Monday, 29 June 2009

My Life Is Average

Think your day is a little mundane? Click here - see, everyone else feels the same.

Friday, 26 June 2009

Streetbike Tommy

What a twat. There's a reason why people do this kind of thing on light bikes instead of the likes of GSX-Rs. And knowing when to bail out would, you'd think, be a pretty natural survival instinct...

somegrebloke - Man of God

Sublime. These just get better and better.

Jeff Goldblum isn't dead

First Farrah Fawcett, then Michael Jackson, then Jeff Goldblum pops his clogs too!
...well, actually, no. He's fine. Nice of the news folk to show a video of him kicking a woman in the head though, lovely tribute.

26/06/09 - technicolour

I was going to write a Michael Jackson tribute issue, but having been bombarded with it via email/Facebook/Twitter/everywhere else all day, I thought it best not to wallow in musical misery and talk about something rather more wholesome. So, in the continuing series of grasping-at-straws JuicyPips themes, today’s subject matter is ‘vomiting in inappropriate or surprising places’. Good, eh?
We’ve all done it, but do we like to talk about it? Well yes, actually, we do. I do anyway. Hopefully you can conjure up the glorious imagery, smells and unexpected nasal clogs that are central to the scenarios that follow…
Got your own tale of chunder-whoops? Feel free to share. I’m always keen to hear an entertaining tale of vom.

So how about this for starters?
I went to my first wedding at the age of fourteen. One of my cousins was getting married, and my other cousins were being very generous at the bar. A pint for me here, another there, loads more to follow, and suddenly I was a little bit squiffy. I was unused to this disorienting state of affairs at such a tender age (bit of a late starter I’m afraid, not like the krazy kids of today), but I was thoroughly enjoying it. As the party wound down, everyone jumped in the cars and headed off to my uncle’s house to carry on. It was during this short journey that I learnt two very important lessons about being young and nauseous: firstly, if you think you’re going to hurl, roll the window down – you won’t have time to do it if the need suddenly arises. Secondly, once you’ve wound a little sick into the inertia-reel mechanism of a Citroën XM, the smell will never go away. Every time you put on your seatbelt you'll be reminded of what you did.
Oh… and turning up late wearing a different shirt that you hastily bought in Tesco en route is a dead giveaway.

Here’s a fun one. A few years ago I went to meet some friends at the Ace Café. I think it might have been Mini night, I can’t really remember. I do remember that I had rather a lot to drink and I hadn’t had any dinner. When it became apparent that I was having trouble focusing on the faces of the people I was talking to (and increasingly losing faith that I was actually talking to the right people anyway, or indeed that I was forming any real words), it occurred to me that I had a long way to go to get home. I jumped on the Tube at Stonebridge Park, which is rather far from central and consequently was totally empty. The motion of the trundling train, the stuffiness, it wasn’t long before I was crouching behind the partition at the end of the carriage and having a little technicolour moment. No witnesses though, brilliant. I shuffled down the carriage a bit and played it cool. As we got closer to Waterloo, more and more people were clambering on at every stop, each one greeted by my macabre acidic puddle. I felt no concern about this – no-one would connect me and, er, that to one another, surely? When the train pulled into Waterloo and I stood to alight, pushing my way through the crowd, I suddenly became painfully aware that, yes, I had in fact hurled all over my jumper too. Ah well.

I’ve got quite a few more of these stories (the time I had flu at secondary school and the teacher didn’t believe me so I threw up all over her desk; the time I woke up in Kensal Rise having never been there before, stinking hangover, got a bus to Victoria and was colourfully unwell all over the central concourse in front of a party of French schoolchildren; how at the age of seventeen I was sick on the night bus home from Canterbury every single Friday night, to the extent that the driver wouldn’t let me sit upstairs any more), but it’s actually a pretty unpleasant thing to talk about, isn’t it? Sorry about that.

Salad Fingers 7: 'Shore Leave'

More fucking weirdness from Fat Pie.

Garfield Minus Garfield

You've probably seen this before, but it's always worth a re-visit.
Removing Garfield from the frames of Garfield cartoons chronicles the disturbed life of a man tumbling from the sanity tightrope. Click here.

Wednesday, 24 June 2009

Doodle Bar

Have a drink, write a cheeky limerick on the wall, have a few more drinks, draw a cock on the bartender's face.

Monday, 22 June 2009

Lily Allen - bit odd

Quite a peculiar video. Is she trying to advertise the iPhone with this...?

This is good too - I like the implication that she's having some sort of bizarre relationship with an inattentive and disappointing dog.

My Milk Toof

This blog is really cute - the pictorial adventures of a couple of teeth. Vaguely reminiscent of Blur's 'Coffee & TV' video, in a strange kind of way. Click the image...


Jurassic Park would have been a lot cooler if the dinosaurs were like this.

Friday, 19 June 2009

Quick-frozen beer

Quite a cool party trick.


...because there's always a few seconds to spare for vaguely racist puns.

Fox8 - Black bear in Ohio

A work of retarded brilliance. Click the image to see possibly the finest news report ever broadcast.

Post-It stop motion

This is really impressive - must have taken ages.

19/06/09 - Laters, Witcher

Aaron Witcher, Baron Snitcher, Karen Fisher, Clarence Twitter. He’s my friend, and he’s gone. A victim of credit crunch cutbacks, or fired for stealing pencils? Who can say? Either way, he’s buggered off and left us floundering. But just who is Aaron Witcher? Have you even heard of him? Here’s a little insight into his life so that you may appreciate, as we have, what a modern miracle the man is.

Born to an oversized novelty plastic egg and an intermittent flashing red LED in a trailerpark in Didcot, young Aaron was always destined to follow a unique and outlandish path. The inevitable playground taunts of ‘your mum lives in the control panel of my telly’ and ‘your dad envelopes my Kinder toy’ toughened the lad up quickly. He knew from a very early age that such square pursuits as ‘school’ and ‘talking to people’ were entirely another bag than his own, and one shiny summer’s day he packed all of his belongings into a bindle and ran away to join the circus. (Being that his parents were largely plastic and immobile, he didn’t actually have any belongings, so his bindle consisted of a paisley neckerchief tied to a broom handle, but he’d once seen his neighbouring caravanners perform an impromptu adaptation of Dick Whittington around the campfire one night and this seemed to be the look required for a young roustabout.)

Upon arriving at the Big Cock Circus – seriously, you can’t make a name like that up – he set about pestering the various performers to take him on as an apprentice. Perhaps he could comb the hirsute protusions of the bearded lady? Alas, she already had an assistant for combing duty. Could he polish the balls of the jugglers? No, they were too busy practising their juggling to allow any of that funny business. Maybe he could be a high-wire tensioner, a sugar-pourer for the candyfloss man, a glass-bender in the hall of mirrors? Unfortunately it was not to be. There was no place for Aaron Ptolomy Six-Fingers Christ Witcher at the Big Cock. Disenchanted but not beaten, he hit the road with an iron will and fresh sense of resolve.

He was right to do so. He had a stick and a hankie and nothing else, he’d been rejected by the circus for not being freaky enough… where do you go from there?
By chance, the answer was looming around the corner. Literally. The circus was set up in Kensington at the time (on the concourse in front of Tesco, bit weird – it’s wasn’t a very big circus), and as Aaron strode over the bridge he found himself detouring into Kensington Village. He purposefully bounded into the first building he came to, took a seat and made himself at home. And nobody questioned it.

Fortunately for Mr W, he’s some kind of internet nerd from the future, meaning that information requests from an office full of people who apparently aren’t totally comfortable with what computers are for were taken wholly in his stride. Like some kind of sparky dynamo he crunched numbers, reeled in reports and generally made everyone’s lives a lot easier. Inevitably, as happens in all information departments at some time or another, he concluded that life would be a lot more entertaining if he was making little chocolate pretzels, which is exactly what he’s gone off to do. Click here - maybe one day you’ll taste his salty splendour…

Thursday, 18 June 2009

Wednesday, 17 June 2009

Friday, 12 June 2009

Chris McVeigh - photographic visionary

This guy produces some really lovely stuff, taking action figures and the like and creating glorious scenes with them. Click here to see his Flickr stream.

Balloon Head Fred

Simpsons in real life

More here.

Tetris Orgy

Filthy little Nintendo slags.

The Axe Trick


Literally brilliant. Literally.

Pool sofa

A sofa that turns into a pool table? Every home should have one of these!
Click here to see the eBay listing.

The Beatles - RockBand cinematic

This beautiful cinematic has been produced to promote the release of The Beatles edition of RockBand - click the image to view it.

There, I Fixed It the title of a blog celebrating the ingenuity of fools. Behold.

Naked picnic at Anthony Steen's gaff

We're all jealous of his massive house, apparently. Well, he's right about that. But we do pay for its upkeep, so it's only fair that we should be allowed to picnic in his grounds.

Then and now...

A lovely idea - photos of yore help up against modern settings.

Click here for the full Flickr set.

Street Fighter car smash

Remember this?

Well, here's a guy doing it for real...

Fuck this website

A simple but brilliant concept. The pictures show what he's up to - click here for loads more.

The Astounding World of the Future

(Said in a Futurama voice) Welcome to the woooorld of tomorrooooooow!

12/06/09 - European elections

So, European elections eh? They came and went and quite a lot of the British public barely noticed. Of course, you all exercised your democratic rights and took part, yes? Well no, statistically we can assume that 65.8% of you couldn’t be arsed, while 6.2% of those of you that did vote decided that it would be sensible to go for the BNP. Seriously, what were you thinking? There’s approximately 400 people in my office, meaning that (assuming a national-average turnout of 34.2%) around 4.4 of them are massive fascists. Interesting. I have a fair idea who a couple of them might be…

In the spirit of democracy and general interest in the world around us (two concepts demonstrably absent from the consciousness of the British voter), let’s take a look at who you could have voted for, had you bothered.

Remember Thatcher? She was fun, wasn’t she? She hated coal and milk, and those twin evils are still central to the principles of the Tory party today. David Cameron convinced his family that they were all lactose intolerant to ensure that no milk would ever cross the threshold of his vast house, while one of his favourite pastimes is to cruise around the Welsh valleys in his cement truck, casually filling in the entrances to mines and chuckling to himself. The smug little scamp.

Gordon Brown, texture like sun. Lays me down, with my mind he runs. Throughout the night, no need to fight – never a frown with Gordon Brown.
Oh wait, sorry, that’s about heroin. Um… voting for Labour is like shooting heroin, is that what I’m saying? Yes, I think so. It seems like a brilliant idea at the time and it makes you feel really good, but it costs you quite a lot of money and you’ll shit yourself.

Liberal Democrats
The natural order of things puts them in the number three slot, but they really shouldn’t be behind UKIP. That’s just weird.
The Lib Dems are fronted by a chap called Clegg, who is the brother of Cleggy from Last of the Summer Wine. Expect to see him thundering down the Yorkshire moors in an old bathtub and trying to get off with unwilling coffin-dodgers.

Rational people view UKIP with a kind of bewildered exasperation. The fingers-in-the-ears-la-la-la-can’t-hear-you-Europe approach is really stupid, yet somehow they managed to convince nearly 2.5m people to vote for them – perhaps it’s the irresistibly charismatic Nigel Farage that lured people in?
Actually, no, it can’t be. He’s a total fucktard.

Green Party
Bless ‘em, they try. Not very hard, obviously, but they are always there.
It’s interesting that they only managed to get 8.6% of the vote this time. In years past they were generally viewed as kooky hippie outsiders, but you’d think in the current eco-panic climate they’d be in with a shot of making the top three. Maybe it’s their enthusiasm for a referendum on the Lisbon Treaty that buggered it for them? Or maybe it’s just that Caroline Lucas looks like a psycho.

Scottish National Party
Scotland’s a long way from London, I don’t feel the need to know much about the SNP. Something about wanting independence and getting arsey about Gordon Brown. Just fill in your own snide gags about ginger hair and Braveheart. Moving on…

Plaid Cymru
Basically the Welsh version of the SNP. Independence, Brown, sheep, etc. Next.

British National Party
Seriously, what the fuck? How did these reactionary lunatics manage to secure 6.2% of the vote? Is it 1933?
Let’s have a quick recap of what the BNP’s all about:
They want everyone in Britain to be white – they want ‘second-class citizen’ blacks, Asians and Jews to return to their forefathers’ countries. They have strong and very real links to Nazi and terrorist organisations across the world. Nick Griffin denies the holocaust, and joined the National Front at the age of 15. He has been convicted numerous times on race hate charges. Oh, and he’s only got one eye, so he’s probably a pirate too.

They’re the first pan-European political party. That’s probably why they didn’t do very well.
Keen as they are on sweeping democratic reform across the European Union, they made the foolish mistake of choosing a party name that makes them sound like a new brand of tampon. Oopsie.

English Democrats
Seemingly working on the basis that they could hijack some of the stupider voters who meant to plump for the Liberal Democrats, they claim to be the only party speaking up for the English people the way that the SNP does for the Scots. It’s not much of a claim, it just makes them sound juvenile and ill-informed. Still, they tried. Sort of.

N02EU – Yes To Democracy
Winners of the ‘shittest name in Europe’ award, these berks have made the fundamental error of using txtspk to impress a demographic that’s too young to vote. They managed to get 153,236 people to vote for them in the end, but those probably all snuck into the polling stations with fake IDs.

Jury Team
With a name like ‘Jury Team’ and a leader called Sir Paul Judge, you can’t help but picture a sort of reality TV faux-courtroom concept. It’s actually an umbrella group for independent candidates, but with Esther Rantzen behind them you can’t imagine it being anything more impressive than some old TV footage of people falling over and some scans of amusing newspaper misprints in lieu of any actual political insight or direction.

Christian Party (Christian People’s Alliance)
Jesus, quite literally, Christ. These weirdy-beardy God-botherers want an end to the marginalisation of British Christians and they want it now! Um, fair enough, but there’s more to international politics than that isn’t there?
If there was a God, wouldn’t He have made everyone vote for this one? Maybe He just doesn’t give a toss about Brussels.

Socialist Labour Party
This party can be summed up in two simple words: Arthur Scargill. He loves socialism, he loves Stalin, and he really, really loves shouting. The SLP are heartily backed by Ricky Tomlinson - as if anyone cares what he thinks.

Pensioners Party
Yes, they do actually exist. Impressively, they managed to get 37,785 people to vote for them, despite their only principles seeming to be ‘let’s keep the pound’, ‘let’s keep the pint’ and ‘now, where did I put my glasses?’.

The Peace Party
They renounce war (that’s big of them) and they’re determined to work for the removal of all causes of war. Yeah, good luck with that.
Given that, historically speaking, wars are always either about religion or natural resources, The Peace Party are presumably some sort of freakish amalgam of the BNP and Greenpeace. Unappealing.

The Roman Party. Ave!
Um… what? That sort of name is only going to appeal to Oxbridge linguistics dorks. Shouting at people in a dead tongue is neither big nor clever, and putting forward a mental French bus driver as your sole candidate is only going to make the right-wing bigots even more adamant that they’ve got it right.

Animals Count
Two main problems with this one: firstly, you shouldn’t trivialise your political standpoint by picking a name that overly accentuates one of your core beliefs above all others. Secondly, the name ‘Animals Count’ sounds like an instruction. You can picture their brilliantly-named leader Jasmijn de Boo throwing handfuls of beans at bears and forcing them to sort them into different-sized piles while screaming ‘count, animals, count!’. Mad bitch.

So there you go. Not a strong set of options, but it’s important to make your mind up when these things come around. It’s too late now anyway, of course, but if you did decide to boycott the polls as some sort of expenses scandal-related protest, just remember that you’re directly responsible for making the BNP’s percentage look even more impressive. But don’t worry about it too much – that’s the beauty of a secret ballot: it protects the weak. And it could’ve been worse: at least UKIP didn’t come first…

Wednesday, 10 June 2009

Unbelievable bastard

Astonishing footage of an ass-clown plod tasering a 72 year-old woman. Although to be fair, she had been arrested for the heinous crime of, er, driving a bit quickly, and given their relative sizes she could probably have taken him down... God bless America.

Via Aaron & Wired

Happiest People Ever

Oh cheer up, you miserable fuckers.
Click me for more.

Monday, 8 June 2009

Falling with grace - Damien Walters

Really impressive stuff. I've tried to do the final leaping-into-the-car move but trust me, it's hard to pull it off without pulping your face.

Look At This Fucking Hipster

Have you ever seen more pretentious arses in one place...?
Click here for ultimate Barley-esque toss.