» God

I was walking into Uni the other day...
and low and behold guess who I get attacked by?

That's right, Christians.

Now, I went to a Methodist school for 14 years which only had the effect of putting me off religion for life. But what it did do was make me a very well informed atheist...something that god botherers hate to come against.

So,

As these smiling, jovial people with the twinkle of Jesus in their eye approached me I had a shifty glance at, first my watch to see if I had time to spare and second, at their hands for any reading material. God botherer's reading material is gold dust there's always something that a good, clear thinking non believer can rip into.

I was 15 mins early and they had leaflets. Success.

I smiled a smile that Judas himself would have been proud and graciously stopped and warmly held out me hand to recieve the deity document.

On the inside was the typical, "This is how you should live your life" clap trap. But what interested me was the outside cover...

Imagine, my fellow b3tards, a serene landscape with every ethnicity in God's good green earth merrily chatting and smiling away like nothing was wrong in the world. Then, as your eyes scan this utopia, you see something that shouldn't be...

A small child feeding grapes, to a bear.

Strange.

Without saying anything (yet) to the ever smiling jesus freaks still at my side I continued to scan...and, with muffled laughter I came across the holy grail (not literally)...

A man and woman offering, in what I can only describe as some kind of sacrifice, a infant girl, to a Lion.

Attempting to keep a straight face I asked the beaming imbeciles what the meaning of this picture was. This was followed by a rehearsed speach about unity and love which I was all too happy to cut short, tell them that they were a danger to society, should take thier fanciful preaching/propaganda elsewhere and adviced them to stay away from Zoos because apparently their perception of health and safety was slightly skewed.

And I made it to my lecture with time to spare. It was about soil, and it wasn't even half as fun as those precious few minutes with the God brigade.
(Thu 19th Mar 2009, 19:39, More)

» Housemates

It's like the fucking Brady Bunch in my house...
Yes, there are 9 of us...

There's a core of people in my house who get on really well and have no problems at all.

Then there are 'the others'

It would take too long to go into detail about each person so I'll focus on just the one....Mike.

He's a very priviledged, son of a potato farmer, from Linconshire and he's a cunting fuckwad.

He lives at the gym, "sculpting his guns," yet does no sport and, from the lack of cardio exercise, is horrifically unfit. He lives off chicken and mashed potatoes and sees food only as nutrition to, "sculpt his guns."

He leaves lights on, ovens on, taps on and moans about everything. He thinks he's God's gift to women and I haven't found one who fancies him. He's also a naive, ignorant, inconsiderate bell end who is borderline gas chamber worthy.

And his eyes are too close together. Fact.
(Sat 28th Feb 2009, 22:21, More)

» Pubs

There's always one...
I've worked in the same pub for 2 years now and it's got it's fair share of special cases all of which hold a special place in my heart. The outright winner has to be Elizabeth AKA "Crazy coffee lady" named as such because she comes in everyday, orders a coffee, goes to the loo, returns, downs the scalding hot beverage and leaves. The reason why these minute long visits are the highlight of my day is that Elizabeth has voices in her head... She has 3 personalities; Elizabeth, Lizzy and Margaret. Now, Elizabeth and Lizzy don't get on at all but both will unite against the ever troublesome Margaret. This leads to rather heated debates which will often end in shouting phrases such as, "NO, I DON'T KNOW WHERE MAIDSTONE IS!" Considering Elizabeth will sit on the leather sofa in the pub even if it is already occupied it leads to general hilarity everytime.

Jade Goody performing this year's panto!
Oh No she isn't!
(Fri 6th Feb 2009, 11:55, More)

» Housemates

"I'm the Hulk BITCH!"
...is what my dipshit house mate who goes the gym far too often to be considered human kept saying whilst at a superhero theme club night.

He was annoying the crap out of me and all I wanted to do was punch his stupid linconshire imbred face in. Problem is, he's big, I'm small...imagine my happiness when, 5 minutes later, some complete random decked him.

I bought him a pint.
(Tue 3rd Mar 2009, 11:33, More)

» Vomit Pt2

Target Practice required
I'm now a third year Uni student so the frequency curve of chunder action has smoothed out somewhat in recent years. However, this was not always the case.

During my gap year I was a bar man serving sub-standard beer to sub-standard people (pikey fucknuts). When I went off to start my illustrious university education the staff hosted a leaving do for me and we preceded to conduct a tour of duty around the wanky shit hole that is Faversham (Kent).

Stopping off for a curry, wine was ordered (3 bottles of white, 3 bottles of red) until it transpired that no-one apart from Sir Chodesworth himself drank red. Well, for all the Uni students, I manned up and ploughed through the vast majority of this. After a few pints was pretty proud of this effort and was glowing away when I was presented with a bucket full of stereotypical student items i.e. Pot Noodle etc...

Much to my dismay we then went to the local stab hut that is Wetherspoons and, rather than being glassed, I was given a fair bit of rum.

I would love to tell you all what happened then but I simply don't remember....

I got home at some o'clock in the morning and only remembering waking after probably an hours drunken oblivion, feeling the tell tale signs that my body was eager to witness a resurrection of asformentioned curry. I knew I wouldn't make it downstairs in time so frantically scanned the room for a suitable bunder bucket. In my saturated state I, for some reason, disregarded the handy bedside bucket provided by generous collegues. Instead my brain function went vaugely like this:

"Shit, can't vom on the carpet, deep pile and all, fucker to clean, gonna smell like rancid bum rubbish. Where to go, Fuck Fuck Fuck!! Ah HA! *On spying a single sheet of A4 paper under my desk* This is the best place in entire history to unleash a torrent of vile putrifaction!"

Needless to say this logic was slightly flawed, as you may have guessed. It went everywhere, missed most of the apparently infinately absorbent paper and lodged itself inside the carpet. The only bit of my logic that had come credability was that it stank like bear shit mixed with rotting bacon.

The fucking bucket would have been better. Fucksocks.
(Mon 11th Jan 2010, 11:34, More)