Tag Archive: funny



First things first, a mate of mine said while my last attempt at blogging sounded like me, it lacked a certain something; my personality. What he really meant was I was clearly trying to hard not to offend folks and it didn’t sound right. So, having taken that on board, I’m going to have another crack at blogging and while I’ll try to keep it up for longer than eight weeks this time, I ‘ain’t promising nowt. Don’t think, however, I’m about to start hurling abuse in every direction indiscriminately. No, no I’m not, but what I will do is to rip the piss out of idiots that either are begging for it, or are so far up their own arses that they deserve it.



What does the above hash tag mean, I hear you ask. Well, it means be true to yourself. My inner wanker loves to laugh, is sometimes cruel, often intellectual and enjoys nothing more than picking and poking fun at himself and others. Saying that I’m not a total wanker, mind you.


Topic for today – friendship.


I’m a good friend, I think. Well, I’m a good person so surely that translates into being a good mate? Fucking ought to. Oh yeah, I’ll be swearing a whole lot more this time around. So if you’re easily offended, piss off and play with your dolls somewhere else.


This feels good, you wankers!


Topic Matthew! Right, where was I? Ah yes, I’m a good friend and in the interests of impartiality I’ll beg/bribe some of me mates to pipe up and give you their opinions.


I recently worked with a bloke whom I became good friends with – although the prick has just left the store and is now dead to me…I’m joking, ffs. Much to my surprise and delight, he’s almost as scathing a cunt as me – which is an achievement that ought to get the both of us arrested. The point to today’s blog is when is does friendship too much like hard work.


Punch me in the tits and call me a pleb but shouldn’t friendships be a two way street where both parties interact on a level footing and give as much as they take? You should be nodding about now because if I’ve learnt nothing from life it’s that you look after your friends and loved ones. If you can’t do that then you are a contemptuous sack of pony shite. My brother, my wife and a few others will always be my friends. The bond is unshakable and needs no tending. 50/50 all the way in every part of the friendship/relationship. If it’s anything less, the wheels will fall off…unless of course you’re a more forgiving and kinder person than me. Did I mention I’m a wanker? Think I did. We all have good friends that can be trusted, right?


We all have a flaky, narcissistic friends with an outrageous sense of entitlement as well. It’s harder to drop them like a hot stone when they have admirable qualities or are part of a group of mates. Drives me mad when they can’t shake the need for petty little games. When is enough too much. How far do you bend over to except them for what they are before they end up riding you like a pit pony? (two pony references – check) That my friends is up to the individual. If they make you miserable, sponge off of you, lie or steal, then I’d suggest moving on.


Righto, off to read through what I just wrote and hope I’ve not just told you lot to kill all those you don’t like, or owt.






In search of technology!

The following is a copy of a conversation with an excellent lady that works for PC world.


Hello, welcome to our live chat service. Is there anything we can help you with?
You: Do you know where I left Steve?
Jessica: Sorry I don’t
You: Steve is my Technicolored dream badger.
You: He and only he knows the way to the fridge.
Jessica: We must find Steve!!!
You: We must, it is important we do. Oh, and by golly it’s hot today.
You: I need a cold glass of milk, calms the nerves.
You: Would you like one?
Jessica: I would prefer some orange juice, but you need to start printing the lost posters for Steve so we can find him
You: Did you know milk is key ingredient in the manufacture of democracy.
You: Democracy can be found in the cupboard next to the fridge.
You: Don’t trust him though, democracy likes to set things on fire.
You: He burn the cat, don’t you know.
You: burnt*
Jessica: That is terrible,
You: Speaking of terrible, do you have any laptops without windows 8? Windows 7 laptops, they are the future…or is it furniture, I can’t recall.
You: It was the cat’s fault, mind.
You: He won’t listen and insists on trying to scale the back wall.
Jessica: You must stop him
You: Um, do you have any windows 7 laptops?
You: (That was me being serious.)
Jessica: It is a matter of utmost importance
Jessica: No, I am sorry but all of out laptop/desktop all have Windows 8 or 8.1 pre installed
You: I’ve tried to stop him but the cloaking device he stole off the gnomes enables him to move without being seen.
You: Noooooooooooo…..
You: Windows 8/8.1 is he work of Shaun.
You: Shaun the toilet duck/devil.
You: Okay then. What about SDD drives for desktops?
Jessica: Its not great compared to what they did have with windows 7, but you can buy it offline back up your PC then just install it
Jessica: And what would you like to know?
You: Thus far one has only found Samsung SDDs. Gordon Cor-Blimey said Samsung drives are made from old bottles tops and turkey necks, is that true?
Jessica: Sorry?
You: Buy it off-line? without an opperating system?
You: operating*
You: It’s okay, no need to feel sorry. I’m fine so long as I stay out of the sun.
Jessica: You could use the system you are currently on that should be running windows 7
You: But my system is like Mick Jagger, old and smells of cabbage.
You: (FLEX!!!!) 
You: In response to your sorry, my garbled question about SDDs was to ascertain if you sell anything other than Samsung. 
You: Mother of god, the cats at it again!
Jessica: Get the broom!
You: Good idea!
Jessica: And I will double check this is the mean time
You: Splendid.
You: I am forever in the shade and in your debt.
Jessica: OK so we do a few other than Samsung, Sand disk and OCZ it would appear
You: Damn my three fingers!
You: It appears I’ve miss-typed again!
Jessica: Oh and crucial
You: You’re right, it is crucial I find them!
You: Without my fingers I can’t play the banjo, nor efficiently scratch.
Jessica: It is one of the brands, but well played
You: Thank you.
Jessica: Teach the cat to help
Jessica: Or Steve when you find him
You: The cat only speaks Spanish.
You: Curse him.
Jessica: I recommend Rosetta stone if you want to learn Spanish
Jessica: He might listen to you then
You: Jessica, it has been a pleasure and rest assured I will forever place you on a pedestal and use you shadow to avoid UV damage and sun stroke!
Jessica: I am glad to hear it, I hope I have helped and it is safe to say you have made my day
You: Before I lost my fingers to Maximilian Spleen – the local card shark (he’s a great white) – I had a perfect set of digits.
You: And since loosing them mine and the cat’s friendship has soured somewhat.
You: It’s hard to communicate in sign language with only two middle fingers and one thumb! Everything is a’okay or f**k off!
You: Oh Jesus, I only have two fingers, not three…
Jessica: I would just draw a diagram with my toes
You: And on that note I will dive head first out of the window in an effort to wipe my memory so I may learn from my mistakes…
You: Wait, that is complete gibberish!!
You: I am, however, glad to have cheered you up and thank you for enlightening me on what brands of SDDs you have.
Jessica: No problem
Jessica: Should you have any questions in the future, please feel free to chat with us again.
You: Like the late and great Mork once saidto Mindy.
You: Nanoo-nanoo.
You: x
Jessica: Take care
Jessica: I hope you have a great day!
You: You to, over and out!


Lilly’s battle face…quake in fear!


Okay, this started for my daughter but quickly got out of hand…

The battle of the nine-spans.

Banjo the tongue-less toad who lived at the bottom of Fudge Lake, needed urgent help.

Above, at the surface, Banjo could hear Mike, Mikey, Mick, Michael and Mikael…the five flies of the apocalypse circling menacingly.

Who within the nine-spans could save him?

Neither his friend Carl-Paul Tunnel, the mole man, who’d yet to be released from rehab due to his tapeworm addiction, nor Maximilian Kidney who’d been sent to prison until next Wednesday for organ trafficking, could be counted upon.

With his options seeming limited, Banjo wept in despair. Then suddenly it hit him. He cried out at as loud as his scuba equipment would allow, ‘Lilly ‘the whirling dervish’ Thomas.’

Lilly who’d been completely exonerated of all wrong doing by the Council of Spam with regards to the abduction of Little Bo-Peep-Shows gyrating sheep, had been given back her tinsel spurs and could often be seen at the sweaty-pit pub in grotty hollow where she worked as a bouncer.

Knowing she’d surely help, Banjo rejoiced by quaffing a pint of fresh slug slurm.

Regardless of work commitments – for it was free-drink-Friday down at the sweaty-pit – Banjo’s twitching hair lip told him she’d surely help.

And help she did!

Lilly arrived upon a Stilton rainbow riding upon Crab-apple her crusty French bread unicorn.

Lilly met Banjo sunning his buttocks upon his favourite mat of flotsam and without a word being said she knew what was needed of her.

Digging in her heels Lilly spurred Crab-apple towards the horizon and headed for Adrian Dobb’s hide out. The creeper king had gone too far this time.

The battle was long and brutal and almost completely needless. Before Adrien could surrender, Lilly stormed his hide out, slaughtering two-thirds of his bread stick army and disembowelled Rhubarb Von-Crumble his trusted desert chef.

‘It was a joke’, cried Adrian but not sufficiently loud enough so Lilly could hear him above her humming diamond sword as she swept aside the last of the bread sticks.

Striding forwards, Lilly, with her spare hand, opened a can of whoop-ass and the explosion of light refracted off her polished diamond armour completely blinding Adrian.

Somewhere at the back of her enraged mind something awoke and just in time she checked her custard splattered blade.

‘Here take it,’ sobbed Adrian, ‘I didn’t mean any harm.’

In his hands he held ‘side-swipe’, Banjo’s trust fly swatter. For Banjo was keeper of peace and needed it to fight off the five flies of the apocalypse and restore order to the nine-spans. One day Banjo would win back his tongue from Mr. Cleavage and together he and Lilly would uncover the truth behind the fridge!!

Jesus, what is wrong with me?!


Ps, I only put ‘urgent’ so someone might read it…

Weaponise my little darlings? What in the name of Crom is he wibbling about!?!

Well, my avid readers ever eager for my worldly wisdom and lashings of tomfoolery, what am I talking about? I’m talking about the scourge of humanity, the end of days and the hammer of damnation; I’m referring to the ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE!!!

Are you safe? Do you think you’re ready, do you?? Well, we at the Thomas foundation are…ish.

Okay, some of you might now be thinking I’ve misplaced my keen sense of reality, but no!! I have proof the undead are set to rise from their graves and suck the brains through your nose!! Am I mad? No, not at all. After all the medication following the accident has all but stopped the twitching episodes g@F:Freggggggg..fg,.s’GSD..fg… Well, almost.

Watch this dude on YouTube. Not only is he really entertaining, but he is while I’m typing he’s developing weapons with which to counter the legions of undead!!


Another defensive stalwart is this next guy. While he might only be honing his zombie take down on line, at least he’s preparing. I urge you to watch this guy as he is really amusing and who knows, you might learn something that may save your life.


If you’re still with me this far then I know what you’re thinking, but you’d be wrong. I’ve not been at the cat litter again (it gets stuck in my teeth) and I packed up drinking along time ago when I got married; obviously…


My contribution to the cause is that of chief weapon smith – I made all the swords, etc – and have taken it upon myself to temper my prodginy! Currently I have both my kids on a grueling close combat training regime designed to maximize both body count and survive-ability come judgement day. It makes Krav Maga training look like a toe nail painting seminar.


Firstly I burred them without food or water for three days and nights in the back garden. While they ‘endured’, I made them eat all their vegetables and flogged them with the socks, pants and other items of clothing they constantly leave strewn about their bedrooms.  While this might sound barbaric to some, I needed to know if they have the metal to complete the training. You’ll be happy to know they both passed with flying colours!


Subject: Lilly Thomas. Code name ‘The pink bulldozer’.





Lilly in mid attack. The training dummy didn’t stand a chance.


Judging by the unbridled savagery in Lilly’s eyes, it seems my draconian methods worked. Biting, of which she as taken to, isn’t allowed. During the last two weeks of boot-camp, I’d like a pound for every time she’s sunk her teeth into me. My fingers, arms, face and back are a patchwork testament to not only Lilly’s jaw strength but her inability to follow simple instructions! She is whirling dervish and thus a work in progress.


Subject: Luke Thomas. Code name ”Hair helmet”.



Luke, being gentler by nature, was harder to train I struggled for days trying to find his inner ungowa! Who’d have thought a child with no volume control would take to espionage like a window licker to a green-house! Once he mastered the art of camouflage their was no stopping him!! Now I dare not wander the house at anytime without the means to protect myself for fear he’ll strike with blinding speed and deadly accuracy.

So, The Thomas foundation are ready. Are you?





PS, next project…home made ballistic weapons!!