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 (

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. 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 


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 (

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.


1 comment:

But you ARE Blanche... said...

Funny and fabu as always John!