Can You Tell What It Is Yet? It’s My Penis, Entering Your Lower Intestine. [a blog] #whatiwrite

'Room for an extra leg, bitch?'
‘Room for an extra leg, bitch?’

Have you ever thought that those sheets of card that screaming Middle Eastern protestors hold up for the cameras, whenever someone does something silly to Allah, are just the result of an ongoing series of Chinese Whispers dating back to the Iranian Embassy siege in the (haven’t looked up the date)… time when that movie Argo is from? (phew, saved!). That maybe it’s like that Chinese tattoo you got, where the man assured you it was the Mandarin symbols for ‘Peace and Absolution’, but it turns out it was the Korean for ‘Beagle Jalfrezi’? I’d like to think that as the result of a particularly clever April Fool’s joke thirty years ago, most non-English speaking Muslims think the words ‘BEHEAD THOSE WHO INSULT THE PROPHET!!!!’ actually mean ‘Our People Are Enthralled By Your Foreign Policy Decision! Please, More Of The Same!!!!’ That would be awesome.

Because someone has to making these signs for them. I’m guessing that if you live in Tehran and you hate America and Britain, you’re not picking up much English from watching old reruns of Married With Children and Designing Women. So someone is helping out. Probably the guy with the industrial sized laser printer who makes those big placards for them; the ones of George Bush with devil’s horns, or Barack Obama in full Al Jolson make-up. Or the guy who printed out those Danish cartoons for everyone, including the ones that didn’t actually appear in the magazine. You’d be forgiven for thinking that SOME PEOPLE actually WANT the Middle East to be angry at the West. And that SOME OTHER PEOPLE want the West to think the Middle East is full of crazed, angry, bloodthirsty people; none of whom do anything except scream in the street and burn effigies.

Hate is a funny thing. There’s only a few types of hate. There’s the hate for people who have done something bad to you, personally. That’s the most understandable kind. Of course, if you’d just accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Saviour, you’d be able to let go of all that hate, and forgive the people who wrong you. Christians are never hateful. Holding on the the past is for fucking Buddhists.

Then there’s the hate for people who didn’t do anything bad to you, but did it to a child, maybe. Touched up a fucking kid, like. Touched him on his bits, for gawd’s sake. It ain’t right! People like that, they need hanging! And torturing! Possibly do the torturing before the hanging though! That would make more sense, logistically! Fucking peados! All of ’em! Even the alleged ones! Fucking alleged paedos! No smoke without fire! Raaaaaar!

  You’re not involved in this dynamic, but the passions that it raises in you are so strong, that you sort of feel like you are involved. Because you’re from Liverpool.

Finally, there’s the other kind of hate. And that’s the easiest one to define. It’s the jealousy hate. I’M NOT JEALOUS THOUGH, WHAT HAVE I GOT TO BE JEALOUS OF? I DON’T WANT TO BE HIM! I HATE HIM! That’s as may be, but you still envy him. You’d still take his lifestyle tomorrow if you were offered it.

JIMMY CARR DON’T PAY NO TAXES! Yes, because you LOVE paying taxes, don’t you?

FUCKING KARDASHIANS, RICH AND FAMOUS FOR DOING NOTHING! Yes, you’d hate to be rich and famous. And if you were, you’d prefer to have to work yourself into the ground to achieve it.

FUCKING FIFTY SHADES BITCH, SHE CAN’T EVEN WRITE! Well then, it’s even more awesome that she sold 20,000,000 books. You’d give your right ball to have that sort of return on your ineptitude. Be happy for her, you prick.


Oh, wait. I was supposed to show you how to do your photographs for okcupid, wasn’t I? I’ll do that now, it won’t take long.

Are you bald? Make sure to crop all your photos to hide the baldness. Hats are also good. Once on the date you can laugh it off with some hilarious humour. Bitches love humour.

Are you fat? Make sure to only use headshots, or to crop out half your arms, or just use a photo of you from when you were 17. Don’t worry about their reaction when you show up on the date 140 lbs heavier than he or she is expecting. People are notoriously unshallow about stuff like weight and body type. Just make up for it by putting out early. No one in the history of ever has fucked anyone on a first date. It’ll put you in a unique position, and give you that edge you need to gloss over the fact that you have a higher fat content than macadamia nuts.

Have you got a six pack? Take a photo of yourself in the mirror with your smartphone. Don’t bother including your head. Make sure to keep all messages to one line, and include the word ‘boning’.

Remember to include pictures of you with other, better looking people, so that any potential date is confused into thinking that you’re them. On the date, explain everything by telling them you ‘suffer from depression’.

Been to lots of interesting places around the world? Wow, you must be really, really enlightened. Include pictures of you standing in front of famous things, with captions saying what year it was, like anyone in the universe gives anything with the slightest resemblance to a flying fuck.

Finally, if you’re a woman and you don’t have a picture of you with a comedy moustache, you have literally no sense of humour. At all. Remedy that immediately. I said comedy moustache, by the way. If you just have an actual moustache, that’s more of a tragedy.




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