Part 68; In which I attempt to meld Hadley Freeman subject matter, with Charlie Brooker misanthropic ire, but come across as slightly misogynistic.

I never thought an item of footwear would make me angry, but I think I might contort into a retching fit of rage if I see another hot girl wearing Ugg boots!

I thought Oxford has the most Ugg boots per capita, but it seems Newcastle is the real Ugg hell. In Oxford at least they were restricted to the Summertown ra's, but up here they don't seem to discriminate by social or economic class and I estimate that three in five women are wearing them. It must be reaching saturation point, right?

I don't for a minute consider myself to be some kind of fashion meister (or even remotely fashionable), but the fact that even I know that Ugg boots are at least three years out of date should give you a fair idea of how baffling their popularity is.

They stink too. Not just figuratively, but literally. And they look shit, like slippers given out on an Eskimo mental ward. I would rather look down towards a hot girl's feet and discover a pair of hooves than see those rank, tan shit-clumps. At least if she had hooves I might be able to come up with some barely witty chat up line about riding her and me being a stallion. If she was wearing Ugg boots I'd probably end up saying "I hope you're planning on removing those passe bacteria traps and burning them before I hump you. Would you like a drink?". I'm pretty sure that would ruin my chances but it's a risk I'd be willing to take.

Newcastle Facts.

I moved to Newcastle in July. Here is what I have learnt about it so far:

1) Vegetarianism is illegal in Newcastle. It was outlawed in 1992 by Jimmy Nail who was serving as lord mayor at the time. The law is upheld by forcing people to lick a rasher of streaky bacon as they cross one of the forty bridges that link Newcastle to Scotland.

2) Popular entertainers, Ant & Dec, were given the freedom of Newcastle in 1987. They frequently abuse this honour by daubing Newcastle Town Hall with obscene graffiti. Mostly of their own cocks.

3) Newcastle was built atop of a pile of dreams.

4) The colloquialism "Way aye", is the only recognised phrase in Newcastle for responding to a question in the affirmative.

5) The world's first quilt was manufactured in Newcastle in 2002. It was designed to bring warmth and comfort to the Geordie people during football matches. It has since been destroyed and replaced with a giant snood.

6) Former Newcastle Utd football captain Alan Shearer, owns the largest collection of signed Alan Shearer memorabilia anywhere in the North East.

7) Mirrors are illegal in some parts of Newcastle. To get around this problem, residents in these areas will gather round a communal pond and gaze down at their reflections. These ponds are known locally as "Looking Pools" or "Stare Pits".

8) Newcastle is sponsored by Greggs the Bakers.

Oh Mickey You Are So Fine!

PRIME TIME!

Vic Reeves!

I met that Vic Reeves off of the telly today! He did a book signing at HMV in Newcastle. I was a bit apprehensive that he might be a dick, but he was really nice and he even initiated a bit of small talk with me. I was so excited by the time I left the shop that I felt a tiny bit sick.
It certainly went much better than when I met Eddie Izzard a few years back. I was working at HMV in Oxford, and he came to sign something or other. We were allowed to get stuff signed before he went out, I asked him to sign one of his stupid dvds. He asked, "How do you spell "Lex"?". Nobody has ever asked me that before or since, even really stupid people.
I politely replied, "However you like." I think I must have been making an effort not to flummox his precious artistic temperament, and he was all like "WELL DO YOU SPELL IT WITH ONE X OR TWO?!". I don't know why he got so instantly shitty with me but it got my back up, "ONE FUCKING X YOU TWAT! I'M NOT A FUCKING ROBOT OR A COCK SHAPED SPACESHIP!". It certainly soured the experience for me. Luckily I was never that much of a fan in the first place. The fucking tool.

Celebrity Job Exchange

Imagine just how good it would be if all the people on TV had to swap jobs for at least one episode a year. Can't imagine it because modern life has rendered your imagination more barren than a female body builder? Let me help;

Kevin McCloud (Grand Designs) swaps with Paul Merson (Gillette Soccer Saturday)
Wouldn't it be amazing to see Kevin McCloud sat in the Sky Sports studio, confounding Phil Thompson and co. by talking about the Emirates Stadium "really working as a space"? And wouldn't it be equally amazing to see Paul Merson wandering round the sight of a half built eco-house, scratching his head and telling the viewers he "woodunt want a bog made from leafs in my manor!"? Yes it would.

Babara Windsor (Eastenders) swaps with Sgt. Bash (Robot Wars)
Babara Windsor fighting for survival against a robot armed with a circular saw and an axe? ACTIVATE!
A robot armed with a flame thrower playing the role of matriarchal land lady Peggy Mitchell? GERRR OUTTA MAH PUB!


Jeremy Paxman (Newsnight) swaps with Alan Carr & Justin Lee Collins (The Friday Night Project)
Paxman brings his incessant questioning and candor to the irreverent, lightweight "comedy" show.
Alan Carr and Justin Lee Collins use their funny voices to interview the Prime Minister regarding the release of the Lockerbie bomber.

Derren Brown (Trick of the Mind etc.) swaps with Noel Edmonds (Deal or No Deal, Noel's House Party)
Master of mind-fuckery, Derren Brown, makes two hundred audience members act like Mr.Blobby, then guesses their bank details. He also makes the contestants on Deal or No Deal pick all the boxes with high amounts in and says buoyantly, "Wow! I think this is one of the most exciting games we've ever had!" Everyone is depressed and nobody wins more than 10p.
King of smug, Noel Edmonds, fails to guess which chamber contains the bullet in a live game of Russian roulette.

Two Sugars

Having watched Axl's excellent videos, I have decided to have a go myself:

Sugar Lumps

Simon Says

When are these two going to work things out?

FRIENDS 4EVA!

Ground Force.

Our garden is really just a concrete cell without a roof. Not anymore though! Not since I built this attractive planter:





It's made from an old plank I found when I was tidying up. I also have enough plank left to make another one.

The plant on the left is called Launchpad McFuck, and the one on the right is called Rick Moranis (I can only take credit for Launchpad McFuck, my housemate, Sooz, came up with Rick Moranis).

Other things that I have been doing recently are:

• Going on holiday to the Lake District


• Getting hooked on black coffee


• Getting hooked on Arctic Roll


• Spending too much time watching America's Next Top Model, Maury, and Jerry Springer, and as a result becoming a bit like an antagonistic, bitchy, American woman, eg. saying stuff like this.


• Enrolling at college only to find out that they cancelled two of the three subjects I was meant to be studying (Philosophy and Criminology). I'm now going to study English Literature, English Language and Film Studies.

I'd go as far as saying that I don't think I've ever been this relaxed! My hair even seems to be getting thicker, and I think my chest has a little bit more on it too! By the time I start college next month, I'll be like a fat, wired Sasquatch.

Sequels

I bet the movie moguls behind Harry Potter are shitting themselves that they've almost run out of books to make into films. To this end, I have the following suggestions for sequels for them to use:

• Harry Potter and the Tide of Impotence
• Harry Potter and the Bosoms of Neglect
• Harry Potter and the Fist of Indifference
• Harry Potter and the Box of Mice
• Harry Potter and the Catalogue of Feelings
• Harry Potter and the Mule of Honesty
• Harry Potter and the Big Book of Tits
• Harry Potter: Snooker Loopy!
• Harry Potter and the Phantom Pregnancy
• Harry Potter and the Pile of Cats
• Harry Potter and the Sense of Regret
• Harry Potter and the Finger of Shame

That should keep them going for a bit.

Wedding Vows.

A few people I know have gotten or are getting married. I have offered to write their wedding vows for them but nobody has been particularly forthcoming. I have therefore decided to post them up here for anybody who wants to use them.

Groom's Vows:

"I promise to husband the shit out of you. By this I mean I'll take you to the pub on the weekend, occasionally let you touch my stuff, and keep my genitals in good order. If this isn't good enough for you then I reserve the right to withdraw emotionally from you into a world of questionably violent Internet porn and hard liquor. I may even hire a prostitute now and again, but to be honest I'll mostly just cry into her lap for an hour and offer to "take her away from all this". Alright?"

Bride's Vows:

"Hi! I promise to wife it up nice style. I will try my hardest not to make a cuckold of you, and even if I do, we'll probably be on the outs anyway. I promise to keep you well stocked in fags and supermarket own brand lager. I also promise to degrade myself sexually on your birthday but bear in mind this will drive an emotional wedge between us. I will corroborate any anecdotes you may tell socially, even though I find them crushingly dull and have already started cuckolding you as a result (soz).
With regards to kids, I'm pretty indifferent.
K thx."

Vicar:
(Shouting and slowly bringing hands together)

"FUCK AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

Moon Unit.

The bi-product of a half moon cake, is another half moon cake.

You can expect more pithy observations like this when I start my philosophy course in September. I might try and sell the above pithy observation to a fortune cookie manufacturer or that idiot, fake stand-up that sponsors something on channel 4 (you know the one that says stuff like "How do you know which comparison website is the best?").
I'm also going to be studying English Literature and Criminology, so expect me to start measuring the depth of your brow and then analysing your relationship with other characters.

I am Only 47% Man

That's what McCoy's crisps say anyway. I just took their "Man Quiz" and apparently, choosing to read a book over watching repeats of Only Fools & Horses, not wanting to spend time with John Terry, choosing to cook for myself (instead of getting a woman to do it, obviously), and washing properly, all mean I'm "not strong enough to open a bag of McCoy's".

I feel sorry for the poor fucker in the McCoy's advert. I only hope that the tube sucks him away to a much better pub, perhaps one with a higher tolerance for general knowledge and lower patron collesterol levels.

I would rather be only 47% man than 100% salty and thick.

Bonjour Newcastle!

I am considering reinventing myself when I move to Newcastle next month. I only know a few people up there, so as long as they keep their mouths shut I should be able to get away with presenting myself however I want. So far I have come up with the following options:

• Big headed ladies man


• In demand after dinner speaker


• Britain's most belligerent boss


• Britain's most belligerent psychic


• Spanish guy


• French guy


• Psychic French guy

I'm leaning towards Psychic French guy because the double dose of mystery is a sure winner with chicks 'n' stuff, for example:

"Bonjour Mademoiselle, (all in a French accent whilst holding girls hand and smoking two Gauloises) I sense a lot of sadness in you. You are like a lonely giraffe, drifting on a orchid along a very sensual river towards a sea of sexy tears. Fuck?"

Hopefully I can keep up this charade long enough to banish any trace of my old (sicking up in the bath) personality.

Bad Decision Making

On Saturday I went out for my friend Tom's stag night. Predictably, I drank too much and acted a fool (I don't think I did anything too bad while I was actually out though, that came later). When I finally made it home after catching a night bus from town to a chip shop, and then getting a taxi to my house, I started to feel pretty sick. From what I remember I barfed in the bath and then decided to wash myself down in the bath with the shower attachment. This meant I was essentially in a bath full of barf, bathing in barf. Gross. Actually, to say it was full is a bit much, I had rinsed most of the vomit away by the time I got in, but I think some went on my shins. Debatable water to vomit ratios aside, it still has to rank up there with some of the worst decisions I've ever made whilst drunk. This, coupled with the fact that I'll be twenty seven in a few months, is why I have decided to reintroduce my three drink maximum for the next few weeks at least. This rule saw me through the first six months of the year without any sick stories so it should do the trick again.

50th Post / Big News / Politics

Hi. I have handed in my notice at work after just over four years. It felt pretty good, especially because I'm quitting to move up to Newcastle in about a month. I'm pretty excited about it as you can imagine! I have found a place to live and it's next door to Emma and Mark!

In other news, I have fucked up royally. I thought I was registered to vote at my mum's house but it turns out I'm not. Shit. This means if you weren't planning on voting on Thursday you now have to so my missing vote is replaced. We all know that the BNP are a bunch of total hate mongering CUNTS, but did you know only need as little as 8% of the vote in the European election to get a seat? I'm pretty sure that most of you will agree that these guys getting a ton of our money would be shitter than playing soggy biscuit with your close relatives, so make sure you vote against them. Thanks!

Sorry for getting so right on. You know I wouldn't normally get all political, but they make me so angry! Here is a fun game to redress the balance http://www.mediapill.com/thumbscan/index.html

I CANNOT SLEEP FOR ALL THE SHIT ON TELLY!

Can a person die of jet lag? Maybe what kills you is jet lag related boredom. I rather cockily thought I had thwarted it on my first day back, but here I am, watching the sign language repeat of Country File at 2.30am. I can't even fall back on Channel Five sports (they used to show lots of American sports that helped me sleep) any more because they show late night quiz phone-ins now instead and these make me furious.
Country File isn't even helping. They seem to have replaced lovely, old, calming John Craven, with the chirpy young Geordie from Blue Peter. I do not need chirpy at this time of night.
As I type John has come to my rescue! It seems he has a section called "John Craven's Investigation"! But wait, put my pyjamas away, it's about bluetongue and features "images that some viewers may find disturbing". Dammit Craven! Are you taking the piss?! I needed you to investigate a decline in woolly jumper manufacturing or something similarly sleepy, not sheep with rotten mouths! And I bet you are fully aware of the irony in giving me sheep to count, but making them all zombie looking and nightmarish! Damn you John!
Chirpy Geordie is back now, he's talking to a naked hippy. For fuck's sake.