Flower power

Ok, I'm somewhat confused. I saw an advert recently for flower scented tampons. I'd have loved to have been in that meeting:

"Stu, how do we get more people buying OUR brand of sanitary product?"
"I know, let's make them smell of flowers, because people often comment on how tampons don't smell of flowers"
"Fantastic, I'll get on to marketting stat."

Of course, they may have discussed scents first...

"Vanilla?"
"No"
"Strawberries?"
"Hmm, maybe, what else you got?"
"Fish?"
"Hell no!"
"Burning wood?"
"Nice, like that. Anything else?"
"Flowers!"
"Flowers?"
"Flowers."
"Flowers it is...."

Samuel L. God

According to weekly email Popbitch, Samuel L Jackson is going to be the voice of God in a new audio version of the bible.

No joke, SLJ is going to be voicing God. I can imagine it now:

Noah, fetch two of every animal and put them in a big motherfucking boat. Except sharks, don't get any sharks. Oh, and while you're there, get me a big kahuna burger and a Sprite.

Genius.

Beerkegikstan (Part Two)

I've been doing some research (nothing particularly in depth, just a few searches on Google and Wikipedia), and it seems I'm able to have my own flag (although the chances are it won't be recognised as an 'official' flag), so that's good.

Unfortunately the legality of claiming an island as my own is slightly more cloudy. There was a guy who discovered an island after a glacier moved which he claimed as his and wrote to the Norwegian goverment and the UN to claim independence, but Norway reckon it's theirs (a treaty signed in the 1920's says any land in that area of sea is theirs, although the bloke says it doesn't count as the islands wasn't discovered then).

Alex Harvey on his Island ('Nymark')

So I'm giong to have to be a bit sneaky, and claim an island on the sly. I'm hoping to find an island that meets my needs, quietly sit there for ten years and then claim it as my own under squatters rights.

I can use the ten years to design my flag.

Beerkegikistan

There’s a thing on telly at the moment about islands being created by volcanic eruptions in the sea. Which got me thinking, there must be loads of little islands out there which aren’t owned by anyone, so why not go and claim one for myself and have my own country?

I guess some countries might try and claim they already own all those little islands out there on some sort of technicality, but I reckon if you just went and found one, stuck a flag in it and set up shop, you could probably get away with it, especially if it’s a small place tucked out the way.

Obviously you’d want somewhere with a decent location (near the equator is probably preferable to somewhere near a polar ice cap) so you could get a decent tourist trade going, and you’d need somewhere big enough to fit a hotel, a pub, and a 24 hour shop, maybe somewhere about the size of the Isle of Wight, but I’m sure if you looked hard enough you’d find one.

It wouldn’t be all fun and games obviously. For a start, you’d be King, which requires at least a little work. You’d have to have some laws I suppose, like no alcohol to under 16’s, making beards illegal, that sort of thing, and you’d probably have to go around waving at people occasionally and having Tony Blair over for a game of Ker-Plunk, but I’m sure you’d still have ample time for enjoying your island.

Obviously you’d also need a token army, maybe a few kids with AK-47’s and a bloke in a dinghy with a potato gun – nothing particularly threatening but just enough to let other countries know you’re prepared to fight if they get too close.

All I need now is a map, and a flag.

Meatballs

I bought a tin of meatballs the other day, which is hardly interesting I admit. The thing is, when I got them home I noticed the label said “Meatballs in ‘tasty’ tomato sauce”. Hmm, now why did the manufacturers feel the need to put the word tasty in inverted commas? It hardly inspires confidence in the product now does it? Still, it could have been worse; it could have been the word ‘tomato’ in inverted commas. Or ‘meatballs’.

In memoriam Bruno

You may have seen in the news recently that a bear has been roaming the German countryside after crossing the border from Austria. He’s been wandering around the woods and towns, presumably trying to get tickets for the World Cup finals. He’s also been responsible for the deaths of a number of sheep and chickens, as well as the destruction of a bee hive. Oh, and he squashed a Guinea Pig.

Bruno

Obviously you have to feel for the Guinea Pig, but in the general scheme of things Bruno’s crimes weren’t particularly heinous. Unfortunately for Bruno however, the powers that be decided to get a load of hunters to track him down, and they’ve shot him. With bullets. The first thing that springs to mind is the question “why didn’t they tranquilise him and move him to a rodent-free zone?”, but unfortunately the German authorities decided death was the answer.

So what have we learnt? If you’re a bear, in Germany, don’t kill Guinea Pigs and eat bee hives, or they’ll shoot you. Schwinehunds.

Oh, and the second lesson we’ve learnt is if you want to get rid of a pesky, furry rodent, get a bear.

Spoons

Someone I used to know once hypothesised that everyone looks like Pete Townshend when they look at themselves in the back of a spoon. He was right too.

Everyone looks like Pete in the back of a spoon

Question or nominate?

The managers of the call center I provide analysis for have put up a box which members of staff can drop questions in to, the idea being said managers will then answer any questions and post them on a board. There was one fatal mistake made with this though - it's never been specified that the questions should be work related, and of course, there's always one smart-arse who will take any opportunity to take the piss. Me.

I've already left my first question in the box, namely 'What is the capital of Peru?' (I thought I'd start them off with an easy one), but I'm moving it up a notch from here on in. A few of the questions I've already thought of are:

1. How many roads must a man walk down?
2. Are white socks ever excusable?
3. If Billy has 2 plums and a banana, and Wendy has a cherry, and Billy gives Wendy his banana, what has Wendy got?
4. Who would win in a fight - Superman or He-Man?

I'm looking forward to seeing what answers they come up with for those. In case you're not sure of the answers, they are as follows:

1. 42
2. Hell no
3. Crabs
4. He-Man obviously. He's got Battlecat and a fucking huge sword

He-Man and Battlecat - rock hard!

Holes

The Beatles once sang about knowing how many holes it would take to fill the Albert Hall. Complete nonsense one might think, after all, a hole is, well, a hole. But I've been thinking about this and I think I know how to calculate the number of holes required. I'm sure the theory will require a bit of tweaking at the pub, but I'm fairly certain the principles are sound.

Firstly, we can all agree that you can't fill a physical space with holes, that's just common sense. However, I'm thinking antiholes. Antiholes, being the opposite of holes, would logically take up a physical space.

In order to make antiholes I propose accelerating normal holes to colossal speeds and then have them collide with each other - this would create antiholes. If we can ascertain how much volume the antiholes created by a standard sized hole (for example a hole five inches across and five inches deep) have, and we knew the volume of the Albert Hall, we could logically sumise the number of holes needed to fill the Albert Hall.

Go on, tell me I'm wrong.

Devil's crisp

My brother found a McCoy that looks like the sign of the devil, so I thought I'd share it...

Art isn't dull

My kid brother has created a site to display his portfolio of artwork - worth visiting, expecially if you're an employer looking for a graphic artist...

Visit here: http://www.fotolog.com/pmurrillsart

Bear Vs Monkey

There was a story in the press this week about a monkey in a zoo that got eaten by three bears. Now, my first thought was, what was the monkey doing going to visit the bears in the first place, it’s his own fault, but, it transpires that the monkeys and bears were kept in the same enclosure. Admittedly they’ve lived harmoniously for a good few years and until now there haven’t been any eatings, although I suspect the monkeys, being the cheeky scamps they are, probably have played a few tricks on the bears, like hiding their iPods, stuff like that. However, I do have to wonder, didn’t anybody ever think ‘Hmm, bears and monkeys, that could be interesting if the bears get stroppy’?

I would have thought just that, but I’d have still put the monkeys in with the bears and called it some sort of socio-biological experiment. And filmed it all to sell to Channel Four.

Oh, and I also learnt today that seahorses hoover shrimp up through their noses. Everyday’s a school day.

Eurovision

Ah, once again Eurovision has arrived. I’m not quite sure what it is about Eurovision, everybody knows it’s complete cack and yet everybody seems to watch it. I’m not sure whether it’s the complete nonsense that Terry Wogan comes out with (this year he’s excelled himself), the Finnish metal bands with giant bat wings, masks and fireworks, or maybe it’s the whole thing of sitting there and ripping the shit out of all the entries, which is a very British past time (remember the Blaine-baiters down by Ken’s office?) but it sort of sucks you in, and before you know it you’ve watched two hours of God-awful noise instead of turning over and watching QI or Friends.

13 weeks of living hell (Part two)

I decided to watch the opening night so I could give you my opinion on the housemates:

• Bonnie – Chav retard, ya get me?
• Pete – Has Tourettes.
• George – Posh cúnt, who kills foxes with dogs for fun.
• Shahbaz – Camp Scottish 80’s throwback.
• Lea – Plastic slút.
• Imogen – Hmmm, looks quite nice actually. Welsh.
• Mikey – Arrogant, Scouse, sexist fuckwit.
• Dawn – Miserable Brummie cow.
• Glyn – Weird, puny lifeguard with delusions of grandeur. Welsh.
• Richard – Big gay Al except more camp. Cúnt.
• Grace – Posh, spoilt, naïve, cute.
• Lisa – Gobby, Manc, proper fúcking annoying. About as far from ‘mint’ as you can get.
• Sezer – Waaaaaaaaaaanker. Recognise.
• Nikki – Gold digging, vacuous slut. I’d shag her, but only after I’d hid my wallet. Will be the first to get her títs out.
  
  The things I do for this blog, I just watched an hour of this shit. I’ve never been so bored (except when I watched Titanic, but at least that had a happy ending (if you haven’t seen it the big boat sinks and Leo gets a lungful of water)).
  
  So to summarise, a couple of fit birds who look a million times better than the plastic slút who’s spent £35K on tits and lips, a load of arrogant posh tossers and a bloke with Tourettes. Oh, and some people who are Welsh.
  
  I pledge, here and now, not to watch a minute more of this arse.

13 weeks of living hell (Part one)

Big Brother returns to our screens tonight, and it’s running for a somewhat excessive thirteen weeks. Thirteen weeks! That’s over three months! Now, I’m not being funny, but do the people at Channel Four really think people are going to want to watch a group of nobodies doing pointless tasks for over a quarter of a year? The sad thing is, people probably will. Every day!

I really can’t understand what the attraction is, it’s not like anything ever happens. Oh, and it’s not just Big Brother, there’s Big Brother’s Little Brother, Big Brothers Big Mouth, and don’t forget the non-stop live coverage on E4.

So, basically you’ve got hundreds of thousands of people who aren’t going to spend their summer enjoying the sunshine and sitting in the beer garden on a balmy night, oh no – they’ll be sat at home watching people eating dinner and sleeping. That’s another thing, the 24 hour coverage – what’s the point, THEY’RE ALL F*CKING ASLEEP!!! People really will watch anything...

I suppose there is one good point though. At least for thirteen weeks we’ll know exactly when Dermot O’Leary is on telly, so we can avoid him.

How Jedi are you?

how jedi are you? :: by lawrie malen

I actually always thought I was more like Yoda (small and shrivelled)....

It's a fish

I sometimes wonder about those phone in competitions you get on telly, you know the sort of thing:

Which of these is an animal with four legs?

A) A dog
B) A fish

Obviously they're designed to be very easy on the basis more people are likely to call in (the logic there is somewhat flawed anyway but I won't get in to that now), but I do sometimes wonder if there are people out there who call up and then get the answer wrong. The law of averages says that at least 1 or 2 people out of the thousands of callers should get one wrong, but by the same token if enough monkeys called up a fairly high percentage would probably get the answer right too.

I'm not suggesting of course that monkeys do call up TV quiz lines (I'm sure they're not that interested in winning an HD camcorder or a Ford Focus), but I'd be interested to do an experiment to see who fared better: Monkeys, Students or Northeners. My money is on the monkeys.

Snot

Obscure post alert (just to make a change!) - I'm just trying to work out why you can't have an operation to remove whatever it is in your nose that generates snot. I mean. In this day and age you can have your eyes fixed with lasers (the lasers in Star Trek can't do that I bet), you can fake a moon landing (hell, the Yanks did that in 1969) and you can buy pens that are also clocks, so surely you can remove a couple of totally useless things in someone' nose?

Just think about this for a second. No more runny noses, no sneezing over strangers on the tube, no more having to discreetly wipe bogeys on the underside of chairs, it'd be brilliant. I even have a plan to keep Kleenex in business - it's called the Holly Valance channel.

Something else I've just thought of - why do pilots refer to enemey fighters as 'bogeys'? The only thing I can think of is that years ago a pilot sneezed on his radar and thought the bogeys on the screen were planes. Well go on then, YOU come up with a better suggestion.

Eight days a week

I've been house-sitting for the last couple of weeks, which basically meant free broadband, free Sky+ and the chance to get out of work early (as opposed to waiting around for a lift). Unfortunately I'm not house sitting nay more, which means my evenings are about to becp,e far shorter again.

In order to increase the amount of time I spend away from the office I'm thinking we need a third day at the weekend, something to put off Monday for another 24 hours.

I'm sure with some thought it could be done - there may be some degree of fiddling with calendars required and it may cause confusion for animals that hibernate or don't have calendars (such as otters, who famously don't have calendars in their little otter houses) but I reckon it'll be do-able.

I'll have a think. Hmm, maybe decimalisation is the way forward....

General ramblings

It's been some time since I last posted, which I put down to excessive tiredness caused through working too hard and not being able to get a decent nights sleep due to having the coldest bedroom in the country. Luckily a friend has gone to the States for a holiday so I've got a nice warm house to kip in, so I can finally sleep.

It's strange how much a lack of sleep can affect you. You'll be sitting in the office, pretending to work and suddenly get hit by a big wall of tiredness, and the next thing you know you're shaking from too much caffiene and snapping at anyone who so much as looks at you. Admittedly it can be quite amusing watching people jump as you shout at them for daring to approach you during your lunch break but even that small pleasure gets boring fairly quickly.

That's a point, why is it that you can be sat at your desk with a burger, chips, a pack of crisps, a can of coke and people still come up to your desk and say "oh, are you at lunch?" - it's crazy. I feel like twatting them around the head with something, maybe a wet fish or a baguette perhaps, and shouting at them. The worst thing though is that, once you've explained that yes, you are at lunch and you're not eating all that food as a light snack, they still ask you to do stuff. I'm going to write the dictionary definition of "lunch break" on my white board and refer people to it from now on...

Oh bollocks, I've just realised I missed the sodding rugby. Damn it!

I've just checked the score, glad I missed it now

Anyway, I think that's enough random rambling bollocks for today. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.