You can submit your story by filling it into the box on the right hand side of the page and we’ll publish it if it’s a) funny and b) reasonably well written. If it iz writ tin lyk dis then it will go straight into the bin. Everytime I try to read that shit I feel like my brain is being raped.

So if you’re a drinking, get writing and you’ll be famous in no time!!

Small talk should be banned. I don’t want people to be friendly with me, especially when I have nothing in common with them. I only have time for proper conversation. Life’s too short to be embroiled in bland small talk for the rest of time.

God it’s all pointless.

I can’t be talking to anyone these days at all. I want to do is to sit about and admire the smell of my own balls. Is that too much to ask?

Fuck’s sake what were Halifax thinking commissioning this dire piece of shit? None of the characters in it are remotely likable. It doesn’t make any sense. It made me want to bludgeon my balls in with an ice pick and fuck an empty bottle of Hooegaarden at the Television.

The fat ginger bitch in it is worse than Hitler. She’s annoying to even present ‘Loose Women’. Seriously. I don’t know where the fuck they got her from or what the hell they were thinking but she’s the sort of person who lives at home alone with her 20 cats and comes to answer her door in a pair of skidmarked undies with 2 cats hanging off her taps, swinging too and fro like furry pendulums.

As for the fat Chris Moyles/Ricky Gervais/troll lovechild that sits opposite her, I hope he is lynched in his hometown by a bunch of Rugby fans with kebab breath. He should be ashamed for even existing.

Why did they have to soil Spandau Ballet’s Gold too? We all know Tony Hadley is a cunt but what was he thinking allowing his music to be associated with this pile of fucking dirt?

I wish everyone involved in this advert the absolute worst in life. Not that cursing them will have any effect since they are all destined for the gutter.

Cunts.

It’s bad enough having to watch him on GMTV in the mornings diagnose old men with cock cancer without being forced into watching him shit out his ‘Oh I’m still shit at skating but I’m getting better’ routine. Who gives a fuck?

What I’d like to see is him collapse right onto his hole, rupture his arse and for him to have to diagnose his own prolapsed rectum on Breakfast television. I would whoop with joy as Dr Hilary bends over with a magnifying glass to analyze the full extent of the injuries he’s inflicted on his sorry smug hole.

That would be real entertainment now. Especially if Andrew Castle had to knock the broken bone back into place with a tennis bat.

Many people have reported pleasant effects from mixing some Blue Lotus oil with wine. It’s said to make the drunken state much more pleasant and fulfilling.

If you’re a creative type then Blue Lotus may well help enhance your creativity as well as your productivity whilst under it’s influence.

Please note that Blue Lotus isn’t overly psychedelic, so if you’re looking to trip then this isn’t your plant. It should be used by people who are intro self exploration without any of the unpleasantness that’s associated with tripping.

You can buy all sorts of types of Blue Lotus from these guys in the UK.

Have you ever tried Blue Lotus before? What was it like for you?

As of yet there have been no reports of any adverse reactions to this plant, however like with all substances it is important to exercise caution when you’re using any plant.

You can buy Kanna online in the UK from these guys.

If you’ve ever tried Kanna before, then it’d be great to hear of any experiences you may have had with it.

If you’ve never met a socialist before, then you aren’t missing much. Most of them stand outside in the rain, waving placards about, asking you to sign a petition for some cause or other that no one should care about

Talking to a socialist is a trial too. These people are totally humorless and take themselves and their bullshit causes too seriously. I honestly wish they’d all just fuck off else where as I’m not fooled by their ‘Oh we want to save the world from Capitalism!’ bullshit. They do this purely for show. They have no morals or character. Their goal is to tempt other socialists into bed through trying to be more pretentious than one another.

Socialists only believe in free speech as long as it protects their right to say what they want. No one else is allowed to have their say. It’s all a crock of shit.

It’s because they suck and people are over-rated.

I’ve tried other means of socializing in the past, like going to the cinema and joining the ramblers, but both just leave me hating humans all the more. Cinemas in particular are fucking pointless. I only go there to eat popcorn for 20 minutes. Once my bowl is finished, I want to move on. The last thing I wanna do is spend 2 hours watching a bland movie whilst surrounded by all sorts of shit heads and low lives.

So if you’re looking for a way to socialize without alcohol, there isn’t one. Stay indoors and count the number of scabs on your left bollock. It’s the only way forward, my friend.

On average I start to become an asshole after about half a bottle of Whiskey. I will start waltzing about town with a traffic cone lodged on top of my head, flash my cock at the cops and steal chips from the local fish shop.

It’s not until I’ve consumed a full bottle of whiskey that the real carnage begins. During this phase my body will clink into hunter-gatherer mode and I’ll begin surveying the landscape for anything that could potentially be tasty, whether it’s a KFC, the cat next door or my own fist.

If I can not get anything to eat, then I’ll deliberately piss and shit myself out of spite. I only ever do this when I’m in another persons house. There’s nothing like smudging my ass into their sofa just to leave them fond memories of my night out at their house.

In case you don’t know who he is, Eckhart Tolle is a new age guru who believes that in order to achieve spiritual enlightenment we have to shut the fuck up for a minute. So far he’s written 3 books, all of which should be titled ‘Shut the Fuck Up’ as that’s the one and only premise that they teach. Somehow he manages to stretch out each publication to about 5,000 pages, iterating over the same point endlessly.

I’ve even watched shitloads of his videos on Youtube and most of them are unbearable. I honestly feel like I’ve been drugged after watching. It’s less exciting than watching flies fuck. The man spends about 4 hours pausing and guffawing as he realizes that the cash is rolling in whilst the gullible idiots who subscribe to his new-age mumbo jumbo are thinking they are on step away from reaching enlightenment.

Of course, I jest. Jesus does not have the time to be hating the likes of you. He’d much rather devote his hours to playing put-put golf on the clouds with Jerry Falwell than spend anymore time than necessary glaring back down at you.

The truth about Satan and Hell is that neither exist. Both are imaginary. Both were created by the church to control your mind. They were an evil ploy to get you to repent for being a bad little fishy so that you’re more than eager to donate your money to the church.

Now be a good little monkey and give all you can to the church. Go on now, shoe!

When someone in your family dies, then the only option is to deal with it right away. If it’s your grandmother who has passed away, you must steal someone elses grandmother and use her as a replacement.

People do this all the time with animals without blinking an eyelid, so why not try it out when a human passes away in your family.

If you steal this person from a close friend and they demand the family member back, deny they ever existed. Burn all the photographs that exists of their relative in their house. Call the mental hospital and demand that your friend is committed.

Do anything to save your own skin.

You are society’s little monkey boy and your good manners won’t save you in the end. You’ll rot like every other miserable fucker on this planet.

Rather than being an out and out cold hearted bastard, it’s important to realize that you can ditch your moral compass and happily exist without adhering to any of the bullshit. You can urinate openly in public. You can crap on your neighbours lawn. You can vomit in your sisters mail after a rough night out on the tiles.

Just don’t be too much of a dickhead otherwise some smart asshole will pop some caps into your rear end.

And not in a good way either. I feel like flushing my head down the toilet repeatedly just to feel alive. I feel like smashing as many pint glasses as I can over my head until I’m numb.

Gary Lightbody is from a town in Northern Ireland called Bangor. Now if you aren’t familiar with Northern Ireland, Bangor is a seaside town that actually has no inhabitants at all. It’s like Pripyat, Chernobyl only without any of the radiation or fun.

That’s why Lightbody’s songs are so desolate and shit. He’s upset about having been raised in such a hellhole. But no-one actually cares. Apart from all of those whinging indie kids who just get off on his dire bollocks because they don’t know any better.

Shame on you Lightbody. Retire before you ruin life for us all more than you’ve done so already.

Run at them and ask them to smell your smelly trout of a bell. If you’re lucky, they’ll run for the hills, if you’re out of luck then you might end up being tugged off like a sailor.

If they threaten you, do not ring the police otherwise they’ll try to intimidate the hell out of you and your family. The best option is to buy a really huge angry dog and set it on them if they start to become really obnoxious.

To be on the safe side, it is best that you cork your dog’s arsehole, just in case one of the chavs tries to mount your dog and hump it for what he’s worth.

Trust me, your dog’s mental health should be considered paramount.

Here’s an example of someone who has taken color and the fringe to the extreme. Fuck knows how she navigates around the place, I’m guessing through sonar like a dolphin.

This isn’t you typical emo hairdo, although he does remind me somewhat of Morrissey. It’s far too well kept to be Emo actually. You just can’t wash your hair more than 3 times a year if you want to be taken seriously by the emo crowd.

This is the perfect example of emo hair gone wrong. She looks like she’s graying for fucks sake. Even my granny wouldn’t dig this do (if she was still alive). I suppose this would be cool if you were deliberately trying to portray yourself as world weary and 65.

Christ on a fucking bike! This guy looks like the bastard child of an emu and Malcolm McDowell. Is it just me or is his hair eating him!?! It seems to be alive! Freaky shit!

Here’s another emo haircut that went awry. Again it seems as though the hair is possessed by the spirit of an 18th century conquistador hellbent on invading anything, whether it’s Poland or an innocent girls face.

Fuck since when was Edward Scissorhands emo? Actually now that I think about it he always was. Sure didn’t he live in that castle all in his own for most of his life? And then when he came down to see Ms Ryder he fucked everything up by being seriously clumsy with those hands of his. He was truly creative though, unlike most real emos who are just art school rejects.

• Remind them continually about the inevitability of their own death. Make up stories about recent deaths in your family. Tell them about how every one of your pets died since childhood.
• If they smell, tell them about it! This will normally be the case since they are forbidden by emo law to actually take showers. It’s a well known fact that Gerald Way hasn’t scrubbed his cock clean since 1986.
• Persecute them at every opportunity…..and I don’t mind round them up into death camps. Instead flick peas at them at dinner, fart in their general direction and exclude them from nights out in the town.
• Create false evidence that proves your emo friend is adopted. Merit will be rewarded if you manage to convince them that their natural parents aren’t interested in knowing them. You might want to mention that they were abandoned on their current guardians doorstep on a wet and windy December night with only a soiled newspaper sheet as cover.
• Ask to read their poetry and scrutinize it excessively. Be sure to place emphasis on grammar and spelling mistakes. And laugh everytime the phrase ‘I want to die’ surfaces, which will naturally make for a lot of laughter.
• When you’re visiting an emo at home, sneak onto his/her computer and alter their Bebo profile to make them look like a Neo Nazi. Their PC-chums will break off all contact leaving Mr/Miss Emo yet more alienated.
• Whilst you are on their computer, erase all of their Mp3’s. You might want to physically remove the hard drive from the PC case and stamp on it a few times to make sure it’s fucked. If their iPod is in sight, ensure it suffers a similar fate.
• Tell him/her that you slept with their partner last night and that you’re now together forever.
• Alternatively if they’re single, tell them that everyone in town thinks that they’re a freak without genitals who passes the hours by sobbing to Elton John and Abba records.
• Why not use the old classic and ask them ‘why they look so happy’ every 5 minutes?
• If they have a goldfish, kill it by dropping their soiled bandages into the bowl. You might want to stir the water with a teaspoon to make it look a bit more dramatic. They’ll think poor Goldie has exploded.
• If they have a guitar, snip all of the strings with pliers whilst they are out of the room. When they restring and start playing it, inform them that you’ve never heard a more terrible guitar player in your life.

General Severe Depression

“God seriously shit on my soul when I came out of the womb. I wish He’d just stuck pins in fucking eyes and had me killed right there and then.”.
“Life will never get any better. I will always be stabbing away at my arms hopelessly with an olive fork.”
“What’s the point in ever changing your pants when you’ll just shit them the next time you have another panic attack?”
“I think I have cancer. I think this time it’s terminal.”
“I hate myself and I want to die.”
“Fuck it all, fuck everything.”
“There is no hope. Hope is washed away at the bottom of a vodka bottle”.
“Life is fucking pointless. I wish I could drown myself in a vat of my own urine”.
“I’m useless and my balls smell. And what makes it worse is more cock’s abnormally short”.
“I don’t even know why I get up in the morning. Even my kitty gives off an aura of hopeless despair.”
“I’m tired of feeling alienated from everyone. Only the razor understands me. It knows how I feel. It wants to become a part of me and make me leak blood so red”.
“Last night I dreamt I committed suicide by gorging on Big Macs for a week. It’s a pity it takes so fucking long. Mom would know something was up. ”
“I’d end it all right now but I need to get revenge on that bitch. I could always try to hang myself with my underwear and get my parents to send them after I’m dead. Then she could really catch a whiff of the despair”
“Life is like a cock wound that will never stop seeping. Suicide is like trying to cut your cock off. It can always go wrong. Jay Leno will testify about this.”
“I feel like peeling myself to pieces with a knife. I want to hunt deep inside my body for the last remnants of hope that she’s about to cruelly snatch away from me.”
“I’m already dead inside. You might as well finish me off by chopping off my balls.”
“I hate God. He fucking ruined it all for me. Why did I have to be part of His stupid fucking plan? Why couldn’t He have made me into a seagull? What did I do to deserve this hideous body?”

At a Funeral

“I wish I could climb in that coffin right now. I’d love to get incinerated. I’d feel like a helpless kitten in a microwave”.
“What about me, what about my pain? You can replace grandma! There’s a 1000 other old people who look identical to her down at the old folk’s home! You could never replace me! I’m too much!”
“I feel grave. I want to lie in my grave.”

When You’re Hungry

“I’ve never felt as hungry as this in my life. Fuck the people in Africa! They are always happy! I’ve to deal with both my hunger and my dismay and I just can’t cope.”
“My stomach feels as empty as I do deep inside. There’s a void in my belly and my soul.”

And you can tell these fuck-wits aren’t gay. They’ll only ever tonguekiss when an equally skanky emo-girl is in close proximity. These bastards play gay in order to win women. I wouldn’t mind it so much if there were actually gay but that’s obviously not the case.

Next time I see them kissing I’ll whip out my dick and scream “Kiss this, Mother!”. If they come within a foot of my purple throbber I’ll rinse them down with my blood red piss and call the police. That’s right. I’m reporting these fuckers to the cops from now on.

By the way if you’re a girl and you think Emo Boys kissing other Emo Boys is cute then you’re wrong and obviously a dyke and you should be reported to the coastguard immediately. I’d pay anything to see you strung up in a net by your feet at the docks.

And another thing…..if you try to approach me for a tongue kiss in order to impress a girl I’ll bite your tongue off and spit it back down your throat. I’m far too virile for these pussy emo boys y’see.

Argh I can see you are a persistent little bastard (or bitch, I don’t want to discriminate on the basis of gender)! Ok follow the steps in each of these sections and you’ll be emo in no time.

Cutting

• Self mutilation is extremely popular amongst young emo’s. In order to get started you must have something sharp in your hands. I recommend starting with a toothbrush. Now in order to cut yourself you must have already drank a quart of vodka and be on the verge of mental collapse. If you aren’t already, I’d recommend watching 2 new episodes of the Simpsons back to back.
• Once you are sufficiently pissed, drag the toothbrush across your arm as hard as possible. Whilst you’re doing this it might help to think of all of the shit things you’ve done to other people in your life. Continue digging the brush into your skin until it’s red as hell.
• Now once you’re finished with your first gouge, run into your bathroom to examine the damage. With any luck you’ll have left a big red mark across your arm. Now run around your house screaming until someone acknowledges your wound. If no one is awake jump on top of them and thrust your arm into their face. You must make your first cut known to everyone who’ll listen.
• Your parents will inevitably be distraught that you’ve injured yourself. Be sure to blame your behavior on their bad parenting. You might want to take this opportunity to blackmail them into buying you presents. Promise that you’ll stop hurting yourself if they buy you the entire My Chemical Romance back catalog.
• Now that you’ve made your first cut you’re ready to move onto bigger and better things. Why not try using a black ballpoint pen this time and aim to make your wound even redder? Continue on to ensure your parents keep buying you loads of neat stuff.

Sex

• In order to be emo you must be at the very least bisexual (and preferably pansexual). Sexuality is integral to your status as a misunderstood emo. You must make it your job to keep people guessing about your sexual preferences. Tell your father that you want to get married within the year and then bring an emo boy home the next night and rid him on the coffee table in the lounge just before your Dad gets home.
• Only ever kiss people of the same sex in public. Kissing privately is a waste of time.
• As I outlined earlier, it’s best to declare yourself pansexual. Pansexual’s are basically allowed to fuck everything that moves (and some things that don’t). Pansexuality is a growing trend throughout the emo world and it’s set to outgrow bisexuality by 2010.

Emo Clothing and Fashion

• Black is the order of the day here. We recommend shoplifting from thrift stores as it means you’ll be able to save all of your money for developing your alcoholism. Besides the guilt from stealing from the poor will make self-harm all the more entertaining at a later stage!
• Apply as much eye makeup as you can and in any shape possible. It doesn’t really matter, they aren’t any set rules here. Try to look like Ziggy Stardust after he’s been fucked by an elephant.



• If you’re a lazy mofo who’s short on creativity then you might want to go for the band hoodie and t-shirt options. You can make a half-assed stab at masking your laziness by tie-dying the bottom of your jeans. Or by coloring your hair blue, green or read.

Personality

• Remember as an emo you should not have a personality. It’s completely forbidden. If you are found uttering something halfway witty you’ll be immediately be carted off by Gerard Way’s droogs and placed under house arrest until you admit that you’ve been a bad boy/girl.
• Public panic attacks are in vogue and throwing them regularly in crowded places will win you respect of your peers. If you can’t summon a panic attack, try smashing your head repeatedly off of the sidewalk. If anyone tries to stop you, drop your pants and take a big steaming shit right there and then and roll about in it shamelessly.
• As an emo it’s extremely unfashionable to harbor any pipe-dreams of getting married. Or ever being happy for that matter. If you’re smiling too much then you are probably too happy and should rectify this immediately by either burning down a room in your house or converting to Zen Buddhism (the religion of the miserable bastard).
• The unwritten rule of emo is to treat your parents like shit. Remember they were the ones that created you! They are responsible for absolutely everything that’s gone wrong in your life so far and it was all for a quick fuck in the dark that was seriously inadequate anyway. You should spend at least 34 hours a month berating your parents face-to-face.. Leave suicide notes around the house and bloodied shirts. Tell them that once you’ve raised enough money from being a whore that you’ll leave the house and work full time in a titty bar.
• Why not form an emo band called ‘Bleeders Digest’?

Remember Jesus doesn’t love you and you’re going to die!

But yeah I don’t really understand the point in the whole Emo thing. Grown men have been crying in public for generations. Just look at Morrissey for Christ’s sake. He’s been weeping ever since Johnny Marr walked out for refusing to suck him off after a show. Why invent another useless label?

Emo kids come in all different shapes and sizes. Most of them have truly shit hair as standard though.

Anyway over the next few weeks I’m gonna take more time to investigate the emo subculture to see how it differs from goth (if at all). If I’m lucky I might ever bag myself an Emo Kid to run some tests on, although whether or not this is desirable is up for debate. After all they’d probably end up moving in with me, contributing nothing to house keeping, smearing their own blood all over my bathroom walls and sleeping to mid afternoon.

Sure enough I might be tempted to pleasure myself in a field at night providing there were no cows around. I mean Jesus, I’d be terrified that one would come up behind me and try to jag me up the arse or something! I wouldn’t be able to run away either because my bags would be around my ankles.

The law also states that women can’t masturbate at the bar in pubs but can do so anywhere else in the premises. What if you’re sitting there enjoying a nice pub lunch with your missus and this boiler comes over and starts yanking away over your soup? How would you respond? Would you call the waiter or just walk out? Or would you watch? I don’t know what I’d do to be honest. I’d probably keel over and die out of shock. Especially if she came in my dinner. That would be the final straw. I mean if you were that worried about a dirty hoe coming over to you, you could just sit at the bar and eat. But then you’d have to talk to the dirty old men, goddamnit.

I wonder what sort of ramifications this will have for tittie bars and massage parlours? Will whores openly offer up their wares in the Post Office? Surely decency must prevail! We need to make a stand against this. Every male from the UK should be presented with a cricket bat which they you can use if to dissaude a woman from performing lewd acts from his company. The government should issue old women with them too. But that could easily backfire if most old women are like Rita out of Coronation Street. It’d just encourage them to love themselves even more.

And at this point in the post I’m gonna stop. I feel violently ill.

Anywhooo, I gave them a call and I’m was put through to this eager sounding woman. I could tell she was fat. I think it was the shallowness of her breath. Anyway I asked for a MAC code. And she responded with a “Why?”. A good start. I knew fun and games were ahead. I had to restrain myself from screaming “Because yer fucking shite luv! ” down the phone at her but I wasn’t prepared to lower myself to such levels. I leave such tomfoolery to my mother.

I told her I just wanted to leave BT and asked again for a code. She put me on hold for 3 minutes. Then she asked me “Are you moving to Talk Talk?” and just to stir shit I replied with a resounding YES. What followed was a barrage of questions similar in structure and in content to the following “Do you realise Talk-Talk are shite? Do you realise that they shit on their customers from a great height sir? Do you know it costs 50p a minute to ring their legal team Sir?” “Do you realise that if you leave us now we will send around the boys to knock your cunt in?”

I took such delight in responding yes to every question. I wasn’t listening at all. She could have been telling me that Talk-Talk will start sending me live uncorked alligators through the post each and every month and I would not have cared. I was feeding off her exasperation. She knew I was a lost cause and I was rubbing it in.

Cut to a few days later……..

Tonight we were sitting down for our tea and the phone rings. My mother picks up. Its BT and by the sounds of it, it’s the same woman as before, with the same list of questions. I was surprised that the old-girl kept her cool. She just told them “Look luv, I’m not interested, I’m at my fucking spuds and I’m watching Midsommer Murders re-runs. Now leave me in peace” and down went the phone.

Several minutes later the telephone starts again. It’s BT again. This time it’s a nervous sounding man with a slight country accent. It seems that BT are playing silly buggers with us as he is reading off the same list that the other girl was. I know whats gonna happen next as I can see my mothers face turn purple. She stands there, clenching both her jaw and fists waiting for her moment to pounce like a big-fucking-tiger.

And it comes “Yer girl was only on the phone 2 fucking minutes ago! What do you mean what Girl? That fucking BT girl with the same fucking questions. Aye. I’m not answering any more, ye fucking wanker”. At this point the young man stops and whispers a meek “Pardon?” and my ma retalliates with a “You fucking heard me. Bye” before slamming down the phone.

I do hope they ring again. I do fear for the next poor bastard though.

I’ve just been watching The Mint and I must say it’s shit. If Quizmania was your standard tarty hoe, then The Mint is a 30 stone Haitan prostitute strutting the kerbs with only a worn brown windbreaker to shield her massive frame from the world. Not that The Mint is in anyway massive. Apart from being massively shite of course. It lacks the magnetism that pure desperation can only bring.

Y’see the producers of The Mint seem to have pumped more resources into the project. For part of the show they hire a Z-list celebrity to sit in the studio to talk with the host. Well it’s usually a Z-list celeb but tonight it was Jim fucking Bowen. It nearly broke my heart to see him on there partaking in such filth.

Kilroy Silk must make an appearance on The Mint. Kilroy Silk must die on the Mint.

It takes so much pressure off of the presenters. Everyone knows they are talentless and that’s the thing that made Quizmania special. It kept you on edge. It kept you wanting more. You were eager to hear how they handled the speed-freaks ringing up for the 141st time of the night with an answer to a game that ended 2 hours ago. You knew at any point the presenters could have lost control of the show resulting in the programme randomly going off air at intervals during the night.

Now you have people like Bowen who are seasoned professionals who can handle any chaos that may surface without batting an eyelid. It’s just far too polished and showy.

These programmes need to be far more confrontational if they are to win my approval. A couple of weeks ago The Mint had Ricky Tomlinson on and they missed an opportunity to create some explosive telly by failing to allow punters to ring in and start heated political debates with the star of the Royle Family. Granted Tomlinson’s arguments would have been restricted to his usual “kill everything that isn’t fat and scouse” rhetoric but with a bit of effort they could select someone who would attract a response from the British Public.

Robert Kilroy Silk would be a good start. They could even have a special “So You Think I’m A Cunt” line just for the likes of him where people can leave recorded messages which are then transmitted unscreened and at random throughout the show. Silk would of course have the opportunity to dismiss such allegations and if he failed to do so effectively within a set time period then he could be gunged Fun House style. Although instead of using gunge they could use sulphuric acid. Or piss.

Bonus rounds on the show could involve punters guessing how many millilitres of acid it will take to remove all of the skin from Mr Silk’s face. Winners will collect a set jackpot and Kilroy’s skull through the post. Although the latter should be optional.

Related Pages

A scathing review of the mint

On many occasions I’ve been out on the piss and came home thinking “I feel alright, let’s go to bed” only to be awoken at quarter to 4 with a violent stream of vomit guldering out of my mouth and nostils.

Let’s face it, vomiting isn’t pleasant. It’s one of the most painful and embarassing functions your body has at it’s disposal. In saying that there are times where it is necessary to get it out of you.

“Better out than in” is a philosophy that all successful barfers have adopted at one time or another. Anyway enough of the waffling, below are a few guidelines on how to make yourself vomit. And fast.

1) Buy some Andrews Liver Salts. Follow the instructions on the side and barf your way to bliss. Make sure that no-one is around, particularly if you want to be discreet about this. You will be roaring like a lion and the last thing you want is your father to walk in to the bathroom in his boxers whilst your head is half buried in the sink.

2) Spin around in circles. This method is a classic and it’s one that often alludes the eager young barfer. Spin really fast for about 3 minutes and when you stop, think about the time you walked in on your elderly grandmother having a shit. Picture her sitting there, bemused by your unannounced entry. Recall the smell, that weird twang of decaying vegetable matter and 10 year old rotten meat.

3) Watch other people vomit. If you are squeamish enough this should set you off too. If no-one is being sick around you try watching some vomiting videos on You Tube. You’ll gain extra marks on the barfing stakes if you try to puke in time with the people onscreen.

4) Most people find Man Breasts revolting and with good reason. Use Google Images to try to locate some particularly disturbing photos and with any luck you’ll be on the road to barfville in no time.

If not, try looking at the picture above. Imagine him flapping his breasts in your face. Imagine him asking you to taste his breast sweat. Lick it in! It tastes like the pork chop fat and egg white. With a bit of sulphur thrown in for good measure.

Go on! Get the bucket out for fucks sake!

5) This next one is extremely effective for those of you who do not clean your ass properly after taking a shite. Smell your underwear. Give them a good wiff. Stare at the brown marks embedded within the cotton and try to visualise images like you would with cloud formations. Tilt your head at different angles if this doesn’t work immediately. Spinning your head in circles will make the onset of nausea happen much faster.

6) And on the same issue, Rate My Poo is a useful resource if you want to make your stomach heave. I’ve found that you can treble the nausea by listening to Belle and Sebastian records whilst browsing through the images on the site.

7) Visit McDonalds, order a big Mac and bring a copy of Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser with you to read whilst eating. If that isn’t enough to send you over the edge, walk into the toilets and observe the mess on the floor. Inhale as much of the surrounding air as you can.

The next one is the old classic. Stick your fingers down your throat. This can be quite hit and miss so I recommend you smear the tips of your fingers in something unpleasant such as denture fixture fluid or dog mess.

9) Make a pass at a hard looking creature of the same sex in the street. With any luck they’ll punch you in the stomach and the evil brown juice will begin escaping from your gob in no time. Just pray they don’t smack you in the face.

10) Try googling “Shit on my face!” and visit the first site that appears. It can be quite effective if you have an imagination on you. If not, ask someone to do the dirty deed on you……..

If you are a chav and you are contemplating suicide please read this checklist and ensure that you have completed all of the tasks before topping yourself with a blue WKD and your mothers sleeping pills. Otherwise your peers will look down upon you in Valhalla.

1) Have you stole a shopping trolley from Tesco’s, fucking it up and down footpaths, terrorising both the elderly and young children before finally pushing it onto the road/into the nearest river?

2) Have you went 3 weeks without washing? Have you sat around all day on a Sunday watching the Match of the Day highlights whilst admiring your own body odour?

3) Have you ever considering selling pirate CD’s through an advertisment in your local newspapers free advertisements section? Have you sent away the application form only to receive the threat of legal action from the publishers of the paper?

The existential despair experienced by chavs can sometimes be too great to handle. Just hold on.

4) Have you ever been thrown out of a hospital ward for smoking next to a patient? Did you resist their attempts with physical and mental abuse, threatening to put a petrol bomb through their window some day?

5) Have you ever bought a copy of FHM, Nuts or Zoo? Have you wanked over an A4 poster pullout of a Z-list celebrity with a face like a bulldog and tits like airbags from a Jeep? Did you then show this poster to your friends with wankstains and all embedded within the paper? Did you threaten to kick their shit in when they told you that she was an ugly bitch?

6) Have you scoured grassy areas at length in an attempt to find spare change? When this failed did you walk into a shopping precinct and mug an old lady? Did the old lady then proceed to kick you in the bollocks, with you being the laughing stock of your town afterwards?

7) Do you play Golf but have yet to play on a course? Do you spend long summer days knocking a golf ball around your local playing fields with a stolen golf club attempting to hit old men who are out walking their dogs? When you get bored do you go to the local links and attempt to pilfer sunk golf balls out of the water traps?

Have you ever considered snorting Anadin to see what effect it would have on you? What about Vodka? Is your bedroom floor littered with half empty cans of hairspray and lighter fuel?

9) Thought about starting an online business selling items that you’ve pilfered from the local waste disposal unit? Do you become sexually aroused by the sight of an abandoned skip? Is your front garden full of banana peels and empty binbags?

10) Do you have a friend called Dave who seems to Breed puppies for a living? When you go around to Dave’s house is his mother constantly mopping up dog piss and frying bacon in the pan? Does his mother resemble Meatloaf? Does she work around at the local chipshop? Do you suspect that she uses the battered sausages as a sex toy when things are slow in the shop? Have you actually ate at her chippy before and made passes at her whilst fucked on cider?

11) Have you ever stood outside Dixons for more than half an hour watching television? Do you give a shit when people stop to stare at you? Have you ever threatened to fuck them through the shopfront if they keep pestering you?

12) Have you ever worked as an assistant on an ice cream fan, helping to peddle smuggled cigarettes to schoolchildren for £2.40 a go? Have you ever considered stealing the ice cream van and using it to go into business yourself in the country?

13) Have you ever mixed more than 10 alcoholic drinks together at once with three of the ingredients being the piss of the guy/girl you fancy, her blood and white cider?

14) Do you consider the weekly trip on a Saturday night to the A&E department to be a pleasant ending to your night out? Have you ever considered holding your reception in such a building?

15) Have you kicked a vending machine hard enough for almost all of its contents to come out? Did the alarm sound? Did you then run straight into the arms of the security guard?

16) Have you ever shit your bed right through to the mattress and tried to fob off the accident on the dog? Did you refuse to admit to even when your parents threatened to taking to the vets to have him put asleep?

17) Have you ever thought about using your own dead body matter as bait on fishing trips?

The Blow Up Sheep Will Often Result In The Blown Sheep

Sex shops have a lot to answer for. The Blow Up Sheep has made an institution of sheep fuckery amongst chavs. Stocking these things is basically like saying “Aye well Mate we don’t have any real sheep on the premises, so here’s a plastic one which should do you until the next time you are up in the country. And by the way, the next time you are sitting on top of a real one, give it a dick slap for me. *wink wink*”

In this modern age such conduct is completely unacceptable. Our ancestors are to blame for this sickeningly glib attitude to animal harassment. Charles Dickens, for one, used to spend much of his time in the Penines sprinting after farm yard animals with a big black dildo. Maybe this helps explain why his books were so shite.

Apparently he was made a knight for his ability to shag sheep into submission. See back in those days people were extremely primitive and they believed that sheep were capable of staging a coup at any time, with the primary objective being the establishment of a sheepy-autocracy in Britain.

The Queen decided at the time it was best to wage an offensive against this threat, using all of her countrys worst poets to sodomise sheep into sweet submission. Not that they needed any encouragement, mind. Writers of the time had been looking for an excuse to partake in such sexual immorality for centuries. In fact it is rumoured by many top English scholars that Shakespeare wrote The Merchant Of Venice whilst in between the legs of a Barbados Blackbelly, almost 200 years before serious tension began building between sheep and humans.

Today we need to take affirmative action against those who wish to indulge in such acts. We must protect our sheep against the unsavoury chav massive. We must boycott adult retail outlets who make light of sheepophilia, sending them bubble wrapped shits with 1st class delivery until they cease in their evil ways.

Taking action against sheepophile chavs

1) When you are on a long walk through the country make sure you bring a high calibre assault rifle with you at all times. If you see a sheep being attacked, empty 20 rounds of lead into the culprit’s heart.

2) If you are a sheep farmer you might want to print out numerous A4 photographs of British Comedienne Lisa Riley. Affix each of these prints to a sheeps back with sellotape. This should act as a deterrent to all but the most sexually frustrated of chavs.

3) Shield your sheeps privates with infra-red alarm corks. If a chav attempts to enter your animal the infra-red sensor will be broken resulting in a pre-recorded message from Alf Stewart sounding emphatically over a large tannoy system. Something along the lines of “Oi mate! Someones sticking a pink one in yer sheepy shielas!!!” will suffice.

4) You might want to recruit Harvey Walden to help increase fitness within your sheep. Ask him to give your animals some soccer training. With any luck this will strengthen their leg muscles, giving them a much more pronounced kick. This should increase each creatures chance of defending themselves against an assault.

5) You could try wrapping your sheep up in razor wire. This would make a sexual assault almost impossible unless the perpetrator wishes to lose his dick during the process. The downside is that such an approach would make natural sheep breeding hazardous. However this would surely send out a clear message to the chav elite – do not fuck with our sheep.

I have nothing against children. I was one once. Free of cynicism and bile. Oh, how that’s changed over the years. Anyway, yeah. I just don’t understand why they had to select a child who was so bloody well annoying.

First and foremost he’s ginger. Secondly, he looks like an elf. Thirdly, he has a godawful English accent. Fourthly, who the fuck shouts “Ahoy Shipmates!” these days? I mean to the best of my knowledge it isn’t International Talk like a Pirate Day. There is no call for it. Fifthly, he probably smells. Sixthly, he made me stab myself in the forehead with a plastic chippy fork, I was that irked by his performance.

Hucknall…….he was once a Ginger kid too. Fuckers the lot of them.

I get the impression that Junction One have done this deliberately to piss me off. They must have done some character research on me, found my pet hates and then auditioned a number of children to see if any of them had all of the characteristics to suitably pish on my parade. They knew that I would end up writing this article, giving them some free press. Clever bastards.

Well the truth is I am never ever going to Junction One now. Not that I was ever planning on going. Regardless, this advert has really made my mind up for me. Even if I was to go I would have to don a radiation suit along with a gas mask just in case that little fucker is there. I cannot risk catching the Gingers off him. I’m already growing ginger hairs in my beard which is enough. That might be down to excess ginger beer consumption though. Hopefully..

I do think people should have to attain a licence from me before they can exist. It would seriously allievate a lot of the problems arond the world today. Tubby Ginger Kids would only be permitted to live in Kilmarnock and small desecrated areas of West Lothian. They would have a curfew placed upon them which restrains them from going outdoors whilst I’m awake. Ideally no Ginger Children would be allowed on television either. Unless they are not annoying. Which is highly unlikely.

I’ve been emailing Junction One all morning asking them if we can come to some sort of agreement about this. I’ve explained that my health has seriously went downhill ever since setting eyes upon that red bastard porker. I can feel Black Death closing in. My bowels are about to be obliterated along with the rest of my vital organs. Unless Junction One do the right thing and terminate their campaign of hate against me and all of the other sane people of Northern Ireland.

Walk up to a Chav and tongue kiss him in front of his mates.

This will surely ensure a suicide. His peers will mock him continually for failing to resist your approach. It comes at a cost though. After all you will be kissing the daft bastard and fuck knows what diseases you’ll catch off him. Possibly chlorea or the whooping cough.

In order to pull this one off successfully you must be able to brush off a chav attack with either CS gas or a crate of Buckfast. If you whip out the crate you can either use the bottles as a weapon or simply offer them as a gift to the gang. Be aware that if you take the latter approach they may try to fuck you over the head with a bottle. This however is unlikely as it would be a waste of precious alcohol and to the chav massive such an event must be avoided at all costs.

In saying that they could down the buckfast on the spot and use the empty bottles against you. Either way you must be on your guard if you want to live. You must also be secure within your sexuality. If you are seriously offended when people call you gay this approach may not be for you.

Use a power hose on your target

Chavs enjoy being filthy and you can exploit this weakness to your advantage. If you see your target walk past your home, immediately attach the hose to the tap and walk out with it behind your back and ask him if he would like to come into your abode and watch a dog giving birth. As you may well know most Chavs are completely fucking perverted and will not turn down this offer.

Before he can get into your house, brandish the hose and blast him down good and proper. If you get him continually for a minute he will surely die of heart failure. See dirt to a chav is like the powder on butterflies, if you manage to rub it off you’ll fuck up the insects orientation and to put it plainly, it will be fucked. It will shrivel up and die. The same kind of idea applies with chavs.

If you want to take out a crowd I suggest attempting to hijack a water cannon from your local army base and using that on the desired group. You’ll take the fuckers out in no time. You might have the army at your door in no time too though.

The Lynx Car Bomb

For this one you will sadly have to give up your car. It’s quite simple. Go into your car and spray several cans worth of Lynx Africa all over the vehicle. Once you are done do not lock the car. This is important. Make sure you disable any alarm systems. Leave the keys in the ignition too.

Then when night falls a chav will be attracted towards the motor by the scent, they will probably break into the vehicle even though the doors open. This isn’t really that important. Once they are in the car they will try to drive away, but before they do they will spark up a celebratory cigarette and BAM!!

The fag will result in a fucking massive explosion and the obliteration of your victim. If you want to create a really big explosion, make sure you use about 100 cans of Lynx. Although in this case your house windows might be blown in. Along with your whole streets. Still, it’s better safe than sorry isn’t it?

Death By The Evil Brown Wok

The premise of this is quite simple. You’ll need a fishing rod, a wok and a small quantity of marijuana. Attach said marijuana to the end of the fishing road and reel it out as far you can go and walk with it. Make sure you are hidden well, preferrably behind a car. Sooner or later you’ll smell piss. This will be a signal that a chav is in the area. Start reeling in the dope using the strength of the smell of the piss as an indicator to how far away the chav is, reeling faster and faster as the whiff becomes more pronounced.

Timing is of great import here. When you cannot handle the smell anymore, jump out and ambush the fucker with the wok. Proceed until battered and bruised. If you are particularly lucky he’ll die of shock on the spot. If not pull your trousers down and shite in his mouth. This should be enough to ensure a quick death. I guess it all depends on the size of your ass. If your cheeks are small then it might take a bit longer.

The Long Lost Father Routine

Since most chavs will have undoubtedly lost contact with their fathers long ago you could spring this one on your victim. For it to work properly you must have a series of physical defects. I suggest either genital warts, floppy man breasts and/or an obscenely stretched asshole.

When you see your victim in near proximity quickly undress and run up to them and hug them whilst hollering “I’m yer fucking da, mate!” continually. Make sure that your physical defects are only too apparent to the chav. Undoubtedly your new surrogate son will be tripping off his head on low-grade acid and will be therefore be open to suggestion. Make sure you state that all of your defects are genetic and that he has no absolutely chance of escaping from them. Bat your eyelids at him. And remember to smile. From ear to fucking ear.

Again either his brain or heart will explode. If you are lucky you might get both popping.