I would like to thank Jesus for inventing the internet...

Originally written: March 11th ‘07

...without Jesus my most awesome of blogs would not have been possible. Unfortunately, not everyone seems to enjoy my site as much as I do; just the other day, during a moment of inspired boredom, I tried to access my site in school to make a few changes. To my horror, I quickly discovered that my site has been banned on the network, and instead of seeing the random rubbish I've written, I was confronted with an error message: "Banned site found".

Why on earth is my site banned? I've never said anything rude or offensive. Well, unless you happen to be French, but then you don't count. Oh, and I’ve insulted the Paraguayinians...and the Scots. And Rolf Harris. Okay, my site may have insulted a few people but still, I'm outraged. As a result, I plan to take over the world - once I am the grand, exulted leader I won't have this problem.

I also plan to make a few other changes once I rule everything. While I am leader, it will be illegal to party like it's any other time than 1999. Crappy French artists will also be banned from painting things, except for the lines on roads. And even then they have to use a stencil - I don't want a bunch of Frenchies ruining my roads. On top of that, I'm also lifting my ban from PC world. Due to me not getting on very well with computers, I'm now not allowed within a 10-metre radius of most computer shops. If I go against this ban, chances are something expensive will blow up, but when I rule the world I shall do it anyway. So there.

Man, it must be awesome to rule the world. It would mean you could do anything. Heck, if I succeed in my plan, I won't have to fake diplomatic immunity any more; before, I had to if I wanted to urinate on the Statue of Liberty, but now I no longer need to! Hurrah!

Oh, one thing though: When I rule the world, please refrain from sending me stupid letters, like little kids do to Santa or God. Man, you just know that those bloody mailmen have a right laugh, sitting around reading any kids' letters to God that actually get sent by parents. On top of that, you just know they go through birthday cards and keep the money they find. The bastards. Oh well, at least I can rest easy - every now and then they must get chunks of raw, sacrificial goat that someone has mailed to God. Me - 1, Mailmen - 0. I rock.

Anyway, I have big plans about what to do when I rule the world, but no real plan about how I should achieve this. I guess I could feed the world leaders viagra doughnuts. They wouldn't be able to stand up for hours.

...I'm sorry, that was just awful. From now on I vow to walk around with a bear trap, just in case any bad jokes like that happen to slip out. Y'know, as a distraction. Look, there's a bear trap on my leg, ignore everything I was just saying! Man, I'm a genius.

Children's television? Brainwashing at its finest!

Originally written: February 11th ‘07

I've only just realised how scary children's television actually is. It's all fine and dandy when you're a kid, but when you look back at it when you're older, it can be a scary experience. There's something about a fat, balding man in a purple dinosaur outfit singing about how times tables are wonderful on daytime T.V. that just isn't right.

I have to admit, kid's T.V. can be very politically correct though. Take Sesame Street; not only does it feature the aptly named "Big Bird", who is obviously the result of genetic mutation, but it also features a character who lives in a bin. This sends out the message to children around the world that living in a bin is cool. Being a tramp is the way forward, children! Why aim for a decent future when you can live a perfectly happy life in a dustbin? This, my friends, is brainwashing at its finest.

So, I've decided to take things to the next level. Brainwashing in children's television shows is gradually getting less and less subtle, so I plan on joining in. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my new child-friendly character, the Klu Klux Klam:

Hey kids, it's the Klu Klux Klam! Your friendly neighbourhood clam will teach you important lessons, like the fact that you are racially superior! On top of this, he's made of plastecine, so parents don't have to worry about any accidents happening! He's fun, he's safe, every kid wants one! He's the Klu Klux Klam!

...On a slightly more serious note, though, I don't think we need to brainwash children via television. The world is sorting itself out anyway. Just the other day I saw a kid standing on a street corner, looking tough, and eating pasta. That's right, he wasn't smoking, or throwing mouldy kippers at elderly women, he was eating pasta. Pasta is obviously the new hip thing. Screw smoking, scew getting drunk, let's all go out and eat pasta! Soon enough you'll get gangs of violent youths hanging around on the street, because they're boring like that, sharing their illegal stash of Dolmio. Hardcore! Pasta's just saved the world.

That is, of course, unless you happen to be allergic to pasta. In which case you're doomed, and I suggest wearing a protective layer of cling film over yourself whenever you go out in public. You know it makes sense.

Cheese should be made illegal.

Originally written: January 21st '07

I heard the most awesome rumour the other day - apparently, eating cheese just before you go to bed gives you funny dreams. I'm not sure how much cheese is required, or whether the following dreams involve anything but angry cows who want vengeance for their lost cheese-babies, and so, to find out, I'm setting up an experiment. I plan to sculpt a giant mound of cheese into my exact image, and so that it's my exact body weight; I will then proceed to chow down on my cheesy brother, before having a nap. Naturally, upon waking up I will document my findings, and I will publish them as soon as I've succeeded in growing crackpot scientist hair, like that guy on the Weetos adverts.

Obviously there's a fair chance that this cheese-based fantasy of mine will do nothing; the idea that cheese gives you "funny dreams" is probably just an old wives' tale, designed to keep children out of their mother's cheese stash. Or it may well be a plot, devised by cows, to finally allow their wrinkly old udders to get some rest by removing all demand for cheese. Either way, I intend to find the truth.

This idea of mine is pretty dangerous though, and as a result, I've emailed my idea to www.cheese.com, asking them whether I need to take any specific safety precautions. Unfortunately, they seem to have assumed that my idea is a joke; they never replied, just like that time I told them about my Whale Cheese plan. I stand by the fact that Whale Cheese would be a hit, as long as no one objects to us using abandoned off-shore oil rigs to milk said whales. This is the second time the people at cheese.com have ignored me, which sucks, seeing as I wrote such a lovely article about cheese almost a year ago.

Oh well, I've done my research, and I've found out that the owner of the offending website lives in Wales. Just to prove a point, the following people who live in Wales are inbred weirdos:

• Everyone

Anyway, moving on. After further thought on the matter, I decided that going ahead with my experiment is a silly idea; we should just study the French instead. They eat cheese morning, noon and night, and it explains a lot. French people seem to have a fetish for smelly foods - heck, they'll eat anything as long as it has enough garlic sprayed on it. As a result, I reckon we should lock the French away in some kind of laboratory, possibly in Norway. It's damn scary up there. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that Norway is "super-freaky".

So, with my drug-related cheesy plan off the agenda, all I have to do now is work on my next bizarre project, which involves mixing cereals in a large vat. I'm actually aiming to create the Frankenstein's monster of the cereal world. In the meantime, I reckon that cheese should be made illegal; it's quite obviously a form of class A drug, and what's more, it's making the French even scarier.

Bears that can ride unicycles are the way forward!

Originally written: January 02nd '07

I was sitting around the other day, plotting to take over the world, like I do every day when I realised that I was absent-mindedly stroking my facial hair. It was then, and only then, that I realised how awesome my curly facial hair is. Not only do I deserve some kind of medal for it, but I also feel that I deserve a monument built in my honour. All the time now I see statues being built of crappy French inventors, and it just makes me think “why?”. The French have never invented anything good anyway; you and I are much more deserving of giant monuments that get in the way of planes! So, it’s with great pride that I present a list that I have compiled, of crappy French inventions, to prove my point:

The Bicycle: Naturally, the French invented the bike. In fact, they’re so proud of this invention that it’s now illegal for a French man to go out in public without his tiny little bicycle. This law doesn’t apply to French women, as France hasn’t discovered equal rights yet.

The Parachute: French people are frequently pushed out of planes in vacant assassination attempts, so it has now been recommended that every French person carries a parachute, just in case they annoy a foreign person when flying. Let’s face it; it’s very likely to happen.

The Homo-Erotic Moustache: Yes, the French have managed to take an incredibly manly thing – the moustache – and turn it into a poofy fashion accessory. Moustaches are awesome when done right; for example, on hairy bikers. However, the French have taken a dump on the convention by making their moustaches delicate and slick, and overly greasy. They’re like a skinny face-hugging sausage.

The Aqualung: This only adds depth to my theory that the French are planning to go and hide in the ocean, due to the extensive bullying they’ve received from other countries. We must foil their plan, by not melting the ice caps! Take that, Frenchies!

Stupidly Pointy Bread: French bread, while yummy, is the ultimate in unsafe. Seriously, if you miss your mouth when attempting to eat a French baguette then you’ve lost an eye! The bastards. At least American hotdogs have rounded ends, so if you actually manage to miss your mouth then you won’t hurt yourself too badly. But let’s not mention what would happen if you got ketchup in your eye…

The Iron: Because it would be criminal if a French person’s designer clothes got creased.

The Poodle: What other country could be credited with such a wussy animal? The French have unleashed a plague on the world, and I reckon that to counter this, we should send the world’s poodles back to France. And then make it illegal for them to migrate to other countries. Problem solved!

So, there you have the shortened version of a list of crappy French inventions. Because, believe me, there’s more. France can never live up to other countries, like Russia, in terms of inventing things. The Russians, for example, created the idea of getting a bear to ride a unicycle. Not only is this a genius form of entertainment, but it’s also an art form; Russian people gather from all over the country to go to bear-on-unicycle conventions. It’s their country’s heritage, and I reckon that it will spread to other countries soon enough. The world will be a better place when everyone watches a bear riding a unicycle instead of the television.

It’s for this exact reason that I’ve concluded that the French suck. My facial hair is infinitely better than anything that France has ever produced, and that won’t change any time soon – mainly because the French will be up to their necks in poodles soon enough. And the world shall be a better place.

In the meantime, I just hope the Queen of England finally twigs that I deserve my own monument. I really ought to email her about it…

Bar your windows, it's that time of year again!

Originally written: December 17th '06

Well, as I'm sure most of you know, Christmas is just around the corner, even though I only realised this morning after thinking "wow, everyone has such nice trees all of a sudden!". I'm not sure why everyone gets so excited about this time of year; I, for one, am worried sick. Not only did I get attacked by ravenous grannies in Woolworth's when I attempted to buy the last of the dairy milk bars, but I also know that Santa is coming.

Santa is a bastard, and not just for the whole sneaking-into-children's-rooms-at-night reason that everyone knows about. No, it's also because he's a Communist. Seriously, he wears red for a reason. And giving presents to everyone in the world? Not only is Santa an acronym for Satan, it's also an alias for Stalin!

I also realised the other day that Santa is single-handedly destroying the environment. Giving coal to naughty children is an outdated idea; his evilness is creating a bloody huge hole in the ozone layer! I reckon Santa only hands out coal now as a way of framing children. If George Bush saw a small child with coal, he'd screw, and probably start calling them a terrorist: "Who gave you the coal? Bin Laden?!?" and so on...

While this is a funny idea, I think Santa needs a new trick or two. How about handing out little bits of Paraguay to evil children? Or berets, to scare them into being nice for once? "Be good this year or you'll end up like the French!". Heck, it'd work on me!

It was when thinking about this when I twigged something. Santa could take over the world if he wanted; he has the ultimate brainwashing power at his disposal! For example, if he gave out Star Trek toys to every child on the planet (Inspector Spork is always popular - at least, I think that's the character's name...) then he'd be able to turn the human race into a bunch of Trekkies! If he handed out calculators to German people every Christmas, he'd create a race of German nerds! And you have to admit, seeing a burly German with rippling muscles on his way to the chess club would just be funny.

Well, I'm officially doing the smart thing this year. I'm asking Santa to turn me into a pigeon for Christmas. I'd have so much fun as a pigeon! While most birds are boring animals that sit around looking moody, I'd change everything. Imagine the fun you could have flying through an aeroplane's engine, in the hope that it blows up. I'd be the first pigeon ever to make the news, and that would just be awesome. I can see the headline now: "Stupid pigeon goes crazy and destroys plane, 60 dead". I rule.

I think we can all agree that that would be the best Christmas present ever. If, however, you don't have any awesome ideas about how to use Santa's powers to your advantage then it's time to panic. Santa traps at the ready, for the good of the world!

...I'm sure there's an underlying message in this somewhere. Probably something along the lines of "Happy Christmas", but interpret it how you will.

Old people officially scare me...

Originally written: November 26th '06

I was sitting around the other day, while watching T.V. and chowing down on a bag of marshmallows (and eating the pink, but not the white ones, of course) when, as normal, something happened to scare the living daylights out of me. An advert came on for some weird device designed to lift old people in and out of their bathtubs. As I sat there, mesmerized by the sight of old people in swimming costumes on bathtub conveyer belts, I realised that you can sell anything nowadays, as long as there are people out there stoned enough to buy it.

Maybe it was because I'd just seen an old man in speedos, or maybe it was because of the marshmallows, but for some reason I then began to come up with ideas that could make me rich...ish. For example, the self-flushing toilet! If someone ever invented a self-flushing toilet, they'd be showered with riches, despite the fact that it's a stupid invention. I mean, imagine the carnage if you didn't stand up in time! And how would it know when to flush anyway? I'll leave you to create a mental image of the results yourself, but needless to say, it would end in disaster.

Once you've come up with a stupid idea, all you need is a successful way of selling it. We all know that ringing people's houses and asking them to buy your crap never works, unless you happen to ring someone nice, like Batman. Every so often, Batman's awesome red-flashing-phone-with-siren-attachment will go off in the Bat Cave, distracting Batman himself from his duties, or possibly a mildly disturbing PG-rated gay kiss with Robin. We all know it's going to happen. But anyway, despite the interruption, Batman would answer the phone and reply coolly: "Yes, Batman always needs double glazing". He's awesome like that.

However, that doesn't work with most people. No, the best way to sell something is to ram it down people's throats. No, not literally. Well, yes, literally if you want, but don't blame me if you end up in jail. What I actually mean is that we all need to go out in the street with our wacky ideas, and just start yelling at people about it.

The Italians are awesome at things like that. You can barely walk down the street in Italy without some Italian granny screaming at you, trying to sell you loo roll. And chances are you'll buy it, just so that she stops screaming toilet paper related profanities. It's officially the best tactic ever, but there's no denying that it works best when done by grannies. Italian grannies are like zombies, only you don't have to pay as much on the makeup front. Everybody wins!

On a slightly different note, why do they make white marshmallows? They don't taste that different to the pink ones, and yet they lack the coolness of their pink brothers. White marshmallows are the margarine of marshmallows, and that's not a good thing. Nothing's worse than the disappointment of reaching excitedly into a bag of fluffy, wonderful marshmallows, only to pull out a white one. It's almost enough to make me break down and cry. Almost.

It's thoughts like these that make me think I should stop watching bad daytime T.V., or at least eat more white marshmallows to balance out the pink marshmallowy toxins in my brain. But I'm working on it; all I need to do is stock up on marshmallows, and possibly Italian loo roll, and then I shall be sane again. At least until someone tries to sell me something to get into a bath with...

Pompous poodle screwers are taking over the world!

Originally written: November 12th '06

I'm officially in a good mood right now. Not only is this my 15th entry on this site, meaning I deserve some kind of nuclear warhead as a result, but also Halloween is long gone, which means that anyone under the age of 18 can buy eggs again! Due to repeated cases of house eggings, certain areas have an age limit on buying eggs around the end of October; this meant I went for far too long without gorging myself on an omelette, or something similarly awesome.

But then, as normal, I got thinking. Why would you want to eat eggs anyway? They smell bad, they look scary, they've come out of the back of a chicken...they're a pretty damn evil kind of food, but most people don't seem to realise that fact. In my opinion, the only people fit to eat chicken innards are the French. French people are far too pompous for their own good.

For example, they eat rubbish all the time, but they never get fat. Why? Because they spend all day riding around on their tiny little bicycles while singing something about grapes, and beating passing children with sticks of bread.

Seriously, if French people were a kind of animal, they'd be the poodle. Let's face it, they're the only nation under the sun camp enough to pull it off; we all know that French people are one well-groomed moustache away from turning into a nation of poodle molesters:

Or, failing that, French people would be bees, the second crappiest animal of all time. Honestly, bees suck. They're like the wimpiest suicide bombers ever. They sting you, they die valiantly trying to protect their Queen, and the only reaction they get is "ouch". Damn stripy animals. But at least we know that if the French ever tried to invade, we'd be safe. I know for a fact that most countries in the world are now defended by top military soldiers, armed with sporks. Man, the French stand no chance. Especially because all they have to attack us with are pointy breadsticks and silly hats.

The French's likeness to poodles is unbelievable, and we all know that poodles are the poofiest animal of all time. Damn snobby animals. I reckon that, for the good of the world, we should build a giant wall around France, to stop anyone inside from escaping. The same goes for Paraguay. Then, all we have to do is wait for global warming to melt the Eiffel Tower, and the world is safe!

...unless bees rise up and try and take over the planet, which is a very real possibility. Take note: when the apocalypse comes, make sure you have plenty of anti-bee-sting cream stuff, and possibly a fly swatter. Not that bees can do much damage, they're just fun to swat.