Monthly Archives: March 2011

My contribution to the world of wrestling characters

I’m 27 and I still watch wrestling. Wanna fight about it? Anyway, it’s terrible – really, it is – but I still love it. The best thing about it is the breadth and depth of the characters we find in wrasslin’ across the world. They’re always so deep, so well fleshed-out and the kinds of characters you just couldn’t find anywhere else. They’re too complex.

But to challenge myself, I have decided to invent a few characters and offer them up to the wrasslin’ organisations out there. Free of charge, I just ask that I’m credited with the invention to feed my burgeoning ego. I’m not sure I’ll be able to really hit the heights that wrestling characters have hit in the past – I’m simply not smart enough – but I’m going to give it a go.

Name: Doctor Madsaneo
Taunt: “
An apple a day keeps I’M GOING TO PUNCH YOU.”
Bio:
You might think that Doctor Madsaneo is your friend, like all doctors are, BUT YOU WOULD BE WRONG. Why? Because he is mad and he is insane and it will make you go ‘oh’. MADSANEO. They never see it coming.
Finishing move:
Socialist healthcare (N.B. will be popular ‘bad guy’ finisher to 95% of your audience)

Name: Badolf Gitler
Taunt:
A Nazi salute but with his left hand (N.B. will be popular/imitated taunt with 95% of your audience)
Bio:
Modelled after.. umm… Charlie Chaplin… yeah… Chaplin… this BAD DUDE comes to the ring in military garb and waves a flag that’s from another country. Basically that’s enough to make everyone in the crowd hate him, as they always – rightly – despise foreigners.
Finishing move:
Gunshot wound to the head (N.B. could prove tricky to fake in live shows)

Name: Andrew Merican
Taunt:
A firm handshake, while maintaining eye contact
Bio:
Representative of all that is Good and Right in the world, Andrew Merican would be ideal as a ‘good guy’ character. He would, like Gitler, carry a flag to the ring – only this would be the correct piece of material in whatever country he’s located in (also his name can change: Barry Ritain, Gerald Ermany, Austin Ralia etc).
Finishing move:
The economic sanction (N.B. never works – always followed by excessive force)

Name: Eugene
Taunt:
Pretending he’s an aeroplane.
Bio:
Eugene has a mental illness leading him to behave like a child when he is in fact a fully grown man. He gets super-strength when he’s angry or upset though, so those ‘bad guys’ had better watch out! He is meant to offer the crowd a sympathetic character they can relate to and thus expand their minds when it comes to how they treat the mentally handicapped. Instead they just laugh at the ‘retard’ (their words not mine).
Finishing move: Hilariously copies opponent’s finisher (N.B. will be laughed at by 95% of your audience).

I reckon that’s enough to net me a writing gig at the WWE.

N.B. One of these is actually a real character. Just put it in there as a test for y’all.

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HAHAHA THAT SONG ABOUT GAY BAR HAHAHA

Just got back from a big gay club full of the gays. Managed to avoid catching the gay – it’s because I wash my hands in the toilet, obviously – and I’m now here to report on how I haven’t immediately died of Massive Gay To The Head.

See, even though I grew up in a small town where the gays were routinely shot on sight, I still managed to spend my 18th birthday in a gay bar. The only gay bar in Rotherham, as far as I remember. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but I got with my girlfriend (not a gay in drag, miraculously) on that day/night/gay and fun was had by all. Plus, if I remember correctly, I stopped a big gay fight from breaking out. It was Rotherham, after all.

There’s no point to this, I’m a bit drunk and really should be asleep by now. I’m just upping the word count now. Safe to say, I like gay clubs and pubs. In ‘normal’ places you’re confronted with barely-developed apes who want to punch your face off for being alive. In the gay places you’re confronted with barely-developed apes who want to bum you. While you can turn the latter down, should you want to, you can’t turn the former down. As such, as long as you’re not on a mission to make all the ladies love you* you can have more fun in the gay haunts.

And there we go.

*As I clearly am EVERY NIGHT OF MY LIFE. Sigh.

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God Damme

Religion – ooooh, controversial and all that shit. I may have mentioned my feelings on the matter before. I’m not going to rant and whine about it. I’m just going to ask a question (or two) that struck me after it was brought up by none other than Jean-Claude Van Damme.

See, he was blabbing on about when he suddenly became mega-religious or whatever. Part of it he said he prayed to become an action movie star. Second he put his success down to God. You can probably see where I’m going already.

First, who the hell would believe in a deity that exists to make your career choice come to fruition? What kind of selfish prat would abuse their ability to pray by asking their lord – all powerful as he/she/it is – for a good job, or a safe day, or some nice food, or a comfortable hammock? I genuinely don’t understand how people of legitimate faith can hold these kinds of beliefs. Praying for someone’s safety, good health or whatever – fair enough. It’s all bollocks, but fair enough. Praying so God will give you a shiny new red bike? Get fucked. That’s not what your god is there for.

Second, putting your success down to God – or any of the rest of that lot – irritates me immensely. It wasn’t God that made Van Damme good at martial arts – it was training. It wasn’t God that made Kaka good at football, much as he claims it is – it was practising kicking a can around on the streets of his shanty town, or whatever. My insanely brilliant writing ability isn’t down to God – it’s down to ripping off people much more intelligent and skilful than I. To put your success; your ability down to a higher power is to belittle yourself entirely. And what’s the point in that?

Anyway, Cyborg is on. I like Cyborg.

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DEAD NOW LOL, a film by Ian Dransfield

Here is a scene I have written for a film I will make. I decided to do it while watching Death Race. If that can be made into a film and get Jason Statham involved then there’s hope for any of us. Rather than being the worst thing ever, it’s actually hugely inspiring.

MAIN CHARACTER goes to jail either for a crime he didn’t commit or a crime he did commit but one that you could morally justify. An ironic rape, or something. He is all rugged and shit, but even though he’s clearly a massive twat is burdened with ‘honour’. He gets into some fights in prison, makes friends with a MOTLEY CREW – one of whom is likely a geek like the kind you saw on TV about 30 years ago and has never changed.

MAIN CHARACTER: “Ooooh, I well shouldn’t be in prison like.”

NEFARIOUS UNTRUSTWORTHY BAD CHARACTER: “LOL I’m well going to toy with you for ages before I kill you LOL but I’m going to pretend I’m your friend TROLOLOLOLOLOL.”

MAIN CHARACTER: “All I have is hope, so I will choose to believe you even though I don’t believe you. I will also throw in my own LOL at this point. LOL.”

Out of nowhere, SEXY WOMAN walks in. She has clothes on that she probably shouldn’t be wearing given the situation, and she is also remarkably pretty for a woman who is apparently a mass murderer. It’s always the pretty ones, after all. SEXY WOMAN walks up to the lead character in slow motion and looks at him, all sexy like.

SEXY WOMAN: “Hey, oooh, yeah, umm, *vague sexual comment* *compliment towards lead character’s good looks*”

MAIN CHARACTER: “Gearstick. Bojangles. Euphemism. LOL!”

SEXY WOMAN: “Sassy remark.”

MAIN CHARACTER: “My pride did just get burned, but I believe we will still end up having sex later on and it will definitely make the story better for some reason.”

Suddenly DRIVING happens, with cars and stuff, and the cars are all like VROOM and the tyres are all like SCREEEECH

NEFARIOUS UNTRUSTWORTHY BAD CHARACTER: “LOL you’re going to totally die now LOL didn’t see that coming did you dickhead.”

MAIN CHARACTER: “Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal! Also your sweet burn/ultimate insult.”

MAIN CHARACTER is killed, but two minutes later it turns out he survived being dead because of his biceps being well manly and shit. He walks up to NEFARIOUS UNTRUSTWORTH BAD CHARACTER with a big smile on his face – the kind of smile all people have when they’re about to commit murder because as we all know murder is cool and should be celebrated in all forms.

MAIN CHARACTER: “DEAD NOW LOL!”

NEFARIOUS UNTRUSTWORTH BAD CHARACTER explodes in a shower of pulped yams after MAIN CHARACTER biceps him/her/it to death.

THE END

I genuinely believe this is how Paul WS Anderson writes his scripts.

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War, it’s good for me (what’s my name? THUNDERCLEESE!)

I, as a person with a brain and stuff, obviously abhor war. It is a terrible thing, shows us all up for the barely-developed apes we are and is always the most ruthless and merciless in its treatment of those on the bottom rung of life’s ladder. It’s shit, basically.

At the same time I, as a person who likes watching things explode, can’t get enough of war as entertainment. Naturally I mean through movies, books, games and whatever else, but also in the news. I find it gripping to watch the footage of fiery death raining down on these distant cities around the world, and I don’t think it makes me a bad person to admit that I do find it entertaining.

Why wouldn’t you? It’s a fireworks display more powerful than any you’ll ever see at your shitty local park. It’s thrilling in more ways than one – the simple, visceral excitement you get from watching things blow up goes hand-in-hand with the fact that your leaders of your countries have decided – on your behalf – to be the alpha male for once, rather than their usual ‘let’s talk it over’ attitude.

Violence is bad. It’s rarely a means to an end that can be taken in good conscience. But that doesn’t stop it from triggering something in your brain and getting your Wow Gland tingling. They weren’t lying when they said shock and awe, and it truly is a time where the word ‘awesome’ can come into play.

The destruction of nations and their people is a horrible thing to think about. So let’s just not think about it, yeah? Let’s sit in our cosy armchairs and watch the big booms going off, placated by the mesmeric flashing imagery until we finally tire of it, switching channels to catch the rest of Take Me Out. And don’t ruin

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Operation Be Like The Cool Kids: Phase 1

I apologise in advance to my ma, who will see this and react in the same way as when she saw my existing tattoo (that I’d had for approximately three years by that point. Nice to know my own mother NEVER EVEN LOOKS AT MY ARMS). Her reaction, by the by, was something like “whaaaa?”

I am cool. I totally have ‘ink’, as we cool kids call it. It is a silly little thing on the back of my arm, but I still think it’s quite good. It’s certainly not cool, though some people have remarked it is (it isn’t, even though I just said I’m cool), but it is most definitely unique. This is a key factor in what I am about to talk about… NOW.

I want my left arm tattooed more. I have always wanted this done, I have never had it done. For some reason I always wanted some shit down to about baseball shirt-length on the forearm. Maybe so I could still get a job in a bank, I don’t know. There are some reasons I have never had it done – laziness, lack of money, more laziness – but the one that stands out is the design.

I want something that looks good, that isn’t on the arm of every other monkey walking this planet and that means something to me on a personal level. This is where I fail. What means something to me? Looking at this blog I’d have to get a tattoo of some clementines, videogames, Bukowski quotes and a fair bit of swearing. Oh, and my face of course.

Then there’s having an artistic enough mind to design it. I came up with my existing tattoo, but it’s some dots and dashes in a circle. Any gibbon with an ounce of sense (or lack thereof, when it comes to me) could have ‘designed’ that. It would need to be something actually done with skill and flair, which are elements I cannot provide.

Basically I’m just thinking out loud here. I want something done, I want my arm to look bitchin’ for about 20 minutes until I get bored of it (and until I’m really old and it looks ‘well gay lah’ as the scousers would say). The arguments against that parenthesis-ified bit don’t work on me, by the way. I’m going to look haggard when/if I’m old, so what? I’m going to be shitting myself in public, who cares if I have some faded, wrinkly designs on my arm?

Submit your designs to the usual address.

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Do the stonk, to the rhythm of the honky tonk, stick a red nose on your conk, and leeet’s stonk

I’m not even watching the festivities (mixed with tragedy), and I can’t even be bothered checking if it’s actually on this evening. Still, everyone’s tweeting about Red Nose Day right now so I’m willing to bet it’s probably on. Or nearly on. Or something like that. I like Red Nose Day. Always have. How could you not?

I mean sure, they ruin the constant, hours of comedy by showing those camera-hogging bastards from various African nations starving to death through no fault of their own – but you’ve got to let them have something, right? At least you get to see some great comedians dicking about for ages through the night.

Also Lenny Henry.

Does anybody born and raised in this country genuinely dislike Lenny Henry? I love the man. I think he’s an awful comedian and actor, his voice annoys me and his Premier Inn adverts make me never want to stay there ever (though I have to because I’m poor). But dislike him? Good golly gosh no. I remember a Foreign I once knew had no idea who he was, and I found it very difficult to explain to her why I had such fondness for the man even though I clearly didn’t rate him in any way, shape or form.

Anyway, Red Nose Day once had Adam & Joe doing a stand up comedy masterclass, which was brilliant. Oh, and Vic & Bob doing a magic show which involved making a sausage levitate out of a handbag. The rest of the stuff is usually utter shit, but late at night/early in the morning they tend to bring out the actual good comedians. Just a hint there.

I think I’m going to write about Vic & Bob tomorrow. If you don’t like them, we’re going to have to terminate our friendship/acquaintanceness/being-related or whatever.

Anyway: The Stonk:

Fuck off, I was eight. I’m allowed to like it.

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