Racism - is it ok yet?

Like many people, I've shared a few guilty laughs with my less Politically Correct friends (full names and addresses disclosed within paragraph 2 (for purpose of observation only, no annoyed assassination is permitted(but it is recommended))) at something that, in retrospect, may, slightly, in some circumstances, perhaps, offend to the point of extremism.

I'm not saying that shows like South Park aren't incredibly hilarious and effortlessly brilliant (Cartman makes me produce trace amounts of urine and sebum, then project them at nearby material - often the lining of my pantaloons) and it is, in fact, brilliant that they like to push it a bit too far. But they have on occasion offended me. And that's when they crossed the line! No shitty cut-out calls me stuffy and lives to be preserved. South Park are on The List! THE LIST! (see later writing to confirm what The List is). Joe Alemzadeh.

For those of you who are reading and know not of which i next speak, pay attention, for your lives may hinge on it. The following is an advert from Bristol's current leading Vigilante:

What up? A word here from The Chef, Bristol's best (only) super hero since spider-man and Cat-woman made fiery love in a giant bathtub. (see episode #47) Just to say, anyone in peril, gimme a buzz. I'm open all hours before 10ish and would love to hear from you. Promise I will solve your problem whoever or whatever it may be.

That was The Chef, coming across a bit too Caponey for my liking, but there you go, that's kids these days, always "whacking" each other. Search him on Facebook if you must. His last name is Justice. Drop the "The". Anyway, onto the less stupid portion of my blog. I am now going to write 2 film reviews for the price of one. Or the price of two, anyway it doesn't really matter because both prices are NOUGHT PENCE. Literally no one is paying me for this. I do this every week or so and for what? What?! Anyway here's your stupid gay review:

Kick-ass!

As you may have guessed from the frankly quite sparse titling job, this particular post is to be a review of Kick-Ass, the recent blockbuster with mixed reviews and a surprisingly low-key British management. But before any of that I've been asked to run this campaign, I apologize for any offence caused therein:

Is it possible for two people to vacuum a floor at one time? Well it's possible but what's the point? Common housework is done along with a song or an apron on. It is not often a team job.

But as we all know advertising agents are satanic, evil, tight-fisted cockmunchers who step on every head they can find and sniff their farts like they were eau de toillete. And in their many misadventures to the top of their desperate ring-licking scramble for ultimate advertising glory they tend to fire a 9mm shit into the skull of every Tom, Dick and Harry that crosses their path. Vacuuming is their most recent victim.

For years vacuuming alone was an exercise in quiet self and home improvement, but it is now slated by every cleaning agent in the western world. On and on they ramble about how their product works much better than "vacuuming alone" but it's lies! Garbage from the lips of those most loathsome creatures on earth: the advertiser. Vacuuming leaves no room for any improvement. It is a gap in space which sucks any for of matter into it! What more do you want? Do you want a little butler inside the vacuum, nibbling away on all the disgusting dust and particles of shit and toenail clippings so you don't have to dispose of it yourself? And then maybe he can off himself once you switch it off to save you the sound of his incessant breathing? And to get rid of the body you can simply order a slightly larger butler with even quieter breathing and a better capacity to digest skin flakes? No none of that makes sense. So stand up, shut up, and plug in the vacuum.

Thank you.

That message was from the RSPDH. You can google them if you don't believe me. They're bloody mental! Anyway it's my turn to do a review, following the review/random rant chain. So here we go.

If you're excited by action, which I'm actually certain that every single person on the planet is, even if they don't like to admit it (I even suspect that the dog-breeders next door are often partial to a light Tom Cruise after walkies), and not just the kind of crappy action you get if you sit through a script so dire that is makes Danny Dyer look less dire, then this is the film for you. And by you I mean Earthlings. I would be literally offended if you did not get this film at least as soon as you realised it was out on dvd and had about 3 hours in which you could watch it, then reflect upon the incredibility of what you just saw.

There were parts in this film where it felt like someone had sneakily hooked up a car battery to my penis. Volt after volt of amazement at how well written, funny, pacy, violent and also really cool the film was. I was worried at the start that it was another one of those Epic Movie and Disaster Movie kind of things which literally make me want to reach inside myself, rip out my spinal cord and flog myself with it until I drown in my own frothy, masochistic, joy blood. And I say joy because even death would come sweet compared to a single minute being filled with such incredibly churned up tripe.

But back to Kick-Ass. I'm worried that i may be blinded here by naivety or a love for dark comedy, but my opinion is all i have to offer, so take it or leave it, Fatboy. After watching the film I found myself drowning my friends with sentences beginning with the words: "Theres this bit where..." and then carrying on to be disappointed by my inability to describe how amazing the scene/dialogue/explosion was. I bow down to the actors in this film. I would happily spent eternity performing sick sexual rituals on their every whim. And the writer! Well the writer's honour I would proudly defend with two dry matches and a stick. It's amazing. I've tried writing my own funny/edgy/action film. Here's a taster:

Nerd in love with babe: Have sex with me babe.

Babe: (not convinced) I'm not convinced.

Nerd in love with babe: If i could prise all the keys from my keyboard, I'd put U and I together.

Babe: They are together Dipshit.

(giant explosion)

You see? And I'm a pretty good writer. Coming up with something like Kick-Ass is a helluva lot of work. So thank you. And goodbye.

This week Robbie went to see Kick-Ass. He later commented: "That film was Kick-Ass! 10/10"

Piss off! I don't want water!

The Ice Scam: Robbing the nation of millions of litres worth of pepsi every day.

You walk into an eatery such as a restaurant or even a cinema, you look around. You feel something growing inside you like a sandstorm. It builds and saps the moisture from your tongue and your cheeks. Then it attacks your throat, clawing like an tiny Freddy Kruger at your poor wretched insides. You're thirsty. Reeling madly from this fatal craving welling up inside you, you stumble to the nearest vendor. You choke on the words as you beg for some sort of beverage. You receive your drink and fumble with the cash. When suddenly you realise that most of what is in this cup is ice. Just frozen fudging water! What in God's name is going on? You suck on it and your suspicions are confirmed. It's just water with coke added. What kind of disgusting hell on earth is this?

And then what? You wake up screaming. I'm afraid not. Because this is reality. Thousands of people every minute are forced to pay for more drinks because 50% of their cup's contents are ice. They slurp for mere seconds before their drinks are gone, and theres nothing but some lumps of stupid water filling the glass. Who ordered water? Not me? I ordered coke. COKE!

C
O
K
E!

Coca Cola? You know it? The brown stuff that makes babies go hyper? The stuff people get before they can drink beer and chardonnay? And you bring me some scabby frozen water with some light coke flavouring dribbled round the edge? Well I've got two words for you, you worthless shithouses:

No Ice

HAHAHAHAHAHA! Not so smart now are you?

They get away with it purely because no one suspects it. When you walk into a bar and ask for a coke you don't expect to be assaulted by some disappointing scam. You expect a coke. Diet, zero, pepsi etc. It's all the same. And wherever you go you get glass after glass of cold water. With added coke.

So rise up against them my friends/readers. Become immune to this moist, see through scam. Next time you order a coke, you walk right up to the serving man/woman. You look them straight in their flickering, shifty eyes and you say:

"One coke. No ice."

And then you watch them scan the room for their manager, lean in close, put their shameful grubby mit on your shoulder and speak softly into your ear:

"Ok, buddy just this once. But you don't know what you're getting mixed up in."

Then you watch them pour that glorious accurate amount of lukewarm coke. Pick it up, pay for it, and then saunter off, ignoring the death stares from the staff and chinese bodyguard.

Together, we will break the ice.