Tuesday, 8 December 2009

The 8.2 Million Dollar Man

“I hope that you will not expose or betray this trust”– Kenneth Kubiri

It occurred to me today that the amount of junk Email I receive on a weekly basis exceeds the amount of messages that are of genuine interest to me by a shocking 600%. This statistic is not only depressing but also wildly inaccurate. This week, my intense yearning for any form of human interaction caused me to start replying to said spammers in the hope of striking up a friendship, or at the very least receiving the millions upon millions of pounds that are offered to me by bank managers in Africa. It turns out, judging from the amount of these Emails I receive, that Africa is apparently quite well off. Upon discovering this I cancelled all donations I previously made to African charities and suggested to a few bank managers that they should probably spread the wealth to someone more deserving, seeing as I would merely squander the cash on fast cars, loose women and hard drugs (read as: a buss pass, low-grade pornography and multivitamins).  None of these bank managers seemed to take my advice however, so having surrendered my desire to help others I decided to claim what was rightfully mine. Below is a transcript of the Email conversation I had with someone promising me a large amount of money. My initial reply hasn’t received a response yet, but when it does I GONNA BE RIIIIIIICH!

Your Urgent Assistance Is Needed Please.‏

kenneth kubiri (ken_kubiri01012@msn.com)

Medium riskYou may not know this sender.Mark as safe|Mark as junk

08 December 2009 02:17:45

Dear Friend,

Greetings and compliments of the season? I am writing to seek your cooperation over this business, please due welcome this letter as it may come to you as a Surprise.

I Am (kenneth kubiriManager Foreign Remittance dept at. (B.O.A.) Bank of Africa Ouagadougou-west Africa Here in Burkina Faso . I Need Your Urgent Assistance In Transferring The Sum Of ($8.2) Million To Your Account. I decided to contact you on this business transaction that will be beneficial to both of us. And I hope that you will not expose or betray this trust and confident that I’m about to repose on you for mutual benefits of our families.

This abandoned sum of money belongs to one of our foreign customer who died without any nomination of the next of kin to the bank, and Has Been Dormant for Years in Our Bank without Claim. Since we got information about his death, we have been expecting his next of kin to come over and claim his money because we cannot release it unless somebody applies for it as next of kin or relation to the deceased as indicated in our banking policies but unfortunately for years now non of his relations has applied for the claim.

I want the bank to release the money to you as the nearest person to our. Deceased customer, upon your reply. I will give you details on how the business will be executed

I am waiting for your urgent response!!!

Have a nice day

kenneth kubiri

RE: Your Urgent Assistance Is Needed Please.‏‏

John Kerrison (John_Kerrison@hotmail.com)

08 December 2009 03:56:11


1 attachment

meandkenn...bmp (455.7 KB)

Dear (kenneth kubiriManager,

It is so good to hear from you. In answer to your question 'greetings and compliments of the season?', yes.

You have no idea how happy receiving your Email has made me. Just this morning I received a bill for an MOT that reached the dizzying heights of £552. I was wondering where I could find such a vast amount of money and so in a blind panic I spent my morning performing sexual favours for a group of unkindly strangers that frequent our local bars. I managed to raise exactly £32.46p this way (the 46p resulting from a discount I had to give after a rather unfortunate shaft-chaffing incident) but still had no idea where I could find the rest of the required funds.

Luckily, the first thing I discovered when returning home was your Email promising me the sum of $8.2 million!!!! This will not only cover my MOT but also leave me enough to fund the crack habit that is ravaging my immune system even as I type, and buy a replacement hip for my ailing mother. In fact, I have just informed her of your Email and she is so happy she is currently phoning every member of our family to tell them we are rich. Every member except uncle Peter that is. We don’t talk to him after ‘the incident’ and I don’t think he’d want to talk to me anyway because I broke my promise not to tell about our ‘special game’. Still, this was a long time ago and I digress. Mother says that the fact I have always been a good person means that a chance like this was sure to come along. Having said that, she doesn't know about the things I had to do for money this morning and she tends to frown upon male prostitution. She can be a bit prudish like that, but it’s a generation thing really I guess.

Getting to the point, I am more than happy to enter this business venture with you and haven't even stopped to think about why you would contact me of all people instead of someone slightly nearer to the town of Ouagadougou, West Africa (which I hear is a wonderful holiday destination by the way). I suppose now I think about it, it is a little odd, but I refuse to turn down such an exciting offer. It's like my hero Lionel Ritchie once said: "Hello, is it me you're looking for?"

I like to think we both understand the relevance of that lyric considering our current situation.

As a gesture of our friendship I have enclosed a picture I drew of us standing outside of the massive twin mansions that we will purchase with the oodles of cash we are about to make! I don't actually know what you look like, so some artistic licence has been used. Hope I came close! 

Yours, In business and friendship, 
                                                                        John Kerrison.



I will endeavour to keep you updated on the off-chance that Kenneth replies. The likelihood however, is that I will soon be long gone with my riches, bathing in Champaign and throwing Faberge eggs at homeless people from the deck of my Yacht. 


Thursday, 19 November 2009

Box Office Blunders (or possibly a title less clichéd)

I love movies as much as the next guy, possibly even more depending on who the next guy is, and I assume you do too, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this. The problem with movies though, as I’m sure you are all aware, is that for every Citizen Kane there is a Howard the Duck, and for every Godfather Part II there is a… Godfather Part III. That might be a little harsh, part III was still pretty good. The point I’m failing to make is that quite a lot of movies are shit and without our fervent protests (or snide articles) writers and directors will continue to expose us to whatever ridiculous ideas pop into their heads without giving our enjoyment a second thought. So, it’s time to show Hollywood that we will no longer fall victim to its folly, and because I have no intention of ever holding a placard, or even physically voicing my opinion on the matter, I have composed a list of the top five movies we could have done without. Take that, Hollywood, you massive bastard.


showgirls (1995)

There’s a real knack to giving the T-1000 head.

There’s something a bit seedy about Paul Verhoeven’s Showgirls. Despite the obvious that is. For those who never saw the film – and for what it’s worth you should count yourselves lucky – you may be forgiven for thinking it’s the story of a stripper with a heart of gold who is trying to make her way in the world by putting her assets (tits, to me and you) to good use. The truth however, is that the only reason anyone ever went to see this vaguely titillating disaster, and probably the only reason it was made, was to see Jesse from Saved by the Bell (Elizabeth Berkley) get her kit off. That’s right, the opinionated feminist from Bayside High, disrobed and boner-happy. Who says life has no irony? It’s really a testament to human curiosity that anybody went to see this at all, but just like a brutal car crash, it’s almost impossible not to have a quick glance…and then touch yourself.

Predictably, when the ‘oh that’s what they look like’ moment came and went, people started to focus on the plot, and then, one by one, began to filter out of the cinema. When looked at this way, Showgirls is essentially the Hollywood version of Dustin Diamond’s homemade sex tape. Although rumour has it the characterisation in ‘Screeched’ was spot on. And let’s face it, who wouldn’t want to see that sex face. Screeeeeeeeeeeeech!


Battlefield Earth (2000)

“Can you believe I was in Grease?! I was in a musical and this is still more embarrassing.”

It’s hard to know exactly what made Battlefield Earth ever seem like a good idea. Based on one of many science-fiction novels written by Scientology founder and nutcase extraordinaire, L. Ron Hubbard, Battlefield Earth is a story of the world as a wasteland, where humans face extinction and John Travolta is allowed dreadlocks (oddly on both head and chin). The film is a rarity in so much that there are very few films as bad as this in existence. Unfortunately it’s not even so bad it’s good, it’s so bad it’s almost unwatchable. If you manage to sit through the 118 minutes of sci-fi tosh without you brains dribbling from your ears then you may count yourself lucky. Oddly, those who enjoyed the film (I think there were about three people at last count) had previously experience a loss of brain tissue after reading the 800 page epic which inspired this insipid mess – this is the only explanation for anyone, anywhere finding this tolerable. On top of just being an incredibly bad idea, the film looks terrible, is plagued with laughable dialogue and riddled with continuity errors, not to mention, Barry fucking Pepper. Other than that they pretty much nailed it.


twisted (2004)

Ashley Judd’s hair does its best Bruce Lee impression

A testament to Hollywood’s torrid love affair with the cliché, Twisted is about as predictable and unintelligent an effort at a psychological thriller as you are likely to find. The film centres on a charmless and instantly forgettable, pan-faced, Ashley Judd, who plays detective Jessica Shepard; a hard drinking, hard-talking, overly promiscuous bore, who has about as much depth as a Petri-dish. All the familiar boxes are ticked from the word go as we are reluctantly dragged through the streets of San Francisco in search of a serial killer, who really would have saved everyone a lot of time by offing Judd from the outset and allowing us all to go home, or read a book, or trim our toenails, or pull out our eyelashes one by one, all of which would have been substantially more enjoyable than watching this filmic miscarriage. Samuel L Jackson phones in a performance as Judd’s mentor and surrogate father (due to the fact that her real father isn’t around because, wait for it, he was a serial killer. That’s conflict folks.) and Andy Garcia plays her partner/stock arsetard in a leather jacket. The main focus of the narrative seems to be that Judd keeps getting drunk and sleeping with strangers, only to find them dead the next morning when she starts her shift. Far be it from me to suggest she should have just stopped slutting about, but it would have saved me and at least a dozen others an hour and a half of our time. And yes, I did just use ‘slutting’ as a verb.


batman and robin (1997)

Insert joke about the death of Chris O’Donnell’s career here

Holy crappy movie, Batman! Joel Schumacher’s 1997 addition to the Batman franchise almost buried it single-handedly, and after watching 125 minutes of campy dialogue, brightly coloured, acid-trip sets and the most two-dimensional performance from a governor of California since, well, probably his last public address, it’s hard to imagine that anyone would have cared. George Clooney once stated that he would personally give a refund to anyone who saw the movie and stopped him in the street, but in all honesty £6 wouldn’t nearly be enough to compensate for Chris O’Donnell, batsuits with rubber nipples, Arnold’s Mr Freeze, an unbearable tsunami of puns from start to finish, set design that wouldn’t be fit for a Saturday morning kid’s program…I could literally go on all day with this. On the bright side, Alicia Silverstone wore a school uniform for a good portion of the flick, so if you’re a bit creepy and have a penchant for underage girls but don’t want to go to jail ever so much, there’s your silver lining. Thank god for Christopher Nolan.


sharks in Venice (2008)

The patented Baldwin sex face…Alec does it better.

Oh to be Stephen Baldwin. What can you do to step out of the shadow of your more famous, more attractive and more well-known siblings? The smart man would bide his time and wait for that perfect script that would rocket them to stardom. Stephen however, had other ideas, specifically Sharks in Venice. There’s nothing I can tell you about how bad this film is that the title doesn’t, but heck, I’ll give it a go. Sharks’ is essentially a mishmash of about four different terrible movies, held together with the glue of a god-awful script and a cast that understandably seem to be wishing they were anywhere else, filming anything else and maybe in some cases even being someone else (Alec, presumably). The plot of the film involves Baldwin’s character David Franks searching for his lost father, who was in turn searching for treasure in Venice. Somewhere along the way the mafia gets involved and kidnaps love interest Vanessa Johansson, which for some reason people care about. Oh, and did I mention that there are Sharks…in the canals of Venice? Essentially, the word clusterfuck doesn’t even begin to describe this plot. I understand that my summation may seem a bit incoherent, but I watched the thing and this is literally as close as I will ever come to explaining it. Apparently plans for a sequel entitled ‘Crocodiles in Bluewater Shopping Centre’ were scrapped after director Danny Lerner sobered up.

Sunday, 5 July 2009

Wasting Time on the Company Dime

The internet is a fantastic resource. The possibilities it offers are  endless and without it we would be forced to participate in genuine human interaction, like they did in the olden days, which caused all sorts of horrible things like the plague and the great fire of London and scurvy. Thankfully we don’t have to worry about such things anymore, as it’s much easier to ignore any type of civilisation that doesn’t come in facebook form. Granted 90% of t’web is comprised of pornography and 5% is completely useless but uselessness is highly underrated. For those of you stuck in offices reading this when you should be doing things like ‘reports’ and ‘e-mailing’ and all sorts of other words that shouldn’t be uttered in church, the internet is your saviour. It helps pass the time when your boss isn’t looking and you can no longer face the mundane drudge of your daily routine. In order to help with your procrastination and possibly the eventual downfall of our nation, I have comprised a list of the top 5 ways to waste time on the interweb. Granted, it’s not a long list but one of us has to get some work done today and it sure as hell isn’t going to be you.

texts from last night (www.textsfromlastnight.com)

Your head is pounding, your palms are sweating and you’re fairly sure you just saw your computer mouse move a couple of inches of its own accord. Whatever it was you drank last night, which now tastes like aniseed and regret, is turning circles in your stomach and you are rapidly entering a spiral of shame. Did you really drunk dial your boss and ask for a lift home? yes, you did. Twice. Did the cabbie see which house you ran into after puking on his back seat? You betcha. You are a terrible person and the entire world knows it and it’ll be weeks before you can make eye contact with anyone you know. So what can you do to remedy this situation? Well, you could stop drinking too much and acting like a complete fucktard, but it’s more likely that you are going to go here and laugh at other people’s misfortune instead. Textsfromlastnight.com does exactly what it says on the tin, although it quite clearly doesn’t come in a tin because that is a metaphor. The site is a catalogue of drunken texts people have uploaded from their friends. For those too lazy to click the TWO links I’ve already included, here are some examples. 

The apology: (304): remember when you told me, jokingly, to not get jizz on your shirt that i borrowed last night?

The reason to avoid drugs: (734): i was shrooming and she was sobbing. i was trying to be sympathetic, but i could see the veins working like worms under her skin. and then her face stripped down to the muscle.
(1-734): what was she crying about?
(734): i wanna say it was the lack of skin on her face but maybe she lost her job.

The Confusion: (808): no, he came in my armpit 

OMEGLE (WWW.omegle.com)

God bless JJ Dunning of The Fly. Never short of a way to waste time, the good man sent me a link to this little gem a few weeks ago and accordingly everyone in his office/my house/possibly the world spent the next two hours talking to strangers, therefore virtually filling out our own p45’s. Omegle is a simple concept, You click a button and are automatically thrust into a one on one chat with a complete stranger. It’s is a bit like a cross between a chatroom and a drunken conversation with the man who lives at your local bus stop. Luckily you don’t feel bad for not giving these people spare change. Most of the conversations you encounter will be completely obscure, like this one:

You: yes?

Stranger: no

You: Brian is that you?

Stranger: yes

Stranger: Brian i am

Stranger: ...I take off my robe and wizards hat

You: ahhh, thank god. I've been looking for you for hours

You: is it time for the magic wand Brian?

Stranger: it is time for the magic wand of doom

You: That sounds pretty full on Brian.

You: Will it hurt much?

Stranger: Most likely, but you can handle it Lorraine

You: I will do it because you love me Brian. And love is more important than anything, even pay-per-view porn channels and bank holiday Mondays

Stranger: NOTHING is more important than pay per view...except perhaps youporn. Just do it bitch

You: Ahh, Jesus. Okay, but at least spit on the end this time

Stranger: if you want lube you can provide it yourself

You: you've changed Brian. I don't think this is going to work anymore. I hope you get a rash and your wand falls off. Always yours, Lorraine

You have disconnected.

Sometimes obscurity may be replaced by a sinister sexual overtone, in which case the following should be your go-to response:

Stranger: Hey girl, I wanna see your booty

You: Hi, I’m Chris Hansen from Dateline NBC’s ‘To Catch a Predator’

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Ultimately most of the people you will meet will be very much like you - bored at work and wanting someone to play with. I started my first conversation with the line "my name is Tom and I killed a man" and was not only met with a response but a rather enthusiastic one.  it turns out we actually got on quite well. We're going out on Friday for sushi, followed by some sort of fetish related sex and then a murder. Who says the internet is anti-social.

If your Omegle experience was anything like mine then you may have just wasted a good hour and a half of your day. Due to this there may be a part of you, a nagging voice in the corner of your mind, that is trying to persuade you that if you don’t get back to work you may get fired. Ignore it, it’s the voice of an arsehole, plain and simple. Instead, it’s time to unleash your creative side with the following time-sucker.

Broken picture telephone (www.brokenpicturetelephone.com)

This may seem like three completely unrelated words, and they are. There is, however, a reason for this, I think, unless I’m reading too much into it. The broken picture telephone game or ‘broken picture telephone game’ for short, is an exercise in miscommunication, proving that people are constantly on different wavelengths. Either that or it just shows that people can’t draw for shit with a computer mouse. It’s a bit like a game of Chinese whispers combined with Pictionary. Go nuts!

It may well be a testament to my immaturity that I find the illustration for number six the funniest thing I have ever seen. unless that’s supposed to be a rocket ship…but I’m fairly sure it isn’t.


This site was brought to my attention by the guardian guide. It needs little explanation. We all have awkward family photos, moments/relatives we wish we could forget and haircuts that should never have been allowed. Those of you who weren’t savvy enough to gather these photos, negatives and all, in a big pile and burn the bastard things to the ground, may find that they feature on this website. And it’ll serve you right. I have a feeling that most of these photos were taken in the American states where officially dinosaurs never existed. If these states have a tourist board then this website is its nemesis.

Oh you want to see examples? Here you go then:

Look at the fear on this young woman’s face as she realises that her little brother is pretty much doing her ‘legless doggy style’. Apparently it took four hundred and six showers with vigorous scrubbing before she could speak to him again, and despite this the memories still came flooding back on her wedding night. Also, at what point did the photographer’s suggestion to adopt this pose seem like a good idea? For future reference, if at any point during your childhood a man asks you to “mount your sister and smile for the camera” the correct response is: “Hey photo guy, gargle my balls and whistle Dixie”…or something along those lines… ‘no’ would do just fine.

This is just wrong. The photo represents the family unit as a team…which is fine. What isn’t fine is that the team is made up entirely of retarded hillbillies and whatever sport they are competing in, it is obvious that they are destined to loose. So congrats family, you just lost at life, and having your photo taken, and not being remedial. Also, look how numbers 10 and 12 have the exact opposite haircuts, both of which manage to be as terrible as each other.

And finally…how to tell your son he’s adopted…

and weekend at Bernie’s 3: Wedding at Bernie’s


I’m saving this photo to my hard drive. I’m going to file it under ‘t’ for ‘terrifying reminders of how I never want to end up’ and look at it on occasion to remind myself that there really is a worse alternative to being single, namely, being that guy.

The Rage Game

This next morsel of mental stimulation will be a real test of your mettle. It’s a game I have invented called ‘The look at Tim Westwood and try not to throw your laptop out of a window game.’

It’s pretty self explanatory. Below is a link to a photo of wide-boy wannabe, wigga-dressing, no-messing, cocktard Tim Westwood. The aim of the game is to see how long you can stare into his smug little face without a)throwing your computer out of a window b) causing physical harm to yourself and/or others or c) vomiting. My personal record is slightly under thirty seconds after which I punched myself in the face, threw up, stripped naked, covered myself in jelly, adopted the foetal position and tried to pretend the last twenty-six years didn’t happen. The same game can be played with Michael Winner, but this is probably only advisable for advanced players. Choose your difficulty below and see how you get on.

Beginner – Tim Westwood

Intermediate – Michael Winner

Advanced – ???????

And there you have it. A full day at the office without doing any work. No need to thank me, unless you really want to, in which case you should know that the only form of thanks I genuinely accept comes in the form of money or sexual favours. The latter of which is very much dependant on your physical appearance. Money, however, I will take from anyone.


Tuesday, 3 February 2009

The Infinite Scope of Horror

Horoscopes, along with The Tooth Fairy, The Easter Bunny and Simon Cowell’s soul, are something I don’t believe in. After doing a bit of research this guy (amongst others) helped confirm my suspicions that astrology is mostly page filler and revenue accumulator, by spectacularly failing to judge Obama’s chances of success in the presidential election based on his star sign. I’m not really sure what he was expecting, I’ve never read a horoscope in my life that predicted someone would become the leader of a world power, but maybe that shows ignorance on my part.

I decided though, seeing as seemingly anybody can try their hand at this type of thing (seriously mystic meg is not psychic, she just sounds retarded which is why she convinces people), that I, myself, would put together a weekly horoscope for you all.

Before you have a read though I think it’s important that I talk a little about the scientific process that allowed me to draw this up, and in turn the process that I believe all astrologers use.

Great, now let’s crack on.


The moon is in cahoots with Jupiter this week as its relationship with mars has dried up due to a stagnant sex life. This will lead to you meeting someone special, either promising or remedial depending on your definition of the word. Either way you will soon come to dislike them. By the end of the week you will have lost the will to live and may consider a change of hairstyle.


Advice you receive from a friend will seem unusually perceptive. This is because they have been reading your diary and are now aware of your deepest fears. Towards the end of the week you will realise that rash isn’t clearing up. A trip to the doctors will be both humiliating and invasive, so it’s best just to cross your fingers and hope for the best. Try not to scratch it.


A long lost relative whose memory you have repressed enters your life again this week. Bad things happen, Saturn watches.


The concentric circles Neptune draws around Uranus (te he) will cause everything to seem a little arbitrary this week. A chance at promotion may be missed because you have spent the last three months updating your Facebook status, photoshopping your bosses head onto pornographic images and trying to figure out what twitter is good for.


Due to this week’s full moon you will find yourself open to the suggestions of others. This will lead to some experimentation on your part and the eventual realisation that you were right all along -it does hurt, and afterwards you do feel dirty and used. A hot bath will make you feel a little better.


Someone with legs will make a difference to your life this week, possibly for the better, probably for the worse. By Wednesday, no Thursday, you will forget your middle name and will be forced to ask a stranger, they won’t know.


Shit week! Stay in bed.


At 3.36 am Monday morning you will be sound asleep when something happens. It wont wake you, but it’s worth bearing in mind. Come mid-week you will be overcome with the urge to e-mail your bank details to the following address: john_kerrison@hotmail.com You should go through with it.


Pluto’s touching of one of Saturn’s rings will cause a sudden lack of positive energy for the majority of the week. Come Friday you will wake with the sudden realisation that no-one likes you very much. It was only a matter of time. A descent from a tall building brings with it closure.


Beware of the moons negative influence, he can be a proper c*nt sometimes. Despite this you will have a reasonably successful week, although you will still be confused as to why Madonna is still allowed to make records. Put this out of your mind and try not to think of her horrible, horrible face.


According to professional astrologer (I know) Annabel Burton, The Tin Man from the yellow brick road is an Aquarius. This isn’t entirely relevant to the week ahead of you but it is undeniably a fun fact, and one that really reinforces the scientific principals of astrology…dick.  http://www.annabelburton.com


Be sensitive to the feelings of others around you. That’s just good advice in general really. Other than that all you can really expect from the week ahead is the same old soul-destroying drudge of the day-to-day working life. Mid-week you’ll meet someone who offers the chance of romance, but lets be honest, are you really going to do anything about it? No, no you’re not. You’re going to trip over your words, blush a little, say something unbelievably stupid and then go home and download a lifetime’s worth of porn. You  pathetic loser. An envelope may bring luck come Tuesday.