Bear-Faced-Lyre

catchphrase comedy...

2007-09-19T08:04:00.001-07:00

...is really getting on my fucking tits. when will it stop being funny? just how long can people go on repeating the same things and finding them funny? till i kill them, that's when. one evening in the pub this guy i didn't know came up to me and said "i'm the only gay in the village" in a welsh accent then pissed himself - and when i didn't laugh too, he obviously assumed i couldn't have heard and SAID IT AGAIN. then, when i stared at him coldly and said "i hate you", HE stared at ME like I was the one with the problem. can you imagine? for fuck's sake, apes mastered the art of mimicry years ago (as early as the 70s i think), so when a grown man does it, i'm really not impressed. what was his next trick going to be? throw his own shit at me? tragically enough, that would have been funnier.

Girls

2007-02-06T08:39:00.000-08:00

they're great aren't they? i mean, they have tits AND a vagina - and some of them even have a car. get in. but they do get things muddled up, bless 'em. to take but one example lets talk about lap dancing bars or titty bars as some beastly men chose to call them. one could say they are a facade based on mutual contempt. but not me - i say they are a great opportunity to get some tart, whose sporting slutty clothes your girlfriend would probably never wear in a month of sundays (i have had "mixed" responses to some of my attire and accoutrements based requests - but once or twice they did infact come up trumps (on one occasion to my later discomfort)), anyway, i digress (with a semi)) to show you their vadge for twenty notes. but there's a lot more to it than that. now, most girls are living under the misconception that this is a bad thing. but what they don't realise is that it actually benefits them directly. imagine the scenario: bloke comes back form a night out, possibly a little the worse for wear, a glint in his eye, a bulge in his soggy pants (romance, romance), and his "lucky lady" is pretending to be asleep dreading the cheeky tap-tap on her face with his old chap. but when she finally gives in after half an hour's pleading (just to get some peace), well blow me if she doesn't get the best seeing to she's had in ages. i mean the ride of her life. no-holes-barred jungle fucking that would satisfy even the most discerning gorilla. and when it's all over, she lies back (or gets off her knees, whatever), says "my god - darling - that was AMAZING! what on earth got into to you tonight?", and her animal lover (if he isn't already snoring in his own drool) replies "oh i just love you and want to give you all the pleasure you deserve" when really, if he were being honest, he'd say "well, me and the lads got cunted, went to the new titty bar and went beserk paying all manner of slut to shake their pert arse and shove their snatch in out faces. they were wearing slutty high heels - it was great - really fired me up, got the old blood flowing - and THAT - darling - is the reason you just got fucked to within an inch of your life". now, most men, no matter how drunk, would never actually admit this (if they do, it will only ever be once, believe me), so everyone's a winner. bloke gets much needed tittilation (a reward for all that hunter-gathering), girl gets best seeing to she's had in ages (a reward for all the slaving over a hot stove she's been doing). they go to sleep happy, more shagged out than ever, and wake up with a spring in their step. until she finds the sick on the kitchen floor and the spearmint rhino's vouchers in his back pocket.

Kitchen Roll Complacency

2006-11-12T03:42:00.000-08:00

don't you just love the delight of the new roll? "hey, it's a new roll, i'm gonna use 2 sheets - no, fuck it, i'm in a good mood, lets make it four" you think to yourself. oh the joy... you dry your hands with it... you make origami whilst wating for the kettle to boil with it. but that devil may care approach only leeds to premature kitchen roll anxiety, despair even. you get towards the end of the roll. you dry your hands on the tea-towel, you wipe things up with a cloth and get your hands wet. you look longinlgy at the last sheets, wondering if it's one or two left - and if the last one will tear when you pull it off. you dread that moment when you have to use it, making it sopping wet, regreatting your prior slack attituse, and finally build up to the dreaded task of getting the other one out the packet. still, new roll and all that, you can use as many sheets as you like... just make sure you get another pack soon tho, otherwise it's KITCHEN ROLL ARMAGEDDON.

Porn

2006-11-06T06:54:00.000-08:00

ive been thinking about this and i reckon girls should be forced to do a gcse in porn. they don't have to do a practical, just complete the course of videos. that way they'd learn some moves, how to be sexy and what dirty comments to make during sex. as opposed to being lazy bitches and leaving it up to you to put the effort in. i know a lot of girls out there know their stuff from experience, but i can tell you a lot of them don't from experience (sadly). it's a bit like that dying for your cause, bypassing judgment day and getting 99 virgins or whatever. i mean, what the fuck do i want with 99 virgins? give me two expreienced sluts and ill be happy. humana humana.

but im not suggesting that all men know their stuff either - but the point is they will all watch porn at some point, thus setting certain expectations - that girls will not meet if they do not watch porn too - and on the whole they don't. well so they claim. but they make a lot of these claims don't they? "no, i never watch porn", "no, i never masturbate", "i never ejoyed blokes going down on me before", "no-ones ever made me cum 5 times during sex before", "i never enjoyed sucking dicks before yours", "no, i've never done anal before, but as it's you, i'm up for trying it". yada yada yada.

Tuna in Sachets

2006-07-07T03:46:00.000-07:00

It is convenient. An idea to be commended. However, the next time I get into a food fight, I'd rather go in weilding a tin of tuna than a sachet. Possibly a frozen leg of lamb as well. None of this custard pie rubbish. That's for girls. I hate it when people say "yeah, it was hilarious, we had a proper food fight". But did you? Did you really? Did you batter someone to death with a tin of sweetcorn? Did you stab someone in the eye with a dangerously sharp carrot? Did you rape someone up the arse with a baguette? (Hammered in using the frozen leg of lamb of course) No? Then fuck off. We had proper food fights at my school. You just can't beat a public school education. Ahh happy days. As Wiggins used to say to me as he slammed my dick in the desk "this is the life, eh Timpers?"

computer games

2006-06-09T05:36:00.000-07:00

i dont understand why people just dont grow up and stop playing computer games. even when i was a child i thought they were for cunts and bummers. "oh but they're so good for hand-eye co-ordination and dexterity which is ever so important in a child's development". "yes, but so is playing criket in the park with jumpers for goalposts (so to speak), running around, getting fresh air, interacting with other children". i never got kidnapped, raped or abused or came to any harm at all. as far as im concerned, computer games are fucking evil and hinder chilrens' development, both physically and socially. no wonder they're all fat layabouts with attitude problems. the only excercise they get is texting each other. cunts. i know they could play computer games and play in the park, but the former is usually a distraction from the latter. computer games are scum of the earth. i would rather spend two weeks as a redcoat entertaining OAPs by drawing phallic symbols in my own shit, acompanied by celine dion, who i have to go down on as an encore, whilst anisly harriot bumms me, his hideous laughter mocking me with every stroke, than play computer games. although, to be fair, i quite enjoyed chuckie egg.

Men! Are you happy with your razor?

2006-06-09T05:34:00.000-07:00

I use disposable bic ones. I don't get this obsession with REALLY CLOSE SHAVES. Well actually I do, it's marketing driven by greedy scum. But anyway, who gives a fuck? "Der, I need da really close shave George, because da man in da ad did. Hid rador had six blades". Yeah Alan, you cunt, go and buy the cunting razor that won't make you look even remotely like the ridiculously handsome chap in the ad, the mere sight of which makes your girlfriend (even tho she's probably imaginary) AS WET AS AN OTTER'S POCKET. My shave is adequately close thankyou very much. What's more it doesn't remove so much natural moisture etc. from my skin I have to shell hard earned dosh out on some cunting balm to "replenish and rejuvenate my skin leaving it comprable in texture to a sixteen year old girl's bottom (allegedly)". I will fight them in Boots, I will fight them in Tescos. I will never surrender, whatever the cost may be. I AM NOT A SLAVE.

Are you warm enough?

2006-06-09T05:32:00.000-07:00

lisen you cunts and listen good. it was about 30 fucking degrees in every cunting shop in town. some people complain they're too hot when it's 25 degrees outside in the summer, but like it to be even hotter inside in the winter. and not fresh air and sunshine hot. oh no. central heating that dries you out and gives you a headache hot. not very nice when you're NOT EVEN WEARING A CUNTING COAT. but as i was out shopping, funnily enough i was wearing one. whilst the staff in the shops were mocking me with their thin, short-sleeved shits and blouses. i find it hard enough not to break out into a sweat when i see some thick girl sixth former at her saturday job sporting a pony tail and a white blouse at the best of times. but when the cunting central heating is on and i'm wearing a winter coat, it's out-fucking-rageous. i must have scared the poor bitches shitless. still fuck 'em, i hope they catch pneumonia from the air conditioning in the summer.

and another thing, why are all the jumpers and tops or whatever the fuck you cunts call them in the shops at the moment so cunting thick? "dur, because it's cold out you stupid, yet sexually attractive fool" i hear you cry. yes but that's what coats are for you utter, utter gaylords. IT'S NOT COLD INSIDE IS IT? WITH THE TRUSTY CENTRAL HEATING CONTROL SUPER-GLUED TO THE "DEATH" SETTING. "ooh look at me i'm wearing a really thick jumper. lucky it's fucking roasting in the hob tonight, other wise i may have been cold". take your thick wooly winter jumper and get to fuckery you retard. go on, do one. before i talk to you about emmerson lake and palmer.

classic comment on murder she wrote

2006-06-09T05:09:00.000-07:00

"he's been seriously murdered"

so the obvious response is: well obviously it was serious - murder is - would it have been funny if he'd been murdered by a clown? but that's not what made me laugh. oh no. i just like the fact the word seriously is normally indicative of the gravity of a situation, the obvious example being "he was seriously injured". as opposed to just a bit. so to hear "he was seriously murdered" made me think that he could have been murdered just a bit. you know, a mild case of murder. but he'll get better.

Boris becker

2006-06-09T04:25:00.000-07:00

i like boris becker. mad as a lettuce drier of course. but I think he's hilarious. on another note, they just showed a clip of last year's final. at the end andy roddick gave roger federer a hug after he'd been beaten by him. jimmy conners was quite surprised by this suggesting that the idea of john macenroe hugging him after a match was laughable. this took me back to school - once, when the exam results were read out in descending placement order, richard o'connor (who i'd sat next to all term) gave me a hug on learning that he'd come second and i'd come first - because he was delighted that we were the best. had it been the other way round however, and he'd have beaten me, i'd probably have poked him in the eye with a hole-punch or slammed his dick in the desk. as i did every wednesday. private school education. you just can't beat it. "and there's nothing worse than wet lettuce". quote from a hardened lettuce drier user.

the dream has been achieved...

2005-03-27T06:45:00.000-08:00

my bathroom door is a bit loose and when you shut it, it typically bounces against the frame 4 times very quickly. this followed by the key turning goes "dom-do-do-dom - drrrrrrm" which sounds just like the beginning of legendary theme tune to the bbc's acclaimed master mind. but this morning, oh my god, if i didn't only absent-mindedly let out a little tommy squeaker immediately afterwards to give it the full "dom-do-do-dom - drrrrrrm - bah-da". it was very emotional. i didn't cum, but i did feel pretty smug during my early morning shit.

Sank 'Eavens for Valentines Day

2005-03-27T05:59:00.000-08:00

Actually, I'm in favour of it. I need to be told when to be romantic. I need to buy overpriced roses. I need to understand the true definition of romance and not get it confused with tat. If I were a girl (which I'd like to be; and often pretend to be in the privacy of my bedroom), I'd be more flattered if my man was romantic and gave me gifts because he felt obliged to. I'd hate him to be spontaneous. Most of the spackers out there don't understand what true romance is. They need guidance. Clintons Cards is there to give it to them. We should be greatful.

Trains

2005-03-25T08:13:00.000-08:00

OH MY GOD. I took the train this week. A cosy 8 hours in total. On the way back, every cunt under the sun was in my carriage. There were babies screaming, kids playing computer games making bleepy noises, youths listening to their headphones at death level so you could here a constant "tst-tst" (mind you, in fairness I was probably just jealous that I didn't have some of my own to drown out the hideous noises around me). God it was hurrendous. There was the ubiquitous tosser whose phone rang every 5 minutes with some god-awfull tune at maxumum volume; "HELLO, I'M ON THE TRAIN" he kept saying. There were two drunks yelling at one another at either ends of the carriage; "OI, GARY, GET US ANOTHER LAGER MATE".

But here's the killer: the cunting anouncements were never ending and at concert level. They finished just in time to start again at the next station. I'm not joking, this one bitch must have talked for 10 minutes solidly about where you could and couldn't put your baggage. Then there was the list of stops. Then there was the apology for the late arrival beacause "blah blah blah". Then she went through the stops again. Then, finally it ended. And relax. But oh no, 5 seconds later "bing bong" anounced the arrival of some cunt claiming to be the vice president of catering or something explaining, at length, about the buffet arrangements. Then, another 5 seconds on, ANOTHER CUNTING "bing bong". We were shortly to arrive at th enext station just in time TO START THE WHOLE FUCKING PROCESS over again. Honestly, I read 32 pages of my book in the whole 8 hour journey.

Chavs - The Solution

2005-03-25T07:41:00.000-08:00

We could entice them to a venue by holding a burbury only evening ("if it's not burbury, you ain't comin in son") and put a radiation machine behind the desk where they pay and give them a dose before they go in. They then proceed to spend the evening being common, vulgar, obstreperous, badly dressed (they all seem to have bad skin too don't they? Must be diet related - too many Findus Crispy Pancakes and too much Alphabetti Spaghetti I feel), anyway, do whatever it is chavs do, completely ignorant of the fact that they are no longer able to reproduce. OK, so we'd have to hire a townie for the evening to man the desk, which would mean talking to one of them (are they're interpreters available? I certainly can't understand the garbage that dribbles out of their grubby little mouths). Cull the scum I say. God, you can even spot them from a distance, purely by how they walk. Maybe it's some kind of limp as a result of in-breeding, I just don't know. Oh well, as I recently said to a charming petrol station attendant "I fucking hate scum. 10 Marlborough Lights and a packet of blue king size rizzlas please. Thanks. Bye".

God bless my right wing mother for...

2005-03-25T07:38:00.000-08:00

...buying the daily mail - last sunday's copy came with a free foreigner (remember the rule? i before e except when it's e before i) cd - featuring such classics as "cold as ice", "waiting for a girl like you" and "i want to know what love is".

but better than that, i just discovered that my new fangled portable telephone has a voice recorder on it - so i just played high hopes by pink floyd on my guitar, recorded it and set the fucker as my ring tone. get in. i hope dave doesn't mind, but i rearranged it slightly to make it work better on just one guitar. god i'm a smug cunt. right, i'm off for my early evening wank, just in case there's pennetration on the cards later - don't want the first time to be too quick...

Soap Plots

2005-03-25T07:34:00.000-08:00

I got home one night and saw some of coronation street (the remote jammed, honest guvna etc.) and there were two geezers snogging. i spat my meths and orange juice all over the coffee table (it's teek and my mum and dad gave it to me, hope it doesnt stain), anyway that's not the point. The point is this: who writes the script for this utter shite? the dialogue is complete drivel. I could do a much better job. there'd be no geezers gaying off together for a start. now ladies lezzing off would be a far superior, intellectually stimulating storyline. Twins maybe. Ooh, give me half an hour, access to the internet, a pot noodle and a pen and i'll knock up a few episodes.

Don't you just hate it when...

2005-03-25T07:33:00.000-08:00

...you're having a shit. You suspect there's a bit more to come out. In order to expedite the process you give it a little push. Which makes you go dizzy. And you begin to wonder if the last 4 double vodkas and coke were strictly necessary. And was it really such a great idea to put the entire eigth into one 3 kingsize skinned monster that could kill a horse. You're sweating, 10 minutes late for a meeting and you just want to curl up and die. Then suddenly it's and hour later and the cleaner's banging on the door.

Mobile Phones

2005-03-25T07:21:00.000-08:00

OK, they're useful. But men are cocks and flaunt them like they're an extension of their manhood. They are the new car. They can actually take a phone into the winebar with them to discuss them with their mates and show off about them. Hmm, phone envy. I shoukld co-co. (pompous voice) "High, I've got a phone". People keep asking me if I've got the 8810 or a f6ericminge. They're are most upset when I say "I don't give a fuck. Fuck off". They are all singing all dancing. WHat's next, the Nokia Fuzzaway? The first phone to have an electic razor with 68 new micro-bladed soother modules (t.m.). Ladies, trim your bush at thew same time as sending tacky photos of your cunt to your many boyfriends. Hey you can even phone people up with it. Get a life and fuck off out my face.

And another thing, people in my office have the ring at death volume. some irritating tune. that lasts forecever. then they leave the cunting things on their desk and fuck off for an hour. They get calls, 121 keeps phoning them back (sub-rant: surely 121 phoning back once would suffice - if I'm there I answer (but I'M GENERALLY NOT - THAT'S WHY i MISSED THE CALL) - and when I get back, seeing 121 has called once is just as effective as seeing it has called 86 times, belive it or not (I know outrageous isnt it?)). Anyway, the clue's in the title guys: "Mobile" phones. Take the fucking things with you. Or turn the cunting things off. They even get the arse if the come back and find I've turned their phone off. Fucking dog-raping horse blowers. They'll come back one day and find I've done a shit on their keypad

Topless Barber's in Glasgow

2005-03-25T07:17:00.000-08:00

"It’s really degrading for women. It caters for a certain type of immature behaviour among men who can’t see women as equal to men."

Some people really are stupid small-minded little cunt-buckets aren't they? It's women taking advantage of mens' weakness and base urges to make a few quid. Fair play to them. Plus us fellas get to have an ogle at their norks. Always good to have plently of opportunities to fill up the "bank".

Three Poems

2005-03-20T09:05:00.000-08:00

Twilight

'Twas the end of a busy day,
The bustling crowds had gone away.
My true love and I walked through the park,
'Midst fading shadows and approaching dark.
And as we stared at the setting sun,
I whipped it out and slipped her one.

Humpty's Truncheon

Humpty Dumpty was hung like a horse,
The girls heard the rumours and came running of course,
All greased-up and begging for a jolly hard roger,
But they trembled with fear at the size of his todger.

One saucy young bint, Dolly the tart,
Took the full girth and got ripped apart,
And all the king's horses and all the kings men,
Couldn't pork Dolly ever again.

Watch Your Beak

Boating on the river
I chatted to a duck
I asked him if he had the time
And he sniggered "have I fuck"
I said "you what?"
He said "you heard"
The cheeky little drake
I said "your shoes don't match your shirt
And your sun-tan's clearly fake"
Well he called me names and spat in my face
So I poked him in the eye
I cut his hair in an Eighties style
Which really made him cry
And as he sobbed and snivelled so
He turned and looked at me
He said "OK, enough's enough
It's quarter past fucking three"