Thursday, November 30, 2006

Builders, piss your mate off by writing uncomplimentary things about him in wet concrete

Don't know how old this is but it's been there a while.

Maybe Phil took the not-so-subtle hint and went on a diet and isn't fat any more. Perhaps he's thinking of visiting the site and amending 'is' to 'was' with a chisel or something.

Then again, he could have been so upset by what he took to be bullying at the workplace that he started comfort eating and got fatter and fatter until he became morbidly obese and had to be taken to hospital by firemen who needed to pull the side of his house down to gain access.

Yeah, that sounds right.

Phil, if you're reading, get well soon.

And hey, join a gym big fella.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Graffiti rules ok

A lovely message scrawled on the back of a toilet door in the gents at Frankley service station on the M5:

"David Williams, keep up the good work on the nightshift, your wife is a great shag."

It's signed "Gibbo".

Hair and golf. Naturally

ROBIN: Holy cumshots Batman! Look at this fantastic new hair treatment.

BATMAN: It appears to be a remarkable advance for medical science Boy Wonder.

ROBIN: It sure does. Check out the thickness of his re-growth.

BATMAN: Notice too my youthful partner in crime, how his sideburns have also extended.

ROBIN: Zowie! And hey, what's that on his upper lip?

BATMAN: Yes, most curious.

ROBIN: Suffering anuses! It's a moustache!

BATMAN: Extraordinary. The beginnings of upper lip growth can clearly be seen.

ROBIN: But Batman, why in satan's name is he playing golf?

BATMAN: That is a mystery that even my great powers cannot solve, boy... friend... wonder. Boy Wonder.

ROBIN: Cocks alive!

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

We can sleep safe in our beds

Good news for residents on Anglesey in North Wales. It looks like the local cops are cracking down on lavatorial naughtiness in a big way.

Figures just in show that assaults on hand dryers are down 47%, toilet roll stuffed down the bog has been reduced by a third and the average depth of piss on the floor is now less than two inches.

Great work guys!

Monday, November 27, 2006

Tabloid lingo

Loving the way our newspapers condense and combine words for reasons of space. This beauty was the result of a story in which some lunatic stabbed a young woman at a museum then threw himself off a high balcony.

But they didn't call it a 'stab-fall' which is actually shorter. That's because nobody falls to their death these days, they 'plunge'. Presumably screaming. And so 'stab-plunge' was born.

One day we'll think it's all so normal.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Crime doesn't pay

Maybe the police should advertise too:

"Filmed some crime? Mind if we have a look first? Sorry to be a pain. Love, the Police. (Not the band)."

Then again, if I was a bored security guard looking to supplement my shitty pay, what would I do?

"Hello, is that Sky...?"

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Dear traffic warden... part 1

As you can see from the tax disc, this is a few years old. Yet age doth not wither it one jot. To read, click on the pic.

The writer, one 'Mr Poole', here challenges the traffic wardens to ticket his car for he has the power of the Lord on his side who verily will smite down with great anger and furious vengence... etc. whoever is impudent enough to slap a ticket on his Nissan Micra.

Calling up divine authority in the shape of 'Sister Theresa', Mr Poole can park wherever he ruddy well likes safe in the knowledge that he has the backing of the Church, and its own special brand of firepower.

"Being as this is a .44 lightning bolt, the most powerful lightning bolt in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, traffic warden?"

Dear traffic warden... part 2

Next, a short essay which I think gives a little insight into the joys of car ownership in the capital. There's a lot of reflection on the windscreen, including me, so I'll transcribe what it says, (to read, click on the image as before):


A clear tale of misery and woe that would surely bring a lump to the throat of even the most iron-hearted warden. I particularly like the encicling of the word 'stolen', there's some real anger and frustration here. And in their rage the anonymous scribbler has even missed off the '-ing' from 'ticketing'. Then we have the mysterious 'they' to consider: like some extra-governmental agency is going around nicking London's cars - quite probably with the Mayor's blessing.

A couple of days later there was a ticket under the wiper. Brilliant.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Hands up if...

A gem from Metro's small ads.

"How often did you visit the lady?'

"What was the nature of her service?'

"And did she always defecate on your face?"

Monday, November 20, 2006

Today's word is... 'camp'

I was pondering this for a bit. And the following word associations bobbed up:

Hmm, it all seemed so innocent to begin with too.

This may become a regular series, then again it may not.

Friday, November 17, 2006

Does exactly what it says on the tin

Farmers know all about communication and this bloke is no different.

He's got a pile of shit to get rid of and boy, does he get the message across. He's even written it on a stone tablet for pete's sake.

Whether it's "get off my land!" Or, "I'll set my fucking dogs on you!", farmers tell it like it is.

We should have more of them in advertising.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Why bother with the doctor?

From just one issue of 'Metro' yesterday. More than a newspaper, it's now the place to go to diagnose all your ailments.

But notice the use of inverted commas: someone else said it, we didn't, don't sue. 'Linked' is a good word too. A great way to increase public paranoia without going through the tedious rigmarole of backing the statement up with proof.

Tense headache? Well, there's bound to be something about it in Metro soon. Probably saying that it is caused by drinking cans of fizzy pop.

Or eating sausages.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Greetings from Earth

This image is visible from space.

Presumably we're hoping that any passing aliens who happen to have the munchies stop by for a Bargain Bucket of the Colonel's finest.

Surely there must be better places in the Universe to eat.

Isn't there a Pizza Express on Saturn?

Oh dear

This is telly in 2006. On 'Living TV' apparently.

As you can see I've circled it to ensure I don't forget.

Ceci n'est pas une pipe

Love this message. How could anyone mistake it for a toy? It's not brightly coloured, doesn't have wheels etc. And frankly any child, under the age of three or not, would have sure grounds for legal action if they opened their Christmas stocking and found this inside.

Monday, November 13, 2006

T-shirts that people wear long after they have any relevance

Why would a grown man choose to wear a t-shirt with the words

'Keele University Men's Badminton Team'

on the back?

Apart from when playing badminton at Keele University for the men's team?

Perhaps he wanted to show shoppers in Sainsbury's, for that is where I saw it, that once upon a time he was an athletic god who could smash a shuttlecock over quite a high net for someone else to smash back at him whereupon he would smash it back again, as would his opponant, until the shuttlecock (or 'cock' for short), hit the floor.

Maybe he felt we needed to know that.

Now that's more like it

Hitting the nail on the head here.

But, but, but... wait a minute. If smoking kills then we mustn't forget that it also does a great many other things. Stuff like making you look older when you're trying to get into pubs; impressing girls with your sophisticated yet devil-may-care attitude (see also 'swearing'); and giving your voice a throaty rasp adding to your sex appeal (particularly important when you're fifteen).

Friday, November 10, 2006

Cough, splutter!

I thought health warnings on fag packets were supposed to say stuff like 'this will harm you, do not smoke unless you want to die in agony with your lungs full of shit'.
But it seems that these days Marlboro only want to speak to people with a BSc in Chemistry as I doubt very much whether your average 14 year-old on a council estate knows their hydrogen cyanide from their elbow.
Ah, unless this is some sort of vile Darwinistic ploy to kill off the thickies by using big words that they don't understand thus removing their genes from the gene pool and furthering the development of the 'ubermenschen'.

Hmm, cunning.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Toilet humour, or piss-poor education?

"Cleaning closed in wet floor progress"????

Er, what? Looks like the standards of bog maintenance in the fair city of York are higher than the educational ones in the local schools. But as I walked away I felt a nagging feeling in my loins (no, not that feeling)... could it be genius?