This post is the result of waking up at 4 a.m. the other night and thinking “You know what would be a really good idea?…””
As you know, ideas you have at 4 in the morning should always be acted on, which is why I’ve done a list of inappropriate things for Bungle to advertise.
Do not judge me.
Continue reading “10 things Bungle shouldn’t advertise”
Today we are going to sit down and decide, once and for all, which pens are brilliant and which are shit. I’m doing you this service, an enormous cost to myself, so you can decide which pen to write your masterpiece with.
I was going to rank these pens in order, but have decided not to, for two reasons:
1: There are too many different kinds of pens on this list.
2: I can’t be bothered.
With that in mind, let’s crack on…
4 colour biro
Do you remember 1928, when we all went around with four separate biros stuffed in our front pockets? And, because it was 1928, they weren’t stuffed in our front pockets, but in our aprons and top hats. I assume.
Then someone invented a way to spend less time carrying separate biros around, so we had more time to concentrate on having scurvy and the plague. Continue reading “World of Crap presents Battle of the Pens”
Thanks to Patrick Heaviside for giving me this stupid idea in the first place.
You know what it’s like. The cat’s nagging you because you haven’t fed it for a week. So you feed the cat, and then it starts talking like Fenella Fielding and decides it wants to do sex with you. Happens every Saturday.
NO IT FUCKING DOESN’T.
This is the main reason I’ve been collecting various cat food adverts to share with you. While dogs are either cockneys (wrong) or talk like the dog from that credit score advert (right), cats are apparently always after some. Not only that, but the owners seem to want some sexy doings with the cat, and no one bats an eyelid. Continue reading “An essay on sexy cat food adverts”
I wasn’t going to review this episode until I saw the description on YouTube:
“Bungle wants to do some skipping.”
Well, OK then. Challenge accepted. Fuck any work I had to get done.
George is doing some painting. Because he is painting, he needs to wear a beret like a French man. Not pictured: strings of onions hanging around, and Jane’s hairy armpits.
Continue reading “Rainbow episode review: Skipping Hell!”
It’s a Saturday sometime in 1992. Because you’ve been hard at work all week writing about dinosaurs and using the trundle wheel, you deserve a day off, right? Do you balls. What you shall instead be required to do is accompany your parents on a day out to Wakefield, Goole or similar. This is because they want to look at different kinds of cushion covers (mother) and wires in Tandy (father).
At some point during your excursion, you will be dragged along to the indoor market. This is mostly so your mother can tut at the quality of the meat. An official complaint to the ombusdman (father) yields nothing, as he wants to look at tapes. Therefore, an hour of your Saturday afternoon is taken up with trudging round, not really being able to see any of the stalls, and having to take your parents’ word for it that “there aren’t any toys, they don’t sell them here”.
Now that I’m an adult, I love to visit indoor markets. This is because I am now boring and lame, but also because indoor markets are awesome. The main reason I love indoor markets is you never quite know what you’re going to find in them. Our local one, for example, has three stalls selling hi-vis vests, a Chinese medicine place, and a retro game stall. Also a stall with the following:
– so much porcelain crap that bits of it fall on the floor and smash whenever someone walks past
– three Elvis t-shirts
– puzzle books with the free pens missing Continue reading “The indoor market: a field guide”
A little while ago I wrote about a bunch of odd things I found on the internet, or lurking on my hard drive.
And by “a little while ago”, I meant yesterday, or three and a half years ago. I’m not much for set deadlines.
But as it turns out, the inked-in-blood contract I signed with Jenny had some fine print. Apparently if I don’t write a follow-up, she gets my immortal soul.
She also gets my DVD of SHAUN OF THE DEAD, which I consider a lot more valuable, and slightly less worn out.
So guess what, we’re going back for a second look at whatever the hell I find today. I’ll even add helpfully descriptive headings this time. Continue reading “Weird shit reviews vol 2: Come on my house”