10 March 2007

Random Thoughts - Week Three

I’ve come up with a great idea to make public transport more enjoyable and it’s the late night tube drinking game. However you can also play it on night buses, coaches, anything really where you’re supposed to be travelling in a forward motion and are surrounded by other people.
So what you do is you enter your preferred mode of transport, ensuring that you’ve brought a bottle of your chosen spirit and a can or 2 of lager, beer, bottle of wine…whatever. Then you wait for your cue to take a drink….the first and easiest drinking option, is the mobile phone ringing, so quite simply anytime someone’s mobile phone rings you take a drink of your beer or wine.
The next level is the ‘look away stare’ option. So every time you look up to see someone staring at you and then they do that ‘oops I’ve been caught out I’ll look somewhere else thing’ you take a shot of your spirit. You can get bonus points in this round for being the person doing the staring but instead of looking away you continue to stare at them but pretend you’re looking at the very interesting ‘Kev is a bummer’ piece of literature located just past their left ear hole. The final level is the ‘stopping train’ round, so every time your transport stops, you take another shot, however you can only do this if the entire carriage goes deafeningly silent and the minute the train starts up again everyone resumes their conversations. You get a triple scoring round if you’re re routed through the Scottish highlands at any point.


Bloody cyclists, are they in some kind of ninja secret sect or something. Coming out of the night sky at you dressed in black with some fairly stylish acrobatic moves, well at least the ones on BMX’s. They only wear black at night though, the sods…when was the last time you saw a cyclist dressed totally in black during the day? I mean is it some sort of cloaking device to make them invisible to oncoming motorists or is there a secret vampire cyclists club where they prey on motorists and then suck the air out of their tyres?


Worms are hermaphrodites right? That’s got to be no fucking fun on a Friday night. Hiya, do you fancy a quick one…ooh don’t mind if I do..lets go do some hot lovin. Oh well at least you don’t have to make them a cup of tea in the morning. The animals that have really got it sussed though are the ones where the male gets pregnant and gives birth. How fantastic is that? That’s equality being bang on. Sea horses do it don’t they?
So Mrs sea horse bimbles along…hi honey, wanna get it on tonight? Then as soon as she’s laid her eggs, she fucks off to do the shopping. Bloody genius!


You know that title, Funeral Director? Do you think they really thought about it when the came up with it.

I mean, is the guy in the big hat stood in the corner shouting ‘action’ as the coffin comes into view, or having to shout cut and go for a reshoot as the over keen ‘supporting artiste’ keeps waving ‘hi mum’ to the camera when he supposed to be driving the hearse?


Recently there was a tornado that tore apart several towns in Alabama and contrary to popular belief the Alabamans’ took on a rather more European view of the catastrophe than normal. In total truth I heard a woman interviewed on the local radio station and the interviewer was going on about how awful it was and asked her how the local community were feeling. No word of a lie she said well we’re all ‘quite devastated’. Quite devastated, quite? Not devastated, or totally devastated, just quite - like it’s a small inconvenience, like getting a small pebble in your shoe. Bloody hell woman a tornado’s just split your town apart and people have been ripped from their homes and have died and all you could come up with is ‘quite devastated’. What’s next? Well we were a tinsy bit miffed, oh well can’t be helped, never mind I always felt the downstairs needed to be open plan.


Tea, slippers, jimjams, chocolate hob nobs

The perfect night in.

Actually that’s what going on at the other end of phone sex lines. You reckon you’re talking to sexy Sukie from Southampton who’s wearing stockings and a basque, when in fact you’re talking to Jean the cleaner from Stockport, who’s in jim jams, slippers and has just lost her hobnob to the depths of a cup of tea. Brings a whole new meaning to wanting it hot and wet.


Ballet style wrapover tops are a bit hazardous aren’t they? You know the type that tie up at the back and unless you’re a size 6, make you look a bit sausagey in the middle. They really should come with a health warning – 'Warning may become hazardous if used in toilet situations'. I mean what are you supposed to do with the bloody stringy bits, and where the hell do they end up?

It’s like the tampon string observation test, the test that all women have to pass before they’re allowed out in the world.

Ensuring when you exit the loo that everything’s tucked back inside, nothing hanging out the side of your pants – well apart from yer pubes cause it’s always on the one night you pull is the one night you didn’t bother waxing. So you have to try and remain sober enough to spot the protruding offender, or be able to rely on your friend’s in case there’s a tuckage incident.

Of course you could rig them up yo your pants in a kind of quick release style mechanism. It would be an absolute boon to the dating scene – You know you fancy someone and you’ve been making subtle ‘come to bed’ eyes at them all evening with no joy. So rather than relying on our rather bad body language powers we can send a simple and direct message that states ‘I want to shag you’. Simply pull on the rip cord of rauchiness to display your pants to the rest of the drunken masses currently boogling to ‘it only takes a minute girls, to see your pants, to see your pants….’



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