‘Lib Dems not completely pointless’, lies Clegg

As the Lib Dem party conference kicks off to almost no fanfare this week, ‘leader’ Nick Clegg has been on a non-stop publicity tour in an attempt to make the British public forget what a colossal useless shitbag he is.

This morning he was on the Marr show trying to convince anyone who would listen that the Lib Dems are the ultimate guiding force in British politics, saving the hard-working public from the wild excesses and ruinous policies of the Tories or Labour. The only apparent evidence he has to back this up is that his party have managed to convince the Tories to introduce a plastic bag charge in 2015.

And there was much rejoicing.

I used to love the Lib Dems – I wrote a stunningly ill-advised article basically proclaiming them as the renaissance back in 2010, and I can’t be alone in thinking that I personally, on my own and in addition to my day job, could have done a better job of coalition government than they have managed in the last 3 years.

It genuinely wouldn’t surprise me if Cameron kept Clegg in a cage.

 

"Well this turned out to be shit"

“Well this turned out to be a bit Nick Clegg”

In 4 years the Lib Dems have managed to execute a spectacular fall from grace from upstart voice of the people to comedy whipping boys and general Tory lapdogs in the eyes of the public. They’ve come to resemble Sodastreams – everyone used to think they were cool, then they got their hands on one and realised they’d been conned, and now everyone’s forgotten they exist.

For a brief few weeks, Clegg was close to a political rock star as this country has seen. Now he’s considerably more like Brick Tamland.

They’re getting beaten by UKIP for god’s sake. A formerly serious political party is being outmanoeuvred by this man. This man holding a pint and gurning.

That's right, this man.

That’s right, this man.

So instead of this deluded bullshit about keeping parties in check, changing the face of Britain and being the voice of the people, maybe we could have an admission of total up-fuckery, a long hard think about what the party actually stands for and a concerted effort to crawl out of David Cameron’s arse.

Too much to ask?

 

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World vents anger at lack of lab-grown chips

Scientists have today faced the wrath of the western world by announcing that they are yet to grow chips in a lab.

Attempting to mollify an outraged public with a burger grown from the stem cells of a dead cow backfired spectacularly when it was pointed out that there are live cows literally everywhere. There remain, however, a critically low number of live, wild chips in the world.

Food critics were visibly disappointed when they were presented with the chip-free pseudo-meat, with one heard to audibly remark: “Well this is fucking pointless”.

"What a rare sight! Oh wait no it's just a cow."

“What a rare sight! Oh wait no it’s just some cows.”

With an estimated 1.3 billion cows in the world, and stacks of vegetarians who don’t really want to eat them anyway, it seems unlikely that the globe will be running short of the beatific, flatulent, delicious meat-vessels any time soon. Which begs the question as to why on earth anybody thought it was a good idea to produce an inferior copy when the world is in such desperate need of real synthetic essentials like chips, cookie dough and gin.

Everybody loves gin.

The time, intellectual effort and money taken to produce the singular, uninspiring burger have lead prominent thinkers to question whether science ought to be concentrating on other areas instead of spunking £215,000 and many years of research up the wall to make a shit Big Mac.

Like a cure for cancer.

Or a working jet pack. That’d be ace.

Or, as previously stated, some delicious chips. Mmm, chips.

Manning celebrates ‘slap on the wrist’ verdict

Bradley Manning, the world’s most dangerous human being ever, is tonight celebrating the fact that he’ll only be in prison for a paltry 136 years.

The terrifying cyber-villain, disguised as a meek, beaten-down manchild, has breathtakingly evaded a charge of ‘aiding the enemy’ which would have seen him spend the rest of his life in prison. As it stands, Manning will be out and roaming the streets, armed with his powerful truth nukes, by the time he is 161.

FEAR IT.

FEAR IT.

Manning is by far the worst thing to happen to the USA, and possibly the world. By revealing how brave American soldiers heroically, and at great risk to their own safety, gunned down hordes of menacing unarmed Iraqi civilians, Manning directly endangered the lives of every American ever, including the dead ones. And children. Did he ever stop to think of the children?

To think that this madman will be out on the streets by 2149 is an outright abomination. To think that he’ll be living it up in solitary confinement, likely being subject to only several hours of torture a day, while real American heroes are out risking their lives to defend the insanely-heavily-armed nation against oil-rich, weapon-poor peasants, is frankly sickening.

The small consolation in this whole sorry mess is that with Bradley Manning behind bars, the world is a less informed and safer place. Without dangerous information which can cause ordinary Americans to question the atrocities casually carried out by the military in wars based on thinly-veiled neo-colonialism, everyone can sleep more soundly at night.

Unless they’re brown people, obviously.

God bless America.

They’re watching us, the poor bastards

In a completely unsurprising bombshell, it has been revealed that the Americans are watching you. Constantly.

In the midst of a whirlwind of outrage, bewilderment and people saying ‘well, duh’ as America sheepishly admits to a secret global internet monitoring programme, everyone appears to have overlooked the key point that the internet is 99.9% horseshit.

Seriously, have you been on the internet recently? I can’t imagine watching people online is a particularly rewarding job. Nobody has ever gone through any online comment stream and felt better about humanity or that they’ve gained a strong insight into human behaviour. Twitter is a stream of lies and inanity. Facebook is a place where people try and make their lives look good and still manage to look awful. Youtube is just cats. If you type ‘why is’ into Google the fourth most popular autocomplete is ‘why is my poop green’. Even this is just a full-grown* man writing silly words because he gets bored easily.

Can you imagine being one of the poor sods who has to trawl through all this shit? It wouldn’t exactly make for sparkling dinner conversation.

“What did you do at work today honey?”

“”I watched as a man from Utah post threatening yet poorly worded and almost incomprehensibly illiterate messages about Asian people on Twitter, then he spent two hours looking for instructions on how to make homemade explosives out of cheese whilst simultaneously watching cat videos and alternating between writing ‘OMG SO CUTE’ and outright racist comments. Then I’m pretty sure he had a wank.

“I then had to compile this all into a report for my boss without being physically ill.”

Another fine day at GCHQ.

Another fulfilling day at GCHQ.

If that was my job I’d spend a lot of time crying.

If anybody needs empirical proof of just how crap the internet is, have a watch of this and see everybody’s favourite shouty mentalist Alex Jones on Sunday Politics this morning (from about 3mins 30s). A hilarious watch if only for Andrew Neil and David Aaronovitch dealing with him like pros.

Alex Jones’ Youtube videos have been watched over 250 million times. Enough said.

Meanwhile, William Hague has today reassured us all by saying that law-abiding citizens have nothing to fear.

Which doesn’t sound like something from 1984 in any way shape or form.

*shut up.

Skincare adverts ‘based entirely on what genitals you have’

Advertising agencies have finally admitted that every deodorant, skincare or hair or fragrance advert they have ever created revolves completely on what their target audience have in their pants.

According to an industry spokesman, the whole game is run around the ‘willy/fanny method’ which determines exactly how your advert will run.

If your target audience has a penis, you will create an advert that visualises the following schema:

You’re a man.

You should be out drinking and watching sport with your exclusively male friendship group.

You shouldn’t have to worry about how your skin or hair looks, because you are not a woman.

Ha, women!

You should buy our product to make your skin feel great, even though we’ve already said you shouldn’t have to worry about your skin.

YOU SHOULD NOT FIND THIS CONTRADICTORY.

Look, attractive women want to have sex with you!’

Conversely, when advertising to women, the narrative is on the lines of:

‘You are a woman.

You are naturally strong and beautiful – we really can’t stress that enough.

Without constant attention and upkeep to literally every part of your body you will likely fall apart and die.

Buy our product to prevent the above.

Our artificial product with added technical jargon will help you maintain your natural beauty.

YOU SHOULD NOT FIND THIS CONTRADICTORY.

82% of women agree. (7 women asked, 5 under duress)

Look, the girls are here! Let’s watch a film.’

You need this to live

You need this to live

Batting off suggestions that these tired, laughable cliches are at best heroically outdated and at worst downright offensive, ad agencies have, if anything, stepped up their game recently.

Nivea for Men have developed an advert which spends the opening 20 seconds slagging off women and the remaining 5 seconds having a woman looking so impressed at a man’s newly-moisturised skin that she actually drove into the back of a van.

“This happens all over the world every day”, insisted a spokesman.

Boots and Sure, on the other hand, have been trying their hand at advertising to women.

Somebody at Sure appears to have been reading a book at some point and has seen the word ‘feminism’. They have then gone back into work and tried to make an ad with empowering, strong woman themes.

The result is a hilarious 30 seconds opening with the classic line ‘Strong women sweat.’ This is followed by various shots of incredibly angry looking women, mostly with short hair and tattoos, which is apparently the only thing that constitutes a ‘strong woman’.

[Aside: this is even better when watched with Youtube’s new auto-captions.]

“Strong women sweat. And glare. Other women don’t. This happens all over the world every day”, insisted a spokesman.

Boots, on the other hand, still hold the world record for most ridiculous commercial, working on the premise that it was a really sound idea to portray every woman in the world as a makeup-obsessed pack animal just dying to form part of a screaming herd and get on the Bacardi breezers.

This happens all over the world every day”, insisted a spokesman.

 

George Michael ‘surprisingly un-dead’

Is George Michael actually a human being?

Like a real one, without any animatronic or Wolverine-like qualities?

News has broken today that the singer/’singer’/national treasure/disturbing presence which occasionally haunts your dreams wielding an axe and a copy of his latest album [delete as applicable] fell out of a car at 70mph last week and walked away with nothing more than cuts, bruises and doubtless some new lyrics for another atrocious, atrocious song.

Three questions.

1) Why is this not bigger news? If it was Elton John there’d probably have been a live blog on the Guardian; you know, the exciting ones like “He’s fallen out of car”, “He’s still fallen out of the car”, “He’s still fallen out of the car – here are some of your tweets”. Something like that.

Instead, we’ve had roughly the same level of national fanfare as if I had fallen out of a car at 70mph and basically walked away. A small piece in the London Evening Standard, next to an article about a lady being reunited with a long lost cat – a front page in the Sun or the Mirror four or five days after the event with some gory-sounding witness testimony.

Right wing Conclusion: The world has been playing too many video games and has been desensitised to human suffering to the point where George Michael can fall out of a moving car on a motorway and the world shrugs its shoulders. We should ban video games.

Left wing conclusion: George Michael’s fame has waned somewhat. Why aren’t you outside, saving the NHS?

2) How is this physically possible? I like to think that if I fell out of a speeding vehicle onto any surface other than jelly or candy floss I would immediately develop the consistency of jam and spread myself liberally over a three mile radius. The T-1000 would struggle to withstand that kind of impact, and he was all mercury and stuff.

The fact that Mr Michael, if that is his real name, suffered only ‘superficial cuts and bruises’ whilst protected by nothing more than an Adidas tracksuit leads us to clear conclusions.

Right-wing conclusion: Homosexuals are made of iron and should not be trusted.

Left-wing conclusion: Adidas have stepped up their game in tracksuit-based protection, doubtless by exploiting poor children’s fine needlework skills. The bastards.

3) How is this physically possible? How does one go about falling out of a car in such a fashion? The story goes that George saw that a door was open and tried to open and close it, but then fell out of the car. At no point did it appear to cross his mind to say “Chaps, could we pull over and shut the door, it’s drafty in here”. I still fail to comprehend how a 49 year old functioning human being can fall out of a car on a motorway. The conclusion is simple.

Right wing conclusion: George Michael should sue the car manufacturer for poor safety. He should also sue the M1. He’s had an accident that wasn’t his fault. He should call claims direct. This is about individual freedom.

Left wing conclusion: How many fucking drugs was the man on? The state should legalise drugs really.

So there you have it. George Michael has fallen out of a car. Let us legalise drugs. Or sue somebody.

Errr...what?

Errr…what?

World going a bit wrong.

But enough of that, let’s talk about me.

Only kidding. I can’t be arsed.

So as it stands North Korea is still getting ready to launch some kind of nuke – possibly the nuclear equivalent of a spoon, but nonetheless, fucking nuke! Fuck! Panic!

We have also buried, at mind-boggling extravagance, an old lady who used to be famous but who by all accounts was just a bit racist in her latter years. And it was on telly. And the radio. And there was a webcast. And they closed roads. And put up signs. So that was rational.

Then somebody blew up some pressure cookers in Boston, which, like all bombings, was an utterly heinous and low act. It has also highlighted that the word ‘terrorism’ has now been so successfully hijacked to mean ‘brown people what wear dresses and have beards like’ that the President of the United States has to refrain from using it when an act of blatant terrorism – in the true sense – is carried out by somebody who might not be a Muslim.

It’s genuinely remarkable that the new conception of terrorism is totally reliant on the dichotomy of western democracy and fundamentalist Islam, of ‘us’ and ‘them’, and highlights just one of the many attempts to hegemonise the language of terror, and thereby create justification and truth (read: get away with anything), committed by western powers since 9/11.

Oh and scores of Iranians died in an Earthquake yesterday but nobody cares for the exact reason listed above.

Well that was fucking bleak wasn’t it? I bet you were expecting something funny, or at least something with funny pictures to hide the lack of content. Sorry. I’ll try harder next time.

It’s just that I got hit in the leg by a softball (misleading title, it transpires they’re actually made of hard) tonight, which has put me into a cynical mood. I’ll probably have an ice cream tomorrow and then write at length about how great the world is.

I think I’m quite fickle.

To apologise for this particularly wank post, here is a link to a blog with pictures of otters. It is both amusing and quite high brow.

And here is a link to some Irish people lampooning songs by taking the lyrics literally, with hilarious results.

“Ok, but don’t get it on my hair.”

HA. Funny.