When I was a kid, I’d spend many a happy Friday evening at the video shop, trying to sneak a peek at the videos that weren’t meant for my 6 year old eyes, before my mother caught me and dragged me off to look at Huckleberry Hound videos.
Apart from staring in amused incomprehension at The Lovers’ Guide, the main attraction was the horror section. This was because horror movies always had the most interesting covers. I never really understood what was supposed to be going on in the films, but I knew it was probably something quite naughty.
As an adult, horror covers look less terrifying than they used to, and mostly as if they were made by divs. I’m building up a pretty good collection of the best examples, so let’s have a look through some super duper scary classics. In keeping with tradition, I’m just going to try and guess what the plot of the film is.
Disclaimer: none of these are as good as the imaginary film I dreamed about, called ‘Bum Dracula’.
The plot: That girl is angry because she’s been touching one of those science balls and it’s made her hair go like that. Maybe the house is a ghost? Continue reading “Stupid horror VHS covers”
Every once in a while, I come across an episode that makes me go “For fuck’s sake Bungle!” within the first five seconds. That’s how I know it’s a good episode.
This episode made me go “For fuck’s sake everyone” x 1000 within the first five seconds, and that is why I am now reviewing it for you.
The gang are trying, and failing, to get the apples that have been glued to their cardboard tree. This tree is never seen in any other episodes; maybe they chopped it down in a fit of impotent rage. It was the tree’s own fault, flaunting its apples like that.
This episode is supposed to be called ‘Problem Solving Together’, but I think it’s actually called ‘Creating even more problems together because you’re all divs and knobheads’.
Geoffrey: “It’s no good, I can’t reach them!”
What, are those apples fucking nailed to that tree?
Me: “Geoffrey, stop lying. I know it’s funny to upset Bungle, but you’re literally bending your limbs so you can’t reach them on purpose, you psychopath.”
Zippy suggests throwing a mild twig at the tree. Continue reading “Rainbow episode review: How d’ya like them apples?”
Do you want to hear a heartwarming and inspiring story? Last year, I managed to buy my childhood pencil tin off Ebay. My pride and joy at junior school was an oversized Jelly Babies pencil tin, and I’d spent years and years searching for another one. Finally, my search was at an end, and I paid seven whole quid for a Jelly Babies tin. Hurrah! I was so happy.
But then… it got LOST IN THE POST.
Imagine, if you will, sad music playing while I wander along a street in the rain, pausing only to look in brightly lit windows and watch happy crowds of people, all with pencil tins. It was a tough time.
Gradually I recovered, and even started to forget about my tin. It seemed I’d never own it, and was destined to wander the earth tinless.
A CHRISTMAS PRESENT! Continue reading “My 90s pencil tin: a tribute”
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”