The UK's first Energy Saving Day has ended with no noticeable reduction in the country's electricity usage.

"I will do my best to learn the relevant lessons for next time."

First of all: Hahahahahahahahah ahahahaa hhahah hahahah!!!!!!

Secondly: Told you so.

Thirdly: If you don't believe the government when they tell you that they went to war because Saddam had WMD's (and NOTHING to do with oil), do not believe the same government who tell you that the world is ending. This issue is no longer one for the environmental nuts, it's one that both governments and businesses have put their stake into. This is worrying because (a) governments never admit when they're wrong (b) both governments and businesses dictate how we spend our money (c) it shows that this is no longer an environmental issue. It is no longer an environmental issue because it is something that is now supported by governments and big business. It is now a marketing and sales issue.
There is NO WAY that western, or any civilization is going to cease using cars, plastics, electricity and anything else that makes us content. There is also NO WAY that the global net output of Carbon emmissions are going to decrease. Why? Global rising populations, greater spending power by the consumer and the greater power of big business. Switching to 30, getting energy saving light-bulbs or farting less won't make a difference. In fact, these schemes are sinister methods that the government employ in order to have control over our lives to the smallest degree. Our spending is being directed not by OUR needs but by our governments. When you were told at school not to believe anything on TV, it wasn't an idle imperative. The majority of common people's knowledge of science is now what we are told through ADVERTS. What the hell are pentapeptides? DNAge? That's not fucking possible. Biffidus-Digestivum is a REGISTERED TRADEMARK - it could be anything. Anti-oxidents...oooh - in my day it was called Vitamin C, but I guess that doesn't baffle anyone anymore.
In 2006, China built, on average one coal powered factory A WEEK. And more power to them. Now that us white folks have had to give up our empires, we can keep the developing world down by telling them that while we had the luxury of industrial development while raping their land, they can't as they might inadvertently bring about the end of the world. No, we can give them solar panels and other patronizing and quaint gifts while we wonder why - fuck me, it was cold two months ago, and now it's heating up! Global warming! Run for your lives! Winter was NEVER this hot. Summer was NEVER this cold (last year everyone said summer was rubbish and mild - somehow forgetting the record braking previous summer). Have people forgotton we live in Britain? We are world famous for having fucked up weather. And besides, Climate Change (another convenient phrase that says nothing because that is exactly what climate does) cannot be measured within one person's life time. So don't say 'winter's we're colder when I was young' because that's probably because you were a kid when things seemed colder and the snow seemed deeper. If you wanna help the world, give to Africa. If you want to waste YOU WHOLE LIFE continue being a gimp and do as the commercials tell you.

Hi there every1, hope you had a g8 wk at wrk. My wkend is gonna be sooooo amazing ...
Well, what can I say say - every1 has been so nice to me considering wots happened - nd if u don't know, nothing has has happened. i like to spend my spare hours slaughtering the english language by writing like a 5 year old with a mallet and a keyboard.!! Lol! Gosh, all that writing has made me want to talk about myself rofl lol lmao etc etc...
Spoke to my bff Becki the other day (she's kraaaazy ;P!!) nd she said if you wanna have a good time, have my birthday at TGI Fridays/ OMG! Laame! Can't beleive she said that, duh! I'm gonna be 18 becki i think i can have my birthday in a pub or sumthin! Rofl. Anywayz, if any of you bunch of wank artists are reading this, get the fuck off your fat arse and go outside. I don;t care about you, and you shouldn't care about me - all I say is, you've got one life, live it to the MAx!! lOl lmao omg fuck. whatever

bye honeyzzzz

Do I have a problem? Every time I go clubbing, I end up on the dance floor, needing to do a shit. Every time. And I don't even need a shit.
Look, just as I'm getting into the music and I'm feeling comfortable with my surroundings I get this nagging feeling that, yes, at some point I'm going to have to make my way to the toilets and do a crap. But then I start thinking: No! I don't need a crap, I'm imagining it (who imagines needing a shit??). I continue dancing, convincing myself that my slightly wet bum crack is sweaty and NOT shitty. Minutes pass. Ok, if my bum is sweating, how the FUCK do you explain the grittiness? There's definitely a gritty feeling going on down there - the sweat is not alone. No Dom, you can't have shit yourself. You're in a club, you're 24 years old...you do not shit yourself anymore. So how do you explain the grit? Well, I say to myself, maybe it's the particles from the smoke machine. Yes, that's it, the particles from the smoke machine have clung to the sweat on my arse crack and now share certain shit like properties. Yes, ok, it's the smoke machine doing this. Naughty smoke machine, nearly had me panicking then. Minutes pass. What the fuck is that smell? Is that... is that shit?
Don't think, get off the dance floor and your nasty ass into the toilets you freak crap-man. how the fuck did this happen? Panic emerges from within me like a blue whale breaking the surface. What's the matter with me? Rule one: don't shit yourself in a place with no toilet paper or locks.
So to the toilets. One cubicle free, it's fucking BOILING in here. What's this? There's no toilet seat!? Do they expect me to believe two bits of acrylic nailed to a metal hole constitutes a seat? The fucking door only comes up to my chin - with this place so crowded it will only take a slightly taller than average person to see me. No way, I'm going to the upstairs toilets.
Fuck! Is this a joke? Is this an actual prank? Why the fuck does the upstairs toilet not have a door? At all?!! Do they think we're animals who just casually take logs in front of each other? Still at least there's toilet paper (if a little moist - i wont ask), I'll grab a few sheets, stuff them in my pocket and take it back downstairs. If anyone wants to talk to me they can fuck off, I am not about to explain my thousand yard stare and the trail of white tissue flowing from my pocket.
Several times back in the cubicle I pull down my pants, hover uncertainly over the bog then bottle it, quickly pulling my trousers up, a sudden feeling that someone is filming me haunting me. In desperation I decide that I'm just going to have to take the bull by the horns, drop my pant and push like a bastard. Fuck my haemoroids, this bastard turd is gonna leave my arse like an otter off a bank. Huuuurgh. Nothing. Huuuuurgh. Still nothing. What the hell? Fine, if you're not coming, fuck you. I'll just give myself a good old wipe to get rid of the squealchy feeling. Then comes the real shocker. MY ARSE IS BONE DRY. There's no shit there, sweat, nothing. A phantom shit. A bloody phantom shit. This is the third time this month. Does my arse think it's funny, playing with me like this? IT takes horrible advantage that my digestive system is controlled by involuntary muscles, exploiting my naivety for just a sick joke. I leave the toilet releaved but also feeling rather empty. Even though I didn't want to do a shit, there's nothing in the world quite so disappointing as going to do a shit, only to find twas a mere fart. Or a phantom shit, but maybe that's unique to me. Thanks for that body.

Are you aware of the hype surrounding the film There Will Be Blood? Daniel Day Lewis back, more intense then ever etc and Paul Thomas Anderson being weird again. I went and saw this film on the weekend and... I didn't get it. I felt like Tom Hanks in Big. I don;t get it. It's beautifully shot, it has a powerful and haunting soundtrack, Day Lewis is excellent and the acting was great but... what was it about? Leaving the cinema, I think everybody felt obliged to have an opinion, talking about Magnolia and Day Lewis and how beautifully paced it was (when people say this they usually mean it was very slow moving, nearing boring). Is there a better opinion to have? This film has nominations coming out of its arse but it didn't seem to have a point. It was basically Scarface with less violence and based around oil instead of cocaine. And ws there a point to Scarface? Only a very obvious and somewhat redundant lesson on ability of power to corrupt and that you shouldn't 'get high on your own supply' (which frankly takes away the whole appeal of being a drug dealer). Day Lewis is an unpleasant person who does unpleasant things and ends up... an unpleasant person. His character doesn't develop and there are only two other characters worth mentioning who are mere husks. I dunno. Tell me what to think, not that anyone reads this bloody thing. God I'm depressed.

10 Things You Hate about Me

1. I smoke.
2. I do not hate religion.
3. I am a Global Warming sceptic.
4. I eat meat.
5. I buy the cheapest, not the most ethical.
6. I listen to drum and bass.
7. I speak posh.
8. I think R&B is wank.
9. I eat at Greggs.
10.I've shagged your mum.

10 Things I Hate about You.

1. You quit smoking
2. You're religiously intolerant.
3. You buy energy saving light bulbs and turn to 30 cos the advert says so.
4. You eat organic food without knowing what it is.
5. You buy fairtrade goods from a Supermarket.
6. You listen to indie music.
7. You speak like a peasant.
8. You love R Kelly.
9. You eat at Pret a Manger
10.You look like your mum.

That was fun. I don't know if doing this makes work MORE boring or less. Either way my bum's going numb.

A Sheriff on a horse rides into a sleepy wild west township. An old man get up from his porch and walks over to him.
"What you doing out here Sheriff?" questions the old man.
"I'm looking for a son-of-a-bitch named The Paper Bag Kid," he replies.
"How will I know if it's him Sheriff?" says the old man.
"Well old timer, you'll tell it's him by his garments. He wears a paperbag Stetson, paperbag boots, paperbag ponch and paperbag chaps."
"Well what's he wanted for Sheriff?" the old man says.
"Rustlin'."

That was a joke. If you'd like more jokes walk into your bathroom and look into the mirror.

I don't know if any of you bastards are familiar with the play Dr Faustus by Christopher Marlowe, but here goes. I'm experimenting with the idea of re-writing famous plays in a 5 minute format for laughs. It's meant to be funny. This could possibly be combined with my idea for turing some famous plays into grpahic novels (comics, let's not kid ourselves). Here's my version of Dr Faustus.

Dr Faustus by Kit Marlowe (he's me mate) : a play in 5 minutes.

Act 1 sc. 1 [Faustus’ Study]

Faustus: God I am so clever. Look how clever I am. Look at all these books I've read. I'm awesome. Except now I'm bored. Bored bored bored. Hmmm? What's this? Necromancy you say? Dark Arts? I like it. Tonight I'm going to get fucked up on devil shit, see what it can teach me.
ENTER A SCHOLAR
Scholar 1: What up Fautus?
Faustus: Oi mate, you wanna come and conjure up some demons tonight in an insatiable desire for knowledge beyond the realm of human comprehension?
Scholar 1: Nah mate. Fuck, you're hardcore, I don't wanna get drawn into that shit.
Faustus: Fine. Later on fellow boffin.
EXIT FAUSTUS
Scholar 1: Shiiiiiiiiit.
ENTER SCHOLAR 2
Scholar 2: What up Scholar 1?
Scholar 1: Dr Faustus is tripping homeboy, he wants to conjour up spirits n shit.
Scholar 2: Shiiiiiiiiiit.
EXEUNT

Sc. 2 [somewhere outside]

Faustus [singing]: I'm drawing on the floor, I'm drawing on the floor, E-I-E-I, I'm drawing a pentagram on the floor! I say the magic words, I say the magic words, when I say the magic words I won’t want to know anymore!
ENTER MEPHISTOPHILIS
Mephistophilis [a hideous demon]: Bllaaaargh, blaarrhgh gobble blump
Faustus: Urgh, you ugly bastard. Fuck off. Come back when your face is where it should be.
EXIT MEPH. RE-ENTERS AS A DOMINICAN MONK
Mephistophilis: I hope this whole monk joke get up is not lost on you.
Faustus: Yeah yeah, I get it, very clever. Now look, what can you do for me.
Meph: I can give you the world n shit. All you gotta do is sign your soul over to my main man Lucifer.
Faustus: Oh, him. So what’s it like in hell?
Meph: It’s rubbish. Seriously, everything that’s been said about it doesn’t come close. I was well annoyed when we moved in. Now it seems like I’m always there, even when I’m not.
Faustus [not really listening]: But all the stuff you can do for me yeah. Is it good?
Meph: Yes! We’ll have a mega jokes time innit. Look what me and my homeboys can do.
ENTER A PAGEANT OF THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS, LUCIFER AND VARIOUS DEMONS.
Faustus: Cool, cool. Where do I sign then?
Meph: Just here. In your blood.
Faustus: Right. And there’s no strings attached, right?
Meph: [sighs] No. No strings. Just 24 years of debauchery on earth in exchange for an eternity of torment once you snuff it. Which will happen almost as soon as the 24 years is up.
Faustus: Well bring me a knife! Lets spill my blood on this shitting contract!
Meph: [under his breath] Cretin.

Act 2 Sc. 1 [The Court of the Holy Roman Emperor (probably Philip II or Charles V)]
Emperor: So, this Faustus people have been talking about. What’s he like then?
Queen: What are you asking me for? You know I’ve never met him you idiot. He’s coming to visit any minute now.
ENTER FAUSTUS WITH MEPHISTOPHILIS WHO IS A CAT
Faustus: Whoop whoop!! What’s up people! Emperor! My nigga! How’s it hanging?
Emperor: Hi Dr Faustus. I’ve heard you’re well funny and that you can perform magic n shit.
Knight [aside]: Yeah, right. I’ve also heard he’s a TOTAL WANKER! Oops, did I say that out loud?
Faustus: Yeah, I can do magic. Do you mind if I just take the piss out of this knight first?
Emperor: Go for it. I don’t even know him, he just seems to hang around all day.
Faustus: Oi, knight boy. Your wife is unhappy with your sex life and she’s banging dudes behind your back.
Knight: No she’s not you tosser. You don’t even know who she is.
Faustus: Yeah? Then why have you got a massive horn sticking out of your head? [Mephistophilis gives the knight a huge horn sticking out of his head].
Knight: O bollocks! I’ve got a great big horn sticking out of my head! The archaic imagery is going to make me the laughing stock!
EXIT KNIGHT IN FLOODS OF TEARS
Emperor: Well done.
Faustus: Cheers. Well, better be going now, see you later sire.
EXIT FAUSTUS
Queen: I didn’t really like him that much. Seemed a bit… you know; I mean, a horn? It’s not exactly clever is it?
Emperor: Shut up or I’ll have you sent on a crusade you stupid bitch whore.

Sc. 2 [the Vatican]

Pope: I am really hungry. Look at all this food. Monks! I want you to bless this food in a ridiculous manner so that these protestant fools in England will snigger at our sacred traditions and generally get a cheap laugh at the Catholic’s expense.
Monks: Humm Naa, hum na hum naaa!
ENTER DR FAUSTUS AND MEPH, BOTH INVISIBLE
Faustus walks up to the Pope and punches him in the face. Cue raucous laughter from the stands encouraged by members of the Elizabethan secret service who infiltrate social gatherings to encourage people to like their murderous and heretical queen.
Pope: Oooh oh oh! My face! A travesty! Murder! Disaster!
Monks [wailing louder trying to cast out evil spirits]: Waaa!! Oooooh! [shouting and waling incoherent latin]
Faustus then goes about and starts hitting the monks, throwing food and basically being really immature.
Faustus: I am so funny. There is no way that I am wasting my time here.
EXEUNT FAUSTUS AND MEPH.

Sc. 3 [a road crossing/travel inn or something]

Faustus: Come on, let’s piss off this old man.
Meph: If you really want to.
Old Man [sleeping]: Argh, wassat?
Faustus: You sold me a dodgy horse.
Old man: Didn’t. Liar. Take that [hits Faustus on the leg(??). Faustus’ leg falls off, but of course it’s all just a dreadful trick] Arrgh! Your leg’s come off! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me!
Faustus: What the hell are you worried about? My leg just came off you idiot, what the fuck would I be able to do to you? Anyway, it was magic. Look, my leg’s back to normal.
Old man: You bastard. Woe to you who sells his soul for such base tricks and joviality etc. You shall get your comeuppance etc!
Faustus: Piss off, I don’t wanna think about it.
EXEUNT

There are various scenes such as these throughout the play. Some of them are comic relief, others are just showing what Faustus gets up to. There are a couple of scenes with Faustus’ man servant and a clown etc that just seem to be for laughs. They do attempt to conjure up spirits too, but quickly regret their actions when Mephistophilis appears to them and scares them shitless. Basically the important scenes are at the beginning and end of the play. I’ve made up my own Acts and Scene numbering.

Act 3 Sc.1 [back in Faustus’ study]
Faustus: Ah, Mephistophilis. My one score and four years expires tonight. This is it. I think I’ve had an alright time. But there is one more thing I’d like to do. I think you know what it is.
Mephistophilis: Hmmm. Let me think. Well, you’ve already punched the Pope, so it can’t be that. Is it that you’re a dirty bastard and wanna get your end away?
Faustus: Bing! I want to fuck the life out of Helen of Troy. She has got to be a fucking animal in bed. I bet she does ATM.
Meph: ATM?
Faustus: Ass to Mouth.
Meph: God, you’re sick. Yes, I think that can be arranged. Now?
Faustus: Why not, I’m ready.
ENTER ELIZABETH TAYLOR
Meph: I must add though that she’s not actually Helen of Troy, but an exact replica manifested by demons from hell.
Faustus: Jeez, how to kill a sexy vibe Meph. Look, just give us an hour or two okay?
Meph: Fine. Tut.
Faustus:
Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies.
Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena.
I will be Paris, and for love of thee,
Instead of Troy shall Wittenberg be sacked,
And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
And wear thy colours on my plumed crest.
Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
And then return to Helen for a kiss.
O, thou art fairer than the evening's air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
Brighter art thou then flaming Jupiter,
When he appeared to hapless Semele,
More lovely than the Monarch of the sky,
In wanton Arethusa's azure arms,
And none but thou shalt be my paramour.
[they shag]

Sc. 2 [still Faustus’ place]

Faustus: Shit shit shit shit shit shit. I am so dead. I can’t believe I have been so stupid. What the hell was I thinking? Bollocks, it’s six in the evening already, and I suppose it’s all going to kick off at midnight – the devil really is in the cliché.
ENTER SCHOLARS
Scholar 1: Hey Faustus, I haven’t seen you in years, where’ve you been?
Faustus: You don’t wanna know.
Scholar 2: Come on, tell us you old rascal. I’ve heard you’ve been a right dirty ol’ toe rag.
Scholar 1: Yeah, you look a bit worse for wear mate, you alright?
Faustus: Fine. Well if you must know, I sold my soul to the devil twenty four years ago and he’s coming to collect it at midnight tonight.
Scholars 1 & 2: Jesus Christ! You sick fuck! What the hell did you do that for? Are you mental? Are you sure, can you go back?
Faustus: Er, not really. It was a written contract, not verbal. And it was kind of, well… signed in my blood.
Scholars: Fuck.
Faustus: Yeah I know. If it makes you feel better, I feel really stupid.
Scholar 1: Well, it was kinda stupid. Look, you get ready, we’ll go and pray for you in the other room.
Faustus: It won’t do any good I tell you. I’ve been really rather naughty.
Scholar 2: There is always time to repent and receive forgiveness Faustus, God’s mercy is infinite.
Faustus: If you think so. You go and pray, if you don’t mind, I’m going to panic in an amazingly eloquent and insightful way. Bye.
Scholars: bye. EXEUNT

Faustus: Where the fuck is Mephistophilis?
Meph: I’m here. Been here the whole time.
Faustus: I’m beginning to think you tricked me into this you bastard.
Meph: Well yes, I did, and I am happy for it. But, well, you could’ve worked it out for yourself braniac. Selling your soul to the devil? It does have a slightly eerie ring about it.
Faustus: Well if you’re gonna be like that you can fuck off.
Meph: See you in hell.
Faustus: O, don’t say that you insensitive asshole.
EXIT MEPH
[the clock strikes eleven]
Faustus:
O, Faustus,
Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,
And then thou must be damned perpetually.
Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven,
That time may cease, and midnight never come.
Fair nature's eye, rise, rise again and make
Perpetual day. Or let this hour be but a year,
A month, a week, a natural day,
That Faustus may repent, and save his soul.
O lente lente currite noctis equi.
The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike.
The devil will come, and Faustus must be damned.
O, I'll leap up to heaven; who pulls me down?
One drop of blood will save me.
Rend not my heart, for naming of my Christ.
Yet will I call on him. O spare me, Lucifer.
Where is it now? 'Tis gone.
And see a threatening arm, an angry brow.
Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me,
And hide me from the heavy wrath of heaven.
No? Then will I headlong run into the earth.
Gape, earth! O no, it will not harbour me.
You stars that reigned at my nativity,
Whose influence hath allotted death and hell,
Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist,
Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud,
That when you vomit forth into the air,
My limbs may issue from your smokey mouths,
But let my soul mount, and ascend to heaven.

[The watch strikes.]
O, half the hour is past! 'Twill all be past anon.
O, if my soul must suffer for my sin,
Impose some end to my incessant pain.
Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years,
A hundred thousand, and at last be saved.
No end is limited to damned souls.
Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul?
Or why is this immortal that thou hast?
Oh ppstêagoras' metempsychosis' were that true,
This soul should fly from me, and I be changed
Into some brutish beast.
All beasts are happy, for when they die,
Their souls are soon dissolved in elements,
But mine must live still to be plagued in hell.
Cursed be the parents that engendered me;
No, Faustus, curse thyself. Curse Lucifer
That hath deprived thee of the joys of heaven.

[The clock strikes twelve]
It strikes, it strikes! Now body turn to air,
Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell.
O soul be changed into small water drops,
And fall into the ocean ne'er be found.

[Thunder, and enter the devils].
O mercy, heaven! Look not so fierce on me;
Adders and serpents let me breathe awhile.
Ugly hell, gape not; come not Lucifer!
I'll burn my books! Oh, Mephistophilis!

Do you know what I love about getting up at 7.30 every morning to come into work? Absolutely fuck all. I never give myself time to wake myself up nicely (coffee, cigarette, mooch) so I leave the house with a dry mouth and a very serious desire to return to bed. I don't mind getting up early, and I don't have an unhealthy obsession with my bed, it's just the monotony. You reach a point in your life, around 21-22 when you realize THIS IS NOT GOING TO STOP. From now until the day your grandchildren get jobs, you are going to go to work every day until we die.
Bearing this in mind, here's one of the ways I survive. Anyone heard of Viz? It's a comic for adults, that's all I need to tell you. Here are some 'Top Tips' for every day situations:

POSTING a letter? If you want it to arrive at its destination as soon as possible, pop a first-class stamp on it. If it's nothing urgent, pop a second-class stamp on it. Simple!

RECREATE the danger of a parachute jump in safety by visiting Google Earth and clicking the scroll bar until you reach the ground. Add realism to the exercise by putting a fan on blowing full in your face.

DRIVERS. Save money by putting much larger wheels on the back of your car. That way you will always be going downhill, thereby saving on fuel.

FEEL a bit like God for the day by making some little people out of plasticine, and then judging them harshly.

HOUSEWIVES. Make the normally mundane task of switching the central heating on a little more exciting by singing 'The heating's on' to the tune of 80s hit The Heat is On by Glen Frey as you are doing it.

MOURNERS. Read the dress code instructions on funeral invitations very carefully. Sombre, whilst being only 2 letters away from sombrero, is a world apart in tone.

Now I do feel silly about stealing someone else's jokes, but seeing as I have submitted one or two in my own time, I feel I'm allowed. Here's my personal favourite, not everyone will get it:

TIRED of eating the same old Cornflakes? Try sitting on your cereal for ten minutes beforehand and hey! It feels like you're eating someone elses!

I think I've been caught up in some kind of chain letter. Thanks to 10loves10 for, well, not thinking of me but glancing down at her friends list and seeing my name was least difficult to spell. Maybe. Seven things about me, then tell seven others to do it. Problem - I only have 3 friends on here, so some strangers are gonna get a call from me.

1) I am the best person I know at being able to manipulate objects with my feet in the bath. I have total control over any shape of tap, pass the soap (who the hell too??), pick up my towel, pull the plug and scratch behind my ear.
2) The best chat up line in the world was invented by me: "Hey, I'm so good at sex, the government have a register for people like me."
3) I was bought up a Catholic, but no, I don't have a feeling of constant guilt. I don't know what people are on about when they bring that up. If anything, you should feel no guilt - after all, it is the best religion in the world (except if you've stopped going to church, in which case you should start self-flagellating immediately).
4) At birth my twin brother and I were left to die, until a mother wolf took care of us and kept us as one of her own. Eventually this experience caused my brother and I to found a city over the river Tiber in Italy. Soon enough he started pissing me off (what kind of name is Remus) and I killed him with a fork. That city came to be the centre of a vast Empire, and every emperor it had tried to pretend that they were me reincarnated. But they weren't really me, they were just lying. I was in Barbados for most of that time, silly sausages.
5) I am the only person on my team at work who faces my boss, meaning he cannot see what I am doing on my computer. For this reason I write stuff. I don't know how he hasn't clocked me typing all the time - it's mostly a mouse-clicky job of rubbish proportions, but I have an innocent face.
6) Some times when I listen to Drum & Bass, I cry. Well not actually cry cos that'd be really lame, and lately I've been listening to a lot of Electro. But sometimes, when no one's looking, I am introspective.
7) I am thought of simultaneously as a gangster and a nerd by the children I teach. Never has a courdroy wearing english tutor been in such equilibrium.

Erm, as for my 7 nominations, i can only muster 2
redleader
359rabbit

Job, a character in the Bible is a righteous man who loves God. The devil makes a bet with God that he can make Job reject God if he fucks with him for a bit. Amazingly God agrees and so begins a most lamentable series of events to an utterly undeserving Job. Basically his house, home, farm and livlihood are destroyed and his sons are killed. He begins living on the street and babbling like an idiot. When his wife questions his unshaking faith he says
"the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."

I love that. What could have been a completely meaningless statement of fact suddenly turns into a whole philosophy (a philosophy that became integral to Islam - Job is one of their prophets). Blessed be the name of the Lord. Class. I'm gonna start saying that. Maybe I'll go to bookies and announce it after every race. it doesn't even say whether God is right or wrong - just that he's blessed cos he's got this power. Odd way of thinking about the supernatural I think, though historically consistent.

The following article is a promotion. You have been warned.

The Nokia 6280 is a phone that you can have great fun with, for the following reasons:

1) It will playfully lie to you about how much battery life it has left. Yes, that's right, this telephone will never display an accurate reflection of its battery life. What fun! This clever feature is guaranteed to cause disruption to you if you are a busy person who makes lots of phone calls, a slightly absent minded person who occassionaly forgets to plug the phone in or a person who takes the phone with them in order to take photographs. How does it work? Let me tell you.
First, plug your Nokia 6280 in to charge, preferably the whole night. In the morning, unplug and go about your normal day - be patient - it's around 5.00 - 5.30 when you finish work that your day becomes fun. Try making a phone call when you get out of work. Notice how the phone starts making battery warning noises after a minute of talking! Revel in the way the phone drops from full battery to nearly empty status in the space of a 2 minute phone call! Let joy spread across your face as you realise that the phone has cut you off following a hard day of one phone call and a few text messages! Share this joy with the pavement as you stomp the phone angrily under foot and involve other pedestrians as you swear and curse openly - safe in the knowledge that they too have been in the happy place you are now experiencing.

2) Now that this exciting and hip phone has got your heart racing, try checking out some of its other features. For example, you can get the feeling of abandonment and consumer despair anytime of day! This telephone comes with a COFNR patch installed. That stands for "Cut Off for No Reason". Yes! Any phone call you make (you can never tell which) has the potential to beep once at you before severing connection with your recipient! For absolutely no reason!!!! This could mean simply that your conversation is interupted or is best case scenarios, sends you back to the main menu when you have been holding on a switchboard for 20 minutes. Joy of Joys! Blessed be the name of Nokia - let us marvel in its work!

3) So, you open up your brand new Nokia 6280, breaking it out of its box. But what's this? There's something else in the box! Why, it's charger - a charger with an insanely thin insert, flimsy as a hair, fragile and costs only £15 to replace! Surely this is not a bad idea. Regard its delicate construction, how easily it bends after regular use. Once this charger starts to break (and it will), then the games really start. Imagine making a phone call (you need to be plugged in to make a phone call - see feature 1 & 2) whereby the faulty charger connection ensures that you are reminded that you have plugged the phone in every few seconds. A piercing beep in your ear hole that actually hurts. Utter unrepeatable oaths to the friend you have called as you grapple with the connection, sweating and grinding your teeth in anguish.

4) Look at the phone. Look at its big friendly screen and its generous 2 megapixel camera. Hooray says you "now I only need to bring out my phone, and not my camera too when I'm out with friends." Or so you think. Another trick in this party bag of communication gaffs is the pratical uselessness of the camera. Remember the battery life? Yes? Well imagine a game where you have to decide between taking pictures (maybe 2 or 3) or making a very short phone call. Make the wrong decision and you could end up stranded, no taxi, no friends and no way home. Make another decision and you'll end up having a great time with your mates but no pictures for posterity. That what's great about this phone! It seems frivolous and petty at first, but after a while it begins to really affect your social life and temper - as good as any game of Monopoly or Risk I'm sure you'll agree.

Other fantastic features:
- the inability to save words into your text message dictionary
- it comes without a memory card - you get to choose and pay for your own!
- normally comes with an 18 month contract. A year and a half of bitter-sweet misery.
- no games (apart from the ones listed above)

Go out and buy one now!

[Promotional campaign created by IMCrazy Ad agency. Other products include: MS Office, Beagle Mars Shuttle, Millenium Bug Govt Campaign, The Josef Stalin cuddley toy collection, TK Maxx shelving and Rail Units. Copywrong 2008]

Here is a section from the terms and conditions listed on a website. This section is dealing with the rules regarding posts on the website forum. Please read on and give me your thoughts. Bear in mind that this is a website dedicated to mostly motoring, property and local news.

5. Swear Words: The Banned List
This is a selection of some of the words on the Banned List. Please note that all derivatives of the following words are also currently included on the banned word list:

o b*k(s) – testicle

o c**t – vagina

o f**k – to have sex

o j*sm – ejaculated semen (also spelt j*zm)

o t**t – another word for vagina

o w**k – masturbate

6. Words with Dual Meanings
These are a number of words which have both acceptable and unacceptable meanings.

o b*d – illegitimate person (forbidden in the context of an insult, allowed as a term for an illegitimate person)

o p**s – urinate (banned in the context of urination and insult, but allowed as a slang term for being angry or drunk)

o p***k – a penis, a pricking feeling (not to be used as a substitute for penis nor as an insult, allowable in the context of pins)

7. Minority Groups
Some words are banned not because they are profane or swearing, but because they may offend members of any minority, religious or ethnic group. The list below is not definitive; any posting or article using a slang word that may be seen to be offensive to any group of people will be removed and the posting may result in the termination of your account.

o c**n – black person, possibly from raccoon. You are allowed to use ´coon as a slang term for raccoons, but the word must be proceeded by an apostrophe to indicate the shortened word.

o n****r – another term for black person

o s*c – a term which used to be used to describe a person with cerebral palsy

o y*d – short for Yiddish

[please feel free to give me some thoughts on the subject, like why they've bothered to define the words or who has been going round abbreviating the word 'Raccoon' and offending people].

I really don't have a major problem with Johnathan Ross, but if he wants to stay on TV, he's got to stop making crap jokes all the time. Here's how:

1. It is no longer funny to pretend that you're a rapper just 'cos you're white, middle aged and really uncool.
Look, I think we can all admit now that 'Rap' and 'Hip Hop' has been around for, ooh, about 30 years now and is now the biggest selling genre of music out there. As an audience therefore, we no longer require long in the tooth TV presenters to do naff impressions of rappers (nearly always in the style of early '80s rappers) just to remind us that they TALK over music and not SING. Ooh, and what is really funny is if I pretend that I am 'gangsta' and 'coolio' and I'm going to say 'Yo!' at the end of lines (even though realistically nobody actually says that now). Johnathan, if I see you doing a 50cent / Ali G impression again, I'll probably get really annoyed.

2. The 'I'm a man, therefore sex-mad' is boring. You like sex? Wow! I never knew anyone could be so virile! You and your wife still make love?! Fuck me! Jonathan Ross is so up 4 it and potent that every person in a skirt (or not) on his show, or any panel show that he appears on has to get the 'i've still got it, despite my age' thing. What's he going to do now? Suggest that his wife won't mind if he sleeps with Lily Allen? DO you even have a wife Wossy or have you made up the whole thing? You letch outrageously with every female guest (and every male one if they make the slightest suggestion that they're gay, cos let's face it, that's a fucking novelty too), insult your spouse and seem to play up to the fact that your children are going to be watching. You're uncoolness is not so uncool it's cool, it's just embaressing. Stop.

3. Stop trying to be up-to-date. I appreciate your knowedge of films and Japan, but don't try and be 'down with the kids'. You don't understand the humour behind the Mighty Boosh, stop pretending you do. You don't understand why kids take drugs, so stop pretending you do - but here's a clue - they are probably greviously ashamed of their father making a tit of himself on TV every week instead of embracing his age and becoming like-able, he covers his long-johns and string vest with wacky big suits; sports LONG HAIR (which hasn't been a statement of rebellion since the sixties) and a rapist's gag repetoir. Urgh.

4. Either one of the following: Stop writing your own jokes OR start writing your own jokes. Some of them are really crap.