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”
When regional adverts were on TV, I was too young to appreciate them. All they meant to small me was that my parents might drag me round yet another carpet shop or caravan showroom, promising to stop at McDonald’s if I was “good”. (I never was. I’d “shown them up” by touching the carpets or whatever.)
The point is that regional adverts are a wonderland of tat and mullets that I can appreciate now that I’m old and sagging. Get your eyes ready for a tour of Britain, stopping at Yorkshire, HTV, Central, and some other places, I don’t know.
From shops everywhere. If you’re in Blackburn.
This is fine I guess, until the end. WHY IS THERE A DOG.
Do not say one bad word about Mike or I will cut you. (And to my Twitter followers: you’re wrong. He would beat the hell out of Don Amott in a fight.)
Mike was world famous in the Leeds area for his quality carpets at low low prices, and his mullet, which apparently he still has to this day. I do hope that’s true. Continue reading “The wonderful world of regional adverts”
Welcome back to my showcase of cups that prove people shouldn’t be allowed money or cups. Let me tell you – if my readers ever invite someone back for coffee, their guest is going to have the choice of a porcelain cock, or proof that their date was once runner up in a skittles tournament.
Let’s crack on!
“Dirty Harry, but in a nice pastel stripe way” (from John Johnston)
A thought provoking mug that asks the question “Are you fucking looking at me?” (from Neil Ramskill)
Continue reading “Crap Cups part 2: The Pope and Jason Donovan”
I’m back on with cereal again, picking up from our whistlestop tour of milk mulched memories.
Another round up for you now, this time from later childhood…
Frosties are to Corn Flakes as Ricicles (Gawd rest em!) were to Rice Krispies. The sugared up, extra crunchy, enamel eroding, waist ballooning version.
Look at Tony, just look at him. That’s the sexual imprint primogenitor of Deviant Art right there. Between him and Thundercats this is why thirty years later we’re all strangle wanking dressed as cats with six breasts. You see Kellogg’s never planned for that when they put sugar on Cornflakes (blessed be their eternal golden form). Continue reading “World of Crap reviews cereal part 2”
All my cups are fucking boring. Most are beige, and they have “tea” or some other nonsense written on them.
Since I’m too lazy to go out and buy some more interesting cups, I figured I’d ask you guys if you had any wonderful objets d’art lying around. You did. My complete fucking surprise.
You guys have so many beautiful cups, in fact, that I’m going to have to split this post up (so if your cup isn’t here, it will be).
So, do you want to spend your Friday night looking at shit novelty cups? Of course you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this.
1. Terry Wogan is your friend (from Catt Weazle)
Continue reading “A celebration of crap cups”
You know what would cheer us all up today? Watching Bungle losing his shit and having a nervous breakdown. Luckily, I’ve got a banging selection of clips for your perusal featuring Ursa Idiotus throwing his weight about, crying, and generally being a tit.
Wanting to be Jill
“I demand to be Jill, and you better believe I’m going to molest my own nipples if this doesn’t happen! And if it does.”
To be fair, it is quite hard to be menacing when you’re wearing such a lovely hat. Luckily, the answer to this problem is to give Bungle an even lovelier hat. Continue reading “Bungle’s mental breakdowns”