Welcome back to my museum of shit mugs. As I write this, I have an unopened present from one of my family members under my Christmas tree. It is definitely mug shaped.

It is either:

• A Daniel O’Donnell mug
• Unicorn nonsense that has a pack of sweets in it
• A hilarious mug with a picture of a cock on it that someone’s bought me from a charity shop

I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, please enjoy this cavalcade of penguins, royal weddings, and steam trains.

Andy and Fergie’s wedding (from Catt Weazle)

Continue reading “Crap Cups part 3: Barry Manilow extravaganza” →

The other day I tried to get the Windows connected to the thing and the iPad, but I couldn’t. This is because I am a raging div. Therefore, I have decided to shun all technology because I can’t do it and I’m frightened of it.

I’ve decided to adopt a simpler way of life, where I don’t need to bother trying to figure any of this shit out. I shall go back to the ways of my forefathers, and use stuff where you only have to turn a knob. This will in no way affect my quality of life. And if it does, my Plan B is to run away and live off the land, probably round the back of a Moto Services.

Computer

The problem: I can’t get anything to connect to the bus hole, and Windows keeps interrupting my shit with updates, and I keep accidentally setting random pictures off Google as my desktop background. At the moment it’s a picture of a stock exchange.

The solution: Tomy Tutor Play Computer. This bad boy can perform all the tasks I need it to do, such as making words appear on the screen. There’s also a picture of a horse for if things get stressful. And the picture tells you it’s a horse, in case you forgot. Continue reading “Technology for idiots and the under fives” →

Editor’s note – this isn’t by me, this is by my New Zealand buddy Distorted Kiwi. He wants that name because he wants to be a supervillain at some point in the future. Check him out on Twitter, he’s rather hilarious.

Hey, internet. I’m The Distorted Kiwi. I’m not English, unlike every other atom that makes up this website.

But a while back, Jenny made the mistake of asking people on Twitter to send her goofy stuff to make her day better.

So I started sending her the stupidest things I could find, and haven’t stopped since.

(Things like this. David Cronenberg apparently started moonlighting at “Toys-‘R’-ARRRGH”)

I’m expecting the restraining order any day now, once the Royal Mail figures out where New Zealand is. Continue reading “Weird shit reviews: Alan and other stories” →

One classic and enduring staple of annuals is the crappy board game where you have to provide half the pieces yourself, and which you probably don’t want to play anyway. Despite having owned approximately 48,000 different annuals throughout my career as a hoarder, I’ve never once been tempted to play any of these games.

Today, however, I’m going to… no, I’d be lying to myself if I said I was going to play any of these fuckers. I will share them with you, just in case you’re at a loose end. Your end would have to be pretty bloody loose, to be fair.

Anyway, as you’ll see, these games tend to follow a pretty standard format – roll the dice, move along some squares, try not to die, and then the winner usually has the honour of saving a thing. Sometimes that thing is worth saving, other times it’s something Bungle cares about.

Save Count Duckula (Count Duckula annual 1990)

This game is for two players – you, and someone you hate. Your job is to reach the castle before your opponent, and warn Duckula that Von Goosewing is coming to murder him. As ‘opponent’, your job is to get to the castle and murder Duckula. Deadly hazards encountered along the way include dropping your sandwiches, and Nanny squashing you. Continue reading “Save the thing! – crappy board games in annuals” →

There’s a channel on YouTube called ‘Kids Video Show’, and I’ve become obsessed with it. As you might have gathered from the title, it does videos for kids. On a budget of 7p. By people who have never met any kids.

Along with various interesting takes on fairy tales, the channel produces a series called ‘Tell Me Why?’, where a cat with the face of a depressed human knobs around talking to a turtle/Michelin tyres hybrid. There’s a lot of Comic Sans.

Here is a screenshot from an average episode:

Please note the black square that never manages to go away for the whole episode, and the teacher character that’s had god knows what done to it in the name of science.

I think that teacher one is supposed to answer questions from the depressed human cat and the broken turtle, but all that ends up happening is the viewer ends up with more questions than they started with. If the viewer is me. Continue reading “Depressed cat learns things: my new favourite Youtube channel” →

Hello. Has your mother bullied you into accepting an invite to Danielle’s birthday party, even though you and Danielle are sworn enemies and your mother should know better? Never fear, because I have the answer to your problem:

The Ladybird book of shit homemade presents!

Since we’re all middle aged on this blog (and if you’re not, what are you doing reading this on a Friday night? Go out and get laid for fuck’s sake), chances are our mothers haven’t made us go to Danielle’s birthday party recently. However, there are still plenty of handy things to make ‘n’ do in this book.

For example, if you work in an office where everyone has those “You don’t have to be a twat to work here, but I still am a twat” signs, then you’ll probably be forced to participate in a ‘Secret Santa’ every year, where you have to buy something for Yvonne, who you hate. If this is the predicament you find yourself in, I suggest you make Yvonne a recorder case or a shit Gonk – that’ll learn her.

Alternatively, make these presents and give them to the following people:

• That one at work who eats egg sandwiches
• Any murderers you happen to know
• Women who post inspirational selfies
• That woman off the Oral B advert

Now all we need is a company to start making “Yes I know this is shit but at least I haven’t kicked you up the arse, which is what I wanted to do” cards, and we’re all set. Continue reading “The Ladybird book of shit presents” →