How are you? I am fine. Did you like that thing I did the other year, when I wrapped up my boyfriend’s glasses and gave them to him for Christmas? He didn’t think it was funny but it was.
This year, I would like the following things please. I know you won’t read this letter properly, because you never do, what with being rushed off your feet, and cuts and whatever. That’s why I’ll end up getting slippers and a set of notelets. Never mind, it’s the thought that counts.
But just in case it makes your job easier, here’s a list of things I always wanted but never managed to get. Some were no doubt too expensive, some were too old/too young (delete as applicable), and some were just “We’re not getting her that Phil, she’ll play with it once then break it.”
Anyway, get me this stuff please. I’ll give you the money at some point.
1. Helix cash box
For keeping all my money safe. All the 35p that I have, and probably a paperclip I found on the floor and decided could be used as currency in a game of She-Ra. The point is, my sisters won’t be able to get in this box and see my secret note that says I love Daniel and not Ben. And the one that says my sisters are bastards.
What I will get instead: An ornament for my mantelpiece. (I don’t have a mantelpiece.) Continue reading “My letter to Santa (sponsored by the 1991 Argos catalogue)”
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.
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”
Well, it’s nearly Christmas, and you know what that means, don’t you?
It means I’ll send this Yuletide-themed bunch of words to Jenny, and she’ll post it in mid-May to make me look like a twat.
She’ll also keep taunting me with the phrase “Jammie Dodgers”, knowing I can’t buy them in New Zealand.
But the other thing it means is that the workplace tradition of the Secret Santa has come around again. Along with other workplace traditions, such as getting drunk at the office party and snogging someone regrettable.
My Sant-ee this year was a fairly new employee, a few decades younger than me. Also, female. This meant the usual hilariously-unfunny gag bloke gifts were off the table. Anyone want to buy a pair of novelty boxer shorts, unworn?
So, to increase my odds of finding something she liked, I grabbed a bunch of random things. Things that got more random as I looked for those last few things to fill a Christmas Box o’ Crap.
So I wrote her a letter to try and explain my thought process.
Which then became a blog post, like what you are reading now.
But first, this:
Continue reading “The Secret Santa Box o’ Crap”
As a teenager growing up in the early ‘90s, I managed to
pester convince my parents to get Sky TV. It’s hard to encapsulate the feeling in today’s Netflix laden, on demand world, but the euphoria of being able to watch more than four channels was truly liberating at the time, and while I only really begged my parents to get it so I could see The Simpsons and WWF, having a love for video games also allowed me to discover a host of related shows to cater my fixation. One of which was The Children’s Channel’s The Super Mario Challenge.
Officially produced in association with Nintendo, The Super Mario Challenge was essentially a TV version of cult Nintendo 90 minute advert movie The Wizard, only less of a kiddies knock-off of Rain Man and 100% less Fred Savage.
The show was presented by John Lenahan, whose name makes him sound like a Beatle with a speech impediment, but he was in fact an American magician jobbing as a kiddies’ game show host, that was only ever watched by me and whoever uploaded this video to YouTube. Continue reading “TV shows you’ve never heard of: The Super Mario Challenge”
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”