Tag Archives: HILARITY

A demonstration of my comedy excellence

It can be quite difficult coming up with hilarious comedy all the time. I know I make it look damn easy, but believe me – it’s not. It’s hard god damn work being this good. And consistent. We all know everything I write is hilarious.

As it is such a pain at times, I want to help everyone else in the world out by providing them with a few free-to-use punchlines they can do with as they please.

Well, as long as they’re not used in race-hate jokes or anything like that. Paedophilia jokes are fine, mind. They should fit most kinds of comedy and most situations, though, as I want to keep them unspecific and open for most anyone to use.

“But the problem with a loaf that size is it can’t be baked in a traditional oven!”

“Frankly, the sheer number of variables make it so this experiment just isn’t viable in the short term, but maybe if we could secure more funding it would be doable!”

“We’re sorry, your application to be King Of The World has been rejected!”

“It turned out wearing green trainers in the state of Wyoming wasn’t allowed on a Sunday, at least not in that particular building I was in at the time on that day at that time on that day!”

“The problem there being my name was Carlos and hers was Marina – and we all know what that means!”


I know it’s hard to believe just how malleable yet still hilarious I’ve managed to make these punchlines, but that’s because I’m amazing.

If you have any to add, please don’t – you’re just not as good at this as I am. I’m surprised I can even write this sentence through all the tears streaming from my face (the tears are from laughter, not because it makes me sad how brilliant I am).


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Every silver lining has a cloud

There was huge news today that you might not be aware of. After a long run, after helping contribute to sleepless nights for a number of people, after offering ethical standards of a different level to what you would expect, it’s gone. It’s over. It’s done.

Yes, this afternoon, completely out of the blue and with nothing in the way of forewarning, I ran out of organic skimmed milk. I have nothing to put in my coffee as of right now, just when I need a super caffeine boost the most, and just when I can’t be bothered drinking black coffee.

I say it was out of the blue, and it was – I thought it had so much more to give, I hoped it would stick around for longer so I could see how far it could go in light of recent events (i.e. it being opened and sitting in a fridge for a week). But it turns out I’d pushed it too far this time – and this afternoon it turned out I had indeed broken the horse’s back.

And run out of milk.

There was a strange feeling of elation after I found out about the news, as if it was in some way a personal victory. But soon enough that fell by the wayside and my usual calm cynicism took over, reminding me that it being gone was not actually as good a thing as I first thought. In fact, it’s probably not a good thing at all – at least that’s what I realised on further inspection of the situation.

I’m sure something will be sorted from all of this, though I’m not hopeful it’ll be a complete solution to all the problems faced. I mean, I can replace it with more, different milk, but won’t that just remind me of the milk that pushed it too far? Will I ever be able to trust it again? Will advertisers be willing to sponsor what might be regarded as a poisoned chalice?

Wait, what the hell was that last bit about? I LITERALLY HAVE NO IDEA.

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A moving experience

After sitting in the same place for almost two years we finally did The Big Move and shifted Play magazine across the office. It was a long, hard slog but we finally made it to the end of our huge journey, all of about five metres away.

I damn near broke my back, what with the company refusing to spring for a pack mule to carry my tons of stuff. But somehow, some way I managed to lift and move four boxes of magazines and some small gaming-related toys. I also managed – somehow, some way – to roll my chair to my new desk. It was harrowing.

But it’s strange how something as simple as a move of such a small (epic) distance can make you look at things so differently. Mainly because I see the office from a different angle now.

But it really opens you up, an act so simple (and epic) as moving – it broadens your horizons in strange ways. Mainly because I’ve got more desk space now.

But it does odd things that you wouldn’t expect, such a simple (epic) move as this, like it brings you closer to your fellow man and helps you bond with others suffering through the human condition. Mainly because I’m not trapped behind a partition and sit right next to new people now.

I’ll stop being hilarious now. We shall have to see how sitting right next to the kitchen pans out though. I’ve already introduced a new rule for those using the area. It’s called: SHUT UP.

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I love the HSBC secure key it is a really good idea, like

Dear Valued Number On A List,

We are writing to you to inform you of a fantastic mandatory opportunity we are allowing you to exclusively take part in.

As you may be aware, evil criminal scum are focusing their entire, unwavering attention directly at you and your children/dog/television [DELETE AS APPROPRIATE]. You will never escape their gaze and you will never, ever be safe from their criminalistic tendencies, such is their sheer evil tenacity and commitment to nefarious deeds.

So, to help you try and somehow avoid these illegal incursions, because you’ll definitely be targeted – be afraid – we are offering you the chance to have an Irritating Extra Stupid Bloody Step In A Process Creator sent to you. Please note this opportunity is, as mentioned, mandatory.

The IESBSIAPC will allow your once-simple method of logging into your bank account to retrieve its details and see how little money you have for a hacker (who is definitely targeting you and you alone) to steal. The simple device will go in hand with our brand new, streamlined personal security features to make sure you never get that £20 in your account stolen from you. The steps are as follows:

  1. Choose a new log-in name.
  2. Choose a new password.
  3. Enter your log-in and password.
  4. Re-enter your log-in and password.
  5. Turn on your IESBSIAPC.
  6. Press the code creation button to reveal your 734-character security code (different every time).
  7. Enter 734-character code.
  8. Re-re-enter your log-in and password.
  9. Re-renter your 734-character code.
  10. Send one pint (imperial measurement) to the bank address on your separately-provided address letter.
  11. To obtain your address letter, you will need to await the arrival of your IESBSIAPC MKII, which will be with you some time in the next four years.
  12. Re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-enter everything you’ve already entered a dozen times.
  13. ???
  14. Profit!

We thank you for your time and we will accept any and all donations you wish to send us as thanks for our wonderful efforts in making your life “easier” and making sure your money is “safer”.


Bank-o 9000


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Operation Get Not Fat: Initiated

It would seem I have found a way to supplant the mind-numbing emptiness I feel to the very depths of my soul* – exercise! See, a few months ago we decided on my magazine that I would take on the challenge of giving EA Sports Active 2 the GREATEST REVIEW OF ALL TIME, by playing it constantly for months and updating readers on how things were going.

In case you’re unaware/can’t figure it out, Active is a fitness program for gaming consoles. It has motion detectors, heart beat monitors and all that shit, as well as virtual fitness instructors to bellow at you. It’s expensive, but it didn’t cost me a penny so what the fuck do I care? Ahem.

Anyway, things didn’t get off to the best of starts, to the point that now – two and a bit months into the experiment – I was still writing the column as ‘month one’ owing to the fact I hadn’t taken the game out of its box. Now I have. And I did a 27-minute introductory workout on medium, the first of a nine-week program to help me be less fat, or something.

Turns out, as luck would have it, I’m really unfit and any regulated exercise that’s meant to actually get your heart going and make you sweat fucks me up something rotten. About 15 minutes in I could barely do its stupid little bunny hops it was demanding I do. The bastard. Plus the banging and bumping in my room from me jumping and running on the spot and the like must have made my housemates think I was shagging a rhino. I wasn’t – she dumped me, remember? BA DUM TISH.

Oh come on, that was quite funny. No? Too soon? IT’S MY WAY OF DEALING WITH IT. Not accepting that as a valid excuse? Hmm. Drat.

Anywho, this made me realise that not only am I massively unfit and probably going to die aged 30 from a coronary megaheartblast, but that I can distract my brain from its recent stupidity by running on the spot in my room for a bit. Oh, and getting to the point where I’m so sweaty my skin is literally slick.

Just thought I’d give you that thought before bedtime. Enjoy your dreams!

*”Need for a poo”


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Zurich – the ultimate review (7/10)

Stepping out of the 4×4* into the tight, cobbled back streets of Switzerland’s biggest city** is one thing, but when you step out and there’s a light dusting of snow covering everything – that’s when you know this place is somewhere special. Unfortunately that’s ‘special’ as in ‘massively retarded’, and not special in the sense you all foolishly assumed.

I mean, what would I find alluring about a beautiful, clean, safe and even-more-beautiful city in a country that isn’t run by David Cameron? Nothing, that’s what. If you said “something”, I hate you because you’re wrong and more MASSIVELY RETARDED than Zurich itself.

One thing – and only one thing – I will say going for the city is that I never felt like I belonged. You know those annoying times where you go somewhere and it just clicks? The kind of place you feel like you should have been to a long time before and want to stay for a while? Yeah, none of that here, thankfully. I find it tends to ruin my ability to blindly react to stupid, pointless and thoroughly bewildering (in the bad way) beautiful surroundings.

So all in all, this is one of the worst places I have ever been in my life. If I have to go back again at any point in my life, it will be too soon. It will be too soon and I will want to die. It will be too soon, I will want to die and I will probably go on a hammer-killing spree. Consider yourselves warned.


*Necessary, owing to the winding mountain roads coated in snow. Unlike in Bournemouth/London/Leeds/Manchester/etc. Cocks.

**It might not be, I haven’t bothered checking or even asking the girl from Zurich sat next to me.

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Opening ceremonies: shit, or just shit compared to Beijing?

The 2010 World Cup starts tomorrow in South Africa, if you hadn’t noticed. This means there will likely be some kind of opening ceremony.

Does anyone care about opening ceremonies anymore? I mean, in Beijing they really just took the piss out of everyone and showed the world what can be accomplished if you keep your populace just scared enough to not question your governance. Before then, opening ceremonies were boring and pointless. After then, they became exercises in futility.

I’m going to use an analogy I’m not proud of here – it’s like Big Brother. It’s either godawful or just plain boring, yet most people seem to actually bother watching it. There will be some idiots prancing around in costumes that mark the individuality of their nation, probably some sporting greats from the past, no mention of Apartheid and then some goits with an overinflated opinion of themselves will run around on some grass for a bit. Still, at least we’ll have the World Cup ceremony to look forward to.

The best joke of all time, or completely and totally the worst? YOU DECIDE.

Anyway, I really do doubt I’ll watch the opening ceremony of the World Cup tomorrow for two very good reasons: one, the stuff I just said, and two, I don’t even know if there is one. I mean, there will be, right? Oh god, I need to know now. And to know I’ll probably have to watch it, and to watch it will mean I’ll have watched it and… oh. Bollocks.

Still, a month of football awaits. A month of boring arguments and identikit comments on the action from everyone in the world. A month of a fantasy league system that’s just a bit shit and doesn’t work properly. A month of getting furious when England lose again. And a month of being forced to watch ITV. Sigh.

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Opinions are tiresome

I had an opinion once. It affected me so badly I fell into a coma that lasted four months. It’s not a mistake I intend to repeat. Still, it seems that just about everybody in the world wants to walk this Line Of Death and voice what their brain is telling them to say, usually stating a like or dislike of something a lot of people know about. It’s a risky endeavour, that’s for sure, and it’s something I am here to warn you about.

So yes, you feel that *INSERT FOOTBALL TEAM HERE* didn’t perform to the standard you normally expect of them. Maybe it was *INSERT NAME OF WELL-KNOWN FOOTBALL KICKING MAN WHO NORMALLY PERFORMS WHAT IS ACCEPTED AS “WELL”* who wasn’t performing as well as he normally does. Perhaps it was down to *INSERT NAME OF REFEREE YOU CAN REMEMBER THE NAME OF*, who you remember because he sent *INSERT NAME OF PLAYER WHO FREQUENTLY GETS CARDED* off – but then, you suppose he always does! Ho ho.

Or maybe you move away from football and instead move on to something like music. You don’t think that *POPULAR BAND A* can’t live up to the success of their last album, especially in the face of challengers to the throne like *POPULAR BAND B*. Maybe if *SOMEONE OFF A TV TALENT SHOW* was involved they’d be able to keep the momentum going! Ho ho.

Films? Well, *INSERT NAME OF DIRECTOR YOU ACTUALLY KNOW THE NAME OF* hasn’t been producing to the best of his ability since *INSERT NAME OF WELL-KNOWN BUT LITTLE-WATCHED FILM*. That really blew you away, didn’t it? Ho ho.

Politics? *INSERT NAME OF POLITICIAN* has got the policies, especially his stance on *INSERT POLICY YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT*, which is something you can really get on board with. And Nick Griffin is a cunt.

I’m just saying, if you all have to keep this ludicrous charade up you’re just going to end up dead in a gutter. It’s not like you can actually get a job where you’re paid to express a critical evaluation of something, is it? If you think there is, you’re living in a crazy land of insane opinions.

That’s just my opinion, mind.

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Who is The Stig? I mean, no one cares, but still.

I’m watching Top Gear. It’s either a repeat or they enjoy wearing poppies all year because they’re so British. Anyway, I initially intended to write up some kind of hilarious critique of the programme, as is my wont. But no, I can’t be bothered, so I’ll do some witty, clever and altogether cutting-edge speculation on who The Stig may well be. That stuff is still in the news, right? No? Oh bollocks to it, I’m not changing my mind. So who might The Stig be? Let’s see my suggestions:

1. The Queen. Never seen them in the same place, both vying for the position of national treasure, both have a penchant for anonymity. It just makes sense.

2. Will Young. Because he’s on the telly right now. It just makes sense.

3. Jeremy Clarkson. The ultimate curveball would be for the giant, oafish idiot (who I still have a soft spot for) turning out to be the man he introduces every week. You wouldn’t expect it, and it would mean Clarkson is actually a foot shorter, meaning he’s been wearing stilts all of his career. Now that’s commitment to a lie. It just makes sense.

4. Frederic Vester. The Stig’s first appearance was November 2, 2003. Frederic Vester “died” the very same day. A German science chap who had an interest in cybernetics, thus meaning his “death” could actually have been the cover for him performing the ultimate experiment on himself. The Stig is in fact a heavily cybernetic-augmented Frederic Vester. It just makes sense.

5. The 9/11 hijackers. Already embroiled in many conspiracy theories of their own, is it really that far out to think the men who disappeared after crashing the planes on September 11 actually escaped to take up residence as the BBC’s finest time trial drivers? It just makes sense.

6. Me. I “can’t” “drive”. I am “not” “on” “TV”. I am “not” “The” “Stig”. Look, the evidence just mounts up here. I just make sense.

Don’t we all feel like we’ve grown today, and definitely like we haven’t just wasted our time reading a complete non-blog.


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