and the best way to do this, in my case, is to say something so terribly horrific that the Daily Mail organise a stoning expedition to my home in protest. So with that in mind, I’d like to talk about child killings.
Got your attention yet, World? Yes, I am intrigued by child killings in Britain. Recently, there have been many, many murders amongst children in my country, and the worst thing about it all is that a lot of these murders are performed by other children. Gun crime and knife crime are presumably on the rise, although I have no research or inclination to prove such a thing. But I have SAID IT, so it is TRUE. Children used to go and strangle their talking Elmo doll when they were angry – nowadays they go and find something less red and furry (I am here referring to 'other children', in case you didn’t comprehend my elaborate metaphor at this stage). It is a bad thing, certainly, and we should all try and stop it.
But how can we? There’s nothing we can do to keep children off the streets of Britain and at home in front of the TV where they belong, because they have “free will” and “human rights”, which are nonsensical liberal ideas which aid terrorists in their quests to do whatever it is that terrorists like to do (terror, right?). So firstly, we cannot do anything to the children to stop them. Secondly, we cannot do anything to the parents, because parents are immune to all forms of emotion. It’s been tried many a time, but there is almost nothing that can persuade a parent to keep their child indoors. It’s a lost cause, you might say… but if you do say this, then you clearly haven’t heard of my new idea to save children from themselves, have you? It’s very simple, really.
Let all the paedophiles out of prison.
This will have an overwhelmingly positive effect on the nation. There are, off the top of my head, at least four things that allowing this to take place will achieve:
1: It will encourage parents to look after their children better, and in the process make parenting more important.
2: It will provide employment to ex-convicts, thus giving them useful roles within society.
3: Children won’t be so eager to go outside and stab each other anymore.
4: It will help us with overcrowded prisons that are a drain on the economy.
Now, I’m not saying that the murdering paedophiles should be let out, or anything – I’m just talking about the hobbyist paedophiles. I don’t want a spate of child murders on my hands! Ha! But seriously, and I’m not just saying this for the huge spike in reads that it will bring my blog, mostly from bemused Daily Mail readers and inland Americans (“howdy” to “y’all”), we should definitely consider letting the paedophiles out of jail. I’m not saying this to be offensive! I’m just thinking of the children, that’s all. In the long run, this will help the country.
As a side-effect, however – I’m looking at both sides of the coin here, don’t worry. I’m like Two-Face, in this regard – enacting this might help send the BNP to Downing Street. So if we are going to free the paedophiles, we’re going to have to think of a way to stop the BNP from capitalising on our idea and making it seem “wrong” and “immoral”. My solution here is simple: We fill Parliament with paedophiles.
Honestly, there is absolutely no problem with society that can’t be fixed with paedophiles.
....See you on Technorati, everyone!
Got your attention yet, World? Yes, I am intrigued by child killings in Britain. Recently, there have been many, many murders amongst children in my country, and the worst thing about it all is that a lot of these murders are performed by other children. Gun crime and knife crime are presumably on the rise, although I have no research or inclination to prove such a thing. But I have SAID IT, so it is TRUE. Children used to go and strangle their talking Elmo doll when they were angry – nowadays they go and find something less red and furry (I am here referring to 'other children', in case you didn’t comprehend my elaborate metaphor at this stage). It is a bad thing, certainly, and we should all try and stop it.
But how can we? There’s nothing we can do to keep children off the streets of Britain and at home in front of the TV where they belong, because they have “free will” and “human rights”, which are nonsensical liberal ideas which aid terrorists in their quests to do whatever it is that terrorists like to do (terror, right?). So firstly, we cannot do anything to the children to stop them. Secondly, we cannot do anything to the parents, because parents are immune to all forms of emotion. It’s been tried many a time, but there is almost nothing that can persuade a parent to keep their child indoors. It’s a lost cause, you might say… but if you do say this, then you clearly haven’t heard of my new idea to save children from themselves, have you? It’s very simple, really.
Let all the paedophiles out of prison.
This will have an overwhelmingly positive effect on the nation. There are, off the top of my head, at least four things that allowing this to take place will achieve:
1: It will encourage parents to look after their children better, and in the process make parenting more important.
2: It will provide employment to ex-convicts, thus giving them useful roles within society.
3: Children won’t be so eager to go outside and stab each other anymore.
4: It will help us with overcrowded prisons that are a drain on the economy.
Now, I’m not saying that the murdering paedophiles should be let out, or anything – I’m just talking about the hobbyist paedophiles. I don’t want a spate of child murders on my hands! Ha! But seriously, and I’m not just saying this for the huge spike in reads that it will bring my blog, mostly from bemused Daily Mail readers and inland Americans (“howdy” to “y’all”), we should definitely consider letting the paedophiles out of jail. I’m not saying this to be offensive! I’m just thinking of the children, that’s all. In the long run, this will help the country.
As a side-effect, however – I’m looking at both sides of the coin here, don’t worry. I’m like Two-Face, in this regard – enacting this might help send the BNP to Downing Street. So if we are going to free the paedophiles, we’re going to have to think of a way to stop the BNP from capitalising on our idea and making it seem “wrong” and “immoral”. My solution here is simple: We fill Parliament with paedophiles.
Honestly, there is absolutely no problem with society that can’t be fixed with paedophiles.
....See you on Technorati, everyone!
Thursday, 3 July 2008
Five Ways To Impress A Primary School Student (Part 2)
Four: Make A Pencil-Sharpening Rosette
All children spend half their school-life sharpening a pencil. While in the classroom, the chance to get up and leave behind your maths papers filled with strange things like fractions is all too rare, so most children will wait until most of their pencils are worn down (or if they are slightly criminal, will snap the leads off personally) before trundling over to the bin to get their sharpen on. Several children will usually go at once, prompting discussions of what they are planning on doing during break-time (inevitably the response is “run at things”) and competitions. Who can sharpen a pencil fastest, who can make their pencil the sharpest – this is traditionally judged by a third child who stabs the others to see who screams loudest – and this. Making a rosette out of the sharpening. The concept here is that as you sharpen the pencil, you don’t let the sharpening get cut off, so it curls round into a few layers and forms a rosette. It’s a difficult thing to do, one that requires much practise, but if achieved will get you much credit from both girls and boys.
Why This Impresses Children:
Children have a basic need to ignore doing work. It is as biological as the disgust all men feel when they see a fat woman, as an example. Or when men see a pregnant woman, or a woman who cuts her hair too short. There are many different ways that men are turned off women, is the point here and they all correlate to how children are turned off working. If you can do something that not only shows off an impressive skill that not everyone can do; AND helps them to waste time legitimately, then children will hold you dear to their hearts forevermore. One way to up this, however, is to have a pencil which is made up of about ten different leads that pop up out the top and fit in through the bottom. Over-elaborate stationary is fascinating to children, for the same reason – it provides them with something to look at during class that isn’t English grammar.
Five: Buy Them Things
Naturally, parents grow tired of having to perform tasks and show off in order to gain the respect of their kids. This is why children were created by whatever it is that lurks ‘up there’ (although as the world is spherical, the idea of something living ‘up there’ is a little outdated, wouldn’t you say?) with the single personality affliction that is universal: they want things. Most importantly, they want the things that are on the other side of the TV screen or shop window, which have big flashy price labels on them and which hopefully have articulated parts to them. Every child has always wanted these, from the girl who wants a Barbie Campervan which has a working sink to the boy whose Action Man can fire a missile from his crotch. Or sweets. Sweets are always a good thing as far as children are concerned. Buy them sweets, and they will love you for a long time. For ultimate love, however, you can buy one of two things. For a boy, buy them a games console with one super-violent game attached. For a girl, buy them a pony which they only have to go and see every two or three months and don’t have to look after. You’ll be their best friend forever.
Why This Impresses Children:
Don’t analyse it! Just go with it!
All children spend half their school-life sharpening a pencil. While in the classroom, the chance to get up and leave behind your maths papers filled with strange things like fractions is all too rare, so most children will wait until most of their pencils are worn down (or if they are slightly criminal, will snap the leads off personally) before trundling over to the bin to get their sharpen on. Several children will usually go at once, prompting discussions of what they are planning on doing during break-time (inevitably the response is “run at things”) and competitions. Who can sharpen a pencil fastest, who can make their pencil the sharpest – this is traditionally judged by a third child who stabs the others to see who screams loudest – and this. Making a rosette out of the sharpening. The concept here is that as you sharpen the pencil, you don’t let the sharpening get cut off, so it curls round into a few layers and forms a rosette. It’s a difficult thing to do, one that requires much practise, but if achieved will get you much credit from both girls and boys.
Why This Impresses Children:
Children have a basic need to ignore doing work. It is as biological as the disgust all men feel when they see a fat woman, as an example. Or when men see a pregnant woman, or a woman who cuts her hair too short. There are many different ways that men are turned off women, is the point here and they all correlate to how children are turned off working. If you can do something that not only shows off an impressive skill that not everyone can do; AND helps them to waste time legitimately, then children will hold you dear to their hearts forevermore. One way to up this, however, is to have a pencil which is made up of about ten different leads that pop up out the top and fit in through the bottom. Over-elaborate stationary is fascinating to children, for the same reason – it provides them with something to look at during class that isn’t English grammar.
Five: Buy Them Things
Naturally, parents grow tired of having to perform tasks and show off in order to gain the respect of their kids. This is why children were created by whatever it is that lurks ‘up there’ (although as the world is spherical, the idea of something living ‘up there’ is a little outdated, wouldn’t you say?) with the single personality affliction that is universal: they want things. Most importantly, they want the things that are on the other side of the TV screen or shop window, which have big flashy price labels on them and which hopefully have articulated parts to them. Every child has always wanted these, from the girl who wants a Barbie Campervan which has a working sink to the boy whose Action Man can fire a missile from his crotch. Or sweets. Sweets are always a good thing as far as children are concerned. Buy them sweets, and they will love you for a long time. For ultimate love, however, you can buy one of two things. For a boy, buy them a games console with one super-violent game attached. For a girl, buy them a pony which they only have to go and see every two or three months and don’t have to look after. You’ll be their best friend forever.
Why This Impresses Children:
Don’t analyse it! Just go with it!
Sunday, 29 June 2008
Places You Shouldn’t Be Taking Your Infant Baby
No 3: McDonalds
You’d think that taking your infant to McDonalds would be the preserve of the chav, scav, and people from Manchester, but the sad reality is that the middle class are the most guilty of this sin. It’s a way for them to win cheap affection from their kids by buying them a happy meal which not only saves them the hassle of having to cook a meal, but also gives them license to eat a McFlurry. And parents are suckers for those ice-creams. I have nothing against people who take their children to McDonalds once in a while (the McNuggets in particular I highly recommend), but why do adults, smart and rational ones at that… why do they take infants to McDonalds? All the babies ever do is cry as their mum (you rarely see a dad in a McDonalds, surprisingly) looks on out the window. Nobody is happy in this situation! Just don’t do it! If you go anywhere with your kids, screw the McDonalds entirely and go to Subways instead.
No 4: A French Market
I’ll admit that that last section there was a piece of filler so I could justify this half of the blog entry. French markets! I have had the dubious pleasure of going to markets around the world, and you can see the cultural identity of every race from the way they organise a market. African markets tend to specialise in cheap knock-offs of famous brands whilst Australians rock a market the same way they rock everything else, with surf-boards and glowsticks among the things you’ll find on sale. Inevitably there will be a basket-stall too, with a grumpy old woman weaving miserably whiles smoking something of dubious legality. British markets are dull and dismal affairs, much like the people, selling bags of sweets and rugs. We also have on offer the most singularly depressing mix of charitable second-hand toys you will find the World over, from people trying to sell old Happy Meal toys through to “beanie babies – beanless” and jigsaw puzzles with no pieces (build the rest yourself from cardboard! Fun for the whole family!) French markets, in contrast, are the most vibrant of all. People wander round offering free samples of anything, there are cool gadgets and mimes and people who sit on the floor and paint things for you to buy! It’s great fun… so long as you don’t invite your children along.
Any child under the age of twelve will be petrified at a French market. Y’know why? Because the French have no concept of what is - and what isn’t - an attractive display to lure customers. What they do have is a horrifying constitution that allows them to eat pretty much anything that moves. Mix the two together, and you get this:
You’d think that taking your infant to McDonalds would be the preserve of the chav, scav, and people from Manchester, but the sad reality is that the middle class are the most guilty of this sin. It’s a way for them to win cheap affection from their kids by buying them a happy meal which not only saves them the hassle of having to cook a meal, but also gives them license to eat a McFlurry. And parents are suckers for those ice-creams. I have nothing against people who take their children to McDonalds once in a while (the McNuggets in particular I highly recommend), but why do adults, smart and rational ones at that… why do they take infants to McDonalds? All the babies ever do is cry as their mum (you rarely see a dad in a McDonalds, surprisingly) looks on out the window. Nobody is happy in this situation! Just don’t do it! If you go anywhere with your kids, screw the McDonalds entirely and go to Subways instead.
No 4: A French Market
I’ll admit that that last section there was a piece of filler so I could justify this half of the blog entry. French markets! I have had the dubious pleasure of going to markets around the world, and you can see the cultural identity of every race from the way they organise a market. African markets tend to specialise in cheap knock-offs of famous brands whilst Australians rock a market the same way they rock everything else, with surf-boards and glowsticks among the things you’ll find on sale. Inevitably there will be a basket-stall too, with a grumpy old woman weaving miserably whiles smoking something of dubious legality. British markets are dull and dismal affairs, much like the people, selling bags of sweets and rugs. We also have on offer the most singularly depressing mix of charitable second-hand toys you will find the World over, from people trying to sell old Happy Meal toys through to “beanie babies – beanless” and jigsaw puzzles with no pieces (build the rest yourself from cardboard! Fun for the whole family!) French markets, in contrast, are the most vibrant of all. People wander round offering free samples of anything, there are cool gadgets and mimes and people who sit on the floor and paint things for you to buy! It’s great fun… so long as you don’t invite your children along.
Any child under the age of twelve will be petrified at a French market. Y’know why? Because the French have no concept of what is - and what isn’t - an attractive display to lure customers. What they do have is a horrifying constitution that allows them to eat pretty much anything that moves. Mix the two together, and you get this:
Keep your children the hell away from French markets.
Wednesday, 28 May 2008
The Cheeky Monkeys
I don’t keep up with British TV, because I believe that it is being used as a device to destroy the soul of our country, and that it weakens the free-spirit of our children and scares the elderly. Every so often I am dragged across to see something, and last night that something happened to be a little TV show called Britain’s Got Talent. “What a quaint show this will be!” I thought to myself, for in my mind I am an elderly woman. “I do so hope that it celebrates the best of British talent and helps strengthen the resolve of our army in Iraq.” I’m a concerned young man when it comes to the welfare of our troops, and I’ll be the first to admit it. I physically cry every time I see someone wearing a red beret in the street, from the sheer memory of the fact our troops are out there right now, fighting so that people will stop fighting the British troops in Iraq. I care deeply, as you can see, about the welfare of the nation.
It seems that I was watching the wrong places! While the first act was a set of dancers who performed a routine that any Royal Variety Show would be proud to host, and the second act was a University student who could bend herself over backwards (yes, she was Asian, but I cannot confirm nor deny that the Chinese Government broke her spine in order for her to be able to achieve this. I don’t have the resources. I did make several sexually inappropriate jokes about her during the routine, because I like to make people laugh and my grandparents were looking a bit bored). This is all very well and good, nothing wrong there, no reason to panic about the state of Britain. And then these two came on.
It seems that I was watching the wrong places! While the first act was a set of dancers who performed a routine that any Royal Variety Show would be proud to host, and the second act was a University student who could bend herself over backwards (yes, she was Asian, but I cannot confirm nor deny that the Chinese Government broke her spine in order for her to be able to achieve this. I don’t have the resources. I did make several sexually inappropriate jokes about her during the routine, because I like to make people laugh and my grandparents were looking a bit bored). This is all very well and good, nothing wrong there, no reason to panic about the state of Britain. And then these two came on.
They call themselves “Cheeky Monkeys”, which is interesting because I’ve never met a child in my life who ever uses the word “cheeky”. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that cheeky is a word only ever used by twee mothers who think their abominable spawn are actually being endearing while they happily maul the curtains. It gets worse. The idea behind their routine is that these two little children do a dance routine involving high kicks, cartwheels, and an odd finger-shaking routine which I believe was taken from a 50’s musical about the joys of black segregation (does such a musical exist? I would love to see it). So yes, our television at prime time is devoted to seeing young children dancing. This offends me on several levels, and my inner granny on many an occasion has been tempted to write a scathing letter followed by a knitted scarf to the ITV executives because of this repeated sight.
And it’s not just because the girl wears a short skirt that is completely inappropriate and should get her mother sent to prison for months and months and months. This is though, admittedly a factor in my hatred for this particular act. My main problem is that they expect the British public to find this sort of performance to be ‘cute’ and not ‘creepy’, when obviously the parents are demented. How would they like to be up there under the spotlights, performing a ridiculous and sexualised dance in front of the whole of Britain? Quite a lot, I’d imagine. They’re probably sat up in the crowd taking photos, which they’ll then photoshop their own faces onto. Parents should never be allowed to have kids.
Just looking at this photo makes you a sexual predator.
Tuesday, 27 May 2008
Five Ways To Impress A Primary School Student (Part 1)
One: Climb A Tree
There is nothing more impressive to a young boy (or girl, for that matter, but they have to be tomboyish), than to meet an adult who can climb trees. So obviously, it pays to be able to do so. Being an adult completely changes the way you have to adapt to the tree: although you are now taller and have a greater reach, you are heavier, thus rendering it impossibly difficult to climb some of the trees you used to scale effortlessly when you were young. The art of tree-climbing is a difficult and tempestuous one, which abandons those who cannot master it and leaves them grounded, alone, and tearful.
Why This Impresses Children:
Things that children aren’t allowed to do: climb trees. Doing something that your parents says is bad is riotously good fun, whether it be reading after bedtime or forming a hardcore opium addiction. Thus, to see an adult who not only doesn’t care if they climb or not, but also joins them in the trees is an exciting experience, and leads to what I call “Uncle Dave Syndrome”. This is when a Uncle, let’s call him Dave, joins in with you when you tell poo jokes to your friends or lets you drink a bit of his beer when mum or dad isn’t looking. He’s the coolest guy ever, right? The same thing applies here.
Two: Make a Daisy Chain
Whereas boys prefer rugged activities like climbing and rolling down hills and punching the weak kids, girls like more to sit in small groups under said trees, on said hills, and isolating said kids. If you join them at one of their little soirees, you’d better have something interesting to offer them or they’ll move on and leave you sat alone, wondering where your childhood charm has gone (note: you were not as charming as you thought you were in Primary School. Logic dictates that you were an ass). The pretext for these meetings is to design daisy chains, where you pick daisies and make holes in the stems so they link together and form little bracelets. While doing this, girls are free to talk about whatever they want, most likely the cuteness of Bobby Baxter, the amiable goalkeeper for the school football team.
Why This Impresses Children:
It’s actually pretty difficult to make a daisy chain, and the ability to do so is rightly held as a yardstick for how talented you are as a person. It also shows that you are the kind of grown-up who can listen to children and actually care about the prattling crap they come out with. Children love thinking that what they say is important, and you can’t delude them into thinking these thoughts unless you can get into their group. It’s an initiation process, essentially, and the only way you can get around doing this is to claim hay-fever. Girls think that hay-fever is a legitimate disease that can kill people, so they’ll let you off if you start sneezing.
Three: Own A Pet That Does Tricks
If you take a child round to a new house, they will be incredibly bored (as they should be: leave your kids out of your social life, weirdo) unless this new house belongs to someone who owns a pet. If there is a pet, they will be endlessly entertained for hours and never want to leave. Pets are great things indeed, adorable bundles of fur with cute eyes and, traditionally, a peppy attitude to match. Pets who do tricks are just that little bit more special, however, as they do things that you tell them to. Take for example the dog who retrieves a ball you throw into the distance – how much more interesting is that than a dog who sits on a sofa and sleeps all day? I’ll tell you, friends: this is much more interesting. And children love it.
Why This Impresses Children:
The reason why children love an animal that does tricks is because it gives them a feeling of power. If they want to make Rover roll over, then they damn well can, and at any time they want. It’s the first step towards growing up, where kids can abuse power they have over someone who is essentially an inferior being to them. One day they will be able to use this to make Gary from accounts print out an extra copy of the IPS report because he didn’t laminate it the first time round, but for now kids can only be an asshole to pets. Their parents won’t stand for being ordered around, but pets will – and they actually seem to enjoy it. This delusion that things like being ordered around will develop slowly over time in the mind of a child, so that when they get older and start bossing people around, they will truly believe that their co-workers love it. You can’t argue with psychology.
There is nothing more impressive to a young boy (or girl, for that matter, but they have to be tomboyish), than to meet an adult who can climb trees. So obviously, it pays to be able to do so. Being an adult completely changes the way you have to adapt to the tree: although you are now taller and have a greater reach, you are heavier, thus rendering it impossibly difficult to climb some of the trees you used to scale effortlessly when you were young. The art of tree-climbing is a difficult and tempestuous one, which abandons those who cannot master it and leaves them grounded, alone, and tearful.
Why This Impresses Children:
Things that children aren’t allowed to do: climb trees. Doing something that your parents says is bad is riotously good fun, whether it be reading after bedtime or forming a hardcore opium addiction. Thus, to see an adult who not only doesn’t care if they climb or not, but also joins them in the trees is an exciting experience, and leads to what I call “Uncle Dave Syndrome”. This is when a Uncle, let’s call him Dave, joins in with you when you tell poo jokes to your friends or lets you drink a bit of his beer when mum or dad isn’t looking. He’s the coolest guy ever, right? The same thing applies here.
Two: Make a Daisy Chain
Whereas boys prefer rugged activities like climbing and rolling down hills and punching the weak kids, girls like more to sit in small groups under said trees, on said hills, and isolating said kids. If you join them at one of their little soirees, you’d better have something interesting to offer them or they’ll move on and leave you sat alone, wondering where your childhood charm has gone (note: you were not as charming as you thought you were in Primary School. Logic dictates that you were an ass). The pretext for these meetings is to design daisy chains, where you pick daisies and make holes in the stems so they link together and form little bracelets. While doing this, girls are free to talk about whatever they want, most likely the cuteness of Bobby Baxter, the amiable goalkeeper for the school football team.
Why This Impresses Children:
It’s actually pretty difficult to make a daisy chain, and the ability to do so is rightly held as a yardstick for how talented you are as a person. It also shows that you are the kind of grown-up who can listen to children and actually care about the prattling crap they come out with. Children love thinking that what they say is important, and you can’t delude them into thinking these thoughts unless you can get into their group. It’s an initiation process, essentially, and the only way you can get around doing this is to claim hay-fever. Girls think that hay-fever is a legitimate disease that can kill people, so they’ll let you off if you start sneezing.
Three: Own A Pet That Does Tricks
If you take a child round to a new house, they will be incredibly bored (as they should be: leave your kids out of your social life, weirdo) unless this new house belongs to someone who owns a pet. If there is a pet, they will be endlessly entertained for hours and never want to leave. Pets are great things indeed, adorable bundles of fur with cute eyes and, traditionally, a peppy attitude to match. Pets who do tricks are just that little bit more special, however, as they do things that you tell them to. Take for example the dog who retrieves a ball you throw into the distance – how much more interesting is that than a dog who sits on a sofa and sleeps all day? I’ll tell you, friends: this is much more interesting. And children love it.
Why This Impresses Children:
The reason why children love an animal that does tricks is because it gives them a feeling of power. If they want to make Rover roll over, then they damn well can, and at any time they want. It’s the first step towards growing up, where kids can abuse power they have over someone who is essentially an inferior being to them. One day they will be able to use this to make Gary from accounts print out an extra copy of the IPS report because he didn’t laminate it the first time round, but for now kids can only be an asshole to pets. Their parents won’t stand for being ordered around, but pets will – and they actually seem to enjoy it. This delusion that things like being ordered around will develop slowly over time in the mind of a child, so that when they get older and start bossing people around, they will truly believe that their co-workers love it. You can’t argue with psychology.
Friday, 7 March 2008
Places You Shouldn’t Be Taking Your Infant Baby
Place 1: An Aeroplane
Nobody prepares a holiday a year before they actually go off on their flight to Spain or Canada or wherever they want to visit, so how come there are so many infants on flights? Nature gives you nine whole month of prep before the baby is born, so booking a flight that will take place within a year of conception is madness. There is literally no benefit to flying your baby over to a new country. Not only will they remember nothing once they grow up, but it’ll cost more money to transport them, and you’ll have to spend almost all your time in this beautiful new place changing nappies and everything you do will have to be carefully structured around naptime. So please, parents of the world, stop taking your babies on flights. Nobody is going to win from this, especially not the people who have to withstand hours of crying onboard the plane whilst the baby tries to understand why their ears just popped. And in a confined space like a plane, this sort of thing tends to build up and build up until everyone on board carries a grudge against you and will happily make your life a hell if they ever see you again. You’re sabotaging yourself more than anything else, parents – stop it.
Place 2: Down a Mine Shaft
Yes, this has really happened to me. If you thought the wailing of a newborn child could not be any more irritating than when experienced in a plane, try listening to the echoing cry of a baby who is in an underground tunnel dripping with damp and without natural lighting. Not one part of a mine shaft would appeal to any baby in their right mind, featuring all the things they try to spend their lives avoiding – darkness, water, the cold, and the working classes. And if you don’t believe that all babies have a fear of the working class, try taking one to an industrial factory and see how much they love it there. The simple fact is that a baby’s call is designed to be irritating to other people, this is how nature works, so imagine what happens when this crying just so happens to be amplified to insane levels by the cave system of the underground. Not pleasant at all. It calls into question the intelligence of a parent that they feel a trip down a mine shaft is something they really must do while they still have the chance, as if once their child has grown up and left home the experience of going down into the tunnels will have waned somehow. Or perhaps the belief is that they wish to see the coal before their eyesight deteriorates as old-age sets in. If this is indeed the case, parents of the world, then here’s a helpful point to keep in mind: THERE’S NOT A BLOODY LOT TO SEE IN A MINE SHAFT. There is no situation in which taking your baby underground would ever clarify being an appropriate way of spending time, so take your child and lump off!
Nobody prepares a holiday a year before they actually go off on their flight to Spain or Canada or wherever they want to visit, so how come there are so many infants on flights? Nature gives you nine whole month of prep before the baby is born, so booking a flight that will take place within a year of conception is madness. There is literally no benefit to flying your baby over to a new country. Not only will they remember nothing once they grow up, but it’ll cost more money to transport them, and you’ll have to spend almost all your time in this beautiful new place changing nappies and everything you do will have to be carefully structured around naptime. So please, parents of the world, stop taking your babies on flights. Nobody is going to win from this, especially not the people who have to withstand hours of crying onboard the plane whilst the baby tries to understand why their ears just popped. And in a confined space like a plane, this sort of thing tends to build up and build up until everyone on board carries a grudge against you and will happily make your life a hell if they ever see you again. You’re sabotaging yourself more than anything else, parents – stop it.
Place 2: Down a Mine Shaft
Yes, this has really happened to me. If you thought the wailing of a newborn child could not be any more irritating than when experienced in a plane, try listening to the echoing cry of a baby who is in an underground tunnel dripping with damp and without natural lighting. Not one part of a mine shaft would appeal to any baby in their right mind, featuring all the things they try to spend their lives avoiding – darkness, water, the cold, and the working classes. And if you don’t believe that all babies have a fear of the working class, try taking one to an industrial factory and see how much they love it there. The simple fact is that a baby’s call is designed to be irritating to other people, this is how nature works, so imagine what happens when this crying just so happens to be amplified to insane levels by the cave system of the underground. Not pleasant at all. It calls into question the intelligence of a parent that they feel a trip down a mine shaft is something they really must do while they still have the chance, as if once their child has grown up and left home the experience of going down into the tunnels will have waned somehow. Or perhaps the belief is that they wish to see the coal before their eyesight deteriorates as old-age sets in. If this is indeed the case, parents of the world, then here’s a helpful point to keep in mind: THERE’S NOT A BLOODY LOT TO SEE IN A MINE SHAFT. There is no situation in which taking your baby underground would ever clarify being an appropriate way of spending time, so take your child and lump off!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)